#crossing fingers to get my own copy of the game

[erenjaegerwifee]

Brat Tamer

Survive the Night: Day 4

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ hate fucking, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, degradation, rough sex, explicit language, fingering, p in v, overstimulation, bondage, slightly jealous Neteyam, begging, slapping, spitting, blowjob, marking, mentions of blood, facial, this is consensual sex! It’s just very rough

Word Count: 5.4k

Disclaimer: all my characters are aged-up! If for whatever reason this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read my work. Any negative feedback will be blocked from my page. thank you!

Event Masterlist

“Oh, please Neteyam spear me” you roll your eyes at your future mate. For some reason Eywa thought it would be a good idea to make Tsahik conjure up a vision of you and Neteyam being a mated couple a ruling the clan together, with all your non-existent babies, apparently the number is yet to be determined.

“Can you just back off and let me hunt princess? I’m more than capable of feeding a psycho shrew such as yourself” he said condescendingly. “You are so fucking full of yourself; we could have been eating an hour ago if you didn't scare away my prey with your fucking wheezing”  

“You whacked me in the stomach with your bow what the fuck were you expecting me to do” his comment makes you laugh at the memory, “it’s not my fault you're a bitch, take that shit up with your daddy” you smile at him wickedly when Lo’ak spoke up, “damn just fuck already, end your misery” he said to both of us. 

“Shut up Lo’ak go home, you aren’t even helping” Neteyam said to his brother while you were making fake gagging sounds at his comment, “yuck- I don’t want this man anywhere near me, let alone fucking me” you gag again making Lo’ak laugh. “You know, you talk a big game for someone who has never seen a dick” Neteyam looks directly at you. 

You turn around looking for whoever he’s talking to with such audacity, settling with the fact he must be talking to himself, “are you calling me a virgin? Cause I can assure you I’ve had hotter sex than you that’s for sure” you cross your arms over your chest looking at him smugly.  

“How do you know I don’t have hot sex princess?” Neteyam copies your action crossing his own arms over his chest. “Uhm well let’s see, firstly I don’t think it's possible to have good sex when you have a stick that big up your ass and also, you’ve never fucked me” you flip your hair over your shoulder sassily.  

“Whatever you pompous bitch” Neteyam walks off bow in hand with every intention of catching your dinner. “You are such a fucking goblin” you tail behind him leaving Lo’ak laughing on the floor.  

Lo’ak isn’t the only person who catches kicks off your misery. The entire Sully family laugh at you from time to time. They have a front seat row to the drama that is you and Neteyam. When your mate ship was announced both your families joint together to build you a hut, the first hut you will be living in together. Since it is a known fact you are always at each other’s throats, they built it right next to the Sully family hut. But it was only in case they had to break up one of your numerous fights. The sully family tends to hear everything that goes on in your hut, every small argument you have, every altercation that turns into a screaming match between you too. 

You and Neteyam sleeping on same sleeping mat but he made sure it was big enough so you won’t have to touch each other, even going as far as to build a pillow wall. Even while your families both know you don’t get along, the rest of the clan, besides close friends, do not know. They are well under the impression you and Neteyam are very much in love, we couldn’t have the clan losing trust in the leadership, it would just be another problem. It’s one of the only things you both agree on.  

Clan members have been congratulating you both since the announcement, they bring loads of gifts like things for your hut, some of the older women have taught you to make things for our future husband, teaching you how to repair his arm guards and cummerbund, making loincloths, which sometimes you do occasionally have to do. They even go as far to bring you both food. 

Neteyam is set to take up the mantle of Olo’eyktan in 3 months which is when you will also ascend to Tsahik alongside him. You are meant to be mated before that happens which is why you’ve already moved in together; you are meant to get used to living with each other to avoid slip ups.  

For something that was sprung on both families, they have done extensive planning to make sure you become accustom with each other, almost as if they expected it. Never the less, you both have now settled into a routine of sorts. You both wake up around the same time and you make breakfast or one tired morning, go to the sully hut and you eat there. Then You get ready for you clan duties all done while bickering with each other about small things like usually. After that you both go out into the clan playing happy couple. 

At dinner time you usually are the one to cook whatever he brings home from his hunt during the day. If neteyam wasn’t so infuriating you would have thought about how domestic it was, how much you would have loved a life like this. A loving husband, a few kids. 

“You what, if you would just sit still for a few minutes, I could catch us some fucking dinner” neteyam says in an irritated tone. “Don’t curse on my dinner I have to eat it” You counter, “No sweetheart the real curse is eating your cooking” you gasp dramatically at him comment, your hands come over your heart, “you love my cooking you blue ape, don’t fucking lie.” you point at him. 

“Can you just sit here and shut the fuck up so we can go home, I’m about to leave your annoying ass out here and spend the night at my parents” he rolls his eyes at you, ignoring your cooking comment because he knows you’re right. “UGHH FINE” you dramatically drop down on the rock that was conveniently situated behind you.  

“Ugh fine” he mocks you sassily his voice is pitched and his hands sway in the air as he turns around making you roll your eyes. You wouldn’t tell him this, but neteyam is a good hunter, it shouldn’t take him that long to catch dinner. In the mean time you sit quietly on the rock making flower crowns from the nearby flower tree.  

When he comes back you both go home and you make dinner, “It’s kind of early can’t we just eat after the party?” you ask him after you are done cooking. “No, the food will get cold” you sigh not feeling to flight with him about it and you bicker about what you should wear for Lo’ak’s birthday party.  

At the party you and Neteyam split up to mingle with your respective friends and not have to deal with each other all night long, you dance and laugh while slipping from your cup of very strong alcohol. When you start to feel high you get a tap on your shoulder making you turn around.  

“Hey y/n where is your husband?” you make eye contact with one of Neteyam’s hunting buddies, At’ok. “Hey um I don’t know he was around here somewhere” you shrug thinking he was just looking for Neteyam. Your future mate has grown to dislike the man quite a bit with the way he constantly stares at you, under no condition is he admitting to liking you but at the end of the day, you will be his wife and its naturally disrespectful for him to try getting with another man’s girl. 

“Oh, good cool- you wanna dance?” you know he likes you; you also know Neteyam doesn't like him, it’s a win-win situation. What is neteyam gonna do? Divorce you? You aren’t mated yet and he’ll have to take that up with Eywa first which is essentially impossible. “Sure” you smile brightly at him. 

You grab ahold of his hand and move towards the other dancing na’vi, you sway your hips against him and his arms wraps around you swaying in sync. He turns you around and you throw your hands over his shoulders and that’s when you feel the burning stare. You know it all too well, you have experienced this too much times to not know. You pay no mind to him though as you listen to at’ok whisper how beautiful you look in your ear making you giggle and smile at him.  

If Neteyam treated you half as good as this, it wouldn’t be so difficult to live with him, you could make a lot of things in his life easier if he’d just be a little nicer to you, but apparently you are so hard to get along with, the woman who makes sure he has clean clothes and his warrior gear is intact, who cooks for him and cleans his living space. You are so fucking hard to live with.  

His hand moved down while he leaned back a bit closer to your lips and tilted his head as if he was gonna come in closer, his hand slid down your back and rested lowly on your hips. You wanted to kiss him honestly, but you got interrupted by a harsh tug on you bicep, pulling you away from At’ok’s warmth.  

“You don’t have any fucking shame, do you? The next time I see your hands on my wife- the next time you even look in her direction I'll fucking kill you” Neteyam’s voice was deadly calm, it made shivers run down your spine at how scary he sounded, but you would show no weakness. As soon as he was dragging you in the direction of your shared hut you started throwing a hissy fit, “What the fuck Neteyam we were dancing-”  

“Dancing?! You were dancing with someone who isn’t your fucking husband like that? Of please y/n” you rip your arm from his grasp, “what the fuck is your problem-” he didn’t wait for you to finish he just interrupted you again. “You, you are my fucking problem, I thought we agreed, the best interest for the clan is you stay in your fucking lane as my wife and I stay in mine as your husband”  

“You are not my husband yet and-”  

“Three weeks, just three more weeks you couldn’t keep your legs closed three more weeks? Then after that I knock you up and you could fuck whoever you want. We only need one” His voice sounds stranded, Neteyam has been pissed off before but even you have never managed to make him this mad.  

“Jeez everything is not about you and what you want! Maybe I miss having sex! Maybe I’m horny and I wanna have some relief! Did you ever even considered the possibility that I don’t want to have to wait anymore? It's been months since the last time I felt a man and it’s all your fault!” you shout at him.  

“You are such a slut you couldn’t wait a couple fucking weeks? You don’t think I feel the same way? Have some fucking self-control! Why should you get to fuck anything that walks while I have to stay loyal and be content with nothing?!” he shouted back to you in the same tone, truthfully it made you kind of turned on the way he spoke to you but your irritation outweighs that right now. 

“I have been loyal you asshole, I haven’t let anyone near me in months! Besides I've been so fucking tired making you sure have properly cooked food and that YOUR hut is cleaned and that YOU LOOK PRESENTABLE WHEN YOU GO OUT IN PUBLIC! And this- THIS is what I get for it? I’m a slut?” your tail thrashes around as you scream at him, your hands push his body backwards and you yank on the braid that falls over his ear in front his face. 

What you don’t expect after your outburst is Neteyam’s smug laughter filling your ears. You look up at his face seeing his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. He suddenly bends his body forwards resting his hands on his knees holding himself up as he laughs. 

“What’s so fucking funny?” you tail twitches angrily your arms crossed over your chest pushing up your tits slightly. His laughter dies down and his head raises to look at you, a smug smirk sits on his face. 

“Nothing, it’s just- you are so fucking difficult to please. Eywa could have given me anyone, ANYONE in this ENTIRE clan. But she chooses you? The cock hungry slut that can’t even be bothered to say thank you after all the effort I put in to make this mate ship work. All you want is to fuck! You know if you wanted cock so bad, you should have just fucking asked for it” his voices drop a couple octaves when says his last sentence.  

You were about to protest but get cut off by him grabbing your bicep harshly once more, pulling you towards your hut, “Ah ah- shut the fuck up I don’t need to hear more” he continues to cut you off until you are at your door step where he opens up the flap widely and shoves you in, you stumble but catch yourself before you fall.  

“Neteyam what the hell-” his large hand met the back of your neck easily, putting pressure on your kuru while pulling you straight up to stabilize you. “You know, you look real pretty tonight, this the one I made you” he toyed with the flowers hanging from the rope of your top. Frankly, you feel a bit nervous of what he might do right now, opting to not sass him, he’s never been this rough with you, or at all so you simply nod your head.  

“You have been such a pain in my ass since I could remember and now, you’re gonna be my wife. Looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners,” Neteyam lets go of your neck and closing the flap behind him and taking off his cummerbund and arm guards. “Take it off.” His voice is deep, makes you shiver.  

You stand still not sure if you should listen to him or not, you really did it today huh? “Don’t make me come over there” he says glancing at you as he puts away his stuff neatly. He stretches his muscular arms and broad shoulder while he watches you still not move at all.  

“Y/n why don’t you ever just listen, I'm giving you what you want and you listen won’t listen to me!” His voice sounds stranded once more as he tries to get through to you. He sighs before walking up to you a ripping the top off your body. It was one of your prettier tops so it made you upset when he ruined it, you watch the pretty petals fall to the floor exposing you. 

You gasp and brought your hands up to cover your chest, you tail twitches as you look towards him angrily, “Neteyam what the hell I actually liked that top, probably the only thing you ever did that I-” his large palm slaps over your mouth, “shut up” his voice is so calm as if he’s used to doing things this. 

Honestly, this approach he is taking with you is turning you on so much, you didn’t think he had it in him. You bite his hand and he rips it away from your mouth, “what do you even think you are about to give me here? Have you ever even made a woman cum? Do you know what to you? I was under the impression you liked men considering the stick up your ass in snug in there.”  

“You are about to regret your words you slutty bitch” he mumbles to you when he rips your loincloths off your body forcefully making you stumble forward. Eywa don’t let this man see how mess in between your legs look it’ll be over for you. “Neteya-”  

“No.” he pushes your body down on the sleeping mat that is adorn with comfortable blankets and pillows you both made. “You need to learn to shut the fuck up and listen sometimes, I’m sick of your shit. You want to get dicked down fine” he doesn’t give you a minute to protest when he's immediately on top of you tying your hands to the bedhead, he made to go behind your sleeping mat using soft pieces of cloth, it was such a pretty pattern to you know he spent a lot of him on yet, you never imagined he’d use it like this.  

“Neteyam-” he cuts you off again, “there you go saying my name again, don’t worry you won't remember anything else when I’m done with you.” he smiles down at you obnoxiously. He doesn’t even wait a second before he grabs your thighs spreading them wide and pinning them to your chest. “Oh Eywa, sweetheart, look how wet.” he smiles wickedly at you, “Did I do this or that little hunter boy you were dancing with huh?” his smile never falters as he takes in your blushing expression.  

“Well, it doesn’t really matter does it? I get to play with it.” You wank on the restraints keeping you still but it only tightens the knot, you can practically feel the marks it will leave on your wrist. When he removes one hand from your thighs you instinctively shut them closed trapping his hands inside, you should have known that wouldn’t work, Neteyam physically much stronger than you are. 

His hands push your thighs apart harshly and he slaps his heavy hand on your thigh cruelly making you wail out at the sting, “Don’t fucking close it” his voice was steady even with your whimpering. You don’t make the mistake of closing them again when he removes his hand once more, dragging one of his long fingers slowly up your folds to your clit. The feeling makes you mellow softly, you lips parted and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were even holding. 

Neteyam brought his finger up to his mouth watching it drop slick on the bedding and put it in his mouth humming at the taste, “I have to say sweetheart I wasn’t expecting you to taste so sweet, I thought you’d be sourer you know... cause you’re a sour bitch, but my, y/n you taste like utumauti (banana fruit).” Your eyes roll at his comment but you can’t find yourself uttering words when he continues his action. 

Without warning he inserts a finger into you, his face is so close to your intimate area you can feel his breath on your clit as he watches your cunt suck in his finger when he’s pulling it back out. He repeats the cycle going faster before adding another finger, your eyes are shut now as he fingers you at a moderate pace, but it still feels amazing. “I can feel you sucking me in, gonna cum on my fingers evenge (girl)?” he speaks out glancing at your flash face. Your lip is trapped between your teeth as you watch his arm flex when he thrust in and out of you. When he curls his finger hitting your sweet spot you mewl loudly and throw your head back, resting it on his fluffy pillow.  

His scent invades your nose as you start to lose your senses coming on his fingers. You try to muffle your noises not wanting to give him any kind of complex. “Awe, look at you trying to be quiet. You don’t want me to hear those noises huh? I guess I’ll have to coax them out.” he fakes disappointment pouting his bottom lip out for you as he curls his fingers again pressing down on your sweet spot and he does this over and over and over again. 

You can no longer hold in your moans at his movements and he speeds up making you tense your legs up. You release on his hand with a loud whimper you try to shut your legs to make him stop his movements, Neteyam doesn’t falter he open pries your legs back open and delivers another harsh slap to your other thigh, “You just don’t listen huh” he delivers another, then another one slapping both your inner thighs.  

“Neteyam please stopp” water wields up in your eyes as you take his rough, heavy slaps to your skin. “You know, you came without permission, what should we do about it slut?” he slaps you again completely ignoring you pleads. Your thighs are turning red from the abuse but he doesn’t care. His fingers speed up their pace inside you and you feel like you are seeing stars, “Neteyam-” you whimper as you try to squirm away from his hands. 

“Yea sweetheart? I thought you said I couldn’t make you come?” his tone is condescending when he speaks to you. The overstimulation makes you roll your eyes back, your face flushes deep purple and you bite your lip. “I take it back-” you whimper to him. “Aw, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that now you wanted this didn’t you? You wanted a man to touch you like this. You got it.”  

You glimpse at his figure in front of you. He’s having so much fun teasing and touching you, you can see the way he enjoys watching you come undone for him, “All this just for me huh? Just imagine you wanted At’ok to be the one touching you, instead of me? Your husband. You think he could make you feel half as good as this? The answer is no.” Neteyam uses his other hand to push his body up and over yours, his hand moves to graze your nipples that harden a while ago being left untouched. 

“Such a little slut. Fuck” neteyam pinches your nipples roughly, feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers he knows you want to cum again but he’s not giving in so easily this time. “You’re gonna cum” he says, he’s not even questioning you, like he’s done this a million times, he just knows. You don’t deny it nodding your head vigorously, “wanna cum yea” you whimper 

“Beg.” his voice is stern, he slows his movements a bit, “No fuck you” you bite back. “Oh, then I guess you won’t be cumming tonight” Neteyam voice sounds innocent but his face tells you an entirely different story, he wants you to give him, he’s just waiting for you to roll over and beg for him. His fingers slowly retract from your pussy and the emptiness drives you crazy, “wait!” you shout accidently pulling on the restraints.  

“Please?” you mumble so softly he almost didn’t catch it, “What was that sweetheart?” his head leans in tilting his ear towards your mouth, his fingers still inside you half way in, half way out. “Please neteyam..”  

He chuckles at you, “feeling shy? Speak up please what?” he eggs on, “Please let me cum” he tries to hold in the satisfied smile making its way to his face, “one more time let me hear it, please what?” he urges you to speak louder, “PLEASE NETEYAM! LET ME CUM!” your eyes are glassy when you scream. You want it so bad you can barely think.  

“There it is, that wasn’t so fucking hard was it, all you had to do was ask nicely whore” his smile is wicked when he calls you that, he watches your face bubble up in anger before he continues his ferocious pace. You feel like you melt down into a puddle when you cum on his fingers with a loud scream of his name. You didn’t mean for it to happen but it certainly did, you are sure if someone was around your hut they would have heard you screaming out for you mate. 

Neteyam laughs wickedly when he pulls away from your body. The hand that was previously inside you comes up to your face and he smears your wetness onto your skin as he cups for face. “You gonna fucking listen now if I untie you?” 

“I always listen Net-” he cuts you off with a harsh slap using the same hand, right across your face whipping your head to the side. His grip comes back, “I didn’t ask for back talk you dirty whore, I asked if you were gonna listen” you mumble something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch making him smack you across the face again. For what felt like the thousandth time, he made your eyes tear up. You decided against answering and just nodded your head, big mistake. His heavy hand comes down once more on your face and before he can utter any words you scream out to make him stop, “yes- fuck yes, I’ll listen”  

Neteyam smiles victoriously at you, and reaches his free hand up to rip the restraints off you. You could try to fight him, but you have no energy to even move properly. You were under the impression he got his point across, and that he was done, but you were in for a rude awakening. He moves off of you grabbing the hair on the top of your head roughly and pulling you onto your stomach, you whimper at the pain.  

When he lets you go his roughly pulls you up on all fours, and you raise your head to see his positioned you in front of the mirror he got for your hut. “Oh no” the thought ran through your head, you take in your form; half of your face is red from his slaps, you can see your red thighs. Your bottom lip swollen from biting down on it.  

“Oh, but yes, were not done” you must have said it out loud and not even realized, when your eyes shift to his form looming over you, his head is right next to yours, his loincloth has been discarded and he was stroking himself behind you. You couldn’t see his cock from this angle so you drop your head down to the mat, your chin touched the floor and you looked in through the mirror directly as his dick, you watch him stroke his incredibly long and thick length, your eyes widen as you wonder how the fuck that was about to fit inside you, you have never taken anything so big before, how does he even hide that thing? 

Neteyam notes your expression easily and raises up highly to give you a better view. When his tip presses at your overstimulated clit you raise your head up and shook a ‘no’ quickly pulling your body away from him. “Don’t run, you were cursing breeze about an hour ago about how horny you were, and how much you wanted another man to touch you” he pulls you back roughly, dragging your bent over form closer to him and you felt his tip pushing against you once more. 

“I’m going to have to teach you who this pussy belongs too” he pushes in this time without warning and you feel his length stretch you out, your mouth makes an o shape but not sound comes out as you take him in. You didn’t even know it was possible that to fit in you, but then again you never thought you would be fucking this man so things change. 

“Eywa you are such a slutty doll, watch yourself fall apart on my cock, and I just stuck it in.” he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, he just starts pounding into you. You cream on his cock while he’s thrusting, he fucks you so good, it’s like Eywa made his cock especially for your cunt. When you are almost coming for the third time, he pulls out of you leaving you untouched. 

Your eyes shoot up to look at him threw the mirror and you find him already staring at you, “Who’s making you cum sweetheart?” he asks you in a sickeningly sweet voice, “No one, I’m not coming you pulled out. What, can’t keep up with me?” you feel upset at his action making you manifest an attitude. His hand comes down smacking your ass, your tail whips when your feel the fat ripple, “What?” when you done answer he smacks the other cheek of your ass making you whimper, “nothing...” you said softly, but loud enough for him to hear.  

“Sweetheart you always make things hard for yourself” smack. “Why can’t you just be a good little wife” smack. “You didn’t answer my question yet” smack. “Who’s making you come slut?” smack. Smack. Smack.  

Neteyam thoroughly enjoys spanking you like you were a naughty child. He didn’t stop until he heard you small words, “You, you’re making me come please?” you push your ass back into his dick feeling the tip slip down and slap your slit making you jump. He catches you off guard when he pushes back in fucking you with the same vigor ask before, making you drop your face down to the mat  

“Now tell me who’s making you come?” his right hand comes around to your neck and pulls you up choking you. Your lips part as you exhale with every thrust he delivers, “Y-you” you stutter out, “Say my name whore come on” his face comes down next to yours and his hand moves from your neck to your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers, his head comes down to the junction of your neck and face and sucks harshly on the skin. 

Neteyam leave dark purple marks all over your neck then he feels your cunt clenching down on his cock, “Gonna cum?” he whispers to you. You can barely form coherent words but you do manage to hm out a “mhmmmm.” his hand that is holding your face smacks it lightly a couple times, “Is that how you ask?” he questions, his pace never faltering, “Pul-lease Net-teyam!” your teeth are clenched as you whimper and moan at the amazing feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.  

“Such a quick learner come on slut, come on my cock” his words send you over the edge coming on command, your orgasm is intensified by the feeling of his teeth digging into your neck, he’s biting you, marking you, Neteyam creates a pretty wound when he draws blood out of you making you scream loudly. 

You pant your mouth feels dry and your throat hurts, you want to fall down but his grip is strong, he doesn’t let that happen. Neteyam pulls out of you quickly and moves his hand from your face to the top of your head pulling you to sit on your knees in front of him. He strokes his cock before tapping it on your lips a couple times, “come on, open up taste your juices slut.” His cock presses against you lips when he lets it go and slaps you across the face again, “Are you slow bitch, open up” he smacks you around whipping your head from side to side before you answer him, “My mouth is dry-” he can hear it in your voice, he knows it’s true.  

“Open.” he says sternly, his hands now occupied holding your head, “Stick your tongue out.” he continues in the same tone, when you do it, he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours and you instinctively swallow it, he shoves his cock into your mouth right after, “Now suck” he demanded thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. 

He observes the way your cheeks puff out when he fills you up and the bulge in your throat when he thrust harshly into your mouth. The view is perfect for once you can’t complain or bitch about anything you do, your mouth is stuffs, you are quiet. Neteyam enjoys the silence aside from the occasionally gagging, your tears fall down your cheeks creating such a perfect picture for him. 

When neteyam come he pulls out of your mouth, stroking himself coming all over your face and chest with a sexy moan, “fuckkk yea take it bitch.” He takes a deep breath and looks down at you seeing you stick your tongue out tasting the cum that sits on your lips. Neteyam thinks it’s so hot, next time he’ll be sure to come in your mouth but for now, “gonna stop being a little bitch now and behave yourself?” he brings his hand back squishing your face, ignoring the feeling of his come on it. You nod quickly before opening you mouth and responding, “I’ll behave.”  

You both know it’s not true but at least you said it.  

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[stariikis]

ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey. 

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.” 

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace… 

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge. 

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.” 

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.” 

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on. 

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way. 

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.” 

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this. 

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.” 

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.” 

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him. 

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence. 

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site. 

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is. 

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..” 

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook. 

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?” 

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

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[court-jobi]

Flip of a Switch

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work or this splendid art))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (fem!reader)

Words: 3.4k

Rating: M, 18+ (put down the spicy chicken bucket, baby birds)

Warnings: NSFW, oral (m receiving), fingering, praise, slight!overstim, est. relationship, sweet dirty talk, marking, Hawks / Reader are SWITCHES, porn w feelings, where we're going we don't need plot

Summary:

Any chance he gets, Hawks is going to be bounding into your apartment, ripping off his shirt and ready to spoil and be spoiled by your loving hands when he has a free afternoon or a rare night off the patrol circuit. His 'issued residence' is hardly a zen getaway for him, but your home is. Pleasing and pleasuring your beloved Pro Hero is the least of your worries. It's playing with yourself that's the hard part, so opening up your bedroom to your Keigo to let him try his hand at it is still a touch-and-go battle. But it's your playtime, too, and he's set on making you feel as sexy as you look.

A/N: It's smut hours, yall, and pretty bird is up next. Thank you all for the comments and love, hope you like this one!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

"Stop," Hawks breathes out fast, "Stopstopstop…"

With a rough hand, your personal Pro Hero forces you to listen: he smooths over your hair to get your attention along his hip, and cupped your chin with a lift to keep it up and away from temptation.

Looking up all too innocently, your small voice cracks from… lack of use.

"Wass'matter?" 

You swallow some residual ‘excitement’ from the corner of your mouth with a flirty tongue. Hawks's pupils are blown.

"Bad idea. Fuck... You're too good at that." He smirked, reining himself in.

"Mmm, thank you~" you laid down along his abs, mindful of the pulsing just below you, in between your breasts. Rocking back and forth under the excuse of 'getting comfortable' only got a rise out of Hawks more– your beloved companion inhales a cleansing breath to steady himself.

"And here I thought you had those pesky confidence issues, lovedove…"

"I did, a little." You pressed a little kiss and a twiddle of fingers along his sides, "But m'better now, thanks to you-"

Those fingers press and press towards his back, and the thought just crosses your mind…

Hawks clutches a wrist almost instantly- frowning hard to hide his near outburst.

Eyes flickering between Hawks’s face and his squeezing hand, you narrowed your set stare.

"... Are you ticklish?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"My wings aren't ticklish. Common misconcep’shn."

"Oh." you hushed. "So you won't make a fuss I do this..."

"Okay now, don't you gooo-ooh-woah, HEY!!"

Hawks rose up with laughter as you gave him a mighty ‘ole raspberry on his taut stomach. 

Happy Keigo is your favorite Keigo.

The bark of his involuntary giggles echo for a passing beat in your perfect, cozy room, cascading into low chuckles as you sought out his sides -close to where his winglets are pinned down– to tickle him further. 

The cuteness aggression on both your parts died down as he continued to cry uncle, so you eased up with the sweetest realization: this was probably the first time you recalled having so much pleasure and fun in bed. What a combination…

"You absolute brat!" Hawks rasps incredulously and pins you back towards the foot of the bed. This puts you squarely out of the covers to force your little squirming self against the cold- bringing out your subsequent pout. No amount of bargaining will help you now, "Oh no~ you don't get to hide. You asked for this."

And he copies your razz, causing you to burst out in high, carousing squeals- after which you immediately slap a hand over your mouth. 

Surprised by yourself, you had to mute the sudden noise with a panicked look at the door.

Hawks hummed, disapproving. 

"Look who's being loud now. Whatever would the Hikamotos say?"

The game of teasing only brought out your competitive nature. Your dear old neighbors hold no weight over you, but you weren't about to spark their wrath at you for being too loud again. 

You winked and teased your lip, "What they don’t know won’t hurt them."

"That so?" Hawks' eyes sparkled in the low light. "Then I have your permission to make you scream another way…?"

That made you stiffen- in all good humor, but aware of the sinful look in Hawks' dilated sights, you knew this wasn't a bluff. It's a promise.

"Okay, wait, no-- they'd definitely suspect something then!"

"Since when do you care what the old coots across the hall think?" Hawks countered, a jealous twang slipping into his words.

"Since I’m the one who has to deal with them whenever you're gone. And PopPop asks me -often- about my love life, and what I think about those heroes I'm always hanging out with. Pretty hard act to play, when I have to be cool even though I'm thirsting after your ev-.. ev’ry move, while you're.. y’know..not here."

Your words were slowing off your tongue as Hawks' wandering hands skimmed over your skin- one heading up your body to cradle your head, the other snaking down and swatting back the bunched-up covers to give him space.

"Yeah? And what're you going to tell the poor geezer now, hm?"

You smiled suggestively, but the sensations thrumming through your bones now send you reeling- knowing what was coming next, and already feeling the nerves push back up your gut.

Hawks' gaze flickered down as a hint. A whisper on his lips instructs you to 'open your legs a bit', very easy going. 

