#i did end up throwing up about an hour or so in

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hey, hehe. Flipped the coin to decide a character and it’s Ari, with bite me, please?🥺🥺

bite me, baby

pairing: ceo!ari levinson x female reader

summary: when your nightmare of a boss, the ceo of the company, insults your valentine's day plans, you're so fed up that you quit. and he has a reaction that you did not anticipate even a little bit.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, pool sex, biting/marking, edging via sensual massage (ari puts sunscreen on reader—never forget your sunscreen, friends!!), prone bone, some brattiness, light bd/sm, light power play dynamics, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, references to marathon sex, reader has a cat (idk if this needs to be a warning but just fyi!), enemies to lovers with a happy ending

word count: 6.0k

a/n: i love a coin flip because i hate making decisions 🤭 i'm so glad it landed on ari because he, and the "bite me" prompt, inspired this fun and dirty idea that i'm so so so happy with!! (i also think i managed to throw in some of the other stuff you requested because it ended up giving me a lot of inspiration.) thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

That was it. You had had enough of Ari Levinson. 

In fact, after months of working for the CEO, you’d had more than enough of the infuriatingly arrogant, wildly inconsiderate, exasperatingly entitled and frustratingly handsome man. 

Wait, no, forget that last one. Ari was the worst man you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty of awful men in your line of work as an executive assistant to high-ranking executives—so he certainly was not also the most attractive man you’d ever met. Absolutely not. 

You’d worked for Ari Levinson for a little less than a year, and even though you were one of the best damn EAs in all of New York City, he’d already driven you to fantasizing about quitting multiple times a day. It wasn’t a good sign that you also liked to imagine kicking him in the shin before storming out in all your righteous glory.

The problem wasn’t that Ari Levinson was a demanding and exacting boss. He was a CEO, after all, and most executives held their employees to incredibly high standards. No, the real problem was that Ari was prone to seemingly impulsive whims, which always made your already difficult job nearly impossible.

More times than you could count, you’d had to reschedule meetings with titans of the industry and heads of state, all because Ari had forgotten to tell you he’d gone to play pickleball. Or you’d had to completely rebook a board meeting because Ari had decided to take a spontaneous trip to Costa Rica or the Seychelles or some other warm and sunny place while winter ravaged the city.

The worst part about those trips in particular was that you were still expected to commute into the office. So while Ari was off enjoying a white sand beach and crystal blue ocean, soaking up the sun that would undoubtedly bring out the blond highlights in his perfectly shaggy brown hair and deepen his glorious golden tan, you would be bundled up in a ridiculous amount of layers and braving the subway in the city. 

When Ari was gone, you would spend most of your day sitting at your desk alone on the top floor the company’s building, twiddling your thumbs outside Ari’s empty office. Inevitably, your mind always strayed to Ari and began to wonder what he was doing at that very moment.

Since the CEO had you working 60-hour weeks, and you spent most of those hours by his side, you could very easily picture him standing on a beach. He’d be wearing a rakish smile on his bearded face, the clear blue of the ocean making the bright sapphire of his eyes pop while the shining sun would highlight the mischievous look that was, more often than not, sparkling in the depth of his gaze. 

You’d never seen Ari shirtless—only ever having seen him in the tailored suits he wore to the office—but you’d caught glimpses of dark hair on his chest on the late nights when he’d undone the top buttons of his shirt. You could just imagine how his broad shoulders would frame his barrel chest, dark hair dusting so much of his bare skin that would be on display, with a pair of shorts riding indecently low on his hips.

And if you let your mind wander further down that path, you began to wonder if Ari ever swam naked in the shimmering waters of the tropics. You wondered if he floated on his back, basking in the sun with his entire body bare, looking even more like the golden god you thought he resembled…

With a forceful shake of your head, you made yourself stop thinking about Ari swimming naked, and refocused on the present moment. 

You stood in Ari’s office, your back straight as a knife’s edge while you typed notes furiously into your phone about everything you’d have to reschedule to accommodate the last-minute, week-long trip to Belize he’d informed you he was taking. 

You’d bitten back a sigh, like the polite little EA you prided yourself on being, and tried to get more details from him about his availability while he was away. But instead of answering your extremely relevant questions, Ari had changed the subject and asked about your Valentine’s Day plans.

The words had taken you by so much surprise, you’d had to pause your typing and blink a few times before your mind could process them. It wasn’t until Ari had voiced the question that you even realized the holiday had snuck up on you. 

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like you were seeing anyone, so you had no romantic partner to spend it with. As such, you’d given Ari a bland answer about catching up on the new season of The Traitors with a bottle of rosé and Freddie.

You didn’t expect Ari to remember that Freddie was your cat, and not a partner—though Freddie was, admittedly, your closest companion since you lived alone in a very nice one-bedroom apartment and had little time for other friends. 

You’d hoped Ari would’ve forgotten about Freddie and assumed you were just having a lowkey Valentine’s Day, thereby getting the hint to drop the subject. You’d wanted to refocus him on answering the questions you’d asked about his trip. 

But you’d had no such luck and, for the second time in five minutes, Ari had surprised you—and not in a good way. 

The CEO had scoffed at your Valentine’s Day plans, rolling his gorgeous blue eyes in a way that made you grind your molars in an effort not to snarl at him. He’d said you could find better company for the evening than a cheap bottle of wine, some trashy television and a flea-ridden furball. 

That last comment had been the final straw. The one that broke the proverbial camel’s back. 

You’d felt something inside you snap, and you realized you’d had enough of Ari Levinson. 

It was bad enough that Ari was the worst, most difficult and flighty boss you’d ever had, but you drew the line at anyone insulting Freddie. He was your precious little man, the one who greeted you every night with sweet chirps and warm affection when you got home to your otherwise empty apartment. 

You loved him more than anything else in the world, and had even used a good chunk of the generous salary you made working for Ari to splurge on a place with lots of natural light so Freddie could bask in the sun to his heart’s content. So you would absolutely not stand by and listen to Ari insult Freddie. 

“You know what, bite me, Levinson,” you hissed at the infuriatingly arrogant CEO, using a voice so filled with fury, you barely recognized it as your own. “I quit.”

You took a second to savor the slightly stunned look on Ari’s face—his normally sparkling blue eyes dulled with confusion and his perfectly plump lips, offset by his dark, well-groomed beard, parted in surprise like you’d slapped him—then you whirled around on your heel. 

You were determined to stalk out of the CEO’s office with your head held high, but Ari had other ideas.

Quick as lightning, Ari’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck. His grip was surprisingly gentle, even if it was still firm enough to spin you back around and reel you in until your body nearly collided with his broad chest. 

The astonished look on Ari’s face had already been replaced by a devastatingly arrogant grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the ocean, a wicked kind of mischief in their depths. He held you close, so close that you had to tip your head back to look into his eyes.

Your hands had come up to brace against Ari’s chest when he’d tugged you into the cage of his arms, and you could tell, even through the thick wool coat he wore over his suit, that he was sturdy beneath his clothes. 

The only thing stopping you from trying to push him away was the sneaking suspicion that he was strong enough not to allow you to put any space between your bodies if he didn’t want it. If you did try to fight and he didn’t give you an inch, you knew it would turn you on more than his manhandling already had, and you couldn’t deal with that just yet.

So instead of fighting him, you stood there, letting Ari tower over you while your hands rested uselessly against the lapels of his coat, your phone still clutched tightly in your fingers. You tried to keep a glare fixed on your face, showing him all of the ire you felt, and none of the desire that was scorching through your body as you inhaled his warm, spicy scent.

“Bad move, baby,” Ari rumbled, his mouth curving into a wicked smirk that had your betrayer of a heart beating mortifyingly hard in your chest, the warmth between your legs turning into a disloyal dampness. “Now there’s no employee code of conduct stopping me from doing this.”

You didn’t even have a hope of processing Ari’s words before his mouth crashed down on yours.

If you ever thought about it—which you did, an embarrassing amount, in fact, though you’d never in your life admit it to anyone (except maybe Freddie)—you would’ve expected Ari Levinson to be a selfish kisser. You’d expected him to totally lack finesse, to plunge his tongue into your mouth right away and take what he thought he was owed.

But Ari’s kiss wasn’t like that at all.

Sure, there was a barely leashed hunger in the way his mouth worked against yours, like he was holding onto his restraint by the tips of his fingers. But his lips were more coaxing than demanding, his tongue more teasing and playful than plundering as he licked along the seam of your mouth.

Before you knew what was happening, you were falling under the spell of Ari Levinson’s kiss. Your lips were parting of their own accord, and you were letting out a contented little sigh as your body melted into his arms. 

You could taste the smirk on his lips as he readjusted his grip, one of his arms banding around your lower back to hold you securely against his chest while his other hand shifted from the back of your neck to cup your face. He held you exactly where he wanted you while he tempted you into giving yourself completely to him.

Then, Ari deepened the kiss, and you were lost to him. 

He smelled like expensive cologne, rich and spicy, but he tasted like bitter coffee and dark chocolate, and the contrast was driving you wild. You wanted to climb the tall, sturdy CEO like he was a tree, but you settled for curling your fingers around the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer, sucking on the tongue he’d slipped into your mouth and reveling in his groan of pleasure.