Letting your thighs go lax, you busy your hands by tugging his upper body down close so you could reach his hair- something, anything to hold onto, to touch him gently enough so he'd show you mercy.

He says it's his favorite way to unwind, being at home with you. Fierce Wings shed all over your room in batches, stripped down in next to nothing himself, unencumbered by teeming fans and villains alike– your boyfriend lights up at the idea when you offer your own cleared schedule to spend it with him. 

Within minutes of texting a particularly alluring selfie his way, Hawks is bounding into your apartment, ripping off his shirt and ready to spoil and be spoiled by your loving hands anytime he gets a free afternoon or a rare night off the patrol circuit. His apartment -while calm and aesthetically pleasing in its simpleness- is an ‘issued residence’, and reminds him of his commitments to work and thus far from his ideal zen getaway.

But making him feel good is the least of your reservations. It didn't take you longer than an episode of a kid’s cartoon to make him lose his mind and start begging to cum. 

It's playing with yourself that's the hard part, so opening up your bedroom to Hawks to let him try his hand at it was still a touch-and-go battle. 

You knew full well you were in the best care with him, knew it in your head and heart– but the flare of insecurity would not leave you alone when you're with him like this. Your entire waistline will tremble on its own, your spine will go stock still, and your legs are unable to really go weightless unless he’s telling you step by step to do so. 

But he makes it really convincing, bat of his eyes and all. He's never once rushed you or made a jab about how long you take to unwind. This is your playtime, too; where he can see past your flirty shell that's obviously attracted to him, but needs a little encouragement to turn sensual. He'd offer you the moon if he could- whatever would make you feel as sexy as you look.

Seems that simply watching you does it enough for him, at least… hence why he had to forcibly remove you from his lap to avoid releasing too soon. 

"So?” Hawks croons down to you, “You were going tell him..~?"

"That I-- uh..." you raked along his skull to feel grounded.

Gone are the featherlight and soft touches. Hawks is on a massaging mission. Memorizing  you by way of warmed skin and the stuttering breaths of almost kisses.

"You–?”

You squirm, brow furrowed.

“I– I can get the- uhm-”

“No…” the twist of your body is halted by his palm on your hip. Shaking his head at your suggestion of a toy to speed things along, he presses a chaste kiss to your nose, “no rushin’. Gonna try this the old-fashioned way.”

You flare with heat up your neck.

“Old-fashioned way?”

“Mhm~ Lovin’ touchin’ squeezin’, mama.”

He's honestly getting a bit creative in a way you haven't felt before. Rather than dip into where he knows you’ll be wet and stuff you full, he's mapping the entire area with expert touch, until he happens upon the nub of you that takes his full, thorough attention. 

Once he's got it, Hawks' rubbing grew distracting, very quickly. 

It's a good spot– the spot.

It's just little circles, why does this feel like it's numbing me straight to my brain…

Dammit, those teasing looks. You moaned, shutting your eyes to focus down. 

Your brain traipsed nearer and nearer to a fuzzy state, as was each word pushed out with lidded eyes: cast to him for an answer. 

"I-- mmmm.. What the hell you doing, and why'sitfeelsogood?..." 

Hawks drank them in and studied you with a proud but soft expression, watching you slip closer and closer to what he wanted. With bated breath, he nosed close to your ear,

"Gonna make you cum, sweet thing." Hawks cooed ever so lovingly. "Gonna go nice and slow~ just relax for me, deal?"

“B-but you haven't even-”

“I know~” kisses start getting littered on your neck, “I know, but I'm easy, babe. Wanna get you warmed up a bit, too. Only fair to my lady with that pretty, pretty mouth of hers, y'know? I hafta make things even~”

A broken hum in the affirmative, you give in and sink towards his neck and let him touch. 

“I– it's… it's not as easy for me, though… might take a while, n’ you shouldn’t hafta wait so long.. I don’t- know if I can…”

You’re never short on reactive noises, but your shyness overtook when the warm fluttering waves dominated your focus. It was too much and not enough; and between Hawks’ ministrations and his words, you had a hard time pinning your thoughts down on anything at all. 

“We don't have a timeline, sweet’eart,” your loving boyfriend nuzzles you, “s’just you and me here. Lemme love on you a little, hm?”

That voice of his- low and rolling, like he uses to talk to his higher ups in order to get away with his charming bullshit- was doing something powerful to you now.

"You sound amazing like this. All let loose and open for me?” Hawks lays on the praise thick, “Oh, I could listen to you all day and night. Just might do that.. mmm, feels good to touch you like this, too."

Fuck, Keigo. 

"Wanted to, for the longest time.. wanted to feel how much you missed me, if you miss me as much as I miss you... I want to listen to you breathe, like we did before. Hear you sing your own little birdie-songs, and just let everything else fade away.. wanna feel you around me and just let that heat take over -fuck, you're so wet, aren't you…”

Fuck, Keigo… 

“Wanted… to lay you back down on that sofa in my office that first day you said you'd come n’ meet me for lunch. Almost kept you all’to myself. Even after fighting every fuckin’ thing in sight between here to Tokyo, filthy as sin- I wanted you, even then..."

He’s kissing down your torso now, speaking this lovesick poetry straight to your core. 

To his retreating warmth, you grasped along his arm for his hand until you connected.

"Didn't fucking matter though, did it sweet’eart? You had my whole heart in a chokehold, I know that now– but God was I such a damned idiot for waitin’ so long. All I wanted was to tell you how much I loved you... N’tell you everything I do, and how I do it. All the stories you want– they're yours. Knowing I have you to come back to... To come home to..."

Next to bursting, your breaths came sharp and painfully arousing.

 "Keigo~~"

Ever the enticing hero, Hawks slunk down on his belly -ear to your abdomen- speaking right to you. Granting you the sweetest words he can muster in the gentlest voice- you feel closer than ever to the man claiming he's always been yours. 

"M’never letting 'nother day go by…” Hawks praised you with needy fingers still dancing around your folds, “Gonna swear to you, every single chance I get: how much I want you... adore you.. how much I fucking love you."

"Fuck, Keigo~~!" 

Your back tipped off the bed and suddenly, you felt attacked by the strangest surge of need that you gripped his wrist still; willing it to.. not stop- pull away? Or pull nearer?

He peeks up to you again with a devilish smirk. Popping up with a passionate lift of his wing’s assist, Hawks grumbles teases against your neck, 

"Bout to fly off into the clouds, are we?"

You whined beautifully; or at least, you think he'd say so. Through your head swims, swirling in all of his confessions of one-sided pining, you tried to beg for the unknown: 

Things feel tight, and achey.

"Wai-- Kei, I can’t-"

"Yes, you can," Hawks pressed into your neck and sped up his hand, "Yes you can, sweet thing. Let go, you're so close."

Breath was hard to come by. Little nosies grew high and light in your moans, and you're clutching at Hawks to come back up to you, seeking his protection and his warmth- higher and higher as your impending, ultimate high dangled mysteriously in front of you.

But no, he's back onto his belly with nothing but kisses to your midsection and some open mouthed nibbles at your skin on his way. 

Honestly, you had no real clue how this could happen with what he was doing, how he moved so expertly and pinpointed this edge of pleasure and agony for you with amazing precision- all by some fanciful words. 

This was different from any encounter you've had before. You think you know why, too, since it was apart of your draw to him in the first place- 

You are stuck on his voice. His mind. His inner man under all the showmanship. It all comes out through a honey-sweet tone that means every secret he spills is true. And he knows that'll strike to the core of you; you're a wordsmith, after all. He turns poetic, because he knows that will resonate with your artistic heart. 

It's working, because you’re  pulsing everywhere  and  need him so badly-

"Shit, Keigohoney, please!!" you begged- near tears- cupping his strong neck and looking for his assurance and safety.

–only said object of your affections is too into this, and aims to please and tease your way through to finishing. 

“What's that, baby? Whaddyou need?”

“I-I wan’ you, ughhh…” 

Those needs melted into moans the more you feel him pet and stroke. 

Your darling boy simply smiles and kisses you tender and quick against those trembling lips.

"I got you," Hawks rasped, his tone becoming urgent and coaxing, excitement lighting his eyes and nodding along with you as you convinced yourself: 

…this was new, but going to be oh-so worth it, just like he said- how he promised- 

Hawks bobs his head while he picks up the speed of his fingers on your clit, 

"You're gonna come for me, yeah? Gonna come hard and fast and you're gonna love every second of it, c'mon-- I got you, I'm right here."

You begged in half-whimpers.

‘I'm right here,’ the bed seems to agree- currently being rutted against by Hawks’ more hybrid tendencies, with you in between: 

"You're gonna feel so good. You don't need to beg… there's nothing but all the time in the world, nothing but this room, this bed. Nothin’ but your Keigo. Just you and me here."

Your very heart rose to the surface, slurring your words,

“Love you-…”

"Mm. I hear how much you love me," his moan into your ear to ramp up your pleasure, and make you cry out, “N’ I love you, too, little dove.”

He's caressing you even faster, but equally as light. It's not a push, but a thrum of constant pressure.

 "My girl’s almost ready to cum, isn't she?"

"FUCK yes!" you moaned at the change of pace. You're a panting mess and embarrassed by it– but  he's so excited to see it.

Chancing a look at him, Hawks is a man starved. Just touching you alone, he's heaving big breaths.

"That feels good, huh?” Hawks growls- nearing feral, “Gonna be even better with my cock inside you."

 It's the key to unlock your next cry.

"GODS, fuck me now!!"

"Not. Yet.”

Hawks tips your chin up with a possessive hold on your neck. His palm -gloveless since this began- cradles you from underneath, bringing your gaze to his fire-lit eyes.

“You go first. Then I'll fuck right into you, just like you want. You cum first for me, yeah? You gonna cum?"

"Yes~" you begged, breathless and in a trance under him, "Yes yes, please, I'll co-- ahh, I'm- ah.."

Hawks with his controlled strength squeezed his hand ever so gently, craning your head up and up, grinding with your leg in perfect rhythm with his hand's curl.

"That's it-- there you go, c'mon. C'mon."

Hawks spat his passions again and again, delicious in its roughness.

Then, you finally sobbed until it silenced you–

You’re jumping up against the weight slotted to you -his weight- but immediately stilled by Hawks' hard kisses over the column of your throat: kisses adorned with canines that bite when you start to shake through your pleasure.

Ultimate relief gushed out of you while you twitched and crashed against him, riding out his  hand to your body's high.

As the shocks spilled over, you're gasping- eyes wide open. 

Then as quick as it came, your entire body gave up its ghost; limp and clutching close to your anchor while he started chuckling in complete rapture,

“Atta girl, atta girl!! You did it, baby, I knew you could!”

He's celebrating this win, over and over as if it's his own. It was a vain effort since your ears felt stuffed with cotton from the exertion you'd just been put through, and could barely make anything out with the headrush ebbing away. The only thing you could register was Hawks’ frame bracing himself up on an elbow above you– your source of shelter.

Veritable alpha energy coating you from top to bottom, you relish each passing second of settling down easy while receiving little assuring kisses along your hot skin. 

Well, at first, they were kisses. Then some longer ones. Then a few licks along your neck working to cool you: he was tasting your sweat.

"Ohhhh-ho that's my best girl! You were amazing to watch- fuck~~. That was the most gorgeous thing I ever did see, hmmm... Oh, poor thing, can you hear me? Shhh hey, you. Can you hear me alrigh’?"

His voice was turning playful, and when you finally open your eyes, the dizzying sensation had gone away finally. But while the intensity had dimmed, it only reignited your heat when you met your lover's adoring features. 

Brilliant half smile on display, Hawks brushes your hair back and presses some loving forehead kisses across you… eliciting light breathless chuckles in thanks to the touch.

Hawks centered back on your flushed cheeks and lax brows- free from all tension,

"Back down on the ground with me?"

"...Holy shit."

"Good shit?"

"Good shit~"

“Color?”

“Golden.” Better than green, when it’s him.

You giggled in relief, shuddering against the cold and turning to the side aghast at yourself. Only in the let down of your post-bliss did you realize how fast you'd turned into a full sap the moment his hands were on you. 

And after being in control of his pleasure for so long before… he flipped a switch and blew your mind. 

Hawks was an incredibly fast learner, though was there any surprise there? You cover your neck for a second and gave a glowing laugh again, "Wow, my throat is tired."

Your blond beauty atop you simply stroked still-damp fingers along the supple edge of your breast. The experimental touch could hardly be considered fondling due to the soulful look of reverence in how he handled them. He'd be sure to shower up with you later and clean it off. 

"You were enjoying yourself- I’d call that a good job~”

"I don' think I can make any sandwiches for you after that one," you limply waved your hand: "no bones right now."

“Haha! No offerings needed, lovedove. It's entirely my pleasure.”

He’s your absolute angel, you’re convinced now more than ever.

Hawks rumbled happily, "Tired girl, huh. You do look pretty wiped out." He twirls your side swept hair aside. “S’pose I won’t be making good on my promise to fill ya up this time, will I?”

The tease prominent on his mind (and now yours), you focus in: broke from the daze and blindly shift your leg up and over Hawks’ thigh- pulling him in flush to you and grinding up with a smirk, 

"Not that tired, pretty bird."

[sc0tters]

In The Alley | Mark Estapa, Ethan Edwards, Luca Fantilli, Rutger Mcgoarty

summary: when you are left on the closing shift that the bowling alley the guys who are left on the final lane invite you to join the most memorable game of your life.

request: sort of?

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, slight degradation (whore or slut are mentioned once or twice), swearing

word count: 3.17k

authors note: my brain is sore after writing this one but it was fun. That Luca plot was choppy because I literally had written 1000 words and rather than pressing copy I pressed delete. I’m tired rn too so I can’t be bothered to rewrite that part… with that being said I hope you enjoy what I wrote today!

You seemed to be the only one in the alley that didn’t care for the boys bowling games.

They had been there for hours and it meant that you had gotten through the majority of the book you were reading “can we get another game?” Mark asked pulling your attention from between those pages.

Quickly you shut the book as your cheeks grew flushed looking up at the boy “huh?” You furrowed eyebrows.

Mark smirked as your thighs squeezed together “another game princess?” He repeated his words as he rubbed his hand against his jaw “could join us if you want.” The hockey player added as he shrugged.

As you were on closing tonight you were the only worker left as the alley was meant to close in the next twenty minutes “wouldn’t want to impose.” You shook your head as you sighed running your fingers through your hair.

The hockey player leaned forward to snatch the book from your lap “Mark!” You groaned getting up in an attempt to get you book back “play and you get it.” There were only four of the players left counting Mark.

You sent him a pout as he matched your stance “fine,” the book was something you didn’t exactly want him to see as your bookmark was in the middle of a sex scene “add your name to our list!” Mark cheered seeing you the some things onto a screen before you followed him out.

Mark wrapped his hand around your shoulder as he smiled “you’ll enjoy it I promise.” he spoke into your ear sending shivers down your spine. Things had been weird between the two of you as you were in most of his classes on campus “nice to see you finally join us.” Ethan smirked realising that Mark’s effort to get you to join worked.

The boys had to say that they were surprised that by the fifth set you had yet to score anything less than a spare “I think you’re cheating princess.” Mark crossed his arms as he stared down at you.

You smiled as you shook your head “warned you that I could do this.” A string of confidence seemed to shoot through you as you took the spoon from his ice cream letting your lips wrap around it as you swallowed the cold vanilla goodness.

Rutger watched on as he let out a groan causing you to grin “you’re up freshie.” You motioned to him to take the space. You comfortably slotted into the seat next to Luca who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you “somethin’ on my face Fantilli?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you waited for his answer “nope.” The boys cheeks grew red as he realised he had been caught.

The game went on as Mark looked at you with a grin when you got your first 6 on a set “not as good as we all thought you were huh?” Mark smirked running his hands along his pants “uh uh baby.” He added tapping his thigh when you were about to sit in your own chair.

You listened comfortably situating yourself on his thigh “you want s’more?” The hockey player asked pointing to his new serving of ice cream “yeah,” you nodded letting your teeth sink into your lower lip as you looked down to see the bulge in his shorts that was quickly forming.

A smirk formed on your face as he scooped up some of the ice cream from his cup bringing the spoon to your mouth “open up,” the boy smiled at hop responsive you were to him “keep that in there until I’m back.” Mark mumbled as you wrapped your lips around his spoon.

The hockey player left you sat by yourself as he got up to complete his turn. As saliva built up in your mouth mixing with the quickly melting ice cream you were tempted to swallow and just get more ice cream “don’t even think about it baby.” Ethan warned as he sat across from you legs spread on his couch.

Your eyes went wide locking with his “be a good girl and we will reward you.” The Canadians words caused your thighs to close as your cheeks turned red “you listen to me?” Mark asked as he walked back to you seemingly happy about the eight pins that he had knocked over.

Your jaw grew loose as you showed him your mouth “good girl,” the boy smiled running his thumb over your lower lip “you can swallow it now.” He added watching your throat as you let the sweet goodness slide down into your stomach.

Luca cleared his throat watching the interaction “don’t keep her all to yourself Estapa.” The sophomore grumbled as he watched you stare up at Mark like he was the only man in the world.

You turned to the boy with a smile “there is enough of me to go around Lu.” In that moment they all thought you didn’t know the gravity of your words “don’t mind being shared.” Your confession made your cheeks hot as you stared at the floor “oh shit.” Mark had a groan that got caught in his throat “she’s a dirty little whore.” He blurted out leaning over you to grab your book that he had placed on the table.

Before you could try to stop him the page flipped open as his eyes traveled over the line you didn’t want him to read.

Elijah’s hands ran down my bare body “please.” I cried out needing more “be a good girl for me before James hears you.” He warned knowing that his roommate was in the room next door “bit late for that.”

Ethan had walked over to see what his teammate read “you want to be a good girl for us?” The hockey player asked smirking as you looked up to him with big eyes “all of you.” You croaked out the words as the bowling game now seemed a mere distance thought.

Within a couple of minutes your throat felt raw as it took in Luca’s cock “you enjoying sucking Luca off whilst Ethan fingers you baby?” Rutger cooed watching your hips grind against Ethan’s fingers “yeah.” Your words were muffled as his cock hit the back of your throat.

The Fantilli boy locked his fingers into your hair making a makeshift ponytail to hold it up “shit I’m gonna come.” Luca announced gasping as his vision grew blurry.

You weren’t far behind as you moaned “she’s not far either.” Ethan mumbled bringing his thumb up to play with your clit causing you to be pushed over the edge.

It was hot as Luca’s come shot onto your tongue “swallow it baby.” The sophomore ordered making you nod as you listened to him following those actions as you swallowed his come before you stuck your tongue out “good girl.” Luca smiled bringing your lips up to kiss his.

You huffed out trying to recover from your orgasm as your hips still jerked on the older boys fingers that hadn’t let up “greedy little whore huh?” Ethan smirked as you finally stopped your hips movements “shit Ethan!” You nodded blinking as you tried to focus.

His fingers slid out of your cunt giving your clit a soft tap “go easy on her.” Mark joked helping you up onto a couch “you good?” He asked brushing your hair out of your face.

It made your heart warm how he cared for you like that “yeah.” You nodded pulling him by his jacket “go win the game and I’ll make sure you come next.” You mumbled into his ear as you pressed a kiss on his earlobe.

Mark grunted looking at you “what do we say we get a competition between all of us?” He asked turning his attention to the boys who nodded “winner gets her pussy and runner up gets her mouth.” The hockey player licked his lips as he watched your bare pussy glisten up at him.

You nodded giving the boys the green light that you were comfortable with the idea “I’ll come back for this pussy soon enough baby.” Mark mumbled into your ear before his lips moved to hover over yours “gonna take this for now though.” He mumbled letting out a groan as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

Before Mark could get too comfortable he remembered that he was around the other boys causing him to pull away from you as he smirked Rutger had been watching you as his cock grew even harder than it already was “c’mere Rut.” You croaked letting your eyes go up to his face “want to give you some attention too.” You intended on tasting his cock as the mere sight of it in his boxers made your mouth water.

Rutger shook his head as he smiled “think you deserve another orgasm.” The sophomore shifted around you on the couch as he sat you on his thigh “such a pretty little girl.” He cooed as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. It was surprisingly more forward than Marks as the Jets draftee took the initiative to be in control “you like that?” It didn’t take Rutger long to feel the wetness of your core as it soaked up his shorts “yeah.” You gasped as your sensitive clit rubbed against the sewing marks of his pants “want to ride my thigh?” He smirked hearing the little jumps your breath made as it got used to what was going on between your thighs.

When you stayed still for too long Rutger let his hands land on your hips guiding you through the motions “it’s just us baby.” Ethan called out smirking at how your head dropped to Rutger’s shoulder “let us all hear and see you.” He added causing all of the boys to stop and watch as they waited for you to listen.

However the sensations that shot through body causing your nipples to ache and your mind to grow foggy “look at me princess.” Rutger ordered as you continued to ignore him.

To say that it pissed him off that you were totally focusing on your own orgasm as you were in your little world was an understatement “listen to me when I talk.” The sophomore barked as his hand slid from your hip to throat “sorry Rut,” your lips formed a pout as you melted into the pleasure that he made you feel.

Your hand wrapped around his as you began to focus to focus your hips on helping you ride his thigh as it occasionally tensed beneath you making you moan each time you hit your clit at a different angle “I wanna come.” You begged feeling the sensitivity from your first orgasm as you never fully came off of that ride.

Rutger’s jaw clenched at the thought “beg,” his tone was serious, fingers squeezing at the vein in the sides of your neck “please Ru-” your whine echoed off of the walls.

Someone’s hand locked into your hair making you gasp as he pulled your head back “he said beg, not act like a brat.” Luca scoffed as your chin titled towards him “please let me be your good girl tonight boys.” Your plea was like music to their ears as Rutger nodded.

Your orgasm made the boys smile as your moan was swallowed by Luca’s mouth as he forced it onto your lips “who could have thought that she could be such a slut?” Mark let out a grunt with his ego fully blown after getting his third strike in a row “it’s always the quiet ones.” You had two classes where you had both boys and you sat in the back corner for both of them, not letting out a peep usually.

Rutger smiled at you as your hips began to slow “I gotta go pretty girl,” his thumb massaged on the skin on your neck before he released your neck placing you on the arm of your chair.

It was attractive watching the boys continue to play through the game letting their competitive sides shine through “how do you want your prize?” You smiled as the game drew to a closing point since the results had been determined.

Mark thought to himself as he nodded “I want you bent over.” His confession made you clench your thighs together.

With tension in the room at an all time high you five practically blacked out and before you knew it, Mark was behind you teasing your clit as he drove his cock over it. Ethan was in front of you watching on as you continued to kitten lick his cock “want you to fuck my face E.” You announced before you let your lips wrap around the boys boner. On either side of you then to top it all off Rutger and Luca were stood with their cocks in their hands waiting for the heads up of how you wanted to deal with them.

Mark smirked taking the opportunity to thrust his cock into your soaked cunt “think she has thought about this before?” Ethan asked directing his attention to his teammates like you weren’t even there “of course she has.” Mark laughed digging his hands into your hips as your pussy clenched around his cock at the boys words.

You took the moment to hold your hands out to the younger boys quickly replacing their own hands that had wrapped around their cocks “fuck she’s good.” Rutger groaned as it felt like he was getting fucked by your pussy or your mouth rather than your hand.

Luca couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous as he would have preferred to be back in his original position that he had earlier on when your mouth was taking his cock instead giving him the chance to choke you with his thighs. The Fantilli boy knew that he was going to have to use that material as he thought about something to replace your hand with.

But another part of him wondered if he would get the chance to have you again, alone. Where your moans that you were letting Ethan’s cock swallow could have been heard echoing off of the walls. Sure this probably wasn’t going to be the best thing for team dynamics in the long run, but it wasn’t clear if any of them truly cared about that “god this pussy is perfect!” Mark blurted out as if it wasn’t for his need to keep you standing then he would have melted.

Mark had to admit that he had been eyeing you up since the third month of sophomore year, so if you were telling him from back then that he’d be fucking you in a bowling alley with three of his teammates Mark would have had an early death.

Your pussy squelched as the boy had his way with you “you feel me in there baby?” Mark asked pressing his hand on your stomach where his cock hit “fuck yeah!” Your words were muffled as Ethan’s cock but your throat.

It was a hot sight to watch as the four men used the girl with the oldest two getting off from your warm wet holes with Mark grunting at the way your pussy perfectly wrapped around his throbbing cock and Ethan was stood forcing his cock further into your mouth with each thrust of his hips. Rutger and Luca were both also taken care of by your hands that worked effortlessly to get them off as you seemed to focus more on the boy’s orgasms than you did your own “she’s close,” Mark announced feeling your cunt clench around his cock.

The hockey player’s hand went to your clit as he felt like he was close behind “we gonna make her beg for it again?” Ethan let out this laugh that was enough to almost terrify you as you truly didn’t think that you had it in you to form a coherent sentence “huh what do you think about that?” Mark applied more pressure to your clit to make you respond.

All you were able to do was shake your head as your knees began to buckle under the force of Mark’s thrusts “we can be good to her this time.” The boy proposed making your soaked cunt squeeze his cock.

Luca and Rutger were the first two to come as they swore you had done enough to show them the stars causing both boys to move to couches were they got to watch the climax of the main show “keep doing that baby.” Ethan groaned locking his fingers into your hair as the boy smirked seeing you look up at him with hooded eyes.

You hollowed your cheeks letting the boys cock find its perfect home in your mouth as you swirled your tongue around his cock “shit, shit, fuck!” Ethan repeated clenching his thighs together as his hands forced your head to swallow his entire cock as his warm sticky release coat your throat.

As his cock slid out of your mouth giving him the chance to pull your face up so that he could kiss at it “you want Mark to make you come?” Ethan asked squeezing your cheeks between his thumb as his pointer finger forcing you to look at him.

A cry left you lips “p-p-please Mark.” You nodded wanting nothing more than to come at that very moment “okay baby fuck!” Mark’s eyes screwed shut as he wished he had you in his bed so he could watch as you came.

You had already been so vocal but Mark’s mind wondered how you looked as your eyes rolled back in your head “right there oh-” your hands handed on Ethan’s shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself. If you thought that the American was going to slow down as you came then you were horribly wrong, in fact his thrusts probably sped up as he began to adjust to the way your cunt suffocated his cock “shit baby!” Mark threw his head back as his orgasm came shortly after yours.

He was careful pulling his cock from your cunt that not a drop of his come left with it as he was quick to use his fingers to scoop up any of it before he shoved it back into your pussy “what do you say we help her close up before heading back to campus?” Mark spoke reaching down to grab your panties so that he could help you back into them.

The boys nodded in agreement getting themselves all dressed. Your attempt at closing tonight was half assed but as you left the alley with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist helping you walk back to his car the memory of that night was only going to live on in your brains.

Because whilst the alley would live on to remember this night as a one of a kind event, it wasn’t the place to reveal your secrets to anyone.

[cno-inbminor]

repertum

plot: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise // ft. lumine and nahida 

warnings: afab!reader, 3.4 spoilers, smut but reader and alhaitham get blue balled, angst, fluff and comfort later. probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics.

a/n: :)))))

EDIT: Part 2 (FINAL) | AO3 Link

-

“I don’t–” You rush out before your breath hitches. “-- think this is a good idea, ah–”

Alhaitham keeps you pinned to the wall of your apartment, pelvis undulating against yours in an erratic beat. He drinks in every gasp that leaves your pretty little mouth, the same lips that have haunted his passing thoughts for the past month. His fingers dig into your waist and he leaves subcutaneous blooming sore spots on your shoulder and collarbone, relishing in your hisses of pain and pleasure, if the grip you have around his neck is any indicator.

Your words send a spike of adrenaline – he vehemently denies the possibility it may be fear instead – through his veins, to do anything to keep you right where he wants you, and he gives into the primal urge to dig his teeth into the very shoulder he’s been nibbling and sucking onto for the last ten minutes. The resulting yelp from you keeps him sated, and he places a soft kiss where he’d bitten you; a stark contrast.

Alhaitham lifts his head to look into your eyes, pupils swallowing over your irises and your eyelids half-open. He takes pride in having been able to push you towards such a state of inhibitions. “And what would make you think such a thing?” His lips ask against yours, tone dark with an alarming amount of clarity that you find absolutely unfair and unjust.

Despite his protests, there are several reasons why this isn’t a good idea. To be a scholar and also involved with the Akademiya’s former scribe? You’re practically begging to be academically slaughtered by the masses, as everyone knows Alhaitham has the ears of the General Mahamatra and, at times, Lord Kusanali herself. It goes both ways – having always been regarded as the level-headed, purely rational individual, most would agree that his current actions are the complete opposite. Those traits themselves are a recipe for disaster – sure, you could be witty and hold your own, but it was clear to you that you could not give him what he needs, he neither for you.

The sexual tension between you two is palpable. You briefly remember the day you first exchanged words with the man right before his new promotion. Both of you had reached for the same textbook one early, early morning, and being that it was the only copy in the entire library, you were determined to get your hands on it.

“I believe my hand was here first,” you said in a matter-of-fact tone. Part of you was screaming at yourself for even thinking about going against Alhaitham in any way, but this research paper is due next week and you will not let anyone hinder your progress. “I can give it to you when I’m done with it.”

Annoyance with a hint of amusement had crossed his features as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, the action drawing your gaze. The man had always been a great distance from you, but now seeing him up close, you can understand why some of the other scholars made it a point to mention just how attractive this man was. The brains, brawn, and looks all in a single individual? The archons were quite unfair, if you had anything to say about it.

“I believe the scholars understand they should not hinder any work of mine. It would be best for me to take it, and I will return it once I no longer need it.”

You wanted to wipe the smugness of his face. With a kiss or with a book thrown at him, you don’t care to differentiate – but the confidence he exuded was starting to irritate you, and you ignore the beginnings of an unwanted heat swirling in your core. “Well if the Scribe would so kindly lend it to me, I only need it for the next 36 hours and it will be all yours afterward. Surely your work can wait for that long?”

He took a step towards you to level with your impertinent gaze. Part of you thought you had had the higher ground, granted you were standing on a step ladder so you could reach the book, but you then saw that even with the extra centimeters, you were simply at about the same height as the man. Again, unfair.

“What is your name?” He interrogated.

“What is it to you?” You snapped back. If he really wanted to, he could demand to see your student identification credentials. But part of him wanted to hold back, to watch you bend to his will.

“I may consider granting you your wish if I can learn of your identity.”

The look of surprise on your face had been the beginning of his downfall. Normally the other scholars would have cowered beneath his presence by now. Yet the little spurts of fight from you had elicited some excitement from within, a feeling he hadn’t felt in quite a bit of time. Such emotions were for the weak for they clouded one’s judgment and logic.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will take this and, once again, will return it when I am done with it.”

He outstretched his hand to lay his claim on the book’s spine, fingers pressing gently against yours that were still adamant in your pursuit. Both of you made it a point to ignore how the touch made goosebumps form on your arm, thankfully hidden underneath your clothes. The Akademiya’s Scribe knowing you by name never boded well, but it was 2AM and you were perhaps too desperate.

In a state of unfounded confidence and irrationality, your fingers moved to intertwine with his. Watching his jawline slack the slightest bit fueled you, and you dragged your hands off the shelf and pressed them against his chest. With it, you leaned into the bounds of his personal space, using everything you had left in you to keep his eyes on you. Perhaps his pupils had become dilated, you can’t remember at this point, but it was enough distraction for you to use your other hand to snatch the book from its confines between other hardcovers. Once acquired, you disentangled from his grasp and took hurried steps off the step-ladder, clutching the book to your chest. You backpedaled some decimeters away to create some much needed distance. Alhaitham seemed stunned into silence. Or perhaps he was plotting your murder.

“(Y/N).”

And before you disappeared around the corner, he called out to warn, “I will see you in 36 hours.”

For many weeks afterwards, he made it a point to alert you of his presence whenever you were in the Akademiya’s building. If you were furiously annotating notes from multiple annals spread across your table, he would saunter by and subtly brush his cape against your clothes. If you were simply reading for pleasure, a knee pulled up into your chest because fuck Akademiya propriety, he would make sure to sit at the table across yours and in a chair on the side facing you head on. Did he let himself stare at you too much, finding some enjoyment in watching your facial expressions as you read? Perhaps. If it was late at night and you looked incredibly stressed, he would invite himself to look over your shoulder and observe your information, only to point out some details and offer tidbits of advice. Sometimes you found yourself in deep, research-heavy conversations and got a taste of Alhaitham’s inner workings, which only made you want more.

Tonight after a big project, he invited you to a drink at Lambad’s Tavern, though it was under the guise of needing some help bringing food back for his roommate afterwards, and you were going there anyway. Tucked in the corner, you, aided by alcohol, had let your inhibitions fall. You would need to be passed out to not feel the heat and weight of his gaze on you for the entire night, and you found yourself reveling in it. Yet it didn’t make sense – why would he find an interest in you, out of all the people within Sumeru? Alhaitham could have his pick of anyone, yet he decided to put his eggs in a basket with your name and face on it.

The thoughts stewed inside, even as he made a nonchalant offer to walk you to your apartment. “It is late, and you have no means to defend yourself.” That had been the end of it as he walked towards the path leading to the outskirts of the city, and you had no choice but to follow. At your doorstep, underneath a waning gibbous and cloudy skies, Alhaitham’s body language communicated his hesitancy in leaving you alone for the night, and with a swallow, you had invited him in for a cup of coffee.

He gave a nod. The door clicked shut. And as soon as your eyes with hints of lust met his, he made his move – surging forward to pull you into a kiss, and then spinning to press you against the wall with his thighs slotted between yours. The faint, yet unbridled moan for just mere kisses made his chest swell, and he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip.

“It’s just not – Haitham – a good idea,” you pant, thoughts back in the present moment.

“I disagree,” he retaliates, pulling back to remove your shirt. The rate of his disappearing self-control only increases when he does everything to commit this moment to memory. You’re so beautiful, he laments, torn between wanting to maintain the sanctity of your figure and forcing you to succumb and accept his attempts to claim you. He wants you to feel his kisses and bites for days, so you would never forget and inevitably crave his touch.

You don’t want to argue with him now, not when you finally have him in your hands. Your lips desperately meet his again as you unclip your bra and shrug it off. He follows suit and undoes his cape so he can pull his sleeveless shirt over his head, groaning when he pulls you close and his bare skin takes in the heat emanating from yours. Feeling your hardened nipples slide against his pectorals should not be so alluring, yet he finds himself wishing you two could stay in bed for eternity, naked and entwined and drunk on each others’ touch.

Fingers dig into his silver-gray locks and tugs, to which he answers with a punishing nip on your neck. “Bedroom,” you plead so prettily and he can only let you draw back to lead the way. He wastes little time in pressing forward until the back of your legs hit the bed frame, causing you to fall back. From mere kisses and heavy petting, the look on your face is already so sinful, and Alhaitham can’t help but imagine how you’d look once his cock was inside you.

“You siren and minx,” he sighs in faux displeasure, planting gentle pecks down your chest and abdomen until he hovers over the band of your pants. He tugs them and your underwear down with the aid of your lifted hips – and doesn’t miss the glossy thread of your slick from your vulva to the damp cotton. When it eventually breaks, he feels twinges of regret for not being able to catch it on his tongue and have a taste of you, like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

His hands have a firm grip underneath your thighs and pushes them towards your chest. Alhaitham curses when he has the full view of your pussy, puffy and wet and demanding any attention. “Haitham, please,” and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears.

“Hmm?” His voice teases as his fingers spread and his thumbs are so, so close to where you want them to be. Your pitiful cry is answered with– “Use your words. You surely have never had a problem with that.”

You beat a fist against his chest in retaliation, though there is little to no force behind it. The pathetic attempt at communicating your embarrassment is not lost on you.

Yet despite the heated blood in your veins, the near desperation to climb this high, your heart stills at the smirk sitting devilishly on his lips. You suddenly become hyperaware of every part of your body that he is seeing and touching, and the rational part of your brain returns once more to remind you, again, that this is not going to end well.

In the years that Alhaitham has roamed and trudged through the hierarchy and floors of the Akademiya, everybody knows he is not one for intimate relationships, whether it be deeper friendships or romantic partnerships. So for him to spend his precious free time with an ordinary scholar such as you, no legacy or prestige to your name – it made no sense. You are more than ready to understand that if this night were to run its due course, the end result would be the same if it were to never happen.

The dread that settles into Alhaitham’s body is murky and viscous as he watches sobering clarity fill your system, most noticeably in your eyes. Irises expanding, pupils shrinking, the life and spark from earlier swept away, don’t make much sense to him as you gently remove yourself from his grasp. “Y/N?” He inquires with some of the most uncertainty he’s felt in the last ten or so years. Adrenaline dissolves into veiled panic as he watches you slip on a new pair of underwear and an oversized sleep shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well,” you supply in a meek voice, looking around and eventually finding his shirt from earlier. The man appears as dumbfounded as he can behind such a blank and austere face such as his, pulling the material back over his head and looping his arms through in a trance. He doesn’t remember following after you but finds himself back in your living room where his cloak had been haphazardly thrown onto the ground. With the way you slide it over his shoulders and make no mistake in securing it properly, he feels as if ice cold water has been dumped over his head.

And then you’re both at the front door and all he knows in this precise moment is that he really, really doesn’t want to leave.

“Thank you again for the drink,” you say, voice cracking near the end and gaze avoiding his at all costs. “You didn’t have to.”

Alhaitham chooses to say nothing, and despite how much the inner turmoil is wrecking your nervous system, you know this is for the best.

Right?

“Did I do anything wrong?”

Yes. No. Of course. Not at all. Maybe.

“No, I just don’t feel well. Maybe the alcohol isn’t agreeing with me.”

At the same time you twist the doorknob and pull, you stand on your tiptoes to plant a shaky kiss against his cheek.

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

It’s clear that he’s being banished now, door wide and a clear signal for him to leave. While he may want to slam the door back closed and demand all the answers he needs to the sudden change in your behavior, he simply nods and steps over the threshold, pausing when he fully steps into the hallway. The man doesn’t have the gall to face you straight on, but he lets you take one last look at his side profile, eyes glancing briefly over his shoulder.

“Have a better lie next time.”

This is for the best, you repeat to yourself minutes later when you’re curled underneath your blankets.Your breath shudders as the tears begin to stain your pillowcase, and before you slip into a fitful slumber, you worry about what dreams will greet you.

-

Alhaitham doesn’t see you for a whole week.

For seven agonizing days, 108 frustration-ridden hours, you are nowhere to be found or seen, as if you decided to hole up in your apartment and never leave your own self-made prison. It’s embarrassing, to a certain degree, just how much he’s been around the library, constantly on the lookout for your figure. Kaveh caught him reading the same page of a history book for at least ten minutes on one of those days, but chose to keep his mouth shut for once and snarky remarks to himself.

On day 8, Alhaitham wonders if he’s begun to hallucinate when he sees you in plain view at the market stand, attempting to barter with the owner to get a better deal on some vegetables. But it’s your voice he hears, your hands he sees, your hair that makes his fingers twitch in a thinly-veiled hidden desire to run them through. He’s left standing in the middle of the street looking like an idiot, yet others perceive his heavy gaze upon your figure to assume that you’re about to get into some trouble and the General Mahamatra was calling in a favor of some sorts.

On day 11, he catches you running up the pathway that leads to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, which is bewildering and confusing in its entirety. What business do you have being anywhere near the residence of Lord Kusanali? Even he as the former Scribe, favored and the most unwilling Acting Grand Sage, and one of the saviors of the Dendro Archon, has not been there since the whole hubbub died down, and it’s been months.

On day 14, you run into the traveler who seems to be making her rounds of saying goodbye to various citizens. Alhaitham had spoken a number of times about her and her travels and you knew her next destination was Fontaine. Not far from home, but far enough away to rid yourself of all these ugly, human emotions and get over this huge crush on the aforementioned man. With unfounded confidence, you call for her attention with shaky breaths.

“Can I help you?” She questions softly, not missing the clear distress in your body.

“My name is Y/N and, um, I’m a scholar at the Akademiya. Though I guess my attire gave that away,” you laugh nervously, gesturing to said clothing. “I’m, uh, an acquaintance, I guess, of Haitham’s? Anyways, that’s not really important, but you’re going to Fontaine, right?”

Lumine nods and stays silent.

Well, here goes nothing. “This might sound really weird but…can I come with you?”

Perfect, golden eyebrows rise in surprise – it’s not everyday a mere stranger so brazenly asks to travel with her, especially to another nation.

“I have some research that is taking me there, but I’d prefer not to travel alone. I was going to leave soon, but just now when I heard you telling people goodbye, I thought I’d try to ask? I’ll pay for your help, and I can even help you find and cook food! Hopefully you don’t find a Vision-less person like me a burden but I promise I won’t get in the way.”

Lumine looks you up and down once more while her thoughts process. You look harmless and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have another set of hands along the way. Fontaine really wasn’t that far away once they crossed the border. It was becoming clearer to her that you truly did need to get to Fontaine, and not just for research. Perhaps –

“Could it be that you’re running from something?” She asks with curiosity.

“...wow, nothing really gets past you. It’s more like…someone,” you confess, sheepish and embarrassed.

“Are you in danger?”

“Not at all, no!” With hands waving in front of you, you speak with clear denial. “I’m trying to figure some things out and, well, I’d rather do it when I’m not constantly at risk of bumping into him.”

“Clearly I don’t know the details of your situation but…wouldn’t it be better to just be honest with him?”

You take a glance in the direction of the Akademiya and allow a bittersweet smile to grace your lips. “I think my honesty would simply be a burden for him.”

“And you know that because…?”

“Because he is that kind of man. There is no need for him to have a place for me in his heart. But I’m really bringing the mood down – could you please consider my offer? I forgot to mention I can be quite handy with a dagger if need be.”

Lumine and Paimon exchange a look, the fairy shrugging. “We leave tomorrow at first light,” the traveler speaks up. “Is that enough time for you to gather everything you need? If not, as long as we leave by midday, we don’t mind waiting.”

Perfect.

“It’s more than enough time. I pack light anyways.”

“We’ll meet in front of the Sanctuary then. Paimon and I need to meet with Lord Kusanali before we depart.”

You barely get any sleep that night, a ball of nerves and excitement. Your neighbor has been kind enough to hold your spare key to check in on your apartment every once in a while, waving you off when you begin to discuss forms of repayment for their generosity. The last time you ventured out of the main city and its surrounding areas was perhaps a few years ago to get a look at the famed Palace of Alcazarzaray. Alhaitham had briefly spoken of Kaveh a few times, though his tone was an odd amalgamation of genuine respect and scathing admonishment. In fact, you met the architect once when he came to the Akademiya to ask (more like loudly demand) for a copy of their house key. That was one of your first deep dives into how much of a teasing asshole Alhaitham could be, and you had already been spending most of your hours with him.

Fontaine has only ever been presented to you in sketches and paintings, so for a chance to see it in person…you can’t wait.

When your alarm goes off, you practically jump out of bed, throwing on your travel attire that you had set out the night before. With your research materials in a bag and travel essentials in another, you give one last look at your apartment. Who knows when you’ll be back?

[lucyandalexiafan]

Blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 2

summary: after a short conversation where you reassure Alexia that you really want her to take control, she starts punishing you.

warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, punishment (belt, pussy spanking), using of collar and leash, degradation, praise, use of pet names / slut, dirty talk, face fuck, light bondage, orgasm denial.

words: 4,1k

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: I used the word boy, "said by Alexia", to refer to a young player of Barca of age (something like 21/22 year old).

I can hear the sound of her feet hitting the floor as she walks inside the room.  

I'm on the bed, on my hands and knees. 

My back arched, head resting on the mattress, ass up, arms stretched out at my head.

All my body is in tension. 

Alexia pauses behind me.  

In my ears I can only hear the sound of my heartbeat. 

I hold the sheets in my hands, my eyes closed in anticipation. 

“So pretty, babygirl”  

I jump to the spot when I hear her voice, her low, warm, sensual voice. 

I squeeze my thighs. 

My soaked pussy is evident to her because of the position. 

Letting her be completely in control is so liberating, so exciting. After two weeks of responsibility, studying, exams, games, being able to hand over all the power to someone else, someone I trust, is a feeling that invades my body, that leaves me speechless. 

"T-thank you Reina" I whisper hesitantly, the pain between my thighs getting stronger and stronger. 

I can feel her sitting at the edge of the bed.  

"Amor, why don't you turn to me? Sit next to me"  

I open my eyes wide in surprise. 

What?  

I do as she says, slowly. 

I hoist on my knees, then crawl towards her until I sit next to her. 

I'm naked, she wears a plain T-shirt and blue trousers.   

She is sitting cross-legged on the bed, with bare feet.   

I blush at the memory of what happened a little while ago. 

"Amor, look at me"  

I bite my lip. 

Her hand, her index finger, brushes against my chin.  

"Babygirl" the calm and loving voice, the sweet voice that made me felt in love for her. 

I lock my eyes into hers. 

Cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

The hand brushes against my cheek, the same one that she hit earlier. 

"How do you feel?"  

I open and close my lips a few times. 

Why is she asking it?  

Did I do something wrong?  

"I... D-Did I do something wrong?"  

She smiles, a shy, kind smile. 

"No amor, I just want to make sure you're okay"  

I bite my lip. 

I get lost in her eyes. 

She inclines her face to the right. 

I nod slowly. 

"I... yes, I'm fine, Reina," I whisper. 

Her fingers brush against the skin. 

She hasn't been so sweet since the injury. 

"Did I overdo it before?" The hesitant voice. 

I shake my head while I try to figure out what's in her head. 

"I liked it - I reply cautiously, "I-I would have used the safeword if... if it was too much Ale" I whisper embarrassed, leaning my cheek against her fingers. 

Her other hand, which was on the bed before, rests on my thigh. I close my eyes to the contact. 

She giggles at the reaction. 

"You're so sensitive"   

"Please... please Reina - I gasp, I put my hand on hers - C-can I come? I... I need it."  

I push her hand towards my inner thigh, her fingernails rubbing against my thigh. 

"So needy"  

Her fingers brush against my upper thigh. 

I look at her pleading, the most puppy look possible. 

"Already begging"  

The tip of the index and middle fingers touching my clit. 

I moan loudly. 

My hand tightens around her wrist. 

"I beg you, Reina"  

She looks at me almost disinterestedly as her index finger moves from my clit to my hole steadily. 

A grin on her face. 

She licks her lip. 

She kisses me, her lips are fluffy and at the beginning, the contact is light, pure. Innocent. 

Then it becomes more passionate, her tongue playing with mine, the other hand ends up on my neck, squeezing it. 

I whine. 

She smiles against my lips. 

She bites my lower lip.

Then, at some point, the tip of the middle finger enters in my pussy.

I break the kiss, moaning.

I rest my forehead against her shoulder.

Her lips against my neck leave little kisses, little bites.

The finger goes in and out with a lazy pace as if there is no hurry.

Like I haven't had an orgasm in three weeks.

"So needy" Ale says another time.

"Yes, yes... I need you Reina" I gasp, my hands clasped against her legs.

She smiles on my skin.

"We can stop, have some sweet sex and then cuddle - she says a few inches from my face as she forces me to look her in the eye - Or we can continue, with me punishing you and all"  

The index finger moves a tuft behind my ear.

"I won't get mad amor"  

"I... I want you to take control... I need it - I gasp trying to explain myself - Please"  

She grins.

She looks me carefully in the eye trying to figure out if I'm lying.

I nod slightly.

She stands up.

She makes her way to her bedside table, opening the third drawer and I know what she's about to get. What she's looking for.

Ale turns to me with the collar in her hands. 

That black collar with the leash of the same color.

That collar has an "A" engraved on the front.

That collar she gave me after months of relationship.

She moves closer to me and stops a few inches from my body; then, she unfastens it.

"Can I put it on for you?"   

"Please, yes" I answer quickly with a husky voice, the eyes focused on the object.

Ale smiles sadistically before wrapping it around my neck, moving away the hair stuck between the fabric and my neck.

She closes it.

"R-Reina," I whispered, afraid of disappointing her.

But it's too tight and I know that closed like this it will hurt as soon as she pulls the leash.

"What, lbabygirl?" she asks, her fingers steady on the collar without putting pressure on it.

"I-I... the collar is too tight" I break eye contact, shifting my gaze to the floor.

I don't want to see her disappointed or resentful.

I could handle it like this, we had already used it as tight as now and I liked it; but when it is closed in this way I struggle even swallow and it suffocates me slightly and I don't think can handle it in this situation.

But at the same time, I don't want her to think that this is a way to avoid punishment.

Her thumb caresses my cheek.

"My good girl telling me how she feels and what's wrong – her fingers gently undoing the collar and spreading it a hole – Is it okay now, babygirl?"  

I swallow and I don't feel any pressure.

I twitch my thighs in praise.

I nod. "T-thank you Reina," I whisper hesitantly, "I-I'm sorry"  

Her fingers force my chin upper, obligating me to look into her gaze.

"You don't have to apologize because you tell me what you need amor. Thank you for telling me," she smiles, biting her lip, "Would you rather I don't use it?"  

I shake my head.   

"Why do you want me to use it?"  

I bite my lip.

I clasp my hands on my thighs.

"I... I like it when you pull it."  

She licks her bottom lip.

I look at her enchanted as if I had a divinity in front of me. 

How can she be so charming, so perfect? 

"Ah, yes? And why?"  

Does she really want me to say that?  

She knows why.

She tilts her face slightly.

She pulls the leash just a little.  

I moan loudly.

“Reina” I moan.   

She smiles sadisticly. 

"So?"  

"I... It's like giving you complete control," I whisper looking at her.

She pulls the collar up at her, pushing me on all fours, my head tilted towards hers.

"Oh yes? Do you like me collaring you like a slut?"   

I groan at humiliation.

I look at her lips.

I alternate my gaze from them to her eyes.

"C-can you kiss me, Ale?" I ask without realizing that I have not used the award.

Her lips rest on mine.

After the moment her lips touch mine I can breathe again.

I detach myself after a few moments, my mind finally free from any fear and anxiety.

"R-Reina... Please- I need-"  

She grins.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"  

I nod quickly, afraid that I doubt she doesn't want it as much as she does, maybe even more.

"Yes Ale, I do. Please," I beg.

"Then get back in position" is the suddenly more authoritarian tone.

I close my eyes.

I nod and do as she says.

"I want you at the edge of the bed"  

I move my feet in contact with the edge of the bed.

She positions herself behind me.

I hold back my sigh in anticipation. 

Her hand touches my ass.

I whine against the mattress, my hands clutching the sheets.

"Hands behind your back"    

I squeeze my fingers against each other, nails against the skin.

I arch my back in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.

I remain balanced precariously on my shoulders, chest and knees, my feet pointed against the mattress.

She walks away, steps away from the bed, probably toward the closet.

I hear her grab something, probably the box of sex toys, and then place the object on the bed.

"Now I'm going to tie your wrists behind your back with a tie and then I'm going to start punishing you, what safeword are you?"  

"Green, Reina... green"  

She grins, I can hear her grin.

She gently grabs my wrists and knots them with the fabric.   

"Do you know what tie is this? – I shake my head against the mattress – The one from the last 'end of the season' Barcelona club's dinner, do you remember it?"  

I bury my face against the sheet in an attempt to disappear.  

"Remember how I wrapped it around your wrists in the bathroom at the sports center and then fucked you against the sink, mh? When you were trying to hold back the moans so you wouldn't be heard, but I just wanted them to hear you, to the stupid boy to hear you... Do you remember?"  

I gasp at the memory of that evening.  

That magical evening.  

"Yes... I remember Reina"  

She pulls the leash of the collar, my body writhing in on itself until it is tense in the air.  

Ale kisses a patch of skin under my ear, gasping against it.  

"Now you know what's going on? – I shake my head – It happens that I have to punish you"  

She pushes me towards the mattress, making me rest my head on one cheek.  

I close my eyes.  

Punishments have always excited me but intimidated me at the same time. I'm not a brat, I don't like to tease her or the idea of disappointing her, clearly preferring to please her and do whatever she wants. 

Ale has always liked this attitude of mine, this need of mine.  

But, whenever she can, she does not disdain to punish me and I know she likes that power that I give to her, the power to punish me.  

"The first punishment will be ten spanks with the belt, what color are you little girl?"  

I bite my lip.  

The belt.  

No punishment hurts and excites me more; however... however I know it's going to hurt, that it's going to leave marks.   

What if-  

"Babygirl?" is the tone that betrays concern.  

"G-Green," I answer hesitantly.   

The hand caresses my ass for the last time before walking away.   

"You'll have to count them and thank me for each one of them - she starts to explain to me - If it gets too much, tell me, nothing happens and I don't get mad. I'll get mad if you don't tell me, understood? I'll get mad if you don't communicate with me, not if you do." 

I nod "Yes Reina".

Her hand brushes against my skin.

Then, the belt hit my skin the first time.

I arch my back even more in reaction, my ass in the air and my chest that lies almost completely against the bed.

I whine for the pain. 

"O-one, thank you, Reina" 

On the fifth slap the first sob escapes.

At the seventh slap the voice trembles irreparably.

As soon as she reaches the tenth, she leaves the belt hits the floor and she caresses my reddened skin. I sob at the contact of her cold hand with my ass.

"Beautiful - she pauses - My good girl" 

I smile exhausted at the compliment.

She stops behind me.

A finger of hers touches my cunt.

"You're so wet, baby. I could fuck you with four fingers without lubing them and they'd go in without any problem." 

The other hand is on the end of my back, the fingers moving slightly as if caressing my skin, calming me down.

I close my eyes.

"I beg you" 

Another spanking.

"I didn't understand".

"Reina!" I try to correct myself, "Reina, I beg you" 

A second finger is added to the first finger; she touches my cunt from my clit to my hole. 

I stretch my body towards her. I try to move my arms but the tie prevents me from doing so.

"Are you already begging, little girl?" 

I moan loudly, without shame. "Please... please Reina" 

She continues with light movements, the other hand still against my back.

"Mhmhmh, you gotta tell me what you want, little girl" 

I close my eyes.

"C-come... I want to come, Reina" 

Her hands move away from my pussy, focusing instead on the tie, unfastening it.

I don't have time to put my hands on the mattress that turns me on my stomach.

Her lips are on mine.

It's as overwhelming as a kiss.

Her hands are in my hair.

It's all so sensual, she's so sensual.

A hand squeezes my breast.

I sigh when she starts playing with a nipple.

I sigh her name through the kisses.

Then she stands up, her tie in her hands, and I instinctively bring my hands, one on top of the other, towards the headboard of the bed.

She raises an eyebrow curiously.

"What would you like me to do?" she asks with a sardonic smile.

"I... I thought that - I stop to look at her - Sorry, I didn't mean to-" 

She kisses me.

A kiss that transmits calm, love.

"Baby, don't apologize," she smiles, kissing me again "Are you sure?" she asks pointing to my hands with her head.

I nod and she raises an eyebrow. 

"Si Reina" I quickly correct myself.

She asks me to lie down more towards the headboard of the bed, to put my hands on top of each other. "Remember that if it gets too much, you have to use the safeword" 

I whisper a yes Reina of assent.

She kneels on the bed at the side of my body.

I'm naked.

She's dressed.

So dominant.

So controlling. 

I moan while she ties my wrists to the iron, leaving me a little freedom.

Then, she leans over my neck, sucking it, biting it. 

I try to pull my hands and she grins against my skin.

"You're so sensitive, little girl" She whispers and then she blows on saliva left on my neck.

I squeeze my thighs.

"So sensitive," she whispers, brushing her lips against my body to my breasts.

She kisses a nipple.

She licks it.

She bites it. 

She passes it through her teeth.

I groan arching my body up.

The shoulder blades pressed against the bed.

Ale, between my legs, enjoys the effect it has on me. She smiles on my skin and then she bites my nipple harder, making me moan in pain.

My hands try to free themselves from the strings tied to the headboard.

"You're so sensitive," she whispers again as she brushes her lips against the skin from breast to breast.

And then torture the other as well.

Nibbling on my breasts leaving marks here and there, sucking on flaps of skin.

Making me moan louder and louder.

I open my legs as I seek relief on her thigh, thigh covered by the pants's fabric.

I whine for the situation, for the inability to move, for the control that she has, for the power that she has on me.

She feels me humping against her because she moves closer to my neck as she takes her thigh against me.

"If you don't stay still, I have to punish you, little girl, and you don't want that, do you? - she whispers in my ear, then licks my neck - I still have to punish you for the second time and you already want a third punishment?" 

I moan embarrassed, my arms moving in an attempt to free themselves.

She smiles before kissing me.

She tortures me for a little while longer.

I moan when she bites my neck for the umpteenth time.

"Please" 

I rush to beg, to beg of I don't know what.

She smiles slyly.

"Please," she whispers, imitating me in a high-pitched voice, "please... What?" 

I gasp when she puts a hand on my neck. 

She smiles excitedly to find out how far my masochism goes.

Squeezes harder when I'm slow to respond.

"I beg you" 

"Mh Mh Mh - she shakes her head, her lips brushing mine - that's not what I want to hear you say. Something is missing, baby" 

I close my eyes.  

She grabs my hair and kisses me.

Bites my lip almost until it hurts.

I moan for the pain.

I try to resist the pace imposed by her tongue. 

She laughs slyly when I give up after a while.

I moan ecstatic.

We're just getting started, but I'm out of control, aroused to imaginable mental levels.

She hits my breast.