You could already feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach, and you desperately wanted to feel his bulge move lower, shoving between your thighs while Ari spread your legs wide open—preferably with no layers of clothing between your bodies. You wanted him to sink into your wet heat and pound into you until you forgot everything except his name.

But you wouldn’t beg Ari Levinson to fuck you. You refused to stoop to that level. 

Instead, you pressed your body more firmly against his hardness, nipping at his plump lower lip and stirring a low growl in his chest. Then you sucked on his lip hard enough that his arms crushed you to his chest, his hips thrusting instinctively against your soft curves and making you smirk against his mouth.

“Come to Belize with me,” Ari murmured when he’d pulled his lips from yours to press kisses to your cheek and jaw and neck. He kissed you anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your mouth, which he devoured with a hunger that had a pulsing need throbbing between your thighs. “Come with me, baby, and we can continue this for the whole week.”

A scornful laugh, light and frothy as the waves crashing on the shore, bubbled from your lips and you tipped your head back. Ari took the movement as permission to brush even more kisses to the underside of your jaw, a shiver racing down your spine when the softness of his mouth contrasted with the rasp of his beard.

But, though a part of you wanted to get even more lost in Ari Levinson and take him up on his request, you couldn’t forget everything he’d done and said. You certainly wouldn’t forget the slight against Freddie.

“Why on earth would I go anywhere with you?” you asked, your voice so breathy, it almost sounded like you were flirting with the arrogant CEO instead of scoffing at his offer. “I just quit, remember?”

“I remember,” Ari muttered into the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw. He kissed his way back to your mouth and licked inside, making you melt even further in his arms. 

By that point, your legs were so weak, you were certain Ari’s strong arms were the only thing holding you up. But if he’d been trying to persuade you with pure lust into relenting and giving in to his invitation, he must’ve realized quickly it would take more to sweep you off your feet.

“Let me put it this way—come to Belize with me and I’ll tell HR I fired you so you get your full severance package,” he rumbled in your ear, nipping at the lobe and dragging a reluctant gasp from your lips. “Otherwise you get nothing.”

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your rational mind, you knew you should bristle at Ari’s threat. After all, he was toying with your financial future like it was nothing but a tool in his negotiation arsenal to get what he wanted. 

Except…you had been the one to quit without thinking about what it meant for your ability to pay rent and keep a roof over Freddie’s head. Ari wasn’t threatening to take away your severance, you’d thrown that away all on your own. Instead, he was offering to give it to you in exchange for a week-long vacation to one of the most beautiful places in the world. 

Later, you could chalk up your questionable decision-making to the drugging effect Ari’s mouth had on your body and mind, but in the moment, you were hard-pressed to remember why you shouldn’t go with him to Belize. Especially when your body seemed unwilling to do anything except press further into him, begging him without words for more.

You realized belatedly that you’d already made up your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the exasperating CEO just yet. So you slid a hand from the lapel of Ari’s jacket into his soft, brown hair, your fingers curling selfishly in the strands while you pulled his mouth back to yours. You shared a slow, decadent kiss that almost made you forget the conversation you’d been having.

“They’ll believe that?” you asked on a gasp, breaking away from Ari’s devastatingly perfect mouth to suck in the air your lungs were begging for. 

You pulled back enough to look up into Ari’s handsome face, finding him smirking knowingly down at you, and you realized he knew you’d already decided to go with him. You were prepared to seethe in fury and snap at him, but something in his expression made you pause—there was a hint of affection in his crystal blue eyes that you’d never seen before, and it rendered you speechless.

“Baby, I sign their paychecks,” Ari said, stroking a finger tenderly down your cheek, his words reminding you of the conversation you were still in the middle of. “They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”

A derisive scoff burst from your lips as you rolled your eyes at the arrogance of Ari’s statement, but you held your tongue. You’d known the man long enough that there was no point in arguing with him, so you changed the subject to something that mattered more to you anyway.

“I’m still furious with you for what you said about my Valentine’s Day plans—and Freddie,” you said, giving Ari your best, most withering glare.

Unfortunately, you suspected it wasn’t all that scary, at least not to the CEO who still held you in his arms, because Ari just chuckled and ducked down to press a kiss to your lips. His laughter flickered teasingly into your mouth, making the warmth of desire bloom even more hotly in your body.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Ari vowed before kissing you again, though it didn’t last long as his mouth tipped up into a smirk. “You’re going to enjoy Belize, baby.”

The sun that shone on Belize was better than the sun above New York City, you were convinced of it. If anyone tried to tell you that was simply because Belize was closer to the equator and it was February, you wouldn’t hear it. The sun was better in Belize.

It fell across your bare shoulders like the softest and comfiest of blankets, warming you down to the bones that you would’ve sworn had been permanently frozen by the city’s frigid winter. But even with the sun beating down on your body, you never got overheated thanks to the gentle breeze coming in off the water of the near-distant ocean, caressing your skin like a lover. 

For the millionth time since you’d arrived in Belize, you let out a sigh of contentment and reveled in the bright sunshine and the smell of salt on the air. The lapping of the waves was a constant soundtrack, lulling you into a state of near-sleep as you lay out on the deck of the private vacation home your former boss had booked for the week.

And, thanks to the privacy afforded by the high walls on either side of the pool and deck, which overlooked a strip of beach reserved entirely for you and the CEO, you were basking in the sun completely naked. Your body was stretched out on the soft cushion of a sun lounger, laying on your stomach with your arms folded beneath your chin. 

The only thing you wore was a pair pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, casting the world in shades of bubblegum and taffy while you watched the ocean. It felt deliciously wicked to be laying outside wearing nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you reveled in the feeling of the sun warming your skin—all of your skin. 

The sound of the door to the deck opening and closing pulled you from your reverie, though you didn’t turn to see who it was. There was only one person it could be—Ari Levinson. 

“The beast’s been fed,” Ari said, no small amount of fondness in his tone. His heavy footsteps padded in your direction across the wooden deck, coming to a stop somewhere near the foot of your lounger. 

It surprised no one more than you to learn that Ari’s invitation to go to Belize for the week had included Freddie. The CEO had even accompanied you to your apartment, where he’d helped herd Freddie into his carrier before taking both of you to the airport where he kept his private jet. 

Freddie had been wary of the large intruder in your home, and was taking some time to warm up to Ari. In an effort to endear himself to your precious furball, Ari had insisted on being the one to feed him, which you’d only allowed once your former boss admitted he planned on keeping you in his life long after the trip to Belize ended—and was willing to do anything to make that happen. 

It turned out, Freddie was just as much of a traitor as your heart, because he’d warmed up to Ari just as fast as your the betrayer in your chest had, abandoning their initial hatred of the CEO for something much warmer and more affectionate. 

“I gave him some of that wet food he likes,” Ari went on, finally dragging your attention away from the ocean so you could look up at the man who was quickly becoming your second favorite person in the world—after Freddie, of course. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Ari, standing on the deck with his hands propped on his hips, his face tipped up toward the sun and his eyes shaded in dark glasses—all while entirely naked. 

There was so much golden, tanned skin on display, you didn’t know where to look—at the dark hair blanketing his barrel chest, at the gentle taper of his waist and the hair trailing down from his navel, or at the thick cock hanging between his even thicker thighs. 

The two of you had barely made it into the vacation home in Belize and gotten Freddie settled before Ari had been pushing inside your entirely too willing pussy, finally finishing what you’d begun in the CEO’s office in New York. Since then, neither of you had been able to keep your hands to yourselves for longer than a few hours, and you’d learned, intimately, how it felt to have Ari’s cock buried in each one of your holes.

You’d also confessed to Ari, early on in the week, that you’d wondered whether he spent his vacations swimming naked in the ocean. In response, he’d pulled you into the ocean wearing not a stitch of clothing between the two of you; ever since, he’d taken to walking around naked all the time, so you’d done the same. 

Considering all the fucking you were doing, it was way more convenient anyway. 

“I think it’s about time you put on more sunscreen, isn’t it, baby?” Ari asked, dragging your focus back to the moment.  

His tone had dropped a little lower in that way that made your belly swoop and dampness begin to gather between your thighs. Your body warmed as arousal settled heavily in your center, your legs falling open just a tiny bit, as if the infuriating CEO had trained you to react instinctively to the barest hint of desire in his tone after just a few days.

Still, though your body might betray what you desperately wanted from Ari, you weren’t going to make it so easy for him. 

You tipped your head up toward him, finding he’d pulled off his sunglasses and dropped them on the lounger beside yours, leaving him able to pin you with a scorchingly heated look. You simply raised a brow at him.

“If you think so, you can go ahead and apply it for me,” you said primly, tossing your head and turning back to look out at the ocean. 

A smirk quirked the corners of your lips as you heard Ari chuckle behind you, and you could easily picture him picking up the bottle of sunscreen from the deck while he stepped closer to you. 

A moment later, you felt the slight shift of movement when Ari threw his leg over your lounger. Then he settled down on the cushion, planting his knees on either side of your hips. You took off your sunglasses and set them on the deck, pretending not to care about what Ari was doing.

But every spot where his bare skin touched yours tingled with awareness, excitement bubbling in your belly and mixing with your desire into the perfect kind of anticipation that had you squeezing your thighs together against the ache building in your core. 