"What's missing?" she asks authoritatively, the voice dangerously low. 

Almost angry.

Almost upset by it.

"Reina! - I moan when she gives me another slap - Reina is missing. I'm sorry Reina" 

"I hope so," she whispers as she moves her lips further and further down, overcoming the sternum, going past the navel, her hands grabbing my thighs squeezing them, widening them and holding them in place. 

Her nose brushes against my upper things.

I groan as I arch upwards.

“Reina”

With her tongue she leaves a trail along the entire inside of my inner thigh, coloring it with saliva. She kisses it calmly, as she's trying to explore it.

"Please" I beg.

She does so for a few more moments, then her hand collides with my pussy.

I gasp.

"How?" 

"Reina," I groan, "I beg you, Reina."  

She grins.

"You're more unruly than I thought baby - she kisses my inner thigh again - maybe you really need to be punished" she says before biting me.

My hands that, again, are bound by the strings to the headboard.

I squeeze my legs, forced open by her grip.

She licks the mark she left on me.

"How do you feel?" she questions as she kisses my upper thigh.

I whine as I grab the headboard with my hands. 

I scream in surprise when her hand hits my pussy again and bites my upper thigh, making me moan for the pain.

My hands uselessly trying to snap towards her hair.

Pleasure that skyrockets.

"Reina... I beg you" 

she sneers.

"Mhmhmh, little girl, it's not okay like this" 

She grabs my side and turns me around. The belly and breasts humping against the mattress and I gasp in surprise.

She grabs my thighs pulling them towards her, forcing me to bend over.

"Arch your back," I execute, hoping to do well, "so good... You arch your back really well, slut, huh?" 

I gasp when she runs her fingers over my ass, over the marks left by the belt.

And then, in an instant, a pain envelops my pussy.

I gasp as I tense my back.

"You'll have to count these too, one by one, and thank me for each one. If you lose count, you'll have to start over." 

"Yes, Reina" 

The first one hits my pussy's lips.

The second shot ends up against my clit.

I scream for the pleasure of violent contact.

The third one hits my hole.

The fourth and fifth are more violent, more painful.

"You're so wet baby - I gasp - So soaked" 

I stretch my thighs upwards while arching my back down.

"So needy" 

She rubs two fingers against my cunt.

I squeeze my thighs.

I beg her.

Her fingers impact against my sensitive spot again.

"Reina!" I scream through the moans. 

She stimulates me to orgasm, then stops before my orgasm can invade me.

I stretch my legs, I move them whining.

She pushes one of my sides towards the mattress making me go back to my stomach.

"So needy," she whispers, standing up.

She unfastens her pants and then drops them to the floor. 

I contemplate her thighs, thin and pale.

She takes off her shirt.

The uncontrollable painful contractions in the lower abdomen. 

Her midnight blue lace underwear stands out against her fair skin.

Her belly, flat, is covered with a few moles.

The fabric is practically transparent, thus allowing me to catch a glimpse of the firm nipples.

I bite my lip drunk with pleasure.

I try to catch some air.

"What's going on, baby?" 

“I-I… you-you are pe-rfect Re-na” 

"So Innocent" 

She unfasten her bra slowly.

I look at her enchanted.

Lost in the pleasure.

She's getting naked just for me.

She's getting naked and that's enough to turn me on.

She takes off her panties.

"Baby, I want to ride your face," she tells me.

It's an order, she's not asking for permission.

Her hands grab my ankles stretching my body to lie down to the bed, outstretching my arms.

She crawls to the sides of my body to the point of having knees on the sides of my temples.

She asks me to look at her.

I meet her eyes looming over me from above. They're coved by pleasure.

I contract my legs.

"You're going to have to lick me like the good girl that you are, and I'll guide you, okay? - I nod - And if it's too much you tap the headboard three times and I'll stop" 

My cheeks are painfully red.

Will I be able to? 

Will I be good?  

Her hands grab my curls before settling on top of my parted lips.

She moans with relief.

My tongue meets her clit.

I lick it gently with small taps. 

She moans on top of me. 

I pass my tongue through all of her cunt, and then I arrive at her hole, soaking her arousal. 

I breathe through my nose her smell, intoxicating me.  

"Good girl," she gasps through the moans.

I lick her hole tasting her taste.

"So - she gasps - so good little girl" 

I look at her.

Her body stands out above my face.

The flat stomach gave me a heavenly view of her face.

The mouth is open.

the eyes are closed.

She starts to move on my face rubbing herself against my tongue.

I moan for the pleasure of serving her, for the submission. 

Her hands hold my hair.

I bend my legs.

I rub them looking for pleasure.

She brushes her nipples with her fingers, playing with them looking for that pleasure that my hands can't give her.

I whine ecstatic for the view. 

Her thighs tighten around my face.

I groan about the intoxicating prison I'm in.

"Baby, the clit - moan - the clit" 

I start to lick it more vigorously, with less kindness, until she tells me she's going to cum.

I look at her.

She's heavenly.

She's perfect.

She's lost in the pleasure.

She rarely permits me to make her cum, to give her pleasure, during this type of sex. She prefers touching me, edging me. 

Then, as she tries to tell me for the umpteenth time that she's cumming, she cums. 

Her orgasm is prolonged.

She screams "amor" several times between the gasps.

Her arousal invades my mouth, dripping from my chin and onto my cheeks.

I'm out of breath. 

Excitement at its best. 

Pleasuring her is so satisfying, so intoxicating.

Her chest rises and falls rhythmically.

I lick her pussy a few more times, trying to clean it. 

I am committed to fully satisfying it.

My cheeks became even redder when I realise what had happened.

She cum on my face. 

She cum because of me.

Exhausted, she leans against my breasts, her legs still on the sides of my head.

"You're even more beautiful like this, little girl - her index finger brushing my cheek - So dirty with my arousal" she gasps, sweat dripping from her forehead.

She is so beautiful.

She's so hot in this way, with messy hair, red cheeks, and parted lips.

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Hi! Just to say that: part 3 will be about rought sex/punishment, part 4 about aftercare and more lovely and sweet sex.

[whiskeynwriting]

How the Boys Act With Their Brand New Babies

Captain John Price, John “Soap” McTavish, König, Simon “Ghost” Riley

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Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Pregnancy, descriptions of birth (natural and cesarean), breastfeeding, established relationships/marriages, mentions of drugs (during C-Section), godparents, and I think that’s it! 

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A/N: The baby fever is so real you guys. Also, the only one out of this group that screams “boy dad” is Price and no one can change my mind.

Thank you so so much to @thesleepingmusicneek for helping me with beta-reading and general plot additions with this piece and so many others I've posted recently 🥰🥰🥰

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Masterlists - Price | Soap | König | Ghost |

Join My Taglist!

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Captain John Price (~1k words) 

Benjamin Price

John’s base instinct is “protector and provider” and Lord does that skyrocket with your son.

“No.”

“John.”

“I said no, not happening.” Turning, he held your son out of your mother’s reach. “She hasn’t washed her hands.”

Chuckling, you crossed your arms. “Baby, I think it’ll be o -”

Reaching over to grab a bottle of hand sanitizer, he held it out to your mother. “At least sanitize.”

There was something ridiculously funny about John, your hardened soldier, holding onto this pudgy, little baby. And what made it even funnier, was that Benji had a straight face nearly the entire time; staring over at his grandmother as if to say, do what my daddy says. John and his son were two peas in a damn pod. 

Watching others hold his baby wasn’t an easy task. Regardless of whether or not they were family, it made his palms sweat, made his breaths shallow and fingers fidgety. What if they dropped him? Pinched him too hard? Bounced him too fast? Made him frown or cry? And by the time his thoughts started spiraling, he’d just get up and snatch him right back. 

While John was more than proud to show off your little family, he might as well have “look, don’t touch” painted across his forehead. Even his own parents didn’t have access to Benji unless they followed his standards. And family friends? Strangers at the park? Yeah, they can forget even saying hi to him. 

“He is a cutie, isn’t he?” John beamed, nodding along to one of your friend’s comments. “Hey,” He then said, holding out a hand. “What’re you doing?”

“Oh, I was just going to hold his little hand!”

“I don’t think so, Deb.”

“John, she’s only being nice.” Chastising him lightly, you tilted your head with sympathy. 

“Nice or not, she’s not touching my son.”

John acted as if everyone was out to snatch up his son and take off running. And he didn’t care if he hurt anyone’s feelings in the process of protecting him. 

“Love, you’ve got to be nicer.”

“Why?”

“Because these are our friends, our family!”

“Just keeping him safe,” He then turned to the chubby bundle in his arms. “That’s all.”

As per usual, Benji had that straight look on his face, expression matching that of his father. And Christ, do they look alike. He’s practically a carbon copy of John. 

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “You and your mini me.”

And John’s face lifts with the brightest grin, cheeks cherry red with happiness. “Handsome chap.” He says, bouncing Benji on his lap. 

Try as you might, there’s no changing John’s mind. In order to keep your baby boy happy and healthy, everyone and everything had to be clean. John ran a tight ship, something you’ve gotten used to in your marriage. And, you figure, in the end it’s only helping Benji. 

When it came to the birth of your son, John made sure to have a plan. You and your doctors discussed a scheduled C-Section beforehand, and the two of you adapted well to this. They informed you of every detail, and after that, you discussed things on your own end. Back at home, John helped you devise a game plan, a list of things that you’d need and the exact steps to take when the day came. And when the moment finally arrived, everything went surprisingly smooth. 

While it was difficult for John to see you under the influence of so many narcotics, that was the least of his worries. During your procedure, he focused on yours and the baby’s health. And even though you weren’t entirely conscious, he made sure to stay by your side. While you bore the weight of the most intense struggles, your husband intended to take on the burdens of every other task that he possibly could. That meant aiding in your recovery, and your son’s growth. 

Once home, John was your round-the-clock nurse. On a timed schedule, he’d clean your incision and make sure it was healing well. He kept your nightstand fully stocked with water and pain medicine, as well as your comfiest heating pad. The ensuite had all the postpartum pads you could need, and he never left you alone in the shower. When it came to Benji, John did all of the nighttime feedings, and all of the nappie changings. He didn’t want you lifting a single finger, not while you were resting. 

In the evening, John often cuddled in bed with you, bringing Benjamin along to nestle between your bodies. You both admired him, pet him softly and kissed his little hands and big, round belly. It was mesmerizing to you, the fact that you created this perfect, little soul. And while you focused your affections on your newborn son, you and John made sure to save some of it for each other, too. 

“Beautiful.”

“I know,” Cooing quietly, you smiled down at him. 

“No,” Shaking his head, John drew your attention back to him. “You, lovie.”

“I’ve been in bed for three days, this isn’t beautiful.” While you laugh, John tuts sadly.

“Don’t know how you could be so blind.”

But what you certainly aren’t blind to, is John’s unconditional love. And that is more healing to you than any medication on the market. 

Though, that doesn’t stop the rest of the boys from trying. In their thoughtfulness, Johnny and Kyle have brought you gift baskets full of after-pregnancy goodies. Snacks and sweet drinks, fuzzy socks and cute onesies for little Benji. They were even kind enough to include postpartum pads. 

“You guys are too much.” In the midst of it all, tears roll down your cheeks. 

Shrugging, Kyle just grins. “Least I can do for my godson.” 

Out of the entire group, John was the first to have a baby. And he wasted no time in making Kyle Benjamin’s godfather. And the boys understood; John and Kyle had a bond that exceeded brotherhood. 

Of course, Simon tagged along. But he wasn’t exactly familiar with babies. Soap encouraged him to bring a gift, but all he could come up with was an Amazon gift card. 

“I um, well… here. For his… things.” Ghost handed you the card awkwardly, but you smiled brightly regardless. 

“Thank you, Simon.” Bringing him into a firm hug, he released a soft grunt, eventually patting your back. 

“Alright, alright.” Johnny announces, “I think it’s time, Cap. Where’s that baby?”

Christ sake, John internally groans. “Have you sanitized?” 

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John “Soap” McTavish (~1.2k words)

Elsie McTavish

Is so excited about the baby that he sometimes forgets himself.

“I know, I know.” He’d respond, only half annoyed.

“Just, p-please,” Reaching out with shaky hands, you watched as Johnny swung your newborn infant around in his arms. “Watch her head!”

“Aye,” Johnny sighs, rolling those beautiful blue eyes. 

Pulling her to his chest, he lets her head rest on one of those broad shoulders, bouncing a bit as he pats her on the back.

“How’mie supposed to have fun with my daughter if ye won’t stop nit-pickin’?” 

“Baby, I’m just, I want her to be -”

“Safe, I know, bonnie. She is safe with me.” He then grins, turning to your daughter as he holds her up in front of him. “Aren’t ye, wee lassie? 

And you suppose he’s right. Being a helicopter parent isn’t fun for anybody. Besides, Johnny loves your daughter enough to keep her safe and you should trust him with her. 

“Ohh,” Johnny starts, and you think, here we go again. “Elsie and her daddy, say he’s a good ‘ole laddie. He’ll keep you safe and happy. We’ll play all day and sing away, yes Elsie and her daddy.” 

Your husband’s makeshift songs never ceased to put a smile on your face. Johnny was always a fun and carefree man, but with your daughter? He was the goofiest dad. 

Whenever you needed rest, he’d jump right to his feet, swooping in to take her to wherever she needed to be. The changing table for a new nappie, the kitchen for a bottle, or simply to the couch to give you some much-needed alone time. There was never a complaint, never a sigh or roll of his eyes. Oftentimes, you’d stumble into a room to find Johnny enjoying himself even more than Elsie. He became so animated when reading books to her, acting out scenes and making the noises of each animal. And it made her giggle wildly. He’d fidget with the toys on her playmat while she laid with him, roll the rattles around and build with the rings and blocks. But most of all, he’d interact with her. Regardless of her being barely two months old, Johnny had full-on conversations with your daughter.

“And then what happened?” He’d ask, sounding completely interested. And she’d babble back to him, as if she was truly joining in.

Nodding, he raised his brows. “That’s wild, lass. Shouldn't have to put up with that.”

Another babble, a little giggle. 

“Aye, nothing wrong with that.”

Sometimes, she’d slam her little hand, and Johnny would raise his own in defense. “Oi, no need to get political about it.” 

Johnny’s newest baby obsession is doing her hair. She was born with so much of it that he decided one day, he ought to do something about it. And so, he bought a pack of colorful bows, using them to make a little mohawk in her hair. You happened to walk in on him in the middle of it one day, your daughter sitting on his lap and cooing innocently while he made her look like a rockstar. 

When he looked up to find you in the doorway, he grinned. “Like it?” 

And you’d be daft to say it wasn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your husband truly embraced the excitement and general fun of fatherhood. He figured enough seriousness surrounded her birth, why not make the rest of her life as joyful as can be? 

It was an emergency C-Section, something neither of you were prepared for. There was no question of whether or not he’d be in the room with you, he simply put on the plastic hospital gown and cap and followed you in. His hand didn’t leave yours, not even for a second. Even though you were given medicine to dull the pain and any real feeling, he wanted you to know he was there. 

When your daughter was successfully taken from your womb, things finally started calming down. After that, your health went back to normal. You didn’t lose too much blood, your stitches went in properly, and you were wheeled back to your room to start your recovery. Johnny was thanking the Lord that the two of you made it out okay, that both of his girls were safe. And while he waited for you to wake up, he sat in the room with your newborn baby, laying her over his chest while she slept. 

“Little bonnie,” He whispered, kissing her head. “My Elsie girl.”

It was at that moment that she became his new best friend, his partner in crime, his perfect angel. He saw it as a privilege, really, taking care of you in your recovery while also caring for Elsie. Not everyone has this, he often thought to himself. My wonderful family.

And he couldn’t wait to show off his little clan. 

As soon as she was ready for visitors, he invited everyone he possibly could. Friends, family, an entire get together just for her. And she was definitely her father’s daughter, blue eyes bright with excitement as each and every person greeted her with delight. Ever the extrovert herself, she giggled for hours, bouncing on people’s laps as they each took turns entertaining her. 

“Oh, oh! And watch this!” Johnny says, setting down his glass and leaning toward his little girl. “Elsie, look at daddy!” And that’s just what she does, watching as Soap widens his eyes with his brows raised high. Perfectly, she mimics him. 

“The smartest little thing!” Her nanny cheered, clapping with pride. 

“Ah ken, ma!” Johnny responds to his mum, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. “She’s just a wee little thing, already clever as wits.” 

And your side of the family couldn’t possibly be more proud. They’d been waiting for ages to have a grandbaby, and knew if they waited for the right time, you and Johnny would give them just that. 

“Oh, what’s this about?” You chime in, frowning when Elsie suddenly begins to cry. 

“She’s hungry, eh?” Your husband chuckles, reaching out to stroke her mini hand. “Go on then, go to mummy.”

The two of you were lucky enough to have a respectful family, entirely understanding of whenever you needed to take her away for a feeding. And oftentimes, Johnny would come with you. He saw it as a bonding moment, for all three of you. When he first asked, he seemed incredibly timid about it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you thought it sweet; him holding you, while you held your baby, lulling her to sleep with your warm milk.

“She’s dozing.” Johnny whispers into your ear, head dipping to kiss your shoulder.

Together, you’d gone up to your marital bedroom, sitting up on your bed. Johnny’s back rested against the headboard, while your own rested against his firm chest. He’d butterfly his legs out, welcoming you between them and holding you close with every limb. And sitting like this, is when Elsie was the coziest. 

“You’re amazin’, bonnie.” Keeping his voice hush, Johnny rests his chin on your shoulder, admiring your baby from above. “Thank you, so much.”

“What for, baby?”

“For givin’ me her, our sweet Elsie. And just… bein’ with me. You’re everything to me.” 

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König (~1.2k words)

Gisela and Avelina

He had been enamored since the moment the test showed positive. 

The word paternal is the perfect description for him. Even before having a baby in his arms, König embraced fatherhood wholeheartedly. He read all the baby books, took you to all your classes and participated equally in them. Every night, he’d sit by your tummy and read, talk to the baby and sing German lullabies. He thought he had everything figured out, thought he was prepared in every way. 

That is, until he learned that there were two of them. 

“I… I can’t believe it.”

“Oh my gosh…”

Your collective shock made the doctor giggle, continuing to inform you that not only were they identical, they were girls.

“Daughters,” König then said, eyes widening. “Two daughters…”

Worry began to swirl inside your belly from his words, his hesitancy. Glancing up at him from your lying position, you asked quietly, “Are you not… you’re not happy?”

“My love,” Releasing a quick breath, he knelt by your side, immediately taking your hand. “I couldn’t be happier.” And he was beaming. “Daughters, Schatz. We’re going to have two little girls.” (Sweetheart)

And to prepare for their arrival, he bought nearly everything in sight. 

“Schatz, look! Look at what I bought for them.” (Sweetheart) 

Lumbering in with three shopping bags, he sat you down in the living room to show you everything he got to welcome your baby girls into the family. One by one, he pulled each item out, displaying multiple onesies, mini dresses, bows for their hair, new blankets and swaddles, the list goes on. 

“So cute,” He muttered to himself, holding up a purple dress. And just hearing this mountain of a man use the word cute made you smile from ear to ear. 

“Gisela will wear pink,” Your husband decides, “And Avelina, she will dress in purple. Matching, but different, ja?”

When König found out he was having two babies, he knew he’d have no problem giving them both an equal amount of love. He never once worried about having to devote time to each of them, make them each feel cared for and adored. In his mind, it wasn’t even a question. He knew he had more than enough affection to give to each of his girls. 

He’d even gone out of his way to stock up on the essentials - diapers, creams, wipes and bottles. And although the twins won’t be able to use them for a few months, he also took it upon himself to buy some toys - mostly soft blocks, rattles, play mats, and stuffies. 

“They’re going to be spoiled.” You grinned, not the least bit annoyed by your husband’s overzealous preparation. How could anyone be annoyed by that? 

And now that they’re here, König finally has the opportunity to truly shower them with all his love. Every nighttime feeding was, in his words, their best time to bond. When the world is quiet, and you are finally resting, it’s just him and his daughters. And with his imaginative and resourceful talents, König figured out a way to tie their bottles to their little rockers, pushing the chairs back and forth as they ate. He never wanted to feed them one at a time, he thought it cruel to have one watch their sibling eat while they themselves were hungry. 

Whenever the girls were done eating, he’d hold them, lay them both over his broad, bare chest, allowing them to feel his warm skin. It comforted the girls, cuddling with their father. You thought maybe one of them might favor you, but that hope quickly dwindled. They are definitely daddy’s girls. But it was hard to be jealous when every one of this trio’s interactions were breathtakingly sweet. Their bond was something that genuinely brought a tear to your eye, in both sentimental and humorous ways.

“GG!” He calls to her, holding up his phone. This nickname for your gorgeous daughter came quickly, along with Gisela-Bella, Ella, and your personal favorite… “Meine Schnuckel!”

“What does that even mean?” Chuckling to yourself, you watch as Gisela’s father attempts to take a picture of her. 

“My cutie!” He answers cheerfully, your daughter looking right at him as soon as he says it. 

“Yes! Perfect, my beauties.” And then he’s leaning over to show you. “Look, look at them. The cutest things. I’m so happy Ava was already looking.”

Avenlina’s nicknames consisted of Ava, Lina-Ballerina, and… “My little Spatzi.”

As if responding to her German name, Avelina babbles back to her father, just like she always does. Between the two of them, she was certainly the talker, always chirping away, König’s little sparrow. 

The photo he shows you prompts a small laugh from your end, a wide smile growing across your lips. He’d dressed them up in the most adorables outfit you’d ever seen, strawberry and blueberry dresses. GG wore the pink one, of course, with Ava in blue. Each outfit had a berry hat and matching shoes, too. 

Genuinely, he could never get enough of them. Whether it was spoiling the girls with presents or giving them every bit of his time, your husband did everything he could to be the best father. But there were times he’d have no choice but to hand them over to you, their daytime feedings being one of those scenarios. Although, it’s not like he didn’t join you. 

Laying beside you in bed, he shifts onto his side, watching with love in his eyes. You’ve gotten used to feeding them both, being blessed with the ability to produce enough milk to sustain them. And while sitting back against the headboard, you do just that, rocking the girls gently as they drink. 

“She has my eyes, don’t you think?” Reaching over, König taps little Gisela’s chin.

And he’s right; her piercing blue gaze is just like his. “Absolutely.” 

“Sie sind so schön.” Whispering, he stares up at his daughters with sincere wonder in his eyes. “You made them.” (They are so beautiful)

“I know.” Giggling, you nod in response. “Do you think Ava has my nose?” You wonder aloud, watching as their eyelids begin to droop.

“Of course, that perfect little button.” He adds, gently booping his younger daughter’s nose. Though, only younger by two minutes.

Unable to help himself, König then leans in, placing a gentle kiss to Avelina’s head, being that she’s closest to him. And then one of those large hands is lifting, petting gently at his eldest’s thin, blonde hair.

“Let me put them to bed, Schatz.” (Sweetheart)

“No,” Whining quietly, you puff out your lower lip. “I wanna.”

It was something the two of you often ‘fought’ about; neither of you could get enough of your precious daughters. Even while giving birth, he practically tried to catch them with his bare hands. He was the first to hold them, each of them, even before they were placed on your chest. It made for quite the special moment, though. It was him who laid them onto you, one at a time, your little family coming together as you finally held your daughters, your sweet babies. 

To König, there was nothing more inspiring than seeing you give birth to his daughters. You were fierce, powerful, and he was there to support you every step of the way. Hell, he was practically your birthing coach. He cheered you, doted on you until you’d insisted you were okay. In his mind, no one could care for you or your daughters better than him. And that caring instinct only continues to grow as your family does. 

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Simon “Ghost” Riley (~1.3k words)

Charlotte Riley

Isn’t quite sure what to do, and always looks to you for guidance.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t love his daughter, or isn’t interested in her, he’s just afraid. Afraid he’ll hurt her, make her cry or just do something wrong. He’s so big and she’s just so… little. She’s the most precious, fragile thing he’s ever seen and honestly, he’s wondering how he was even capable of making her. 

“Do you want to hold her, Si?” Your voice is gentle, looking up at him with encouragement in your eyes. “She wants you.”

“I don’t know, love.” 

The huge, menacing man you grew to love was quickly dwindled down to a nervous wreck when it came to your newborn daughter. He’d wring his hands, rub the back of his neck and constantly shift his stance. When Charlotte was with you, he was calm. But in literally every other scenario, he felt like he was about to lose his head. 

During the birthing process, Simon was sweating bullets. You were in an ungodly amount of pain and he had no idea what to do, there wasn’t anything he could do. But after a moment, his instincts kicked in. Thanks to his background and general personality, his body often chooses to take action in these fight or flight instances. And he figured the best thing he could do was to just be there for you. He leaned down, wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kept his head right beside your own, holding your hand with his free one and letting you squeeze and claw him as hard as you needed to. You called out for him, crying miserably through the pain. It tore his insides to shreds, it was heart-wrenching. 

“I’m here, I promise I’m here. And you’re so strong, sweetheart. You can do this, you can.”

And now, it’s your turn to reassure him. 

“I promise it’ll be okay.” Pushing your folded arms out toward your husband, you bring her just a bit closer to him. “You don’t want to hold your baby?”

“I, I feel like…”

“Don’t be nervous, Si. She loves you, she trusts you. You can do this.”

He gulped then, eyes floating down to the small bundle in your hands. Only, it’s not just a small pile of blankets. It’s his daughter, his Lottie girl. And so, with a sigh, he nods, straightening his stance. 

I can do this.

With a smile on your face, you watch as he gently, slowly, takes her from your arms.

“How, how do I -”

“Support her head.” Answering softly, you show him just how to do it, gently maneuvering his strong arms and large hands. “There you go, just like that.” 

At first, you were annoyed with him. Did he not pay attention in your parenting classes? Did he not actually read the books you gave him? But an honest conversation quickly put those worries to rest. Simon did pay attention, he did read those books, he had all the knowledge he needed to succeed at this. But he just didn’t trust himself with it, with her. None of those classes prepared for him an actual baby. He thought he’d surely and properly fuck this up if given the chance, but right now, he’s proving himself wrong. 

“Look at you, Si.” The reassurance in your tone makes his heart beat with happiness and pride. All he wants to do is please you, both of you. 

Glancing down at his daughter, Simon nods, uttering a quiet yet confident, “Yeah…” 

But a breath of air is quickly sucked in when he sees her squirm, his body stiffening immediately. You hold out your hands and pause, urging him to just wait. And within seconds, she’s calming down again, tiny body snuggling into his chest. 

“She, um…”

“She loves you, baby.” Stepping closer, you slide a finger over her little hand, cooing, “You love your daddy, Lottie?”

“Stop it.” He orders playfully, eyes unwavering from Charlotte’s sweet face. And when you quirk a brow at him, he continues grumpily, “Making me all emotional.” 

But what you said was true, he can do this. He wants to do this. 

And he does. 

It takes less than a week for Simon to get used to this, becoming so comfortable with your daughter that he openly scoops her up from your arms whenever he pleases. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of how to feed or burp her yet, but he has been helping you with diaper changes. He’ll watch you perform the task or explain a piece of it, and then he’ll do it, testing the waters a bit. It’s slow, but it’s progress. 

What helps with this is his best mate, having a baby of his own to demonstrate. 

“Hold the bottle like this.” Johnny instructs, showing Ghost how he holds his own daughter. “Yeah!”

“Alright,” Ghost nods, voice quiet and a bit shaky. 

Charlotte’s head rests on the bulk of Simon’s bicep, the rest of her body cradled on his lap. And with the bottle perfectly angled, she drinks easily and happily. Elsie does the same, but that’s nothing new. 

“Have you read to her?”

“Read to her? But… she doesn’t understand it, Johnny.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Soap shrugs, grabbing his baby’s backpack to pull out some of her favorite stories. Well, Johnny’s favorite stories. “Elsie loves it! Surely my little godlassie will, too.”

How that came about, nobody really knows. It sort of just… happened, the two of them being their daughter’s godfathers. Nobody fit the role better than them, it was just common knowledge. 

Opening an interactive tale about animals in the jungle, Johnny reads to the girls, their eyes watching him intently. Now that they’re done eating, they focus on Johnny and the way he’s speaking, his facial expressions and movements. 

“The monkey says… ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” Reaching forward, he quickly tickles their tummies, watching as they erupt into laughter. “Here Si, you give it a go.” 

Shoving the book into his hands, he watches his friend gulp. It’s as if an entire crowd is in front of him, and not his best friend and two baby girls. 

“The, um… the lion says… roar.” 

The girls do nothing, and Johnny rolls his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, put your heart into it! The lion says roar!”

Clearing his throat, Ghost nods, staring at the simple picture book. “The lion says… ROAR!”

But instead of giggling, the girls start crying, and Simon is tossing the book down in an instant. Scooping his daughter up into his arms again, he mutters a grumpy Christ while patting her back and bouncing her lightly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but Johnny can still hear him. And he smiles. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Keeping his chuckles to himself, Johnny then says, “Lottie’s got a great dad. I can tell.” 

“How in the bloody hell is this so hard?” His voice is still low, keeping his cheek beside her own in an attempt to comfort her. 

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Soap is resting easy, having calmed his daughter down in less than a minute. “What d’ya say we have a day together? Just us four?”

“And do… what?” Simon hasn’t yet mastered the art of interacting with his tiny baby. He doesn’t know what she’s receptive to. But how will he ever know if he never tries? 

“We can go to the zoo! Practice those lion roars.” Johnny jokes with a grin, watching his best mate roll his eyes. “Really though, it’ll be good for the girls.” And you, but he doesn’t say that part out loud. 

“That… actually sounds nice.” The hammering heartbeat in his chest has slowed now that his daughter has grown silent, only small coos slipping from her lips. 

Honestly, Simon doesn’t know what he’d do without you and Johnny. He’d be completely lost, and in more ways than one. But with your collective encouragement, he finds himself growing into his fatherly role more and more every day. 

◆

◆

◆

Bonus - Uncle!Price (~500 words)

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) Underage drinking, mentions of drug usage, partying. 

“You’re shitting me.” He says into the phone, dumbfounded. 

“I didn’t mean to, Pricey. Promise!”

Charlotte’s tone on the other end of the phone only makes the situation worse; she’s very clearly inebriated. The background noise doesn’t help the conversation, either, nothing but boisterous teenagers shouting and singing. 

“What pub are you at?”

“Not at one,” Hiccuping, she then swallows. “At a… party.”

“Christ, Lottie.” But he’s already walking out to his car and starting the engine. “Text me the address, lovie.”

“You won’t tell dad?” She whispers on the other end, as if Simon could somehow hear her.

“No, hun. But you’ve got to be better about this.”

It wasn’t the first time John had picked his niece up from a situation like this. Out of the group’s kids, she was definitely the partier. As soon as she hit her teenage years, she ran Simon up a goddamn wall. But she honestly didn’t mean to, she wasn’t a bad kid. She just sometimes got herself into bad situations. There had even been times at her friends' houses where she was uncomfortable and nervous, times when they’d bring hard drugs she wasn’t expecting or willing to experiment with. These situations made her far too nervous to contact her dad, fearing he’d just be angry with her. That’s where Uncle Price came in. 

Of course, if she was ever hurt or in serious danger, he’d tell her parents straight away. But in these types of situations, he figures he’s helping her dodge a bullet. He knows how harsh Simon can be, and after all, she’s just a teen. At the end of the day, she’s safe, and that’s what matters. 

“Thank you for calling me. Last thing we need is you driving like this, or driving with someone else like this.”

“Yeah…” Trailing off, she sighs. And in this small lull, John hears a familiar voice.

“Who -” He pauses, did he really just hear who he thought he heard?! “Who was that?!”

“Um… who?”

“You know who!” 

“Is he coming?” The voice then says, and Charlotte is quick to hush him. 

“Benjamin!” John shouts, eyes wide as he continues to drive. “You’re there too?!”

Handing the phone to her cousin, Benji gives the excuse of, “Had to look after her, da.” 

“Yeah, right job you did there.” His father returns, nodding. “Anyone else I should know about?”

“Well… maybe.”

“Elsie! C’mon! Uncle John is almost here!”

Christ sake. 

Groaning, John rubs the bridge of his nose. “You lot are out to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of fun!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling his eyes, he peers out the window while at a stop light.

Internally though, John is grinning. This entire situation is reminding him of his own memories, recalling the crazier nights of his youth. What an absolute shitshow, that was. And on top of that, he didn’t have the type of parents that could get him out of tough cracks, they just didn’t understand. He had to rely on himself. And now, he’s glad these kids can rely on him, too. 

[wellsbering]

i've been going through prismatic-bell's blog to try to piece together exactly what happened to make xir think that reporting someone to the FBI for terrorism with zero evidence was a logical course of action, and i came across something i felt like i just had to pick apart here. i thought about responding to the post directly, but i don't want my notifications to get overrun by zionists (i mean, that'll probably happen anyways, but...fingers crossed)

if you don't wanna read this whole long thing where i explain why this specific gofundme is indeed trustworthy, at least share & donate to muhammad's campaign here

first, what kind of fucking racist brain worms do you have to have to see an arab man asking for help and think that it's "threatening"?

what, exactly, is threatening about this screenshot? saying the honest truth, that being unable to afford medical care for a serious injury could make an amputation necessary??? asking someone to share a link on other social media to increase reach??? using ALL CAPS, LIKE A LOT OF PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET DO FOR EMPHASIS?? please explain it to me.

and then, of course, we have Zionist of the Year prismatic-bell's response.

most of these grammatical inconsistencies that prismatic-bell seems to think of as damning proof (mixing up 1st & 3rd-person pronouns, mixing up "hand" and "arm") are probably not things that someone who doesn't speak english would catch. tell me, tumblr: which of these do you think are "he" and "his", and which do you think are "i" and "me"?

if you're unfamiliar with the arabic writing system, you have zero clues to go on, right?

some of the people sending these asks are copying & pasting english text they see other people using to ask for donations (this is what led to that other scam controversy with bassel). learning a new language is fucking hard. trying to proofread their own messages in not just a foreign language, but a foreign ALPHABET, is not a good use of their time when they're in a warzone and desperately trying to ask anyone they can for help. also to elaborate on the hand/arm thing, it's not that fucking hard to find his gofundme, which contains photos of his actual x-rays.

you can see the shrapnel in his arm. reverse image search only brings up 5 results, 4 of which are tumblr posts linking to this gofundme, and one of which is the gofundme itself.

the bullet is in his arm. as you may imagine, having a bullet strike and break your arm is going to impact your ability to use your fucking hand. muhammad has nerve damage as a result of this injury. so yes, surgery is necessary. you can't really fix nerve damage with a simple round of antibiotics.

"ALSO also also: has nobody in Gaza heard of antibiotics? Why are we going straight for surgery?" is so fucking patronizing. yes, everyone in gaza has heard of antibiotics. unfortunately, antibiotics don't randomly spawn in hospitals like a fucking video game, they need to be TRANSPORTED there, which impossible to do when israel is blocking nearly all humanitarian aid from entering the gaza strip. this is why there are so many amputations being performed in gaza right now. they are running out - or in some locations, have already completely run out - of basic medical supplies.

also, by reading the gofundme description, the "rebuild" vs "evacuate" bit becomes clear: his family needs to rebuild their home, and he has to leave gaza to get adequate medical care. in other words, he has to leave a dangerous place that is being bombed to get to somewhere safe where he can receive medical treatment. if only there was a word for that. perhaps one that starts in evac- and ends in -uate. if only!

regarding the emojis: personally, i don't use a ton of emojis in my writing. but again, considering the aforementioned language barrier, is it surprising to see a lot of emojis? those are at least something that make sense in every language. they also serve to break up a big wall of text that people might otherwise scroll by. i have adhd, so sometimes if a long post is broken up with an occasional ❗ then my eyes will be drawn to that, and i will actually read that sentence and get put back on track.

i don't think i need to get into the "outed as a scammer" bit, since that's been thoroughly debunked. even blogs dedicated to identifying scams on tumblr, like kyra45, consider el-shab-hussein and 90-ghost's vetting process to be reliable and share their lists of vetted fundraisers.

and finally: "People can be bought. Accounts can be hacked. Maybe they used to be honest. They’re not now." this wording seems to imply that all blogs dedicated to palestinian gofundmes are dishonest? it's just as ridiculous to say "every single ask you get is a scam" as it is to say "every single ask you receive is legitimate". a blanket statement like this only serves to continue to undermine the legitimacy of the many REAL GAZANS who are asking for help to rebuild their lives.

i hope this clears some things up if anyone was confused about the legitimacy of some of these asks. the long and short of it is, it's not that hard to just look up a person's blog and see if a trusted person, who actually knows what they're doing (unlike prismatic-bell), has verified the legitimacy of their campagin or not. to be honest, i think that automatically assuming every ask related to gaza is a scam says something about the way you view palestinians. and it's not pretty.

[exorcqism]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso’s mind has been spiraling for a couple days now. the fact that you wrote your phone number down on his hand had him going. he wanted to call you. he wanted to text you. but he just couldn’t. in order to be sanitary, he’d write the number down again on a sticky note and scrubbed the ink off his skin. he didn’t have time for a lover…but he felt like making time for you.

₊❏❜ ⋮ part one ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.33K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; idk how long this story will stretch but if ya like it,, i’ll make more parts to it. not too many though. i wanna get to geto too (as promised). hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: i finally made a masterlist. that shit took me 5 HOURS to make because i was fixing and adding so much stuff. i just wanted it to be pretty. ya should go look at it :P and should i make a AO3??? i see so many writers with them and i was wondering if i should do that too..

final note: guys,, remember this is my personal twist on the mid 90’s era so some things from current time will be put into the story (such as the ability to text without emailing one another or using a pager, familiar current time songs that are added into the 90’s era of this story, certain tv shows/movies that came after the 90’s)

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part three ⌒

“choso, we should make the house look like a haunted house!” itadori suggests. october was the season of spooks and scares (as yuji put it) and choso wasn’t into festivities that much but if he had to do it to make his little brother happy, he would do it.

the boys make their way to the nearby department store, letting yuji pick out what decorations should be put up in the house. for a little boy, choso didn’t even even pick up how significantly scary the items were because yuji wasn’t shitting himself out of fear.

“uh…yuji, i know you said you wanted the place to look like a haunted house…are you sure you won’t freak yourself out and start crying?” choso said, stifling his laughter.

“i’m not gonna cry.” yuji crossed his arms. “and i’m not scared of some dumb clowns. they’re just decorations, anyway.”

yuji was more mature than he looked…in the aspect of fear. he was a small boy but things didn’t scare him easily. you could say he’s a risk taker outside his moments of vulnerability. choso knew that he’d might jump back behind him, tightly holding the hem his tan sweater if he saw kechizu. the male finally smiles at the pink haired boy and nods.

“you’re right. they’re fake.” choso says calmly.

as they approach the checkout area, yuji sees the food area. serving simple things like pizza, hotdogs and drinks. the stuff you’d find at a concession stand of a sports game.

“can we get a pizza?” yuji asked. choso paused. he didn’t intend on spending 13 dollars on food from a department store. he had other plans anyway.

“you sure you want that? i was gonna get you a happy meal before we went home.” the male yawned, threading his fingers through his hair. the sudden mention of a happy meal excites yuji like a child on christmas morning.

“never mind, i don’t want pizza.” itadori quickly switches. choso chuckled, knowing how easy it was to get yuji to think about his choices.

“aw, cute kid,” choso heard a voice behind him. the male whipped his head around, his brown hair following along with him, only to see you standing there with a smile.

“is this your little brother?”

choso flushed a red color when he instantly remembered your face, almost making him feel bad for not calling you or texting you since you dropped off your number to him. he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“uh..yeah, that’s—this is yuji.” he stumbles a bit, trying not to make his embarrassment known. itadori already knows the deal, so he waves at you with a big toothy grin, making you smile and wave back at him.

“um..what’re you doing here?” choso queried, trying to spark a conversation first for once. the male was obviously nervous and you could see his cheeks reddening the more he looked at you. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he would explode right in front of your eyes.

“shopping, like everyone else,” you teased. “but really, i just gotta pick some stuff up for my mom and then i’ll be on my way.”

your eyes travel over to the shopping cart that yuji was clinging onto, looking at the halloweeny decorations and you smile.

“you don’t seem like the type to be into holidays really,” you start, “did your brother convince you?”

choso also looked at the shopping cart full of stuff and blushed even harder. he was already flustered enough. it couldn’t get any worse than this.

“oh—no..he didn’t,” he chuckled nervously, “i actually really like halloween. the scary shit—stuff…you know, the movies? they’re cool.”

you giggled at choso’s nervous attempts to speak to you about the festivities that he almost never participated in and the quick fix with his mistake of swearing in front of yuji like he wasn’t there.

“oh, so you like horror movies? yeah, you strike me as that kind of guy.” you said. you couldn’t help but notice his medium length hair, just like you had seen the other night when he was working, flowing in the wind that came through as the store doors slowly slid themselves open as customers exited the building.

the male wore an oversized tan sweater with a pair of joggers and some sneakers. you could tell this was a lazy outfit. something you’d call a ‘no one will see me’ outfit.

his eyes were tired and he had a stoic expression, aside from his profuse blushing that began to die down when he finally got the chance to relax, having his hands shoved down into his pant pockets. his irises were so pretty. a pretty shade of purple. you never seen anyone’s eyes look like his before.

the silence prolonged for a moment. the two of you suddenly ran out of things to say. this was perfectly fine for choso. he would’ve lost his mind if he had to keep talking. it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to you. he was just too scared.

but it wasn’t long before that silence was disturbed.

“my big brother really likes you. he thinks you’re pre—” itadori starts before choso swiftly covers his mouth with his significantly larger hand, making you giggle once more.

“i’m sorry about that…yuji just likes to say random stuff when the silence is too loud for him.” choso said trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him. your words seemed to ease his nerves a bit but it wasn’t enough to completely calm him down. you glance down at your phone when you feel it vibrate against your thigh.

it’s your mom texting you, asking if you’re on your way back.

“oh, sh—shoot,” you say, quickly fixing your mistake before you actually said it. “i gotta go. my mom just texted.”

choso is quickly snapped out of his embarrassment trance and his head swings over to look at you, his hair following along.

“you’re going?” he asked. through his dead and serious expression, you could see a hint of sadness. a very small change in his usual expression. you nod.

“yeah. but listen, you should call me. you don’t have my number just to stare at it.” you remarked before hurrying off, waving at him as you did.

once you were out of his sight, his eyes quickly struck down to yuji. he looked like he wanted to scold the poor boy for publicly embarrassing him in front of you but he decided against it and his expression softened.

“let’s just get home…” the male sighed.

choso was happy it’s his day off. he got to stay home with his little brother to help decorate their home with terrifying decorations for halloween. choso couldn’t help but smile at yuji’s futile attempts to scare him with the masks from the store.

“come on, you aren’t even a little scared?” yuji removed the mask from his face and shook his head to fix his hair, which was flattened and sticking to his forehead.

“not even in the slightest.” choso chuckled before ruffling itadori’s hair lightly. “what about your friends? you try to scare them yet?”

“megumi is almost never impressed. he’s kinda lame….and out of the question.” yuji hummed. “but i can get nobara. she’s always screaming.”

“well, you can do that tomorrow,” choso yawned, “you gotta get ready for bed soon. you got school in the morning and i don’t want you to be tired and falling asleep in class.”

yuji frowned before he’d hug choso. it took a moment for choso to process the moment, given that he wasn’t too used to being hugged. choso finally hugged the boy back before smiling softly.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

yuji nodded and smiled back at his older brother before making his way to his room.

when yuji had finally gone to sleep, the house was quiet, leaving choso staring at the ceiling with his hair in disarray and an unlit cigarette between his lips all while he laid on the bed, doing maladaptive night dreaming.

‘workin out’ by JID played softly from the small radio that sat on the windowsill. his eyes slowly traveled over to the shoe box that stood out from all the other boxes in his closet. there was a bright yellow sticky note at the top with what seemed to have your phone number on it along with your name.

the male sat up on the bed and walked over to the box, snatching the sticky note from the box then walking over to his laptop that sat on the umber colored desk.

choso opened the laptop and navigated to the facetime app and decided to punch in your number. he could feel his stomach turning as the low adverb jingling sound repeated itself.

while he waited for you to answer, he’d take one of the rubber bands off of his wrist and tie his hair back, leaving his bangs to hang down in his face. he even took the time to fix the violet eyeshadow that he always had around his eyes, staining his fingers each time he touched around his eyelids. and finally, he’d press down on the bandage over his nose to make sure it was still sticking.

you suddenly pick up, finally answering choso’s call. your room was a bit dark like his, except you had your tv going on in the background. it was loud enough for choso to be able to hear.

unlike choso, you were sitting on your bed with your laptop. you had your hair tied up in twin messy buns with a little bit of your hair hanging down in your face. you wore a black spaghetti strap tank top, revealing the tattoo on your shoulder, and a pair of grey joggers with mismatch socks.

“i honestly did not hear this thing going off,” you giggled as you pushed the hair out of your face. you had been downstairs grabbing yourself a drink while choso was calling. “i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, though.”

“oh..no, it’s fine. you aren’t busy are you?”

“no, not really. i was thinking about finishing this show i was watching. have you heard of american horror story?”

“yeah, i heard of it. i just never got around to watching it. i’d rather watch movies than an ongoing series.” choso explained simply before he’d light his cigarette. you nod, completely understanding his side.

“shit, well, what movies do you recommend? horror movies, since we’re in spooky season.” you flash a cheeky smile at him. choso’s heart skips a beat when you finally ask him what he’s interested in. he pauses and begins thinking, taking drags from his cigarette.

“there’s one movie, i can’t tell you all of em off the top of my head,” he begins, “watch midsommar. it’s kinda disturbing but you might like it.”

“is it gory horror or..?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink as you began to type in the movie name into the search bar in another tab, scrolling through websites to catch any good details about said movie.

“you’ll have to see for yourself,” choso places two of his digits around the cigarette, gently adjusting it between his lips before it could slip out. you realize the longer you talked to him, the more comfortable he seemed to be but you could still see that he was nervous.

“maybe we can see about it together,” you suggest to the male. “whenever you’re free, of course.” you add quickly. all of a sudden, choso is blushing just as he did at the store earlier that day. you thought it was kinda adorable how he could look so disinterested to suddenly flustered and scared so quickly.

“i—well..” choso stammered, “yeah, sure…uh, we can watch tomorrow night when i put my little brother to bed. i don’t want him interrupting anything.”

you giggled, “aw, he’s so cute, though. but i get it. little kids can get in the way of a lot of stuff.”

the two of you conversed for what felt like hours. your voice was soothing to choso. each time you began to speak, he just imagined you calling his name…just once.

your call with choso ended around three in the morning, and your cheeks were pink, smiling to yourself as you remembered the random conversations that you two had not too long ago.

you hadn’t felt like this about a guy in a long time. while men were usually throwing themselves at you, choso was clearly the odd one out. he was a bit shy but assertive and smart.

choso’s voice was deep as it came from the depths of the ocean but his words flowed smoothly like butter when he wasn’t tripping and fumbling with his words trying to hide his embarrassment.

his style, his personality, the way he looked. in your eyes he was perfect but there were a million things stopping you from telling him you loved him.

what if he has a girlfriend already? what if he isn’t ready for a relationship? what if he doesn’t want one? he probably just wants to be friends.

aside from all those thoughts clogging your brain, you were aware that you’d be moving to fast by throwing that L word around loosely when you just met him a couple days ago.

“damn it.” choso sighed to himself.

‘you’re falling for her…but you don’t have time for her. what’re you doing?’ choso was beating himself up about the whole entire situation. another cigarette is taken out of the pack and lightened as he tried to calm his anxiety and spiraling thoughts.

he was going crazy. he didn’t know what he would do. he wanted you out of his head. he was starting to feel stupid for letting you swoon him as easily as you did at the bar.

part of him wished he never met you…

but he needed more of you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[pumpkinroll]

history class ↪ obey me! thirteen x f! reader︱one shot (1.3k) tags: 18+ only, dubcon, public sex & some exhibitionism, fingering/oral on reader, use of “my girl” & “good girl”, some dirty talk, established relationship, pervy levi (just a cameo)

“Eh? Who are you!?”

You couldn't remember the last time Thirteen actually showed up to class willingly.

She rolled her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, “I'm allowed to be here y'know!” 

The reaper plopped into the seat next to you and opened her textbook, huffing, “I can come and go as I please, I just felt like coming today! Nothing wrong with that. Hmph.”

You cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she was really up to, before opening your own textbook to today's history lesson. You patiently waited for the professor to start as he fumbled around up front trying to get the projector started.

“Just saying, don't try to copy me if we have a pop quiz, you're on your own.” You shook your head and turned your attention back to the professor, who was already drawling into the lesson.

He never failed to make minutes seem like hours. 

You turned your head slightly to glance at the beautiful reaper, wondering how she was holding up.

To no one's surprise, she was already fast asleep on her textbook, snoozing away without any care in the world. You love her — but even you fail to see why she bothered to come today.

At least the two of you were furthest in the back, the professor paying no mind to anything other than what was on the board.

“Mmm…mmmff…just a little…more…” Thirteen murmured. You glanced to see some drool on the corner of her mouth and a not-so-angelic look on her face. To be fair, that's rarely a thing to begin with.

Leave it to Thirteen to have a wet dream during class.

You peeked around hoping no one heard her and luckily all seemed well. Levi who was in front of you was thankfully engrossed in his game.

Gently you shook Thirteen’s shoulder and woke her up, looking none too pleased.

“Hey, c'mon! I was having the BEST dream, what the hell!” she whisper-shouted, shuffling around in her seat, her thighs rubbing together. “You were so close — !”

“Excuse me!?”

Thirteen crossed her arms and shot you a pouty look, “It's been a while since we fucked, don't tell me you haven't had any urges lately!?”

“Thirteen!”

Mortified you looked around once more, hoping no one heard her, noticing Levi ever so briefly stopped playing his game before continuing. He was probably just changing to a different game; at least that's what you told yourself to feel better.

“Ugh, Thirteen, we can talk about this later!”

“No I want to talk about this now. I've barely seen you lately, I miss you, you're always so busy...” A perfectly manicured hand rubbed your thigh with a feather-like touch. Teasing. Just the way you love it — it then clicked and you caught on to what she was up to.

You bit your bottom lip before taking a quick shaky breath. 

“That's not f-fair…” your voice cracked, “Let's just talk after classes later and —” 

Her hand moved higher up your thigh, beneath your uniform skirt. “Can you really wait until later? Can you resist this?” 

Lime green eyes scanned the room quickly and in a flash she pulled her top down, revealing big soft bouncy breasts and perky pink nipples to match.

Fuck.

She smirked and shook her breasts, “Your favorite yeah? — Ugh, Levi I'll cut off your balls with a rusty sword! Turn around!” Thirteen covered up quickly before anyone else noticed, grumbling about the otaku in front of her before turning her attention back to you.

“Anyway…” her hand resumed rubbing light sensual circles upon your upper thigh, getting dangerously close to the aching spot between your legs. “I just want a small taste. Just stay quiet and enjoy it alright?” 

You let out a small sigh and nodded, feeling crazy for going along with it but feeling a thrill from it at the same time. Thirteen always did have that intoxicating power over you. She, ironically, always made you feel so alive.

“That's my girl~ ♡” she murmured, her finger pressing softly against your clothed clit, making you squirm in your seat.

You tried to keep your attention on the professor, hoping to not rouse suspicion to the back. You thanked Diavolo's decision for the enclosed desks at the academy also wondering how many others have used this to their advantage .

Thirteen tried to follow your lead, resting her cheek on her hand as the other one beneath the desk continued rubbing up and down along your slit, relishing the sweet damp spot that's formed.

She slowly added more pressure against your cunt, feeling the pool of stickiness seep through the thin fabric, covering her fingers. A small giggle escaped her lips before finally pulling your drenched panties aside, rubbing her thumb against your naked swollen clit.

A barely audible moan escaped, you felt your face burn as you tried to keep your focus on the lesson.

Why did you ever agree to this!?

Your legs betrayed you and opened further on their own, letting her delicate fingers toy around your sopping wet cunt, another small moan slipped between your lips.

This is way too dangerous.

Reaching down, you reluctantly pulled her soaked fingers that were pumping into you, away from your cunt.

“W-we should s-stop…s'too good—” you feebly spoke.

“What? No way…” Thirteen glanced towards you and waved her wet fingers before sucking your essence off them, “Yummy as always. Definitely not enough for me nor you.”

“But — ”

Unfortunately, the reaper swiftly and quietly slipped beneath the desk, propping herself between your slick covered thighs. Her hot breath tickled your exposed swollen clit.

Oh no. 

Oh fuck. 

There was no getting out of this. Not unless you wanted to get caught by everyone. 

Panicking, you peeked around before glancing back down at the lewd sight between your legs.

“Such a good girl, look at this pretty wet pussy,” she licked her plum stained lips, holding eye contact with you as her warm slippery tongue slipped between your folds. “Mmm...'could eat you all fucking day.”

You bit your lip as hard as you could, daring to not let a single sound out no matter how much you wanted to.

It had been ages since she went down on you and you never imagined this would be how she would do it, never imagined how fucking good it would feel. So fucking naughty and dirty but so sinfully good.

At this point, you had no idea what the lesson was about, you could only focus on the way Thirteen deliciously wrapped her lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and licking while her fingers fucked you to a new height of pleasure. 

“Your cunt is so delicious, ” she mumbled, flattening her tongue and lapping along your slit.

You closed your eyes and panted as quietly as you could, unable to stay silent anymore, your mouth slightly agape.

Opening your eyes again, you briefly saw Levi gawk in your direction — undoubtedly knowing what you two were up to. You didn't care anymore, you knew the pervy demon would keep quiet.

You stared at each other for a few seconds as you continued lewdly panting before biting your hand, closing your eyes, and putting your head down on the desk. Fuck you were so so close. 

You rocked onto Thirteens tongue, aching for release. 

“Mmm,”

Grabbing the back of her head you continued rubbing your clit against her tongue before finally reaching your peak, squirting into her mouth as a small groan escaped you. 

You continued panting as your eyes fluttered open, riding out your high. Luckily there was still no one aware of what was going on in the back of the room.

Well, except Levi, who you could see was jacking off beneath his desk and very shortly let out a satisfied grunt. Figures.

Once again, Thirteen swiftly made it back into her chair, wiping her mouth as she grinned and looked to you.

“See, that was great right? Let me know if you want to go again.” She teased, giving a flirty wink. 

You let out a satisfied sigh and fixed yourself up before cleaning your chair just as the bell rang for the next class.

“You know damn well I do. We're going back to my room.”

Thirteen squealed and grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed out the academy to get back to the house of lamentation.

divider by sister-lucifer

[naeverse]

Keep It In The Closet (Halloween Special) Finale

💜  starring: Miguel O’Hara x Shy fem!reader

🍾 preview: 

"I didn't know you had that kind of fire in you, Y/N. You always seemed so… timid," he said, his thumb caressing your side, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a fire within you. "But tonight...

You've been all I’ve thought about."

😈 summary:

Miguel O'Hara finds himself being dragged to a Halloween party by his friend, Peter B. Parker. His disdain for the party quickly dissipates when he is drawn to a mysterious woman in a sleek leopard costume and captivating black mask that seems to move him in ways he'd never thought possible…

🍾 tw/cw: Unprotected sex, Sensory Deprivation, Wall sex, Fingering, Dirty talk, Semi-public sex, Standing, etc… 

😈 Pet names: Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Muñeca (Doll), Gatita (Kitty), Hermosa (Beautiful)

💜rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🍾Word Count: 9k

(Every character mentioned is of age!!)

😈Credit to artist in header:  sylvaeon

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

After a while of spins of the bottle, a break was held as many members of the game dispersed. 

Gwen returned back to the dance floor with Hobie, Margo and Miles left to go to the snack bar whilst Peter and MJ stayed, chatting about Mayday.  You watched Miguel leave as well, his tall and muscular build exiting out of the guest bedroom to who knows where. 

But you didn't care…

All you knew that you had to get out of here. 

You had to leave this party before you did something else that’ll completely taint your name here in the Spider Society. 

You hadn’t been recruited long and you’ve already made out with the Spider Society leader!

As you briskly walked out of the guest bedroom and out into the bustling party once again, you couldn’t help but relive that moment. 

Miguel’s lips against yours, his tongue dancing, and mingling with your own. His hands along your body, on your back, thighs and bottom. How he groped and touched you without a care in the world of who was watching. 

But mostly you remembered how addicting and surreal it all felt and deep down…

How you wanted it to happen again…

You groaned heavily, running your gloved hand through your hair, making sure to avoid your leopard ears in hopes of not knocking it out of place. You wandered around the party, trying to find Gwen to no avail. 

Gwen, unlike you, had a Multiverse watch, where just like many other spider-people in the society, was able to travel to different worlds and dimensions for their missions, to hang out with other people from the society, or to go home to their dimension once their work was through for the day. 

Due to being a new recruit to the Spider Society, you didn't have one. Gwen is supposed to be something of a mentor to you, but it's become more of a friendship as she has been assigned to accompany you on your missions and to teach you everything about the Spider Society. 

You've been a recruit for a month now, to get a watch, it had to be three. 

So now, you were left with two choices:

You could either stay at this party, risking the temptation of another round of Spin The Bottle and potentially doing something even worse with Miguel in front of everyone,

Or...