Ari was quiet while he squeezed the sunscreen onto his hands and began massaging it into your shoulders, his strong fingers working methodically at the knots in your muscles—knots he’d created while he’d still been your boss—until they were entirely loose and unraveled. 

Then his hands were moving lower, his fingers brushing along the soft sides of your tits in such a teasing torture that you had to force yourself not to squirm beneath him. You were trying your hardest to keep up the appearance that you were unaffected by Ari’s touch, but the longer he deftly worked your body, the more effort it took to bite back your moans.

However, all hope of hiding your reactions from the arrogant CEO fled when he got to your ass. His big hands rubbed and kneaded the soft flesh in such a way that Ari kept spreading your pussy lips apart, the quiet sounds of your own wetness reaching your ears even over the near-distant hum of the ocean. 

Ari lingered over your ass and hips and thighs, groping your body shamelessly under the guise of working sunscreen into your skin, even as both of you knew exactly what he was doing. He worked you up until you were squirming beneath him, biting back little whimpers of desire, and then he stopped and you nearly growled in frustration.

Picking up the bottle of sunscreen, Ari laughed softly while he squeezed more into his hands, then made quick work of smoothing it down the rest of your legs, making sure you were entirely covered before resuming his previous position. 

His hands groped your ass again and his hard cock bobbed against the backs your thighs, but neither of you moved to take things further for a long moment. You simply enjoyed the feeling of being together, a sense of peace like none you’d ever known washing over you.

“How many times d’you think I’ve made you cum so far this week?” Ari asked, his tone light with an undercurrent of huskiness betraying his desire. 

The question broke whatever spell Ari had put on you and you stretched languidly beneath him, reaching your fingers out toward the ocean and pointing your toes while you tested your muscles. Your body was loose and relaxed, but you were despairingly empty, so you pushed your hips up, brushing your ass teasingly against Ari’s hard length while you hummed in thought.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, grumbling only a little when Ari pushed your hips back down on the lounger. He rebuffed your wordless offer, pinning you down while his knees shifted higher up your body and his calves kept your thighs closed together. “A lot, I guess.”

“And how many more until you forgive me for being the worst boss ever?” he asked, a playful smile in the warmth of his tone. 

You may have called him that—more than once—when he was edging you earlier in the week. But he’d earned the insult, and more, frankly, for how much you’d put up with in your months of working for him. He truly had been the worst boss ever, and you never intended on rescinding your resignation since he deserved it. 

Thankfully, Ari seemed determined to make it up to you, just like he’d promised. Mostly through orgasms, but you weren’t going to complain. Not yet, anyway. (Besides, you’d already gotten him to promise to give you the most glowing letter of recommendation he could write, and help you secure a position with a much less demanding company.)

“At least a hundred,” you murmured in a breathy tone, your hips lifting hungrily into Ari’s palms when he kneaded your ass, his thumbs brushing temptingly close to your dripping slit. 

That time, he took you up the wordless invitation, the tip of his hard cock pressing into your tight hole, which was more than eager to take his thick length. Ari’s cock met with no resistance from your body as he slid inside, burying himself to the hilt with one relentless stroke.

You were plenty wet from the massage he’d given you, and your body had long since grown accustomed to the feel of his fat cock stretching your tight pussy. It had taken some time to work his full length inside you that first night, but your body had come to know him, and you stretched to fit him perfectly, his hardness nestled deep in your cunt with his tip pressed against your cervix. 

A pleasured groan slipped from Ari’s lips as he felt your pussy squeezing around him. He fell forward, covering your body with his broad form until he was pressed flush to your back, pinning you into the soft cushion of the lounger.

The movement shifted his stiff length in your dripping hole, and it felt like he was pushing impossibly deeper, which wrung a shrill desperate, keening sound from the depths of your lungs. 

Ari shushed you softly, his palms skimming from your shoulders down your arms until his fingers tangled with yours. He held your hands in each of his, keeping you grounded in the moment while undeniable euphoria filled your body and mind, blotting out everything except Ari and the pleasure he offered. 

“And how many more until you forgive me for the comment about the beast?” Ari asked, his voice gravelly with his own barely leashed desire. He turned his head slightly, brushing a kiss to the apple of your cheek like he couldn’t help himself, and waited for your answer. 

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts enough to respond, knowing he wasn’t going to move, to fuck you, until you’d answered his question.

“It’s gonna take five hundred more,” you huffed, trying for a pert tone and failing miserably. Your voice was little more than a breathy moan, but that didn’t stop you from curtly adding, “That was my son you insulted.”

“By the end of this trip, he’s going to be our son,” Ari growled in your ear, pulling his hips back and thrusting inside you again, harder and rougher than before. 

You moaned loudly at the delicious drag of his cock in your tight hole, fighting back the warmth that wanted to curl around your heart at the determination in Ari’s tone when he talked about making Freddie his son too.

Thankfully, the way Ari was rocking into you, fucking your prone body while you were pinned beneath him, easily distracted you from the fact that the infuriating CEO was stealing his way deeper into your heart with very little resistance since you just couldn’t seem to muster it. Not when he felt so fucking good and said so many sweet things.

“And if I have to make you cum one thousand times to make you forgive me, I’ll do it,” Ari went on, pounding into you harder, his hips smacking against your ass with every thrust, wringing mindless moans from your lips while he kept spilling filth in your ear. “I’ll fuck your sweet little cunt until she’s so sensitive and swollen, you’ll be begging me to stop—but I won’t. I’ll make you cum on my cock so many times you’ll be forgiving me over and over and over again.”

Ari punctuated each of his words with a ruthless thrust, the clapping of his skin against yours loud in the quiet and otherwise peaceful afternoon. It was all you could do to mutter, “Oh god,” and cling on to Ari’s hands, holding him tightly while you took every inch of his cock and every single one of his rough thrusts. 

“And then, when you’re addicted to my cock and you’ve finally forgiven me—really, truly forgiven me—I’ll put a pretty little ring on this finger,” Ari rumbled, squeezing your left ring finger between two of his own, so you couldn’t possibly misunderstand what he was saying. “And I’m going to make you my wife. How does that sound, baby?” 

A sob of overwhelming bliss wrenched free from your lips, your mouth too busy wailing your pleasure to form words to respond. 

But it didn’t matter that you couldn’t answer Ari’s question with words because you knew from the way he chuckled in your ear that he’d felt the way your pussy had clenched down on him when he’d said he was going to make you his wife. Your body had answered for you, and it had been much more honest than your mouth would’ve been.

Ari kept fucking you, perfectly hard and perfectly fast, and the pleasure swirling through your body was reaching a fever pitch. It was almost too much for you to bear, so you turned your head and buried your face against Ari’s thick bicep. Mindless moans spilled from your lips as your teeth pressed instinctively into the hard, flexing muscle.

“That’s it—bite me, baby,” Ari cooed in your ear while he shoved his other arm under your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the aching bundle of nerves in tight, ruthless circles. “Bite me while you’re cumming all over my fat cock like the good girl I know you are.” 

Ari’s words and his relentless determination to make you cum were your undoing. 

You came with a muffled scream, your teeth sinking so deep into Ari’s bicep, you knew you’d leave a mark behind. That thought only made you cum even harder, your body trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure crashing over you. 

Ari followed right after you, his hips rutting into you for a few more thrusts before he came with a grunt, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep in your pussy. The two of you writhed together, eking out every last shred of pleasure before eventually collapsing on the sun lounger with exhaustion.

Maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, Ari held you in the cradle of his arms, his cock staying wedged deep inside you so you kept him warm as he gradually softened. You dozed off in the comfort of Ari’s hold, feeling his heart beating against your spine and listening to his soft breaths mingling with the gentle lapping of the ocean.  

After a time, Ari roused you from sleep, murmuring in your ear that the two of you should take a quick dip in the pool before deciding what to order for dinner. The sun had fallen low in the sky, ducking behind the house so that the deck was cast in shade, but the air was still pleasantly warm. 

The cool water of the pool helped to wake you up, and there was a pleasurable burn in your muscles as you swam and splashed and fooled around with Ari. 

Before you dragged yourselves from the pool, he fucked you again, using the gentle weightlessness of the water to lift you up and down on his cock while your head lolled against his shoulder and you moaned your pleasure into his neck.

When the two of you finally stumbled back inside, smelling like chlorine and sunshine, Freddie hopped up from the patch of light he’d been laying in at the front of the house. He chirped happily, twisting around your ankles and waiting for a brief pet before he pranced over to Ari. 

Freddie rubbed his furry body against Ari’s calves, staring up at the man like he’d hung the stars and moon in the sky. Your cat’s welcome made the infuriatingly handsome CEO chuckle affectionately while he bent down to scuff the creature under the chin, murmuring soft praises to the beast. 

It was too much for your heart—too sweet and pure and perfect—and you fell in love with Ari Levinson in that exact moment, though it would be many more months before you confessed those feelings to the man himself. 

By the time you did, Ari would have whispered his love into every inch of your body. When the words finally fell from your lips, he would chuckle, having known it before you’d voiced it, because he knew your heart better than anyone else in the world. Even Freddie. 

That first Valentine’s Day with Ari was much better than watching trashy TV with a bottle of rosé. In fact, it was the best you’d ever had. That is, until the next year’s Valentine’s Day, when Ari whisked you and Freddie off to another tropical location, and fulfilled the promise he’d made about putting a ring on your finger.