You could scour this entire party for Gwen, with a slim chance of finding her, but knowing that if you did, she might plead and beg you to stay, ultimately leading to your continued presence at the party anyway.

You let out a sigh and crossed your arms, abandoning your search for Gwen. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your eyes looking around the party before you, seeing spider-people in various costumes who were still enjoying the Halloween festivity.

You furrowed your brow, consumed by thoughts of frustration and regret. 

You wanted nothing more than to leave this party…

Kissing Miguel, your boss, in front of others, had left you deeply embarrassed and ashamed, regardless of how enjoyable it might have been. It just felt wrong, despite it being a “playful” challenge. 

You shouldn’t have done it… 

You also had a strong feeling that Gwen would try to push you into something even more regrettable when everyone returned from the break to continue the heinous game of spicy Spin The Bottle. 

You needed to find a way to avoid that game at all costs.

As you stood there, lost in thought and considering how to evade the upcoming game, even pondering the idea of hiding in the bathroom, 

A pair of crimson eyes were fixed on you nearby…

Miguel stood, not too far away, holding another beer bottle, and his gaze locked on you. Since that kiss, his longing for you had only grown.

He wanted you so much, perhaps more than he had ever desired anything or anyone before. 

He bit his lip, his eyes filled with intense lust and desire as they traced the curves of your body. The way your arms hugged your bust, enhancing your breasts through your leopard bodysuit. The allure of your exposed thighs and legs, accentuated by your fishnet stockings. The way your attractive bottom featured a leopard tail that was so enticing, and so very…

Tuggable. 

His want for you was palpable, his cock straining under his black slacks. The longer he looked at you, the more his cock stiffened in his pants, slowly hardening and causing a lewd and prominent bulge to appear beneath the restrictive fabric.  

'Fuck it.'

He growled under his breath, breaking the restraints he had placed on himself and decided to have some fun. 

To indulge in his desires for once…   

So once Miguel drank the rest of his alcoholic beverage, he placed it down onto a nearby table and he didn't stop himself when his feet began to walk towards you.

He didn't prevent the many lewd thoughts that came to his head of all the things he'd like to do to you once he got there. 

And he certainly didn't care anymore about his role as being your leader. 

He didn't give a damn, he just needed you…

Right here, 

right now… 

You stood against the wall, a sigh escaping your lips as you held onto yourself. Your artificial leopard tail coiled around your leg, offering a strange comfort. You gazed down at the ground, your mind racing with thoughts.

Mostly, you thought of Miguel and how on earth you'd be able to continue working at the Spider Society after that ill-advised kiss with him, the Spider Society leader.

"Y/N."

You jumped at the sound of your name being called, realizing it was none other than the man who had been occupying your thoughts.

You gulped, turning to your left to see Miguel standing there. His massive, taut build accentuated by his scarlet button-up, black blazer, slacks, and leather oxfords. Your eyes took in the alluring gold chain and rings that adorned his body, now visible as you examined him without the pressure of an audience.

"Y-Yes?" you inquired, your voice trembling. 

You knew why he was here...

Gazing up at him, you attempted to calm your racing heart and suppress the desire that surged within you. Despite his stern look, he exuded an undeniable appeal, with his thick eyebrows hanging low over his intense amber-red eyes and his lips drawn into their usual permanent scowl.

"We need to talk," he said, his hands crossed over his broad chest, his 7-foot stature towering over you. You struggled to quell the trembling within, knowing the conversation would likely revolve around the recent kiss—a move you found highly unprofessional and deeply regretted.

Miguel's unpredictability was unsettling. Witnessing him play Spin The Bottle with his recruits had already been shocking. Now, as you reflected on the unprofessional nature of your recent actions, a growing fear emerged. 

‘What if Miguel kicked you out of society for that improper kiss?’

Your stomach knotted at the mere thought. The looming possibility of expulsion from the Spider Society intensified the unease you felt speaking with Miguel.

"M-Miguel, I-I—"

"Now."

He demanded, seizing your arm and swiftly pulling you through the ongoing party. You yelped at his sudden action, feeling small as his large, tanned hand enclosed your arm, leading you deeper into the penthouse.

Embarrassment surged through you as you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, allowing Miguel to guide you past partygoers in various Halloween costumes. The Halloween decorations, painstakingly arranged by Peter and MJ, blurred past whilst Miguel hurried you away. 

It felt like an eternity before his tugging came to a sudden halt. Hastily, he pushed you against the wall in a narrow, empty hallway, his expression inscrutable. His amber eyes flickered with a red hue, quickening your heartbeat.

“M-Miguel, I-I’m sorry,” you stammered through trembling red lips. “I-I wasn’t thinking. I-I should’ve stopped myself, I-I shouldn’t have kissed—”

“Stop talking,” he commanded, silencing you instantly. 

You swallowed hard, clenching your hands by your sides, trying to manage the overwhelming mix of nervousness and fear.

Miguel barely registered what you had said previously; instead, he simply observed you. Throughout the night, he hadn’t been able to see you up close like this, and now you appeared even more ethereal.

Despite his intense desire for you, he wanted to tease you a little, to observe what was going on in that pretty head of yours. It seemed as though you were anticipating punishment.

He’ll go from there…

“What are you sorry for? Explain?” Miguel demanded, his voice stern. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. Anxiety twisted your stomach, your lips quivering.

"I-I'm sorry for... k-kissing you during the game," you stammered, avoiding eye contact and keeping your gaze fixed on the ground.

Miguel scoffed, his eyes scanning your figure. "Why? You didn't seem sorry when your tongue was down my damn throat," he remarked, causing you to whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

You couldn’t respond because he was right. At that moment, your actions were a blur of uncontrolled desire and impulsiveness. The fog of lust clouded your judgment, making you unrecognizable, even to yourself.

The thought brought silent tears streaming down your cheeks beneath your black mask. Miguel, seemingly unaware of your tears, persisted with his teasing. “I see you don’t have an answer, and I believe I know why, Cariño,” he mused, his gaze scanning your form once more. “You enjoyed our kiss, didn’t you? The feeling of my lips on yours, how I touched you?” His laughter sliced through the air, lifting your chin and freezing when he spotted the tears.

His eyes locked onto you, witnessing the silent tears streaking down your cheeks. “Shit, are you crying?” Miguel asked in disbelief, a pang in his heart at the sight. 

You couldn't respond, a suppressed sob slipping past your lips, which you attempted to muffle with a clasped palm. 

However, Miguel heard it distinctly.

The impact of the kiss on you seemed far more significant than he'd realized, and his teasing only put more salt in the wound. Now caught in a dilemma, he felt unsure how to resolve it. Comfort and affection were not his forte, leaving him clueless on how to console you.

“Mierda…” he muttered, swiftly removing your black mask and placing it on a nearby table. His gaze returned to yours. “Hey, stop crying,” he said, prompting you to attempt wiping away the tears with your fingertips, careful not to ruin your makeup.

Miguel’s eyes softened at the sight of your puffy eyes and cheeks. Leaning down to meet your eye level, he reassured, “I’m not going to punish you for what happened during that game. It was harmless fun.” Chuckling, attempting to lighten the mood. 

You hastily shook your head. “N-No…it wasn’t.” Your trembling lips met Miguel's gaze. “E-Everyone saw me kiss you, a-a-and it was long, a-and very improper,” you shakingly said, trying to explain to Miguel why the kiss you shared wasn't as innocent as it seemed.

However, Miguel wasn’t listening… 

His mahogany eyes were fixated on your face in its full splendor. Though he had seen you without your spider-mask on numerous occasions, something about you tonight captivated him. Your eyes glistened in the hallway's lighting, your cheeks adorned with a rosy hue, and your lips retained the crimson shade from the lipstick you probably applied before the party. In that moment, you held an irresistible beauty that entranced him, rendering him unable to avert his gaze.

He gently cupped your face in his large, calloused hand, silencing your rambling. Startled, your widened eyes met his. “M-Miguel…w-what—”

“Shush,” he said with a smirk. “You worry too much, Y/N.” His whispered words and the gentle caress of his thumb against your cheek only deepened the blush on your face. You gulped, your breaths becoming heavier.

“N-No, it’s obvious. O-Our connection,” you admitted, causing your cheeks to flush further, which only widened Miguel’s smirk.

“Our connection, hmm?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant,” you quickly interjected before releasing a resigned sigh.

You wished to vanish, feeling like a complete fool. You inadvertently expressed your feelings to your leader, and implied he reciprocated those same sentiments. 

Miguel chuckled at your flustered state. “Ahh…I get it now. My gatita has a little crush on me?” He teased, pulling you closer until your faces were just inches apart.

“That explains everything.”

He smirked, his eyes momentarily flickering with a deep red before reverting to their original hue. You wanted to argue, to refute his assumption, but you knew it would be useless.

You had inadvertently set the stage for your own downfall…

“I-I’m sorry. I know it’s improper, but I’ll never act on it,” you briskly stated through trembling lips. “W-when we return to work at the Spider Society, I’ll see you as I’ve always seen you—m-my leader and nothing more.” Thickly gulping, you met Miguel’s mahogany eyes and his small smirk.

He chuckled, stepping closer, his chest pressing against yours. Rising to his full height, he tilted your head to meet his eyes. “No, Y/N. I can't allow that to happen within my establishment,” he said sternly. “I can’t have you working at the Spider Society with an attraction toward me, your leader. It’s fraternization, a conflict of interest.” His dark brown curls swayed as he shook his head. 

“And I can’t allow that…”

You had anticipated this outcome. You knew that kiss would lead to trouble, and perhaps you deserved this consequence for your impulsive and imprudent actions. Instead of resisting, you slowly nodded.

“Y-Yes, sir. I-I understand,” you sniffled, the fear of losing everything you've achieved at the society engulfing your thoughts. Trembling, you exhaled and closed your eyes, preparing for the expected words…

But what followed wasn’t what you anticipated…

“But I can make an exception for you, my sexy gatita.” 

Your eyes snapped open to meet his sincere gaze. The unexpected words and the term he used took you by surprise.

‘Sexy gatita?!’

You couldn't believe Miguel's words, prompting him to snicker. He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his knuckles gently grazing your cheek. “You've intrigued me tonight, gatita,” he whispered, his eyes slowly tracing your body before meeting your eyes. 

“First, it was that sexy costume of yours,” he smirked, placing his hands on your waist. “And then that kiss. Mmm…that kiss,” he moaned, the sexy sound causing your core to throb to life.

"I didn't know you had that kind of fire in you, Y/N. You always seemed so… timid," he said, his thumb caressing your side, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a fire within you. "But tonight...

You've been all I’ve thought about."

His words stirred a flutter in your heart. You were taken aback, utterly shocked and astounded by his admission.

To imagine that Miguel O’Hara, a man who hardly revealed his emotions or engaged in love or romance, felt this way about you seemed surreal.

“M-Miguel… what are you saying?” you asked, seeking confirmation, hoping this wasn't a dream.

Miguel sensed your mind racing to comprehend his words; truth be told, he was also grappling with his own feelings for you. All he knew was he felt an overpowering desire that surged when he first laid eyes on you across the party, a feeling that needed fulfillment, or he feared he'd go crazy.

Leaning in closely, his lips were just a breath away from yours. His eyes flickered to a crimson hue as they examined every contour of your face.

“I'm saying, I want you, Y/N… 

Right here, right now.”

He whispered, his hand finding its way to the small of your back, his touch trailing up your spine, gently skimming the fabric of your leopard costume. A shaky exhale escaped your lips as you looked up, meeting Miguel's gaze.

You'd only ever imagined Miguel returning such feelings. Nights spent awake, envisioning his lips on yours, his touch on your body and igniting your senses in ways no one else could. When he finally confessed his desire, it unleashed your own hidden longing, once meticulously guarded, now laid bare before you.

Your heart raced, tenderly and shakingly reaching up to cradle his face in your gloved palm, admiring the enticing features of his chiseled face. 

"I...I want you too, Miguel."

You whispered and Miguel didn't hesitate, emitting a low groan before pressing a fervent kiss to your lips. As your lips met, it ignited a passionate blaze. The kiss grew with intensity, exuding longing and desire. Your mouths fused together in a heated exchange, tongues intertwining in a battle for dominance that left both of you breathless.

You ran your gloved fingers through Miguel’s hair, tugging gently at his dark brown curls and kissing his lips with much fervor. Miguel moaned against your lips, his hands moving all along your body, squeezing your waist, your thighs and rear, before moving up to grope your breasts through your leopard costume. You moaned at his touch, your core throbbing in desperation for him. 

Miguel was ravenous, consumed by desire, longing to feel your bare skin under his palms as he continued to kiss and feel you. Panting heavily, he withdrew from your lips. 

Breathless, you gazed up at him, noticing his glance towards a lone door in the empty hallway the two of you stood in. Meeting his gaze, you looked up to find him smirking. "Come on, gatita," he said, grabbing your hand and leading you toward the door.

You eagerly followed Miguel, anticipation and desire coursing through you. You followed him to the closed door, beyond which lay a dimly lit room. Your brows furrowed as Miguel didn't hesitate, entering and shutting the door behind you, enveloping the two of you in darkness and intensifying your sense of disorientation. “M-Miguel…I-I can't see," you stammered.

"I can see that," he whispered, his laughter taking your breath away. Your body heated up, your eyes straining to navigate the darkened room in search of Miguel. Anxiously biting your lip, excitement surged within you. "W-Where are we?" you asked, Miguel's deep voice reverberating in the pitch-black space once more. 

It looks like a closet, gatita,” he said as he placed his hands on your waist, gently guiding you. Allowing him to lead, you soon felt a firm surface against your back. A gasp escaped you, soon realizing the sudden obstacle was a wall. Attempting to look up for another glimpse of Miguel, you found nothing but a black abyss staring back at you.

You couldn't help but notice that the disorienting darkness didn't seem to affect Miguel. His footsteps echoed with a steady confidence, his voice unwavering. 

Recollections of rumors gathered during your month at the Spider Society resurfaced in your mind. Whispers suggested that Miguel was more unique than the normal spider-person. 

But no one really knew how different…

Looking upward, hoping your eyes were fixated on Miguel, a nervous gulp escaped you. "Y-You can see, can't you?" Your voice quivered, carrying a blend of nervousness and excitement. The notion that your alluring leader could perceive your every reaction while you remained unable to see his, sent an odd surge of anticipation through you. Miguel let out a soft chuckle, his hands delicately skimmed along your body.

"Yes, I can see, gatita. 

Crystal clear, in fact." 

Murmuring softly, his touch along your sides felt amplified by the shroud of darkness that enveloped you. His confirmation of sight, even in the dimness, made your heart skip a beat. The knowledge of his enhanced ability sent a thrilling wave of excitement through you.

He peered down at you, his vision more acute than the average spider-hero. He gave your waist a squeeze, his fingers pressing into your flesh through your costume which pulled a soft moan from your lips. "I'm going to make you feel so good, Cariño.”  He murmured into the darkness, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Are you ready for me?" he inquired, feeling his unexpectedly soft lips against your cheek, pressing small kisses along your skin. A soft moan escaped you as you nodded in response. "Yes," you replied breathlessly, which brought a smile to Miguel's face, although unseen in the dimly lit room.

“Excelente.”

His lips met yours, eliciting a gasp of surprise. He grinned and, with a gentle hand on your throat, held you in place while hungrily devouring your mouth.

Miguel savored each moment—the softness of your lips meeting his and the way you displayed a hint of submission despite your evident desire for him.

His large hand encircled your neck, the cool touch of his gold rings lightly pressing against your skin. A gentle squeeze on your throat made your eyes flutter, a soft moan escaping your lips as Miguel deepened the kiss, leaving you feeling weak in the knees.

He emitted a soft groan, your tongues intertwined, lost in the exchange of fervent kisses. Your senses were enveloped by his scent, taste, and touch, leaving you feeling slightly dazed.

He took your bottom lip between his fangs, not enough to cause harm, but sufficient to create a tingle in your stomach as he tugged away. Breathless and with a racing pulse, you peered into the darkness with half-lidded eyes, searching for Miguel.

Miguel traced his thumb along your throat, causing a subtle hitch in your breath. "So beautiful, gatita," He murmured, planting kisses along your jaw and cheeks, his hand moving down your body, eventually resting between your legs, and cupping your mound through your leopard bodysuit. You emitted a soft moan, your legs quivering at the touch of his calloused palm against your throbbing bud.

Miguel groaned, reveling in the sounds you released. You gasped, feeling his foot kick your legs apart, allowing him greater access to your heated core. Tracing his ringed fingers along your clothed slit, you couldn't stifle the arousing sounds prompted by his tantalizing touch.

“You are soaking, Cariño. This pretty pussy wants my cock that bad, huh?” He remarked with a chuckle, causing warmth to rush to your face, your cheeks turning noticeably red. You hesitated, nodding, your eyes shifting to the floor. Even though you couldn't see Miguel, you were convinced that his lustful, crimson eyes were fixed on you, taking in every reaction you exhibited.

Miguel noticed how the aroma of your arousal seemed to grow stronger in response to his words. He groaned softly, leaning in near your ear, he gently nipped on your earlobe, causing a hitch in your breath. "Very well, let me prepare you first, Cariño." He whispered. His touch on your sensitive area disappeared, leaving you feeling an unexpected emptiness.

You soon heard the clatter of his rings, suspecting he was removing his jewelry. Excitement stirred in your stomach at the thought of what Miguel might do, your senses tingling and your elation growing, even causing your panties to dampen further.

You felt his presence close to you once more. His heat radiating off his body.  You wanted so much to see him, to see his chiseled face, chocolate curls and massive body.

You felt his harden chest press against your supple breasts, his hand falling back into place on your throat. You let out a soft moan as his calloused thumb traced along your jawline. Miguel smirked, his finger delicately moving the fabric that veiled your mound to the side, revealing your heated core.

You gasped, feeling a rush as you were revealed. Miguel moaned softly, running his thick middle finger through your slick folds, your wetness coating his digit. 

You whimpered, your breath escaping in gasps through your parted lips. Miguel chuckled, pressing your back against the wall. His hand remained around your throat while his other hand continued to explore your throbbing core. 

“Hmm, you want my fingers, gatita?” He seductively asked, his finger sliding between your wet pussy lips, brushing along your clit, but not fulfilling your desire and entering your heated core. You nodded frantically, wanting this torture to end and to finally feel his thick fingers inside of you. "P-Please," you managed to utter between your strangled moans that were being pulled from deep within you.

Miguel's gaze was locked onto you, a sly smirk adorning his tanned lips. His lust-filled crimson eyes devoured every detail, from your flushed cheeks and your shorter stature in comparison to his towering height, to your fluttering eyes and the sweet sounds emanating from your open mouth to fill the intimate space of the closet. The sight was so arousing it made his cock throb to life in his pants and elicit a low, involuntary groan from him.

As your eyes scanned the darkness for him, his smirk deepened. Your unawareness of his location and what his next move might be heightened his excitement. He found your obliviousness endearing.

His desire for you grew with each passing moment...

Without warning, he pressed his finger into your entrance, allowing your needy and dripping walls to suck him in. You emitted a startled gasp, followed by a soft moan, taken aback by the sense of fullness of his thick finger inside of you. “O-Oh gosh!” You cried out, your hands desperately searching for something to hold onto. You were thankful when you found his arm, which still gripped your throat.

You gripped his forearm tightly, eyes rolling at just the sensation of his finger inside of your dripping core.

Miguel felt a sense of urgency, fully aware of the limited time the two of you had before Peter or your friend Gwen sent out a search party.

The two of you had to hurry…

“Hmm…gatita. I want you to ride my fingers. I need you ready for me, bonita.” He practically growled against your ear. You nodded, trying your best to ride back on his digit whilst Miguel’s thick middle finger thrusted into your gummy walls, slowly stretching you out.

Your sentence is already clear and well-constructed. However, if you'd like an alternative phrasing, you could say:

You couldn't contain the numerous whimpers and loud moans that broke free from your lips as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Miguel groaned at your tightness, slowly slipping in a second finger, eliciting a strained cry to burst from your throat. 

You were panting, moaning and squirming against his fingers, feeling his digits thrust up into your pussy, right down to the knuckle where he curled them, touching your g-spot before returning back to the start to repeat his motion. His movements were harsh and relentless, your nails digging into his sleeve as all you could do was whimper and mewl uncontrollably, the sound of his palm smacking against your swollen clit with each shove of his two fingers echoing and engulfing the quietude of the closet.

This was already too much…

His fingers so thick and long, pounded into you with no mercy, reaching deeply and touching that sweet spot over and over again. Your mind was complete mush, Miguel’s digits stretching your tight walls with each thrust, slowly preparing you for his dick. Even in your fucked-out state, you couldn’t help wonder how big Miguel truly was. 

“Mmm, M-Miguel, I-I can’t-” You whimpered, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Miguel hummed, shifting his hand from your throat to your thigh, raising your leg onto his hip for better access to your dripping cunt. “Yes, you can Cariño. You can take another.” 

You bit your lip harshly, a mix of excitement and slight nervousness at his response, yet hesitant to refuse him. The numerous dreams and fantasies you had of Miguel were finally materializing, becoming a tangible reality before your eyes. Deep down, despite your apprehension, you didn't want this to end; you didn't want him to stop, especially with how good and perfect his fingers felt deep inside you. 

So with a thick gulp, you gripped his biceps through his black blazer, clenching the fabric tightly and nestling your face into his neck, readying yourself for whatever Miguel had in store for you in this confined space.

Miguel looked down at you, hearing the soft whimpers slipping through your parted lips, and feeling your shaky breaths against his neck. He chuckled, his canines showing slightly. He delicately lifted your chin with his fingers, tilting it upward to meet his lips.

Your trembling breath intertwined with his as he kissed you with depth and passion, enough to overwhelm your senses. Amidst the searing kiss, he wriggled a third finger inside, taking its place beside his other two prompting you to moan loudly. 

Miguel cursed against your lips, your tightness evident around his digits as he slowly eased his three fingers into you, feeling your walls tremble and squelch noisily. Your stomach buzzed with pleasure and your legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath you whilst he worked his fingers inside of you. 

Miguel kissed you hungrily, sucking, licking, and nipping your lips until they were moist and puffy. Your pussy was fluttering around his fingers, your juices coating his digits and staining the sleeve of his blazer with each smack of his palm against your sensitive bud, but he didn’t give a damn. Your sweet moans, gorgeous body grinding desperately back onto his fingers, and plush lips against his own was so intoxicating. 

Overwhelmed, you pulled away from his lips, eyes rolling, and uncontrollably whimpering at the feeling of his three fingers moving inside of your pussy, stretching you to the extreme. “Last one baby.” He whispered, kissing your cheek, his words so comforting, even amidst the overwhelming pleasure.

You bit your lip, feeling him ease his last finger inside of your dripping hole. You clung to him tightly, a high-pitched, deafening scream passing your lips at the sweet intrusion. Miguel hastily placed a hand over your mouth, slowly inserting his fingers into you, down to his knuckles.  “Shush bebe, we wouldn’t want someone to hear, now do we?” Miguel whispered against your ear before pressing a kiss upon it. His words were barely audible, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, while your eyes rolled and cries escaped from deep within your throat, muffled by Miguel's hand covering your mouth.

He smirked, admiring your stunning appearance, even in your fucked-out state. How your eyes were half-lidded and continuously rolled, how beautiful you looked with his hand covering your mouth, the vibrations of your moans bouncing off of his hand, but what really aroused Miguel the most was how much of a good girl you were. Your body continued to grind sloppily back onto his four fingers despite your lack of stability and strength to do so. The sight went straight to his cock. He hissed his massive length prodding against the fabric of his black dress pants, painfully hard and desparate for attention. 

You whimpered behind his palm, eyes closed as your body felt like it was being struck by lightning. Each shove of his fingers inside of you, jolting your body full of pleasure and spreading the delicious sensations as tingles throughout your entire being. 

It was so delightful; you wished it would never end…

Miguel looked down between the two of you, watching his massive, four digits disappear inside of you with each thrust, and how drenched his fingers were when they reappeared once again. He bit his lip harshly at the sight, his movements becoming increasingly erratic with each shove.

“So good gatita. Taking my fingers so well.” He praised, his cock straining and pressing against the restrictive fabric of his black slacks, begging to be released. He growled, hearing you whimper around his palm. He moved his hand, grasping you throat once more, his fingers continuing to thrust into your dripping core. 

You were close, 

very close. 

Your eyes rolled once more, soft, inaudible moans escaped your lips, while an intense burning sensation began to build up in the pit of your stomach, intensifying and becoming unbearable. 

Miguel chuckled, feeling your walls squeeze around his fingers, signaling your rising climax. “My gatita, gonna cum for me? Going to make a mess on my fingers?” He teased, holding your leg up on his thigh, and adjusting his position in the darkness.

Suddenly, his four fingers increased in speed, slamming intensely into you, and curling into your g-spot everytime with each stupefying motion. 

You gritted your teeth, a trickle of saliva escaping the corners of your mouth and trailing down your chin as Miguel shifted his hand from your mouth to cradle your face, his fingers gently pressing against your jaw. You panted heavily, fingers tightly clutching his sleeve, your body trembling and pussy horribly fluttering around his pumping fingers. 

Miguel turned your face to look at him in the darkness. “Say my name, gatita. Let me hear it as you cum on my fingers.” He commanded in a husky voice. You choked back a moan, biting your lip harshly trying to unjumble your scrambled brain. When you finally found your voice, Miguel’s fingers burrowed deep into you, touching a spot inside that made you see stars within the confines of the dark closet. Your orgasm rushing and crashinginto you like an unexpected tidal wave. 

“M-Miguel! I-I’m cumming, ‘m cumming. Crapcrapcrap!” You choked out before the long-awaited release of your pent-up pleasure came spurting from your cunt, soaking Miguel’s hand and coating your thighs. You body spasmed uncontrollably, twitching in Miguel’s arms whilst he finger-fucked you through your climax. Your eyelids fluttered, tears spilling down your face at the sheer intensity.  

“There we go, gatita. Very good, very good.” He cooed, slipping his drenched fingers out, your body trembling a little at the lack of fullness. 

He held your chin in his hand, his crimson gaze scanning you while his other hand tenderly caressed your thighs. "You okay?" His voice, filled with concern, resonated in the dimly lit room. His question made your heart flutter, intensifying your frustration at not being able to see him.

You nodded, breathing heavily, and finally releasing the tight grip you had on Miguel's forearm. "Y-Yes..." Miguel smiled, planting a kiss on your cheek, which caught you by surprise and made you jump slightly in the darkness of the room.

"Good, gatita, because I'm ready for you, bebe.” He whispered against your skin, the words going straight to your puffy core and reawakening your lust. Miguel instantly smelled your potent desire, making him smirk. 

You felt Miguel’s breath against your throat and soon his lips, softly sucking at your sensitive spot as you heard the delightful sound of his belt and zipper coming undone. You moaned softly at his suckles, feeling his fangs along your neck, leaving behind his love bites. Miguel hummed, suddenly feeling his large hand take yours, guiding it towards him. Your eyes widened when you felt his hardened length brush your knuckles, eliciting a hiss from Miguel. 

He opened your hand so you could grab his cock. You complied, taking his dick in your palm and you were even more amazed and how thick he was, your fingers unable to close into a fist due his enormity. Miguel let out a soft groan at your touch, unable to stop himself as he began to thrust into your clenched fist, moaning at his efforts. “Bebe, you feel that?” He hissed, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head to steady himself whilst continuing his slow pace into your palm. 

You bit your lip, nodding. “Y-yes.” You uttered, feeling his massive length slide in and out of your palm. His length was absolutely astonishing, completely hardened and erect. His coarse hairs tickling your hand with each thrust which only made your pussy quiver even more in want of his cock to feel you up. “Hmm. You feel what you-fuck-do to me Cariño?” He heaved, kissing along your neck, small gasps of air passing his lips while you moaned helplessly.  

Miguel groaned, moving back and using his large hand to grasp your neck, guiding your face to meet his gaze. Your eyes fluttered at his touch while Miguel's half-hooded crimson eyes met yours, his cock twitching in your palm at the sight of your flushed face. “I’ve been waiting for this all damn night.” He panted, squeezing your neck slightly causing you to shudder. 

Miguel's words took you by surprise, yet they only amplified your desire for him. You hadn't realized you could have such an impact on someone, especially on him, but here he was, fucking your fist and spilling his guts to you in the darkness of a closet. 

You bit your lip, squeezing his cock in your palm, causing him to let out a deep and alluring groan. “Mierda…Keep doing that and I’m going to cum.” He chuckled breathlessly. “And we don’t want that. Not just yet, gatita.” He hissed, pulling his cock from your hand. 

Your eyes darted around in the darkness, desperately seeking him, but instead, you felt him move you, pressing your chest against the wall and positioning your backside towards him. Standing on unsteady legs, a blend of anxiousness and nervousness enveloped you. You bit your lip, your cheek pressed against the wall, further overwhelmed by the absence of sight, your fingers tensing against the firm surface. 