The Valentine’s Day after that, Ari Levinson made you his wife. And the two of you lived happily ever after.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

[ggirlthatgotaway]

Not Cold Any Longer (modern au)

summary: Aemond is that guy you’ve known since you were kids, the one you’ve never talked to and that had gotten fucking weird. But you end up becoming friends, and you find out that not only he’s right about your shit boyfriend, but also that he’s a fucking ride that can keep you boiling hot all the time.

trigger warning: explicit language, mention of useless men, mention of Franz Ferdinand, sexual content, name calling, choking, slapping, loving, maybe other things.

word count: 6.2k

note: Aemond is not hotd-Aemond but the FontainesDC-hottie-freak (fuck me<3) . also english is my 3rd language and i haven’t written a complete smut since i was 13 (read, don’t judge) so yeah do tell me what you think

-💎

The cold air of the night was hitting your face, and it stung your skin despite your best efforts to hide it in the collar of your jacket. You didn’t want to go back home, you wanted to keep walking, to go to him.

From your house to his, there was a six-minute drive, which meant a forty-five-minute walk for someone who walked quickly. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you glanced around the dark street, not a sound to be heard.

Your mind raced back to earlier that day, to the reason why you were walking to his house. His words replayed in your mind over and over: “Don’t you fuckin’ understand?! Really?” he had shouted, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, but a hint of sadness was lacing them. He had tried to hide it, as always, like the rest of his emotions.

He had already told you that you were able to understand him despite his precautions- “I don’t fancy how ye keep readin’ me mind, love.” he had said with a soft grin and happy eyes. But that was a completely different circumstance; it was something light, about why he had started inviting you to gigs instead of bringing his friend, Sal.

Anyway, him telling you that you didn’t understand had your heart twisting in pain, both when those words had left his mouth and when you thought about them again.

He had gotten angry because of what you’d told him had happened with Ed, your boyfriend. His eyes had widened when you told him he’d left you waiting for an hour yesterday, because he ‘got distracted with his friends, and forgot to pick you up from your shift’. It was your anniversary.

But that wasn’t why Aemond had shouted to you that you didn’t understand- that came after. Earlier today, your phone had rang with his call: he had told you he was nearby, that his Ma had asked him to buy some bread before leaving for her shift, and if you minded if he stayed over a bit.

Spending time with him had become the highlight of your day recently, so a smile had curved your lips as you told him yes. He had arrived with a CD in his hands, “I know you like this shit.” he told you then, showing you the new album by Franz Ferdinand you had been planning to buy for weeks now.

You had gasped, and started covering his cheeks with kisses despite his half-hearted efforts to get away from your grip- half-hearted because his arm had already sneaked to hold your waist. “You’re mental.” you had told him with wide eyes, but he had just tutted and shrugged, leaving the CD on your desk and throwing himself on your bed.

“How did it go with the eejit?” he had asked you then, referring to Ed and your anniversary. His arm had been covering his eyes, but he took it away and looked at you when you hadn’t answered. “What did he do?” he had asked with a sigh.

You had briefly glanced at him before letting your gaze fall on the white and burgundy sheets of your bed. He wasn’t one who let go of this kind of things- not with you, at least- and you had known an answer was necessary if you weren’t planning on having him shut up and stare into your eyes for three hours.

So you had sighed heavily and brought your eyes back on his, “He didn’t show up.”

At your words, he had looked like he had stopped breathing. Then, he’d sunken his teeth into his lips, closed his eyes and let out a low and deep breath. “You’re aware he’s still breathing because you want him to?”

His eyes had opened again, and he’d directed them to you, waiting for your answer. When you’d nodded, he had continued: “Changed your mind?” he’d asked you, his tone slightly pleading, with a hint of hope. But you’d shaken your head.

You had seen his eyes closing again, and he’s let out another deep breath. “What did you do, then?”

“I walked.”

Silence had filled the air between you two once again, until he’d straightened up and sat on the edge of your bed. He had ran a hand on his face and settled his elbows on his knees, “You walked… Didn’t call me?”

“It’s just a ten minute walk.” you had tried to explain with a shake of your head, but he had stopped you.

“And now your throat aches.”

You had bitten the inside of your cheek at that. You were always cold, always wore two pairs of trousers to go to school, always had as many blankets as possible on your bed. Aemond knew, and each time you stepped foot into his house he had the kettle on, and the blanket that held the most warmth was folded and waiting on the couch, and he asked you right away if you wanted that ugly but incredibly warm sweater he never wore.

“It doesn’t.” you had told him, and it was true, because you were still healing from the last time you had the flue, and your antibodies were still strong.

“Mh.” he had said, nodding. You had never seen anger simmering quite as much as it did in him in that moment. “Why don’t you fucking leave him, mh? Still fuckin’ think he deserves you?” he had said, his voice rising at every word. “I’m genuinely curious, love- tell me.”

“Aemond…” you had said, interrupting yourself with a sigh. He had got up from the bed and walked over to the window, leaning his hands on the ledge. “I like him when he’s with me.”

“Well, that’s a fucking pathetic thing to say.” he had told you before turning around, his eyes as hard as ice, “That’s because you can’t find a bloody nice thing to say ‘bout him.”

“He’s still me boyfriend, though-“ you had tried to say before his shouts filled the room.

“And he shouldn’t fuckin’ be! It’s your fault he still is,” he had said, pointing a finger in your direction, “and it makes me fucking mental just thinking about it.”

“Then don’t, Aemond! It’s none of your fucking business!” you had tried to retort, but you had told it to yourself how daft your words had sounded, since it was Aemond the one always available to listen to you yap about how shite Ed made you feel while barely containing tears in your eyes.

“Shut up, don’t even fucking play this card with me!” he had yelled at you before taking a deep breath and pushing his black hair out of his face. That still hadn’t tamed the tone of his voice when he’d spoken again, “Don’t you fuckin’ understand?! Really?!” his eyes had been wide as he looked at you with a hint of desperation in hie voice, a hand held out to you in hope.

But your brows had furrowed, and your eyes had expressed nothing but confusion as you’d looked at him.

His hand had fallen and slapped his thigh, “Leave him, or don’t fucking talk to me again.”

He had walked away then, leaving you with wide eyes and the security that those words weren’t what he had been thinking about when he had told you that you didn’t understand.

And you admitted it to yourself as you walked to Aemond’s house at midnight, with the freezing cold of February seeping into your bones, that you might have waited a bit much to act on whatever you needed to act on.

But you did pat yourself on the shoulder for the strong punch you’d landed on Ed’s nose about an hour ago- which, in all honesty, was something you’d learnt from Aemond and the lessons he gave you so you could ‘have a wee chance to survive if they attacked you on the street’, if someone was to say it with his words.

After you had exited Ed’s house, a mischievous grin plastered on your lips, your thoughts had gone to Aemond right away, thinking about his laugh when you would have told him what you’d done. Your smile had fallen.

But it was fine, you told yourself as you walked faster in the dark night, because you were going to fix everything.

The truth was, you had never felt quite as empty as you did when Aemond had left your room that evening. And you had already known there that you needed to go to Ed’s and leave him- which you realised hurt your hand way more than it did your heart.

Aemond was right. Fucking Aemond Targaryen, the lad that wanted to talk to nobody at school except for you and Sal Quinn, the one that wanted no glimpse of a relationship, was right.

You needed to walk faster.

You took out your phone and flipped it open, pondering on whether or not to call him and ask him to pick you up on the street where Mae Allbrook lived. Realising that would have needed to stay still for at least three minutes as you waited for him, you flipped your phone closed and put it back into the pocket of your jeans.

You definitely didn’t do it because Aemond would have screamed at you for the entire ride back to his house- or better yet, for the ride and for the ten minutes he’d spend heating your hands up by rubbing them between his.

No, it was better to make your grand entrance at his house and have him freak out there, while you sat in front of the fire in his living room.

You let out a sigh when you saw the old, ruined red car, weakly lit by the nearby light pole. You almost ran to the door and jumped over the low gate, before taking out your phone again.

“Aemond,” you said when he answered. You heard the sigh he let out, and you understood how affected he, too, was about what had happened earlier that day. “I’m outside.”

He didn’t close the call after those words left your mouth, but you heard a stomp, and understood that he hadn’t even closed the call before launching himself off his bed and running downstairs.

The front door swung open in front of you, making your hair fly in front of your face. He didn’t wait for you to step inside, deciding instead to take matters into his own hands and grab your jacket to pull you in roughly.

Before you knew, he was muttering to himself behind you, his hands passing over your thighs over and over to heat them up. “You feel your hands yet?” he asked gruffly, not even trying to hide how he still remembered your last conversation word by word.

You nodded and said, “I’m not that cold.” but he tutted and shook his head, not believing a word. “Care to tell me the fuck you’re doing?” he finally asked.

“Apologising.” you answered after some seconds, slightly distracted by the way his wide palms transferred heat into the skin of your thighs. “You were right.”