You waited for what felt like an eternity, the anticipation becoming unbearable as your juices spilled down your legs. 

You wanted so much to feel Miguel, his touch, presence, lips, cock… Anything! 

Your body felt so cold and empty without him… 

You awaited with bated breath for Miguel when suddenly something warm and hard began to move against the curve of your ass. Your eyes fluttered, the sensation so delightful, seemingly heightened by your diminished sight. Your juices continued to coat your thighs, dripping down your shaky legs the more he touched and teased you. Miguel snickered, gripping your hips in his large hands. “My pretty gatita, you smell so delicious bebe.” He whispered, kissing your bare shoulders. “I can smell your arousal, how much you want my cock to stuff that pretty pussy of yours.” He grinned. You moaned even more at how accurate he was. 

“P-Please.” You begged in response, grinding back on his length. Miguel moaned, widening your cheeks and pushing your leopard bodysuit and panties to the side once more, revealing your slick folds. He inhaled the air deeply. “Fuck, you are exquisite, Cariño.” He purred, trailing his fingertips along your back, causing a shiver to run through you. You felt him brush his cockhead along your pussy lips making you whimper. “You tell me if it’s too much. Got it bebe.” He whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You nodded, biting your lip. “O-okay.” 

Slowly, you felt his massive head begin to enter your throbbing core. Your legs shook horribly, fingers gripping the wall as muffled moans escaped your throat. Miguel grunted under his breath, continuing his insertion. You were thankful for the preparation Miguel had provided earlier because he was huge. You felt your gummy walls stretch to the extreme to accommodate his enormity, a loud, strangled moan escaped your lips when his hips smacked against your rear. 

Miguel groaned, pressing his chest to your backside and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Talk to me, how do you feel, bebe?” He asked, kissing your cheek and allowing your walls to adjust. You were breathless, shakingly panting. The pleasure was so intensely good that it was mind-numbing. 

You could barely understand what Miguel asked you over the pounding of your heart and the blood buzzing in my ears. “Goodgood, s-so good.” Miguel smirked, tightening his hold on your waist beginning to slowly thrust into you. Your mouth was agape, eyes continuously rolling, Miguel’s hips moving in a rhythmic motion inside of you. 

“M-more. Please give me more.” You slurred, gripping the wall as Miguel chuckled, pressing a kiss to your ear. “You want more, Cariño? You sure you know what you are asking?” He inquired with a snicker that went straight to your dripping cunt. You frantically nodded, desparate to feel more of Miguel, repeatedly begging and pleading in slurred speech.

Miguel felt somewhat concerned by your request. He was accustomed to fucking intensely and vigorously, often leaving women sore and sometimes unable to walk afterward.

But you were different…

He didn't give a damn about those women; they were all just a good time. But you were special…

You were precious to him, a hidden gem he had discovered in a vast mine, a jewel that gleamed brightly amongst a sea of ordinary stones.

He didn't want to harm you. He was used to breaking things, unintentionally or not to others, and he didn't want to include you on that list. He was used to breaking things, whether intentionally or not, and he didn't want to include you on that list. Despite his concerns, he couldn't refuse you, especially with the many cries spilling from your mouth, begging him to fuck you hard, to ruin you.

So he clenched his jaw,  gritted his fangs, his eyes reddened as he pressed his fingers into your hips. 

“You asked for it.” 

He growled his tender thrusts instantaneously becoming brutal and frantic. It was so intense that you felt as if you couldn't breathe, your moans continously getting caught in your throat with each striking smack of his hips against your rear. 

Miguel's fingers gripped your hips so tightly that you were certain it would bruise later, his groans and deep growls evident against your ear whilst his deep and merciless pounding never ceased. “This what you wanted, Cariño?” He huffed, his cock burrowing deep inside of your gummy walls and prodding your cervix each time. 

You couldn't respond, only moaning uncontrollably, your body roughly banging against the wall. All you could do was hope that the hallway was still empty because you couldn't control the loud cries of pleasure that were being pulled from your very being  with each thrust.

“Ay Cono.” Miguel panted, wrapping a hand around the artificial tail of your costume and tugging you back, meeting him with each thrust. Your eyes rolled into your head at the added simulation. Your tongue pooling over your lips whilst he continued to fuck you relentless, dirty talking into your ear which only pushed you closer and closer to your climax. 

“Hmm, if only you’ve asked me-fuck-sooner Cariño. I would have already claimed this pussy.” He grunted, runting his cock into you. “Have everyone know this pussy is mine.” He growled, continuing his abuse on your puffy pussy. 

Everything was too much, as you soon came undone. Your eyes rolled, back arching, while your muscles tensed and your gut tightened. All erotic cries became stuck in your throat. Your body shook uncontrollably, climaxing into the darkened room in juicy spurts, dripping loudly onto the floor beneath you. 

Miguel cursed, your walls squeezing him tightly as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. “Yes bebe. Just like that, mmm. Cum for me.” He growled, nipping and sucking on your lobe whilst you released on his cock. 

Miguel hummed in satisfaction, feeling your body tremble under his palms, and fall limp against the wall. The only support keeping you upright was his presence and the firm surface in front of you.

“Very good Cariño, but I’m not done with you just yet-”

Abruptly, a female, robotic voice echoed throughout the confined closet, causing Miguel’s hips to instantly come to a halt inside of you. Both yours and Miguel’s eyebrows rising in astonishment and surprise.

“One incoming message from Peter. B. Parker.” 

“Shit.” Miguel spat, pulling out and rolling up his sleeve. The closet filled with a white glow emanating from his multiverse watch as a voice message from Peter began to play. "What's up, buddy? Where are you? The game started like... ten minutes ago. Get your ass back up here."

You nervously bit your lip, attempting to catch your breath and retain most of what you had just heard from the message. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Miguel's chiseled, tanned face illuminated by his watch. It felt like an eternity since you last saw him, and he looked absolutely stunning, even in the small light emitting from his watch.

He growled , covering his watch with his sleeve and shifting his focus back to you, planting kisses on your shoulders whilst grinding his hardened length along the curve of your ass. Your breath hitched at the unexpected action, the return of the intense darkness more disorienting than before. “W-we must head back, Miguel. T-They’ll come looking for us.” 

“Let them look.” 

He replied hoarsely, continuing to kiss your shoulders and grind his cock against your ass. “I’m not done with you, Cariño.” He spat, turning you to face him. Your stomach fluttered once again in anticipation. 

An unexpected gasp slipped from your lips as he effortlessly turned you around to face him, and lifted your body off the ground like you weighed nothing at all. You hastily wrapped your arms around his neck, clutching tightly, while your legs found their place over his forearms, and Miguel's hands resting against the wall behind you.

He kissed your lips, breathing heavily. “I’ll be a damn idiot to leave you right now.” He uttered, rubbing his cock along your slick folds. “Hmm, leave you without even stuffing you full of my cum, without truly claiming you.”  You moaned softly as his tip repeatedly brushed against your clit. His words causing your heightened arousal to intensify, your arousal dripping down onto the floor beneath you while he continues speaking, his words alone enough to make you cum all over again.

“I’ll be a damn fool, won’t I, hermosa?” 

He growled, with one quick thrust, he rammed his cock back into your eager core, your pussy instantly sucking him in. A loud cry spilled from your mouths, his length entering  further into you. 

Miguel rutted upwards into your rear, his forehead resting on your own, yet you still couldn’t make out his facial features despite the close proximity. “M-Miguel…y-you are so deep. You panted and whined, your fingers gripping the nape of his neck while your legs draped over his strong forearms. He growled, his fingers flexing on either side of your head as his palms pressed against the wall. “Oh fuck-.” He moaned, his warm, heavy breath brushing against your skin. ”You feel so fucking good.” He huffed, snapping his hips and burrowing his cock deeper inside of you. 

Your toes curled within your boots, wriggling in his arms as the intense sensations gripped you, yet Miguel kept you steady. You could feel the beads of sweat trickling down his furrowed brow, accompanied by his heavy breaths, low groans, and a blend of English and Spanish curses against your face and his coarse hair over the base of his shaft, rubbing against your clit with each thrust. Loud moans and whimpers escaped your lips, 

When sudden knock echoed at the closet door…

Panicked, you swiftly covered your mouth, causing Miguel to freeze in his movements.

“Y/N!? Are you in there? Everything alright?” 

Your eyes widened as you immediately recognized your friend, Gwen's voice coming from the other side of the door.

You trembled in Miguel’s hold, whilst he began to resume his slow grind into you. You moaned softly into your palm, eyes rolling as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hmm…they just want to ruin our fun, don’t they bebe?” He chuckled breathlessly when we heard Gwen knock once more. 

You moaned softly into your palm, eyes rolling as he placed a tender kiss on your temple. "Seems like they're determined to spoil our fun, huh, bebe?" He chuckled breathlessly, the sound of another knock from Gwen at the closet door echoing within the confined space once more.

“Y/N? I found your mask out here? You aren’t seriously hiding out in there are you?” 

Anxious and fearful, your lips trembled at the thought of getting caught with Miguel, wanting intensely for Gwen to leave already.

Miguel groaned in annoyance. He tried to downplay how much the interruption was bothering him out of politeness toward you about your friend, but he wished the 'blondie' would just fuck off already.

A few minutes went by with Miguel’s tiny thrusts inside of you, enough to keep the desires between the two of you satiated, but not what the two of you truly wanted. Miguel waited, his heightened senses straining to detect fading footsteps, a distancing heartbeat, and any sign of departing breath on the other side of the door, yet he heard no such thing.

Gwen was still there…

Miguel snarled, his fangs bared. He was consumed by desire, not giving a damn about anything else. He wanted you so badly, wishing to quicken the pace, and take you until both of you were exhausted and satisfied. His judgment clouded by overwhelming lust."

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore, gatita.” He growled, resuming his erratic thrusts that made your nerves feel like they were on fire, your body shudder, and loud cries to be pulled from the depths of your chest. The sudden bursts of pleasure only pushing you closer to your peak. Miguel hissed, moving his hands under your rear to press your backside to the wall. 

He bounced your body onto his dick meeting his thrusts. You choked back sobs from the assault on your sensitive area. Tears pulled at the edges of your eyes at the intensity and how hard it was to hold back your moans. It felt like your abdomen was on fire, your muscles tightening again as your climax was near once more. 

Miguel’s enhanced hearing could still hear Gwen’s presence at the door, but he didn’t give a damn. Your clenching walls were drawing him to his peak as well. His abs flexing under his scarlet button-up, his hips stuttering and jerking. 

“Cum with bebe.” He panted, wrapping his arms around your backside, hugging you tightly whilst continuing his thrusts upward into you.  Your arms encircled his neck, worried whispers escaping from your lips. "W-What if someone overhears? What if Gwen hears?" You whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

“Don’t worry a-about them,” He hissed, increasing his pace and pounding himself deeper into you. “Focus on me. On this.” He breathlessly panted, pressing his lips against yours in the pit-blackness of the closet. He kissed you passionately, his thrusts becoming sloppy, smacking your g-spot over and over again. 

You choked on a strangled moan, your muscles tensing up. You sobbed at the intensity, body shaking uncontrollably as you released once again. Stars flooded your vision whilst you orgasmed harshly, spurting your juices and coating your thighs and Miguel’s dick with your sweet nectar. 

“F-Fuck!” Miguel groaned loudly, your gummy walls squeezing him wonderfully and pushing him over the edge. He pulled away from your lips, gritting his teeth, and burrowing himself deep inside of you, filling you full of his load. His hips sputtered and his abs tightened, a wave of tingles and heat rushing through his entire being and overwhelming him with utter bliss. You whimpered, his warm essence flooding your inners and stuffing you just right. 

He rested his forehead against yours, the dim room filled with the sound of your heavy breaths. He soon realized the absence by the door, uncertain of when Gwen had left, but it didn't matter to him. He was utterly captivated by you, amazed beyond words. "You did so well, gatita," he murmured, gently kissing your lips. Slowly, he lowered your body back to the floor, his hands supporting your waist as your legs felt a bit unsteady.

Miguel helped you both clean up in the dark, using some towels he had found in the closet. After you were both dressed, the reality of the situation finally sank in.

Once you both leave this room, you’ll return to the roles of a mere Spider-Woman in society and Miguel, your respected leader. The two of you would head upstairs to that dreadful game of Spin the Bottle, engaging in teasing and potentially steamy activities with each other or possibly others—something neither of you desired.

"I-I suppose it's time we head back," you murmured forlornly, hugging your body. Miguel clicked his tongue at your words, the mere thought of anyone else touching you during that game already stirring anger within him. "No... I have a better idea."

You felt his hands on your waist, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "W-What do you mean?" Miguel smirked, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Let's leave this party. 

Come home with me."

Your eyes widened in astonishment. Miguel was equally surprised that he had extended the invitation, but he couldn't bear to let you go. 

Not tonight...

You knew Gwen would likely be concerned about your whereabouts and that Miguel and your absence from the game would surely raise questions., nonetheless, you found yourself nodding.

"O-Okay... but let's keep this a little secret," you told him with a small smile. He grinned, encircling his arms around your waist. "Of course, gatita. Our little act will remain hidden within the walls of this closet and within the confines of my home. 

You have my word."

You smiled, gently planting a kiss on his lips before pulling away from the shared embrace. "Thank you, Miguel," you whispered, noticing Miguel's fingers already tapping away at his watch, a blinding orange and red portal materialized before both of you, illuminating the closet and revealing him in full view. "You're welcome, my sexy gatita," he replied.

He encircled an arm around your waist, guiding you as both of you stepped into the portal. The vibrant orange-red whirlpool closed behind you, leaving behind the raucous party, the horrid Spin The Bottle game, and your roles as leader and mere spider-woman.

You both felt a profound longing, yearning to end this Halloween night in the way you both truly desired – entwined in each other's arms, delving into the hidden depths of your secret relationship, and venturing through a night filled with pure bliss.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed my Halloween special! I tried to deliver it to you as swiftly as possible. Thank you all for the support and love; I'm continually surprised and grateful for it. Love you all!! ❤👻👻💙

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[darkmxgician]

Promises Break- Part 4

pairing: fem!reader x noah. tags: drinking, trauma/PTSD, smut, drugs

word count: 1.9k

story song: nowhere to go

taglist: @sorrowsofsilence @angelsdevils @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @montgomery-929496

18+ below the cut

~ Reader ~

I wake up to the headache that was threatening to burst my skull. I dreamt of my brothers friend Noah, that he showed up to the club I was at. That he brought me home and took my virginity, that he relished in the sight of my blood and fucked me like a feral beast. That I enjoyed it. What the fuck is wrong with me? My grip on reality is slipping more and more each day. I try to stand, needing to use the bathroom, my bladder ready to burst. My legs fail me, and the soreness between them makes me gasp. Was it real? It can’t be. I stood up again, stumbling towards my bathroom. I pause as I walk past the mirror, I slept naked, which is odd for me. I have make up all over my face, my eyes puffy, like I’d been crying. What happened last night? But it was the marks on my throat and breasts that make me pause, I raise my hand to my throat, hissing when my fingers scrape at the angry red marks. Did I do that to myself? I turn away, I can’t stand the sight of myself. When I use the toilet I look down and notice the same red marks littered across my thighs, like bite marks, and bruises on my hips. Lack of certainty threatening to undo my sanity completely I go on autopilot, scrubbing my make up off, dressing in boxers and a large t-shirt, each movement eliciting some new pain throughout my body. I make my way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on, filling a mug with sugar and finding a box of tea bags. I know I have no food in so head outside for to smoke, needing something to take the edge off. 

~ Noah ~

I couldn’t sleep, the adrenaline running through my body, having only sated the beast inside ever so slightly. She’s awoken something inside me, and it will destroy everything until it has her in its claws. I took the time while she was sleeping to roam through her home. The room next to hers seemed to be some sort of library, a sofa by the window, three sets of floor to ceiling shelves, housing books and hundreds of vinyl records. I make a mental note to look through her collection of music later. The large windows look out onto a patio, where a small pool is illuminated by lights dotted around in plant pots. The living room housed a large sofa, a TV with games consoles lined up and a cabinet that seems to act as a scoreboard, writing adorning its surface. Two more bedrooms, a laundry room and kitchen make up the rest of the house. I take my time, familiarising myself with her surroundings. My alarm starts blaring and I groan, 7am. I check on y/n, still asleep, she looks at peace, a stark contrast to the make up smeared across her cheeks and the bite marks I left on her throat. The sight of her like that almost had me crossing the room to take her all over again. I fist my hands at my sides and head out, I need to get some clothes and supplies from home, and a store. Her brother has been for a week and there’s no evidence that she’s eaten much since then. After last night, I’ve decided that she is mine, mine to fuck and please, but she needs someone to take care of her. How did this get so complicated so fast? All she had to do was stay home like the good girl she usually is. 

I let myself back in using the key, I need to get a copy for myself, when her brother returns he’ll take this one back. I spot her instantly through the large windows, sat with a drink, smoking a cigarette. She looks lost in her own thoughts, not noticing me as I walk into the kitchen, dumping the bag of groceries on the counter. I open the door and stalk towards her. I expected her to jump, to react, but she lifts her eyes to me slowly, and laughs. What the fuck is wrong with this girl? She closes her eyes, that’s when I realise it’s a joint between her fingers, not a cigarette. I take it from her and stub it out, the last thing she needs is drugs. She looks at me again, tilting her head and assessing me. I stare back, leaning down and resting my hands on the arms of her chair. She reaches up and touches my face, just like she did last night after I fucked her. “Are you real?” she laughs again, the sound grating on me, “of course not, but I’ll give my imagination points for thinking you’d ever want to be with me”. She thinks she made it up? She’s more fucked up than I thought, maybe I pushed her too far last night, maybe I broke her completely. I grab her face, forcing her to meet my stare, “if you don’t think what I did to you last night is real, little one, maybe you need a reminder?” I crush my lips to hers, needing her to feel me. I’ve never formed normal attachments, never had a real girlfriend. But for some unknown reason, I need y/n to know that I want her, I crave her, that she’s mine. She’s the masochist I’ve always dreamed of, granted a more fucked up version, but nobody truly sane would ever want to be with me anyway. She’s barely there, she tastes like weed and something else I can’t place, I grab her, everywhere, squeezing and pinching, trying to get a rise out of her. She jerks when I roll her nipple between my fingers, bingo. I bite her lip, enough to let me taste her blood and she struggles to get away. Like I would ever let that happen. 

~ Reader ~

When I first met Noah I was excited to get to know him. My brother lives with his bandmate Nicholas, who I adore. I started listening to bad omens straight after meeting him, and they quickly became one of my favourite bands. Noah’s vocals and the lyrics made me believe he was someone I could come to love as much as his bandmate. A few months after meeting Nicky I went to their apartment to hang out with them. When I walked in my eyes were instantly drawn to Noah, his good looks enough to pull me in. I was hopeful that we would at least become good friends, I mean Nicky wouldn’t be friends with an asshole right? Wrong. He was rude from the very beginning, he looks at me like he can see under my skin, right to my very core. It set me on edge, that paired with his unfriendly demeanour and lack of empathy and feeling, I just couldn’t get past his shell. I decided it wasn’t worth it. I stopped trying, resigned to feel awkward and raw in his prescience. I tried to act like he wasn’t there. Another impossible task. So I avoided him at all costs, unless we were meeting in a group setting, where he would be distracted with others and content to ignore me. 

I’m not sure how I got caught in his web. I woke up this morning thinking I’d imagined the whole thing. I’d definitely had dreams about him in the beginning. Those quickly fizzled away along with any hope of him being a nice guy. And now he’s on me, his hands everywhere, squeezing and grabbing in a show of ownership. His mouth on mine, biting me, making me bleed like he enjoys the taste of my blood. The more I struggle, the harder he kisses me, pinning me against the chair. He’s invaded every sense. I can almost taste his cologne, he’s all over my skin, the sound of our moans and violent clashing of mouths fills the quiet morning. He’s like a rabid animal, I can’t decide if it’s because he actually wants me, or just believes me to be his. He’s had a weird hold over me since the day we met, his all knowing looks and infuriating smirk. But I find it hard to believe that someone with antisocial tendencies like Noah would ever want to be with me, for one he’s 6 years older than me, and clearly much more experienced when it comes to sex. I can’t relax and let this happen until I understand his motive, is he just messing with me? The thoughts come too fast, and lack of oxygen from the kiss makes my head spin. He pulls back and remains in my personal space, eyes assessing me like they always do, it’s like he can sense my unease. “Why?” I question, my voice breathless in a way that makes his eyes go dark. “Why what?” he fires back, his hot breath all over my skin. “Why did you come to the club last night? why bring me home? why sleep with me?.. And why did you come back?”, the words spill out of me, and I’m useless to try and stop them. If he thinks he knows me so well then he should be expecting my interrogation. “You’re not as put together as everyone thinks, as soon as I realised there’s something lurking under your skin, I wanted to peel it back and see for myself”, his low tone does nothing to ease my anxiety. “So this is just a game to you? some way to see how fucked up I am?”, tears start to fall, I can’t help it. He seemed to care last night, he was looking at me with worry in his eyes, and now it’s all falling apart. “Don’t cry little one, believe me when I say this anything but a game to me. You are mine”, he all but growls the last word, pulling me up into his arms and carrying me inside. “So what, I’m supposed to believe that you want to be my boyfriend? take me out on dates and hold hands?” I almost laugh at the mental image. He gently puts me on one of the stools in the kitchen and begins to unpack a bag of food. Did he go shopping? “If you feel like putting a label on it, I can be your boyfriend”. I mull over his words, how can we go from hating each other to a relationship in less than 24 hours? Do I even want to be with him? As if sensing my internal debate he stalks up to me, fisting my hair and forcing me to look up at him. “If you’re trying to think of a way out of this y/n, you’re out of luck. I’ve seen all of you, and I’m not letting you go”. His hold on my hair tightens, as if proving his point. It stings so much tears to well up, my head goes completely empty, and I start to feel panic rising. He senses it, like he seems to do with all my emotions, and lets go, hooking his hand under my chin and kissing me gently. It was different than the savage kiss outside, this one is reassuring. He brings his other hand up to cup my face and continues his exploration of my mouth, almost making me purr with his sweet caress. When he pulls away his eyes meet mine and they’re swimming with raw emotion. I’m so fucked.

[gravehags]

traduzione

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: dinner "date", a little bit of comedy turns into a whole lot of angst, girl these bitches don't know how to process OR express their feelings, secondo is a real one, terzo's subtle matchmaking hard at work as always

Words: 2,862

Summary: You finally decide to cash in your favor.

a/n: inspired by my quest to find a book for my capstone and only being able to locate a copy in italian. copia, my heroic translator.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Hey Copia, I–oh!”

You realize a moment too late that you’ve barged into Cardinal Copia’s office without knocking in your eagerness to get to the man in question. Papa Secondo is standing with his arms crossed in his green and black robes (no mitre in sight) looking at you with his brows pulled together in a frown. Copia, looking like a startled version of one of his own rats, stands up hastily.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeak, backing out of the room but Secondo is already moving towards you. Every time you see him in full regalia with his paints you have a hard time equating it to the man who casually made you the best bolognese of your life. When he descends upon you, you feel so small. Out of all the papas, he is easily the most intimidating. You look up into the signature Emeritus gaze and after a beat, his withering expression fades and he gives you a slow, very deliberate wink.

“Cardinale, I will discuss our matter with you later. Piccolina…” he intones ominously before snagging your hand and raising to his lips in a brief kiss, “arrivederci.”

And with that Secondo Emeritus dramatically sweeps from the room, shutting the door behind him. Copia is standing stock-still behind his desk, looking vaguely horrified.

���Copia I am so sorry I forgot to knock, I’ve just been in my head all day and was so anxious to tell you–”

“Tell me what, cara?” He resumes his seat and gestures for you to take the one opposite him.

“Well…I suppose not really tell you. I…er…I would like to cash in my favor.”

The cardinal’s interest is immediately grabbed and he scoots forward in his seat to lean his elbows on the desk and intertwine his fingers. There’s color high on his freckled cheeks and he seems breathless when he finally speaks.

“What–” Copia clears his throat when the word comes out embarrassingly high pitched, “what do you have in mind?”

You take a deep breath. “Okay so. Imperator gave me permission to use Ministry funds to purchase a very rare, very important book for collections research, right?”

Copia nods, unsure of where this is going.

“The thing is…it’s entirely in Italian. And there are quite literally no available translations anywhere so I was wondering if you…could assist.”

The cardinal deflates a little and you’re slightly perplexed.

“Are you…are you sure that’s what you want to use your favor on?”

Oh, you know exactly what you’d really like to use your favor on. Something involving those plump painted lips and gloved hands spreading you open and—

Anyway.

“Yeah well I figured it’s going to be quite an undertaking having you read me this book while I transcribe notes. Not something I’d bother you with under any other circumstances. And if you don’t want to do it that’s fine, I can always ask one of the Italian speaking siblings or–”

“Naturalmente, I’ll do it,” he says quickly, completely banishing the idea of seeking outside help from your mind, “eh…when would you like to begin?”

“Oh the book won’t be here for a couple of weeks still but maybe we could use our Friday game night? You can just read to me until you’re tired of it or we’re both tired of it.”

Copia nods slowly, and you still sense a level of disappointment from him. Odd.

“I’ll um,” you say, fidgeting with a pen on his desk, “I’ll cook for you.”

Your attempt to sweeten the deal earns a snort of laughter from Copia, which causes you to pout.

“What? I can cook!”

“You burned the bruschetta for the dinner we had with the Papas.”

Your cheeks light up as you frown deeply at him.

“Okay, now that you’re such a doubting Thomas about it,” you smirk, leaning back in your chair, “I’ll make you anything you say. Name it.”

Copia looks almost impressed as he considers your offer.

“Eh…alright. Cacio e pepe.”

You smack your palms flat against the worktop of his desk. “Done. Just you wait, you’ll show up and I’ll have dinner, maybe a little chianti…”

“Sounds awfully romantic, cara. Do you perhaps have other intentions?”

His eyes are glittering mischievously, clearly teasing you, but your cheeks heat up all the same. Okay, so maybe you did have other intentions. Yes, you need him to translate this book for you but also…it sounds nice. Just the two of you, sitting on your couch eating pasta and reading about the creation of infernal art in Baroque Rome. When you realize his mismatched gaze has been staring at you for several moments, you laugh nervously.

“Copia, I promise I don’t have any designs on your…uh…virtue.”

He chuckles at this, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach.

“Cara, I would be a poor Satanic cardinal indeed if I had any virtue left.”

“I don’t know, you’ve been awfully patient with me during this conversation. And you’re so diligent about your work. And incredibly kind. I think you’re still redeemable.”

When he scoffs and waves his hand, cheeks red, you stand up and make for the door.

“I’ll keep you posted about when the book arrives okay?”

“Sì, sì,” he says, straightening in his chair and shuffling paperwork.

“Looking forward to our date,” you say with a smirk, making sure to catch a glimpse of his eyes going wide and face going red as you flounce out the door.

–

Eleven days pass when you delicately unwrap the book from its secure packaging in your office. Holding it in hand, you use your dark red fingernail to trace the embossed title. After a moment, you set it down and pick up your phone to text Copia.

Book’s here. Tomorrow night? 6:00?

Looking forward to it, mia cara.

C

The endearment still makes you warm and fuzzy inside and you take a moment to revel in the feeling before the weight of reality comes crashing down on you.

You have no fucking clue how to make cacio e pepe.

–

Catching Secondo away from his brothers or outside of Ministry duties is a difficult beast. You have one chance to time it right and snag him in his office before his confession duties start and he is waylaid by siblings wishing to share their sins and desires with him. Lurking around the corner, you watch as another cardinal you are unfamiliar with leaves Secondo’s office and once he is out of sight, you bolt for the door. It hasn’t even fully closed yet when you’re knocking rapidly on it, waiting in the threshold. Secondo whirls around behind his desk and when his eyes land on you, he smirks.

“You’ve learned to knock before entering rooms now, I see,” he says, placing his hands on his desk and leaning forward.

“Uh…yeah. Sorry about that. Great to see you and all but I have a big favor to ask of you. Huge.”

Secondo leans back and his face relaxes into a neutral expression.

“Don’t you usually ask il tuo cardinale for favors?”

Your Italian is shit but you pick that up loud and clear. Your cardinal.

“Haha yeah see the favor is sort of about him, you know?” 

When he gestures for you to continue your tale of woe the words spill out of your mouth at an alarming rate, “I promised him I would make him dinner and I can’t cook for shit and he requested cacio e pepe and I was wondering if you could teach me?”

He looks both stunned and impressed by the speed at which you relay your request, but after a moment his face schools into a soft smile.