You turned your head to look at him behind you, and he let out a sigh, stilling his movements and leaving his hands on the top of your legs. He threatened to move them to your hips, his movements slow and unsure, before his warm palms left your body and he got up on his feet, making you look at him from the floor, “I’m tired. Tell me if I have to bring you home or you crash here.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, getting up from the floor and grabbing your own arm with a hand. “Can I stay over?”

You saw the hesitation in his eyes as they met yours, but then he nodded towards the stairs, and you followed him to his room.

“Change.” he told you with an assertive tone once you reached his room, putting a hand in his wardrobe and throwing that ugly sweater and a pair of sweatpants at you.

You pressed your lips together to stifle a grin at his annoyed actions. But as you went to the bathroom to change, you couldn’t help but think about what his expression would be like when you finally told him.

His room was always quite dark and warm, and the dim light that came from the tank he kept Vhagar in made everything seem blue.

You approached him slowly, nibbling at the skin inside your lower lip as his eyes went from the ash tray set on his nightstand to you.

You could see the smoke of his Benson and Hedges coming out of his nose and going upwards. “Come here.” he said then, slightly defeated, but only half-heartedly.

So you climbed onto his bed and he reached out with a hand to touch your waist. “Still cold…” he muttered to himself before deciding to bring you closer to him.

He put off his cigarette on the ashtray and held you with his arms wrapped around you, a hand on the curve of your hip. “I’m sorry.” you told him, looking in his blue eyes you couldn’t quite see.

He didn’t say anything about your apology, but you felt his hand twitch on your hip. “What did you think you were doing, walking alone at this time?”

His features were lightened by those soft blue hues, making the sharp angles of his face even more so. You raised your hand and trailed your finger on his cheekbone. His skin was hot, and you felt him stop breathing at your touch. Your hand dropped back on the bed, “I left him.”

You started to worry when you didn’t see him starting to breathe again, but then he talked, “You’re not lying?”

When you shook your head in no, his hand tightened on your hip drastically. “Fuckin’ finally.” he said, letting out a deep breath. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug, “He just sat there, holding his nose after I punched him.”

You saw Aemond’s eyes widen, and the corners of his mouth curled up until they formed a wide grin. He started laughing, his chest shaking as he shook his head. “Wonderful woman…” he muttered, leaning his mouth on your shoulder, making goosebumps spread wildly on your skin.

He started caressing your hip then, going dangerously close to your arse as he always did. But still, what you felt was a deep sense of peace there: at his house, in his arms, surrounded by the smell of smoke and green tea that clung to his skin.

You’d known each other since you were kids, since way before he had started dying his hair black and got into the metal music he had definitely been listening to before you called him.

But you had never really talked until four months ago. You had your friends, he had his, all outside of school, and you both had never bothered trying to talk. It had all changed in a matter of days after an English Literature project.

It felt weird when you thought about it, trusting someone the way you did him after so few time, even if you’d known him for ever, because you’d never really talked.

“You know I love you, right?” you said then. It was out of the blue, really, but you couldn’t help it.

Those three words seemed to hit him more than you intended them to. He paused the movement of his hand on your hips and cleared his throat, straightening himself slightly. He still didn’t answer, though, but simply sighed and left a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t care about you saying it back: I just want you to know I love you.” you said hurriedly but calmly, distancing yourself slightly to look at him, finally able to do it properly since your eyes adjusted to the dark.

He let out a snorted laugh at your words, and shook his head. “D’you think I don’t love you?” he asked you, his voice low and husky. His grip on your hip tugged you close so you were sitting on top of him, “That’s not the problem, princess.”

“I don’t understand-“ you tried to argue, but he laughed again, interrupting you.

“You do, love… You do.” he said before leaning close to your ear. His nose brushed against your earlobe, his lips against your jaw as his breath ghosted your skin and he murmured lowly, “You got me wrapped around your finger... Got me doing whatever you want me to.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your hand was gripping his shoulder and your nails were definitely digging in his skin through his sweater, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“And now…” he whispered , interrupting himself to let out an unironic laugh and shaking his head. “Now you’re sitting on my lap, pretending not to notice how fucking hard my cock is for you.”

You were breathing fast, so fast you felt the blood pumping in your ears, and his words did nothing to quell that. His smirk remained on his lips as he brought his cold blue eyes back to yours.

He tilted his head to the side, a strand of his dark, dyed hair falling over his eyes. “What do you plan on doing about it, then?” he asked, the teasing tone still present. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his grip on your hip tightened, told a different story.

Was it real what he’d said? That he loved you, craved you so much that his cock was rock hard after barely five minutes of you sitting on him?

“About…” you said, pressing your lips together, trying to gather the courage to complete the sentence. You found it when the corner of his mouth quirked up again and both his hands found their way to your arse, squeezing it and pulling you flush against him. The action made you let out a small sigh, but you decided not to let yourself fear him, so you raised a hand and brought the strand of black hair away from his face. “What do I plan on doing about your cock?” you said in a whisper.

His mouth curved into a smirk and he breathed out another laugh due to your words. He was usually the dirty one, even if you still didn’t exactly know how dirty he was. “Yeah, ‘bout that…” he confirmed with two slight nods of his head. “Now that you’re fully aware of what you do to me.” he added, letting out a deep breath.

One hand remained firm on your arse, keeping you right where he wanted you, while the other moved up to your face. He traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, feeling the softness of your skin and the pulse quickening beneath it. In that moment, all the cold you had felt as you had walked to his house for forty minutes was completely forgotten, disappeared in your mind like ash after a breath.

“What do you think I should do?” you asked, swallowing harshly. You suddenly felt stupid for the question, and you did even more when he snorted out another laugh.

He leaned forward, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Why don't ye use your imagination, Princess?" he whispered huskily. The hand on your face slid back, cupping your cheek as his thumb continued to brush against your lower lip.

“Okay…” you whispered out in a breath as you nodded. Then you slowly leaned into the brief distance that separated you two, brushing your lips against his before pressing them into a kiss.

It was rushed, definitely stupid, but you wanted to try and see how it felt. His lips had always looked rough to you, chipped and bloodied in winter, but now, against yours, they were soft, boiling hot, sweet and incredibly inviting.

His hand tightened its grip on your arse, pulling you even closer to his body as his other hand tangled itself in your hair, angling your head for better access to your mouth.

His kiss was even gentle, which surprised you, but more than anything it made you want more. When his grip on your hair tightened and pulled on it just enough to make you wet but not enough to hurt excessively, a moan came up your throat and overturned into his mouth.

He pulled away before capturing your lower lip between his teeth and letting it go. His hand slapped your arse, making you jolt forward and making him laugh. “Slut.” he muttered, closing the distance between you two again.

You let out a chuckle against his lips, and started grinding your hips against his. Right away, he groaned and pulled you closer still, eagerly helping you with your movements.

His other hand moved from your cheek to your neck, fingers gripping gently but firmly. "Is that what you want, princess?" he growled, breaking the kiss briefly to let you breathe. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust. "You want to feel me inside you?" he asked, voice strained and husky.

You were slightly startled by his hand around your throat, by his thumb stroking your pulse point like it was the most fragile and precious thing in his world. You bit your lower lip and your hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand that was holding you, which made his lips part in what looked like feral hunger, before nodding.

Your response was everything he needed to hear. His hand on your neck tightened slightly as he claimed your mouth once more, kissing you harder. His hips thrust upward, pushing his erection against your core, as if to emphasize his words. He let go of your hair, his hand trailing down your back until it reached your waist.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at your skin before tracing a scorching path down to your neck. He loved the way you moaned when he bit you there, and he did so again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Fuck…" he breathed against your skin, his fingers digging into your waist. He seemed to need to feel you, to make sure this whole thing was real. "Use your words, Princess."

A whine escaped your lips before you were able to reply, and you felt completely daft other then drenched between your thighs. “Yes,” you said, your words like a plea, “I want you inside of me.”

His eyes bore in yours for two seconds before he pushed you off him, making you land on your hands on the mattress. He pulled himself up, standing on his knees on the bed, “Take your clothes off.” he ordered with a nod of his head as he stared down at you, his tone leaving no space for arguing.

With a heavy chest, mouth parted and eyes wide, you complied. You unzipped his black jumper, trying not to be clumsy as you slipped it off your arms.

Still, Aemond seemed unable to wait, because he quickly threw the jumper off the bed before his fingers found the bow you tied to the string of his sweatpants.

He undid it as you took your shirt off. “How many fuckin’ pair of trousers you’ve got on?!” he growled, both bothered and amused when he found a pair of leggings under the sweats.

You let out a chuckle as he did the same, shaking his head as he pulled the first layer of fabric off roughly, before doing the same with the second.

He stopped when you were left with only your underwear, and he stared bluntly, pressing his lips together as his chest raised and fell heavily.

You moved your right leg to brush its calf against his clothed thigh, your eyes on his. His hissed in a breath, his hand gripping your thigh like he wanted to rip off the meat to eat it. “It’s your turn.” you whispered as you let your leg wander higher.

The action gained you his grip to tighten and a slap to be delivered to your thigh. But he complied, pulling his t-shirt off from the collar and blindly throwing it somewhere before pulling down his trousers.

He put a hand on your knee and settled between your thighs, crushing his mouth against yours once again. The roughness of Aemond's touch sent sparks flying across your skin, igniting a fire within you that burned out of control. He pressed you further into the mattress, his body aligning perfectly with yours. You could feel every inch of his bare torso, each ripple of muscle and scar, his heat enveloping you like a living flame.

His grip on your thigh loosened and his fingers went up until they reached you inner thigh, teasing you as if he wasn’t dying for it. You whined against his mouth, squirming under his touch.

He chuckled against your mouth, and he gave into your desires in a matter of seconds, sliding his hand inside your drenched knickers and exploring your folds. He breathed heavily on your wet lips after he had to break the kiss. He looked at you as he slipped a finger inside, and watched intently as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Think, Princess…” he drawled, his lips brushing against yours before doing the same on your cheek. He added another finger, making you let out a moan. “Think of each touch I give you tonight…”

He stopped his movements temporarily, taking his fingers out and making you gasp, to grab the sides of your knickers and pull them down and off roughly.

His mouth reached your neck while his fingers found your cunt once again, entering you in such a beautiful way your eyes rolled back. He started pumping his fingers in and out roughly, making your breath catch in your throat before it came out in a broken scream.

“Think of this, and then back at that fuckin’ halfwit that you let inside this beautiful cunt.”

Your wetness was completely coating his fingers at that point, and he seemed to enjoy it like nothing else, or so it seemed as you looked at him through half-closed eyelids.

He continued his assault, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing circular motions on it, as his lips left kisses, hot and wet, on the skin of your neck. They made you remember how his hand felt wrapped around your throat, and you found yourself craving it once again.

The memory and the sensations he was giving you only fuelled your wetness, and your orgasm drew closer. “Aemond…” you breathed out, your cunt clenching desperately around his fingers.

Just as if he was reading your mind, his lips left the soft skin of your neck to leave space for his free hand. You let out an embarrassing whimper when his fingers wrapped securely under your jaw.

“I think you’re liking it too much…” Aemond groaned, his voice husky and gravel as his fingers worked restlessly inside your pussy. “I should stop.”

Your hand found the wrist of the hand that was holding your neck when those words left his mouth, and you let out an irritated moan, kicking his side with a trembling leg.

He let out a small laugh, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared black. Aemond’s fingers went faster, making you let out a strangled yell as your eyes stayed fixed on his.

Your legs threatened to close, but he avoided it by getting closer, his breath now ghosting over your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” he groaned, crushing your lips against his as your pussy spasmed around his long fingers.

He kept them there after you climaxed, slowing the movements of his fingers progressively before sliding them out. He brought them to his lips like an instinctive motion.

He groaned at the sight of your flushed face, your eyes glazed with pleasure, and the way your body still trembled from the orgasm he'd given you, and definitely even for the taste of you he was licking from his fingers. You bet he loved reducing you to this state - wanting, needing, begging for him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, getting off the bed and taking off his boxers. His cock was hard, veiny, and you found yourself thinking of it inside you, stretching you out while you felt every singe thing he wished you to.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom, opening the plastic with his teeth and discarding both the useless pieces carelessly on the floor. He slid it on, barely looking at what he was doing before he nodded at you, “Take that shit off.”

You furrowed your brows and looked down, noticing you still had your bra on. You were still breathing heavily, but you quickly did as he’d asked.

He moved back on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he approached you with hunger. He was like a madman- you had never seen him like this before.

He kissed you again, hooking his hand under your right knee and folding its leg over the other. It provided him with the perfect view of your ass and face, and it seemed to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as he broke the kiss to take a look at you.

One hand found the top of your thigh while he used the other to hold himself up on the mattress. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, making your hand fly to his hair and a gasp escape your throat.

His hand left your thigh and went to his cock, guiding it to your pussy. He teased your already tender flesh with his tip, making you both groan.

His mouth disclosed around your nipple and he lied his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck…” he breathed out once again, shaking his head before straightening up.

His hand went back to your thigh, and he ground himself against you. His head rolled back and his eyes closed at the contact, his mouth fell agape.

And you, with his cock almost inside you and his hand pinning your body to his will, couldn’t help but look at him: at the sweat that clung to his body, at his long hair you craved to pull, at his fingers that had just made you cum like nobody ever did.

When he opened his eyes again, they locked on yours right away, staring down at you. Then, he thrust inside you in one, swift and steady motion, filling you up with his cock just like you wanted him to. You weren’t cold any longer.

You didn’t try to conceal the scream if pure pleasure that escaped your lips at his motion, and he didn’t hide his. “Shit, Aemond!” you moaned, brows furrowed as you looked up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he grunted, punctuating his phrase with a thrust, making your body jolt forward despite the way his hand was holding you tightly. “I’m already trying not to cum.”

His words made you cheeks heat up and a grin spread on your lips as he began to thrust inside you. Your head fell back onto the pillow, feeling every vein on his cock despite the latex separating you- maybe you were fooling yourself, but you were fine with it.

Aemond’s thrusts left you both breathless, and filled the room with the sound of skin meeting skin in perfectly rough motions.

Nothing had ever felt as good as the feeling of him inside you, and the way you squirmed and gasped beneath him made him understand that perfectly, other than making you feel like a pathetic whore.

His hand on your thigh was leaving red marks that had the shape of his fingers, and you loved it. “Please… Harder.” you found yourself begging, and he complied.

His hand left your thigh, gave your ass a firm slap before balling into a fist and pressing into the mattress to hold him up. His other hand reached your hair and grabbed a fistful, twisting it between his fingers before tugging on it sharply, making you yelp and arch your back.

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” he said with a wicked grin, pounding into your with more force than before. His hips collided against the skin of your ass he’d just slapped, making it even redder.

In response, your hand wrapped around his arm and your nails dug into the fair skin, making him grunt and pull even harder on your hair.

He fucked you harder as a form of punishment which he knew would only make things better for both of you. “Look at me, Princess.” Aemond breathed out the order, his chest heaving and his mouth open.

When you did, he let out an uncontrolled moan and gave you a particularly hard thrust, “Who owns you now, mh?”

The dirty talk, the rough treatment - it all fueled your desire, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. That’s why your lips curved into a grin.

But he wasn’t playing, because his fist opened and he slapped your ass again, “Answer.” he ordered. There, you understood it was all about pleading you to tell him, to reassure him, that Ed was gone from your mind, that he was the one inhabiting it.

“You do.”

At your words, and your burning eyes that accompanied them, Aemond grinned, turning you onto your stomach and pulling you ass up, all without exiting your tight heat.

He pushed your hips down until your chest pressed down on the soft comforter, and he started pounding again.

The change of position made your mind go blank, and your eyes almost saw white for how deep he reached.

He leaned in, still slamming into your with from behind like wild animal- his grin gone. “Who owns you, Princess?” he asked you again with the most guttural voice you’d ever heard coming from him.

“You!” you screamed with the few air and fewer focus the new position left you, as you felt your second orgasm approach like a storm above a deep sea.

“Good girl.” Aemond breathed out, his thrusts becoming erratic and his grip tightening as he let out a loud moan. His pace quickened, his breathing turned even more ragged, and you could feel him as he started losing control.

“Aemond!” you yelled, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow pressed against your cheek.

Hearing you scream his name, seeing the pleasure on your face, sent Aemond made him go even more mental than before: he pounded into you harder, faster, the bed rocking underneath the ferocity of his movements.

And your vision narrowed, your thoughts filled only with images of him and the feeling of his cock pounding restlessly inside you as your cunt clamped down around his cock, like you wanted him stretching you wider, breaking you even more.

The sensation of your second orgasm hitting you sent him over the edge, and with few powerful thrusts and a low growl, he came, filling the condom up to the brim.

Spent, he let himself fall on the bed, careful not to hurt you as he pulled out and wrapped his arms around your waist, making your back press against his chest.

He buried his face into your neck, breathing heavily. You bit your lip hard, trying to calm down and speak, “You were slightly better than Ed.”

You felt him let out a breathed laugh against your neck, but that didn’t save you from the slap he gave your ass. “Shut up.”

You jolted forward but chuckled. Then freed yourself from his embrace, making him frown and lock his eyes on you.

You scooted down, enjoying his confused expression and showing it with a grin, until you lied with your chest on his legs.

You pulled the used condom off his still-hard cock with a wicked gleam in your eyes. You revelled in the way his breath caught in his throat at your actions, and even more so when his mouth opened in pleasure as you started cleaning him off his cum with your tongue.

His hand went to your hair, holding the side of your face as you looked up at the desperate look for more in his eyes.

“Shit…” he breathed out raggedly. “You’re such a slut…”

You grinned, and started trailing kisses up his stomach and to his neck until you sat on top of him again. You cupped his cheek in your hand and kissed him, aware of how he could taste himself on your tongue.

His arms held you tight against his warm chest, his forehead against yours as you broke the kiss, and you couldn’t help but think about how many months you had thrown at the wind when you could have been in his bed, warm and…

“I love you.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: The Yapper, The Listener

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Fandom: UConn's women's basketball

Rating: Fluff | First-Person POV

Summary: kk has always been the yapper, til you

Word Count: 1.4k

If you had told me a year ago that I’d somehow out-yap KK Arnold, I would’ve laughed in your face. I mean, KK? The loudest, chattiest, most relentless talker on and off the court? The same KK who could trash talk you into a bad game without even breaking a sweat? Yeah, right.