“Piccolina,” he begins, walking over to you, “I’ll do you one better, I’ll make it for you. Our little secret, no? When is this engagement with the cardinal?”

You want to cry, you're so relieved and thankful and without thinking, you throw your arms around him, squeezing tight. He stumbles backwards a little from the force with which you have flung yourself at him, but he pats you on the back all the same.

“Secondo, I could kiss you right now,” you sigh into his vestments before pulling back. He’s looking at you with a peculiar little knowing half smile.

“Normally I would take you up on that offer but,” he pauses, bringing his hands together, “I am not who you are destined for, sì?”

You start to ask what exactly he means by that little cryptic comment when he’s ushering you out the door and into the hall.

“It’s at six, tomorrow night. Secondo thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re a reputation saver.” 

He steps out too and begins to walk into the direction of the chapel while you blow an abundance of air kisses at him, which he catches with the most stoic of faces.

—

As promised, Secondo delivers the still-hot pasta at 5:45, just in time for you to put the pot on the stove to make it look legitimate. You texted Copia earlier, telling him to dress casual. You’ve put on one of your nicer pairs of black leggings and a cut up shirt from the Ghost project, which you’ve recently acquired from Terzo. The book is resting on your hastily tidied coffee table, along with your laptop. You’ve got the chianti, as promised - a good bottle too - another gift from Terzo. Nervously you uncork the bottle and set it on the counter to let it breathe while you wait for his arrival. When his knocks sound on your door you nearly jump out of your skin before padding over to open it. You fling it open and there he is, il tuo cardinale, and you can’t help but smile at his outfit. You’ve never in all your months at the abbey seen him dress casual, and his version is perfectly delightful. He’s wearing a matching loose red tracksuit with a black t-shirt on underneath, gloves still on his hands and his pristine black dress shoes on his feet. You’re so incredibly charmed by his appearance you forget to move aside to let him in until he makes a nervous noise and gestures into your quarters.

“Hi! Sorry! Please come in!”

You pull away to go “check” on the pasta as he shuffles into your space and closes the door behind him.

“Smells good,” he comments as he moves towards your small kitchen space.

“Doesn’t it?” you preen, pouring a generous amount of wine into his glass before handing it off to him. He swirls it around and leans his perfect pointed nose into the glass to inhale, before pulling back looking impressed.

“Terzo gave it to me,” you comment, pouring yourself a glass, “You like it?”

“Very good,” he says, looking at the bottle, “how kind of Papa Terzo to give you one of my favorites.”

You halt your pouring and look over to him. Once again you are struck by Terzo’s preternatural ability to steer you in Copia’s direction in one way or another. Honestly, it’s getting to the point where you should write him a thank you note every time it happens.

“Please, go take a seat, I’ll dish you up some pasta,” you say, ushering him over to the small living room while he takes both glasses in his hands. Taking two plates from a cabinet you make sure to scoop the pasta and twirl it artfully on the white porcelain. A little sprinkle of pecorino romano, as per Secondo’s instruction, et voila. Perfection. You dish out your portion and grab a couple forks and walk over to the couch, presenting his plate with a flourish.

“Cacio e pepe, as promised,” you murmur, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and sitting criss-cross. You don’t take a bite until Copia has, watching him slowly chew and contemplate the meal.

“Bellissima,” he finally says as he gathers another forkful, “I take back my unkind words about your cooking skills. Although, I do have to say there is something…familiar about this dish.”

You stop mid chew and look up at him silently with wide eyes before swallowing and laughing nervously.

“Old family recipe,” you comment, before hastily adding, “not my family recipe I mean, but…someone’s certainly. Right?”

You’re not lying to him, technically but you make sure to dodge eye contact with him throughout the rest of the meal. Some time later when the two of you finish and you gather your plates to put them in the sink, you miss Copia smiling to himself knowingly as he sips his wine. You return with the bottle, refilling both your glasses before situating yourself comfortably and pulling your laptop over.

“Ready?” you say, firing up your word processor.

He nods, and picks up the old book, handling it with great care before opening it and settling on the first page. Listening to him is…wonderful. He intersperses his English translation with bits of the original Italian, and the way his tongue wraps around the words and the extra flourish with which he rolls his r’s makes you sigh dreamily. At times, you get so caught up in simply listening to him speak that you forget to type out your notes and have to ask him to pause so you can recalibrate your brain to the task. The bottle of wine goes quickly, and the contents go straight to your head. You can feel your cheeks and chest flush and you know your filter is gone when you interrupt him to speak.

“I love listening to you talk,” you smile, leaning your head onto the back cushion of the couch.

Copia looks flabbergasted, face heating up to match yours and it takes all your willpower to not move your computer aside and climb into his lap. You can think of no one else who deserves to be kissed more than he. Always so patient with you, so kind. You know you’re looking at him funny because he nervously looks away as if he’s afraid of what could happen next.

“Eh…I think I should go,” he says, closing the book and rising from the couch as your smile slips. Now look at what you’ve done, you think bitterly, you’re scaring him off. The liquor is making your head spin and you want to cry at how stupid you’ve been. This is how it always is with the two of you, you always talk a big flirtatious game but when he comes down to it, neither of you will pull the trigger. Imagine how you would have looked trying to kiss him, the voice in your head laughs, your wine-stained lips clumsily searching for his. He’s a satanic Cardinal, get real. You have to dig your fingernails into the meat of your palm to keep yourself from crying as you stand up and follow him to the door.

“Thank you, cara,” he murmurs after you open it for him. “I am…I am very tired all of a sudden. The wine, you see. Very powerful stuff.”

You nod in agreement with a stiff smile, looking past him. He seems to pick up on your shift in mood, and gently takes your hands into his gloved ones.

“Dolcezza,” he begins, gazing at you earnestly, “ragazza meravigliosa. I…”

He falters, unsure of what to say or perhaps, how to say what he wants to tell you. Be brave, you think, be fucking brave and do something for once. Before he can stutter out anything more you place your hand softly on his cheek and hold it there for a moment, content to feel the warmth of his skin. He exhales deeply and shakily as you run your thumb over his freckled cheekbone. Before any other voices inside you can tell you to do otherwise, you lean in and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you have after all done this exact thing before in a drunken state, but this time feels…different. When you finally pull away, your breath ghosts over his lips and he lets out a miniscule noise. 

“For being you, Copia,” you say, “thank you. For everything, always.”

He looks as if he could burst into tears at any moment and you look away, allowing him time to gather himself. When he clears his throat and claps his hands together, you look back at him with a bright smile. The moment is gone and you both return to playing pretend about your true emotions.

“We can…uh…finish this later, sì? I hope what we’ve done so far helps.”

“It does, thank you Cardinal. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods, still wearing the mask he so carefully puts on in moments like this.

“Bene. Goodnight, cara. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Copia,” you say, heart sinking as you watch him walk down the corridor and you shut your door. Sighing, you lower yourself to the floor with your back against it, looking around the small apartment. 

Bravery does not come easily to either of you, it seems. 

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.

[sehunniepotwrites]

kiss me, kiss me | jh.s

SYNOPSIS. Of course, the one time you decide to put yourself out there you end up with a creep for a date. Your older brother, Yuta, is out of town so his overprotective self can’t get your out of this mess. Jeno, your roommate, can’t either since he’s working a late shift. And to be honest, your best friend, Mark, looks far from intimidating. This all leaves you no choice but to rely on your brother’s best friend and your crush since the beginning of time, Johnny Suh. Great. 

PAIRING. older brother’s best friend!Johnny x (fem) Yuta’s little sister!reader GENRE. brother’s best friend!au, slightly suggestive, fluff (?) WORD COUNT. 3.8k+ WARNINGS. alcohol consumption, creepy date doesn’t understand that no means no, unsollicited touching, a lot of nicknames (johnny calls her “bunny” lol), making out (?), allusions to sex (no explicit content)

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. 

You should’ve listened to your gut in the first place. Your gut never lied. And of course, the one time your stubborn self refused to listen to your gut, you ended up in an unfortunate situation. 

To be fair, the only reason you pushed yourself to go on dating apps was because you were the only one out of your friend group without a partner. For heaven’s sake, even Mark--your pathetic best friend who had almost zero game--had a girlfriend just in time for cuffing season. Your older brother, Yuta, had a partner as well. All bullshit aside, you were lonely. So fucking lonely. And it killed you.

To combat the emptiness you felt, you decided to put yourself out there. Find and catch one of the many fish in the sea. Sadly, out of all the reels you threw with your best pictures as bait, you swiped and caught one of the worst ones. The man sitting across from you was attractive, sure, that’s why you swiped right on him. But as you got to know him under the dim bar lighting, every little thing that came out of his mouth turned you off. 

His advances were downright sleazy. His eyes just lingered on certain body parts with no shame. A dry hand that scratched you grazed your bare skin before he threw his arm over your shoulder not even ten minutes into your first meeting. Even as you tried to create some space and voiced out how uncomfortable you were, your date ignored your concerns and kept you as close as humanly possible. His fingers hovered right next to your chest and you swore he would twitch his digits on purpose just to cop a feel. 

Thirty minutes into the date, you figured enough was enough. Shuffling underneath his hold, you shrugged the heavy weight of his arm off your body and blindly searched your purse for your cell phone. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, reaching over to pull you into his arms again.

You laughed nervously and backed away. Scared of how he would react, you didn’t want to provoke the drunk man. “My name’s Y/N,” you answered back.

“Sure, babe,” he clearly dismissed you. “You headed somewhere?”

With your cell phone in your hand, you did your best to smile. “Yeah, I’m just going to the bathroom real quick. Fix my lipstick.” Turning on your heel, you didn’t bother waiting for a reply and headed straight towards the back. Once you turned the corner into a narrow hallway, your cell phone was already unlocked and your fingers were scrolling through your contacts.

Mind reeling with who your options were, you began to cross people out of your mental list. Out of all the times your older brother had to be out of town, it had to be when you had a shitty creeper for a date so he was out. Mark was nowhere near intimidating--the boy couldn’t even hurt a fly--so he was out of the running as well. Your roommate, Jeno, could probably beat this guy to a pulp but he was working late that night. 

Fuck. Who else could help you out? You were running out of time. 

And just like magic, your phone’s screen blew up with an Instagram notification from an account you spent a little too much time on--johnnyjsuh. This was not a coincidence. This was a sign from a higher power. 

The man behind the account had been your not-so-secret crush since the beginning of time. With Johnny as your brother’s best friend since they were in middle school, he watched you grow up throughout the years and vice versa. You were close, not as thick as thieves close like he was with your brother, but Johnny saw you through your good and your bad. If Yuta wasn’t there to hold your hand, Johnny was and because of his kindness, you fell. Hard.

Generally, harboring feelings for your brother’s best friend was breaking an unspoken rule. You knew that. That’s why you never shared your feelings out loud. But some people were better at reading the room more than others. Yuta might be oblivious to your crush on Johnny or at least, he appeared to be. However, you were pretty sure the man himself had caught on one way or another. And there were times--like this one-- you thought he might’ve shared the same sentiment. You were just never one hundred percent sure because he never made an outright move. You assumed it was because he respected you and your brother too much.

Clicking on the banner, the screen shifted to Johnny’s DM. He replied to your latest story--a mirror picture of your outfit. A tight white bodysuit that hugged your body paired with flared leather pants and black heels. This look was a classic that never failed to turn heads. Unfortunately, it worked a little too well tonight because your date was not able to take his nasty hands off of you. 

johnnyjsuh: you look all dressed up. little bunny’s not so little anymore, huh? 

If you weren’t so crunched on time, you would’ve taken the time to let his flirty words fully sink in. 

you: john, how fast can you get to cherry bomb? please. 

As soon as you sent the text, you rushed into the women’s restroom and anxiously tapped your foot against the sticky floor. Your eyes remained on your bright screen as the line moved along. Johnny saw your message and the three little dots appeared at the speed of light. The flirty atmosphere shifted with his reply. 

johnnyjsuh: i’m at home so about 15 min. everything okay, y/n? need me to come and get you? you: please. i’m on a date and he’s giving me the creeps. he keeps touching me even though i keep backing away. sorry to bother you but you’re the only one i could think of.  yuta’s still out of town and jeno’s working late. i let the bartenders know but i don’t know what else to do. i just want to go home. i can only hide out in the bathroom for so long.  johnnyjsuh: fuck. make that ten. i’m coming, okay, bunny? don’t worry. just stay in the bathroom a little longer.  you: hurry.  johnnyjsuh: see your pretty lil face soon.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips once you secured a way out. You waited in the bathroom for seven more minutes, taking your sweet time in the small space. Damp paper towels were used to wipe off all the cold sweat that accumulated on your skin. You touched up your makeup, cleaning up the smudged corners of your liner and reapplying lipstick. The kind girls in line before you noticed your uncomfortable situation as they were close to where you were seated and offered their company as another way to make you feel safe. You thanked them for their kindness and you walked out all together with linked arms.

“What took you so long?” Your date grumbled as you arrived back at the bar. His grip reached out for you again and the girls you befriended stealthily pulled you back to their area.

“I ran into some of my friends in the bathroom and we were just catching up,” you lied through your teeth. The room seemed hot all of a sudden and sweat began to form once more. Gaze drifting to the entrance, you wondered when Johnny would arrive. You were the world’s worst liar. You could only hold up for so long.

“Yeah, it’s been so long since we’ve seen Y/N, we just couldn’t stop talking,” one of the girls, Sooyoung, said as she squeezed your arm in reassurance. 

“I think it’s been since last semester in that English class, right? God, remember that final project we had to do? Ugh, it was the worst thing ever,” Yerim continued on, not giving your date the time of day to reply. Her mouth kept running, spitting anything and everything she could possibly think of while swiftly shifting ever so slightly to grab your jacket and purse hanging on the hook below the bartop. While still talking, she made her way back to you and handed off your belongings behind your backs. A seamless transition. “And then you accidentally deleted the whole damn file and we had to do it over again!”

“That was one hell of a finals week,” you added, thankful that the two girls you met in the bathroom were going above and beyond to keep you safe. 

Your asshole of a date rolled his eyes and reached for you again. “Yeah that’s great and all but can I get my date back now? We were having a good time before you two showed up. You were interrupting something.” 

“How about no?” Sooyoung replied with the same amount of attitude, her tall body stepping in front to cover yours. She stood taller than your date and her brown eyes burned lasers into his skin. “I think it’s better if she stays with us.”

“Oh but you want to stay with me, don’t you, baby?”

“No, actually I don’t, and my name is Y/N not baby.”

“Aww, you don’t mean that, do you, sweetheart?” Your date reached around Sooyoung fast enough to grab hold of your wrist. His pull was strong enough to make you stumble forward no matter how hard you resisted. It grew tighter and tighter with every passing second. You could feel heat pooling in the area he held you and you willed your tears back. “We were just having fun.”

In your struggle to get out of the creeper’s grip, you failed to notice Johnny entering the bar, hardened eyes scanning the entire room until he found you. His towering figure stomped his way to right where you are, placing himself between you and your date. With an unexpected shove to the chest, your date yelped and fell back, releasing you from his hold in the process. “Bro, who the fuck are you? What’s your problem?”

“No, who the fuck are you to put your hands on her like that when she’s clearly saying no?” Johnny hissed, shielding you and your new friends behind his build. 

“I’m her date!”

“Not anymore, you’re not.” Despite the rage stemmed by his overprotectiveness, Johnny turned his body to face you and gave you a gentle smile. His large hand rose up to cup your cheek. “Hi, bunny.”

“You came,” you said, tilting your head to rest against his warm palm.

Johnny chuckled softly, swiping his thumb across your soft skin. “You called. Ready to go?” 

You nodded in reply. Johnny’s hand slid from your face and down your arm to tightly clutch onto your hand. All of a sudden, the tension that ran through your entire body dissipated. You uncurled your fist, releasing your dented palms from the tips of your nails, and wrapped your digits around the back of his hand. Releasing the breath you were holding, you fell into step with him, much like you had done all of your life. This time, though, it was a lot easier because Johnny deliberately slowed the pace of his stride to keep in time with you. His grip around you was reassuring. It was right.

Not even five steps into your escape, you were harshly yanked back towards the bar. “Now, where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”

“I’m going home,” you fought back. “Let me go, creep!”

“You’re going home with this guy instead of me? C’mon, I’m so much better than him,” your date tried to convince you, his nails digging into your wrist.

“What the fuck? Let me go! You’re hurting me!” you screamed, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. Eyes from all around the bar tuned into the situation. 

Your struggle ceased the moment Johnny stepped forward to grip the man’s shirt collar. Fire in his eyes and an uncontrollable rage unfurling within him, he lifted your date up with ease. The look in his usually soft brown eyes could cut like a knife. It was almost murderous. You knew Johnny was intimidating but you didn’t know how far the intimidation went. The fact that he was dressed in black leather from his head to his feet didn’t help either. In his haste, a sleeve of his motor jacket slipped from his shoulders, showing his angry biceps that would have anyone running for the hills. 

Now trapped in Johnny’s grip, the man you began to hate let go in order to reach for his neck. 

“Touch--no, talk to Y/N again--and I will end you. Got it?” Johnny whispered harshly. The man could only nod back. “Good.”

Like he was nothing, Johnny dropped your date. The pathetic man dropped to the floor and scrambled to get up before running out of sight. A beat later and the bar’s volume increased again, the customers most likely gossiping about what had just occurred.

Johnny’s harsh glare melted into a more concerned one. The rough hands that scared away the predator were so soft with you. He smoothed down your hair before resting his palms on your bare shoulders. Unlike your date’s touch, Johnny’s hands spread warmth throughout your body. Although there were cartwheels in your stomach, you were still at ease. He began to scan your entire body for injuries and the love you had for him increased by tenfold. “Bunny, did he do anything to you? Are you hurt?” 

“No, no. I’m a little shaken up but I’m okay, I promise. The girls helped me before it escalated.  I just want to get out of here,” you reassured him, your hands reaching up to cup his own. You scaled your thumbs over his knuckles. “Can we go?”

“Of course, whatever you want, bun.” Johnny slipped his jacket off his shoulders to drape the piece over your body. A woody scent with the hint of leather hit your senses as you put your arms through the sleeves. Hugging the fabric closed, you were surrounded by his scent and it was as if you were sheathed in a blanket of security. As Johnny enveloped you in his arms, he  looked past you to speak to the girls that came to your aid. “Yeri, Soo,  thanks for helping my bunny out.”

“Always here to help a girlie out, John,” Yeri grinned, her gaze locked on the way he held you close. “So this is Bunny, huh?” She wiggled her brows in a teasing way. Johnny flicked her on the forehead in retaliation. That action alone was enough to shut her up.

“Wait, you know them?” you questioned.

“That’s a story for another time,” Johnny sighed. “Let’s get you outta here.”

Your brother’s best friend steered you out the door in a flash and straight to the motorcycle parked haphazardly in the lot. It wasn’t the best parking job, you’d seen him do way better, but you supposed he was in a rush to get to you. That sent a different sort of rush through your veins. Johnny took the better helmet dangling off his handlebars and crouched down to your level. With the softest touch possible, he sank the helmet down onto your head. He affectionately knocked on the top of it twice. “Feel alright to you?”

“It feels perfect.”

“Good.”

Johnny wasted no time fetching the spare helmet from his seat compartment and slipping it over his head. Even with a bulky helmet over his head, your crush was still as handsome as ever. His warm eyes, highlighted by the cut out of his flipped up shade, bled through yours. You almost melted like honey at his almost loving gaze.

He swung his long legs around to straddle the seat and you followed suit, scooting all the way forward so your front depressed against his sculpted back. Looking back at you, he grinned and said, “Hold on tight, bun,” before slamming his shade down to protect his eyes. 

The engine came alive, revving in the quiet of the night, as the bike sped off into the empty streets. Circling both arms around his waist, you rested your head against his shoulder blades. A gloved hand reached behind to press the top of your covered head more into his back for just a moment--a second long enough to make your heart jump--before it found its path back to the handlebar. Hugging him tighter, you closed your eyes and let the sound of the rushing wind fill your ears. 

Johnny pulled into your parking lot ten minutes later, twisting the key to turn off the engine. He took your helmet off before he ripped his own off his head, ruffling his hands through his messy strands. With the intention of seeing you home safely, he walked you right to your door on the third floor of the building. 

From what you were able to see when you first arrived, the lights were still off, meaning that Jeno still wasn’t home. He must’ve been forced to extend his shift. You guessed you were riding solo that night. After an eventful night such as the one you had, you were hoping your roommate was home. Having someone home with you would bring you another layer of comfort that you needed. 

You inserted your house key into the lock, slowly turning it until the door clicked. Pivoting on the ball of your foot, you smiled at Johnny. “Thanks again for coming to get me, Johnny.”

“Of course, bunny, I came because you called,” Johnny put your mind at ease. His fingers came up to the crown of your head to fix your helmet hair. They traced a line down the side of your face and landed under your jaw. Lifting your chin, he made sure to retain eye contact with you. His words were genuine when he said, “Anytime you need me, call me and I’ll come running.”

Johnny was so close to you now. So close you could almost taste him. It was impossible to keep his stare without you falling back. The only solution to not losing your balance was to place your hand against his solid chest to steady yourself. Your palm rested right over his rapidly beating heart. Was he as nervous as you were at that moment?

Your gaze shifted from his left eye, down to his pretty lips, and back up to his right eye.“Promise?” 

You could’ve sworn Johnny moved even closer to you when he muttered softly, “Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

You giggled, “I wouldn’t want you to die.”

“Well, what would you want me to do then? What do you need?”

Gathering up all the courage you could muster, you gulped. You asked Johnny to do it in the past, years ago, and he gave in to your wishes. Would he give in a second time? “Kiss me.”

“Kiss you?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, “Kiss me.”

Johnny was the one to close the distance, pressing his lips lightly against yours. His touch tilted your chin up even more to meet him in the middle. The contact between your lips gave you an overwhelming feeling, a rushing tingle that ran from your heart all the way to the buzzing tips of your fingers and toes. You released a sigh, relaxing in his hold as a strong arm coiled around your waist. The sweet kiss deepened the second your fingers gripped onto the collar of his sleeveless shirt, bringing him nearer to you. Although there was barely any space between your two bodies, there was this need to fit against him like pieces of a puzzle that belonged together. Your sharp nails indented his skin as you refused to let him go, testing how far you could go without coming for air.

Johnny was the first to break away with you blindly following his lips. Although separated, his lips still grazed against your own as he let out a deep chuckle. “I should let you go inside. You need to get some rest, bunny.”

“Yeah, you probably should.” Reluctantly, you let go of his shirt and the death grip you had on his arm. Reaching behind you, you found the knob and pushed the door open. God, you didn’t want him to go. “Umm, let me know when you get home?”

“It’ll be the first thing I do.” He placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Text or call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

“Go in and lock the door now,” Johnny reminded you. As soon as you did what he was told, he grinned to himself before making his way down the steps. 

Hurrying to the window of your apartment, you watched as Johnny made his way to his motorcycle. There was a little ache in your heart without him beside you. You played with a thought in your head as Johnny warmed up the engine. Your brother’s best friend didn’t even notice you watching him from your windowsill with his large jacket still embracing your frame. 

“Fuck it,” you said to yourself. Fiddling around the jacket pocket to find your phone, you quickly tapped on his name and placed a call. You observed him as he dived into his pants for the vibrating device and caught his huge smile upon seeing your face pop up on his screen.

“Bunny?”

“Hi.”

“Hey, did you forget something?” 

“Yeah, I think I did.”

 It was then Johnny looked up from where he was standing to see you by your window, peering down at him with a shy sort of grin. “What is it?”

“There’s something else I needed.”

Johnny leaned his back against his bike, one leg crossed over the other and a hand pressed against the cushion, just to look up at you. “And what’s that?”

“You.”

you: don’t hate me brobro: i mean i already do but what’s up? you: i kissed someone you: well not just anyone, he’s an important someone and idk how to tell you brobro: oh my god, you’re so dramatic, it’s like you think i’m going to kick his ass or something you: you’ve done that before, yuta brobro: not the point brobro: now who’s the guy you: fuck okay okay  you: it’s um brobro: spit it out, woman, so i can decided whether i want to beat his ass or not you: for the love of god pls dont you: fuck okay it’s johnny brobro: WTF?? JOHNNY??! you: yes. brobro: as in MY JOHNNY??! you: please don’t kill him omg i wanted it too brobro: AS IN MY BEST FRIEND JOHNNY? JOHNNY SUH??? you: are there any other johnny’s we know? brobro: FUCKING FINALLY you: wait what brobro: do you know how hard it was to see you two go around in circles for years? FUCK MAN. i’m happy for you guys. you: really? brobro: really. you: oh thank god i thought you were gonna freak the fuck out because we slept together brobro: YOU DID WHAT???!  brobro: I’M GONNA KILL THAT BASTARD WHEN I GET HOME you: YUTA NO

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, friends! i am officially on break from grad school! i have one more week until my students go on break too but with my grad school trimester out of the way, i have so much more time to write <3 this little one was based on a tiktok i saw (can’t find it tho). i’ve always wanted to write the brother’s best friend trope but never had a good enough plotline for it haha. this came out of nowhere but hope y’all like it! (also, consider this my annual birthday release hehehe)

taglist. (tagging my general + people i think would enjoy this <3) @keemburley​ @johtenrecs​ @bat-shark-repellant​ @kaepop-trash​ @bebsky​ @donutswithjaminthemiddle​ @suhnnyskhies​ @baekhyuns-lipchain​ @emmybyeakitty​ @smileysuh​ @moonctzeny​ @sokkigarden @inlovergirlsworld @iwishiwasthemoontonight​ @stvrrynight​ @loeycity​ @itsapapisongo​​

networks. @czennienet @neowritingsnet @ankathi-a

© sehunniepotwrites, 2022 — all rights reserved. reposting, editing/modifying, translating of any piece of work (fic, original writing) posted on this blog is not allowed. 

[walks-the-ages]

How to actually install Fallout London properly in one go:

This is a guide I slapped together after getting annoyed at having to reference the Discord's "Solutions" tab on how to install the mod properly after having to uninstall and reinstall everything after all the textures mysteriously vanished, despite the mod coming with its own installer.

This Mod is a lot of fun, but you should definitely go into it with the mindset that this is a "beta release", because there are a ton of bugs and crashes.

NOTE: This Mod will completely overwrite your base game. You will not be able to play the base game and this mod at the same time unless you have multiple computers or something. If you want to play the base game again, you will have to completely uninstall Fallout London and Fallout 4 and fresh install Fallout 4.

0) Download the "Fallout4.ini" and "Fallout4prefs.ini" files from the offial discord linked above.

1) Install Fallout 4 GOTY from GOG in C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games

2) Install Fallout London From GOG in C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games

3) Open Fallout London's either in Fallout London Folder ("Launch Fallout - London") or GOG Galaxy ("play")

4) From the Fallout London launcher, select "Update", and choose "Install" and Install it in C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games/Fallout 4 GOTY

5) Once Fallout London has installed in your Fallout 4 Folder, Open the "Data" Folder in C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games/Fallout 4 GOTY , and Delete all entries beginning with "cc" at the begining of the name. Go back one folder so you are in Fallout 4 GOTY and keep the tab open.

6) Open at least three tabs in your File Explorer, for ease.

7) In the first tab, open your Fallout London Folder located in C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games.

8) In the second tab, go to C:Users/[yourname]/Documents/My Games/Fallout 4.

9) In the third tab, go to C:users[yourname]/AppData/Local/Fallout 4.

10) Select your Fallout London tab, and copy the folder named "_Config" to /Documents/My Games/Fallout 4.

11) Select your Fallout London tab, and copy the folder named "_AppData" to AppData/Local/Fallout 4.

12) Select your Fallout London tab, and copy the "Data" folder into your Fallout 4 GOTY tab; select "override" if prompted.

13) Open this link, and download the Buffout 4 mod:

Once it is installed, unzip the folder, and copy the "F4SE" folder into your C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games/Fallout 4 GOTY folder.

14) In your Fallout 4 GOTY folder, open "Fallout4Launcher" and under settings, make sure your graphics are set to low if they are not already; under Advanced, you can also turn off Ambient Occlusion as well. Save your settings, and close the launcher.

15) Copy the "Fallout4.ini" and "Fallout4prefs.ini" files from your downloads to "Documents/My Games/Fallout 4". Overwrite if prompted.

16) Restart your computer to ensure everything runs smoothly.

17) Open C:/GOG/GOG Galaxy/Games/Fallout 4 GOTY (I suggest pinning this file-explorer tab to your file explorer for quick access) and Launch the game Via "f4se_loader.exe" , NOT the Fallout4.exe. You will always use the "F4SE_loader.exe" to open this mod.

18) There should be a custom opening as well as custom music. Start a New Game, and cross your fingers it doesn't immediately crash.

19) Save Often, and do NOT overwrite old saves.

20) Have fun!