But here I was, sitting across from her at our usual booth in the student union, rambling about the absolute disrespect I’d endured in my morning class while she sipped her smoothie, nodding along like I was delivering the most important speech of the century.

“And then, tell me why this man had the audacity to mark my paper down a whole five points just because I ‘lacked conciseness’—KK, can you believe that? Lack conciseness? Babe, I am a storyteller. I paint pictures with my words.”

KK hummed, swirling her straw around her cup. “Mhm. Can’t rush the art.”

“That’s what I’m saying! He just doesn’t get my vision!” I huffed, leaning back against the cushioned booth. “Anyway, that ruined my whole morning. I had to go get an iced coffee just to recover, and then—”

I paused, narrowing my eyes at her. “Wait a minute. You’re way too quiet. What’s going on? You’re supposed to be my hype man in situations like this. Where’s the outrage? The energy? The unnecessary side commentary?”

KK smirked, resting her chin in her palm. “I mean… I figured you had it covered, mamas.”

I squinted. “What does that mean?”

She reached across the table, tapping my lips with her thumb. “It means you yap more than me now.”

I gasped, clutching my chest like she’d personally offended me. “That’s crazy. That’s actually insane.”

KK just laughed, settling back in her seat. “I used to think nobody could out-talk me, but you? You be talkin’.”

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you act like you don’t love hearing me talk.”

She shrugged, lips twitching. “I do. That’s why I let you.”

That made me pause. My mind ran back to how things had shifted. When we first started dating, KK and I had been on the same level when it came to running our mouths. We’d banter back and forth for hours, seeing who could get the last word in (spoiler: it was usually me). But somewhere along the way, she’d settled into this… listening role.

Not because she had nothing to say—KK always had something to say—but because she liked hearing me talk.

I felt my face heat up at the realization. “Wait… have I just been yapping at you nonstop for months and you let me?”

KK grinned. “Mhm. And I don’t even mind.”

I stared at her. “I feel like I should be embarrassed. But I’m not.”

She reached for my hand, playing with my fingers. “Don’t be. I like it.”

And just like that, I melted.

Basketball practice had ended an hour ago, but I was still sitting on the sideline, waiting for KK to finish getting shots up.

Correction: commentating while waiting.

“There she goes, folks, lining up for the free throw—she dribbles once, twice—oh, she hesitates. The tension in the air is thick. Will she make it? Will she fold under the pressure? The crowd holds its breath—”

The ball swished through the net effortlessly.

KK turned to me with an unimpressed look. “You doubting me, mamas? That’s crazy.”

I grinned. “Never that, baby. Just setting the scene.”

She jogged over, resting her hands on her hips. “You ever thought about a career in commentary? You already talk enough for the both of us.”

I gasped dramatically. “So you admit I took your spot as the biggest yapper?”

KK shrugged, tapping my knee. “Go ‘head and take the title, baby. I like hearing you talk. You keep me entertained.”

I tilted my head at her, softening. “You really mean that?”

KK rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness there. “Yeah. Your voice is my favorite.”

Damn. How did she always make me feel like the luckiest person alive?

Later that night, we were curled up in my dorm, KK stretched out on my bed while I laid half on top of her, tracing patterns on her arm.

“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna sit there all quiet while I talk, I feel like you owe me commentary of some kind.”

KK raised a brow. “What kind of commentary?”

I huffed. “I dunno. Like little affirmations. ‘Mhm, that’s crazy’ isn’t gonna cut it all the time.”

She laughed. “Oh, so now you need me to hype you up while you talk? You getting greedy, mamas.”

I pouted, looking up at her. “I just like hearing your voice too.”

KK smirked before leaning down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Okay. Next time you go on a rant, I’ll gas you up properly.”

I smiled, satisfied. “Good. Because I’ve been holding in a rant about how the dining hall got rid of my favorite cereal and I need you fully engaged.”

KK chuckled, wrapping her arms around me tighter. “I’m all ears, baby.”

And just like that, I went right back to talking, knowing she’d listen to every word.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[oatmealwrites]

Jealousy! Jealousy! [NSFW]

Oncology student! Frat VP! Jealous Suguru x F Reader [part of Holiday Hoes! series]

holiday hoes masterlist | JJK masterlist | regular masterlist

Synopsis: While out gift shopping with Suguru for a belated holiday gift for a certain white haired man, you can't help but notice the annoyed behavior of your best friend. He's distant and cold leaving you confused and irritated. All the while, he's forced to spend his Friday afternoon watching you so carefully picking out a gift for his best friend when the two of you could be doing anything else. It's dumb to crush on his friend, and even dumber to silently mope while wishing you would finally pay attention to man next to you-- especially considering he's oblivious that you feel the same way. 

Tags: friends to lovers, frat AU!, Suguru is a panty thief, hopeless pining, Shoko is in on it, some angst [you guys get into a fight], Suguru calls reader a slut, mentions of self insecurity, Suguru has tongue piercing, public makeout, hickies galore, sucking on titties, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, public sex, dressing room shenanigans, p in v, no condom, creampie, doggy position, premature ejaculation, established relationship at end, everyone knows y'all did it, reference to potential round 2, 18+, MDNI

word count: 11.3k [whoops]

[essentially porn with plot haha]

~~~~~~~~

The interior of Suguru and Satoru’s shared apartment is a warm haven from the winter storm that roars outside; wind howls as the snow falls steadily coating the roads and sidewalks. Snacks and soft drinks litter the coffee table in the living room as Shoko cracks a window open to blow the smoke from her cigarette outside and away from the group.

An old horror movie plays on the TV, one Choso had picked out citing the choice as a recommendation from Yuji, as you sit on the couch next to Suguru scrolling absentmindedly on your phone. Your feet are thrown in a comfortable position diagonally over his lap as a throw blanket covers you both. It’s the same position the two of you usually sit in whenever you happen to be over. 

Despite being in their shared apartment, Satoru is out assisting Megumi with reviewing material for a gen-ed requirement bio class while the small group waits for his return; the evening plan was to drink at your usual pub in a few hours.

“Ah, shit…” you mumble quietly, leaning your chin into the collar of your quarter-zip jacket and biting slightly on the zipper. 

Choso looks up from his position on the floor while going through a few potential board games to play and raises an eyebrow. “Hm? What’s up?”

Tossing the phone onto your upper chest, you lean back into the couch and throw your hands up in a long stretch. “I forgot to get Satoru’s stupid Christmas gift.”

“The holidays passed weeks ago. You need one now?” Shoko questions, blowing the last few puffs of smoke out of the window before shutting it firmly. 

A few complaints and groans escape your lips instead of actually formulating a response, and Suguru chuckles while dodging your outstretched hand that’s thrown haphazardly in the air from your stretch. He takes your wrist and pushes it back into your lap before pivoting slightly to grab his drink from the table and shooting you a look to explain. 

“Ah, it’s for your family dinner thing right?” Choso asks while he remains peering at the rules printed underneath the box of Monopoly in his hands.  

“Mmm, yea. I totally forgot it was this weekend.”

Suguru keeps his eyes on your face but remains silent; everyone knew you and Satoru were close family friends yet the man at your side never made an effort to point it out.  

Taking a sip from his beverage, he leans down closer next to you on the sofa and examines your contorted face. “I didn’t hear about this dinner from either one of you…”

“It was last minute– the Gojo family rescheduled a few times since they went on vacation for the new year. This weekend was open so they just confirmed the restaurant reservation a few hours ago.”

Shoko nods as she crouches next to Choso to sort through a few potential card games. “And you forgot to buy a gift so now you gotta get one.”

You bring your arms down to cross your chest with a sullen sigh in confirmation; Suguru sits forward to place his drink back on the table and shakes his head in disapproval slightly. 

“On top of that, I have nothing to wear– the place it’s booked at looks super fancy.” You pause and sit upright, eyeing the woman on the floor. “Hey, lend me that dress you wore to the fall semester formal.”

Shoko shoots you a half smile. “No way– if I give you that, I’ll never see it again.”

Before you can sputter a response in defense, Suguru chuckles at your side and regains your attention. “I’ve seen your closet y/n. You definitely have something in there.”

“Yea, but nothing good.”

He raises an eyebrow but keeps the familiar smirk on his lips. He’s been in your room a million times before, all for platonic reasons so far; he knows you have more than enough clothes to wear something to this dinner.

“What about the dress you wore to the fall formal, the burgundy one?” He asks, gaze lingering on your lips a moment too long before peeling them to look back at your eyes.

“Nobara spilt some wine on it and the stain won’t come out. So I need new clothes.”

It’s an exaggeration, you do have other dresses, but most were either mini-mini meant for nightclubs or sundresses for the beach. Silently, you pull up the nearby mall directory of shops to scan through if any might have a few potential winter dresses still for sale; Suguru lifts the arm that was resting behind you on the couch to hold his chin as he watches. 

“Shokooo, come with me to the mall,” you propose while remaining absorbed in your phone.

She points to a box of Jenga in Choso’s hands and nods in approval at his selection. “Nope,” she adds with a pop of the ‘p’. “I have to pick up Utahime from her part time job in an hour.”

Choso meets Shoko’s glance and raises an eyebrow when she winks knowingly at him; it takes a few moments to understand the implication. “O-Oh, I also can’t go. Yuji is with Nobara at the movie theater across town… so I have to pick them up…?”

You’re so engrossed in your phone that you don’t pay attention to the way Choso works out his questionable excuse slowly to gauge Shoko’s approval of his statement. After a few moments you look up and blink at both of them; Suguru is glaring at the two.

“Oh, that’s fine. Sugu–”

“He’s free!” Shoko interrupts while pouring the wooden bricks onto a clear opening of the table; Choso immediately assists in building a tower.

The man beside you grumbles before pulling out his own cellphone to check the time. “I guess I can take you. Satoru’s gonna be busy until 7… so you can’t linger in all the shops.”

“When have I ever–?” You pause and purse your lips when all three of them shoot you a knowing look. Raising your hands in defeat, you swing your legs off his lap and stand up. “Ok, ok, duly noted. Now come on, we’re burning daylight.”

Suguru sighs slightly, but doesn’t fight the way you pull him to his feet and shuffle him to the door. Winter coats are thrown on while the other two continue building a wooden block tower; Shoko leans over to whisper in Choso’s ear who seemingly comes to an epiphany before staring between you and Suguru. 

You narrow your eyes at both of them and wrap a knit scarf around your neck while Suguru fishes around in the small basket by the front door for his car keys. Shoko shimmies up to lean on the edge of the couch.

“Have fun you two~”

Flipping her off, Suguru twirls his keys around his other hand and opens the door; the two of you making your way down the elevator and out of the lobby to his sleek black Audi parked in front. The ignition starts and he lets it run for a few minutes to let the engine warm up as you get situated in the passenger seat.

Everything is the same as it was when you last rode with him– it always was. The seat is still reclined to your preferred position, your residual hair ties and bobby pins sit in the car door basket, an old scrunchie is wrapped around the gear shifter, and even forgotten bracelets and rings sit in the console cup holders. 

You ‘oooo’ when you find your missing class ring from undergrad and slide it on your right ring finger. “You know, I’m surprised the girls you bring in here don’t get pissed off and leave right away.”

Suguru looks up from queuing his Spotify songs and tilts his head. “What do you mean? Is the air freshener bad…?”

While yes, sometimes it smelled like a mix of smoke from the sessions he and his friends occasionally had in the car, the luxury Diptyque car fresher hid them nicely. 

“No, it’s just that all my stuff is scattered around here.”

Suguru blinks and hums slightly before starting his music queue and putting the car in reverse to begin the drive. “Oh, I mean… I guess maybe that would happen.”

Curious to see what else you’ve left in his car, you loosen the slack on your seatbelt and peer into the back seat; Suguru is careful to avoid the potholes as you stretch over the console to dig around behind his chair. It’s mainly clean except for a few coins, parking tickets, and pens until a fabric strap gets your attention.

“Aha! You had my gym bag this whole time?” You snatch the university branded duffle bag and pull it into your lap. “I was arguing with Satoru for days about this– I can’t believe you had it.”

Suguru coughs slightly and peers down at it before reverting his gaze to the street and entering the highway. With excitement, you unzip the bag and dig through the contents you’re happy to be reunited with.

Sound-proof ear buds, insulated metal water bottle, perfume, and at least 2 sets of clothing are all neatly stored here; Suguru is adjusting the volume of the music when you dig through a bit more.

He glances down at your face through the corner of his eye and sucks in his bottom lip before smoothly changing lanes. “Everything alright there?”

You furrow your brows and pull clothing to the side in focus. “Huh? Oh yea…. Just missing something…”

Your underwear. 

You're nearly 100% positive there should be at least 2 pairs in here. There’s always a set of dirty gym clothes and clean casual clothes tucked in this bag, and for whatever reason all other garments are here except your panties. 

Weird. Did you forget to change out of your gym underwear and didn’t pack a replacement? That’s the only explanation right…?

“H-Have you heard this new EP? The band just released it.”

Suguru drags you from your thoughts and increases the volume a bit more; you sigh and zip the bag shut and throw it behind you in the back row again. You’ll remember it this time.

“I haven’t but it sounds good.” You hum while nodding your head to the beat. 

His hands on the wheel are rubbing the leather up and down as he fidgets slightly; a single bead of sweat drips from his temple. Sighing, you open your phone and look at the mall directory once more, though this time for stores that might have a good gift for a certain white haired man.

“Hey, what did you get Satoru for the holidays?” You mumble while scrolling.

“Mmm, I gave him Nanami’s official schedule from the school portal.”

You look up at him and can’t fight the laughter escaping your lips as you stare at him in confusion. “Why-Why would you do that? How did you do that?”

Suguru chuckles in response to your own laughter and shrugs with a smile plastered on; his upper lip raising slightly to show off his canines. “He kept complaining that Nanami was always too busy to hang out. So I guessed his passwords and logged onto his uni account to download his course times.” Suguru turns to you with a devious smile. “Did you know he was taking a baking elective? And he has no classes thursday–friday?”

You shove his shoulder and shake your head with more giggles escaping your lips as Suguru finds himself staring at the way they part. Looking back at your phone, you sink into the seat a little. 

“That’s good… but I can’t exactly do something of that caliber on such short notice, and not at the mall either.”

He hums and flicks on his turn signal to merge into the exit lane when a car cuts in front without warning. Slamming on the brakes, Suguru extends his arm to cover your chest at the abrupt action and veers to avoid rear ending the oblivious driver. Smoothly, he dips into the emergency lane for a brief moment before straightening the vehicle out and continuing to the exit ramp marked for the mall entrance. 

“Fucking hell! Douchebag has no idea where he’s going–” He keeps his arm in front of your torso for an extended moment before returning it to the wheel. “Shit, are you ok?”

Heart rate up slightly from the near accident, you nod and pull on the locked seatbelt to release the vice it has across your chest. “Y-Yea, I’m fine.”

Suguru scans your face with worried eyes before turning his attention back to the road and navigating to the mall parking lot. Without any further potential collisions, he pulls into a decent spot, given the Friday rush, and parks the car. 

“Ok, well aside from that shitty driver, we got here in one piece,” you offer while adjusting your scarf and taking a forgotten hair tie from the console, sliding it on your wrist. 

Suguru sighs in emotional exhaustion and opens his door before starting the walk to the entrance with you at his side. The wind whips both of your hair in every direction, and the snow which had subsided for the drive begins to fall once more. Power walking to the entrance and huddled next to each other for warmth, you sigh in relief when you make it inside and in front of the building map.

“Ok,” you sigh while unwrapping your scarf slightly. “Where should we head to?”

Suguru drags a long index finger that adorns a matching undergrad class ring across the plastic sign. “Mm, there’s an electronics store on the second floor.”

“That might be too pricey..” You reach up and point to another block. “What about a cosmetics store? Do you know what skincare he likes?”

Suguru rubs the back of his head slightly; his long hair tousled freely down. “I’m not sure the particular brand… but I do know the packages he orders online are stamped as imports… I think from France, Japan, and Korea?”

You swallow thickly and remind yourself to raid Satoru’s bathroom drawers next time he pisses you off. “Ok then– let’s just head to the main department store. I can look for clothes for him and my dinner outfit there too.”

Suguru nods once and moves to walk beside you. “Good idea, it also limits the amount of time we spend here.”

You both seamlessly shuffle through the crowd; strollers, small children, and couples loiter in the walkways, but Suguru always ensures to look behind if he thinks you’ve drifted too far. He waits in front of the entrance as you squirm through a group of highschoolers and chuckles when you roll your eyes at how annoying it was to cut through them all. 

Entering the department store, you both walk side by side towards the men’s section to go over potential items. Each hanger that slides across the rack is seemingly not good enough until you catch a particular pale blue crewneck sweater. 

You pull it off the rack and hold it up before calling Suguru’s name; he looks up from his position a few aisles over and walks over.

“What about this?”

He looks it up and down and shrugs slightly. “Uh, sure?”

You scowl at the man and rest it along the hangers on the rack to get a better view of how the entire garment looks. “You’re not helping– I need to make sure it looks good.”

Suguru stands idly next to you, frustration building in his veins. He’s been to the mall with you dozens of times, both in a group and privately, but this particular time has him feeling agitated. He tells himself it’s because he hasn’t slept well recently, because he skipped lunch, or because he’s sick of walking around a packed shopping mall when you both could be back on his couch playing Jenga.

Realistically, it’s because of you. The way you're doting over every detail of a sweater for his best friend and not even giving the man at your side a sideways glance. It’s nothing new– you and Satoru have been family friends for years, but something about this moment seems to get under his skin more than usual.

Maybe because it’s the first time you and Satoru are going to be together without either one of you telling him about it. The thought of slowly getting isolated from your life does more than annoy Suguru: it terrifies him.

“Hellooo? Do you think it’s ok?”

“Hm?” He snaps out of his thoughts and examines the sweater. “Yes, it looks good. I’m sure he’d like it.”

You pause and huff slightly. You know Suguru well enough that something is bothering him, but you also know that if you push it, he’ll just retreat further. Dropping your gaze to the garment, you fish out the price tag from the collar and whine at the amount of zeroes printed 

“Ok, well it was on this sale rack. So I’ll have it priced checked… and if it’s not on sale, I’ll go to the home section.”

You place the garment over your forearm and walk towards the woman’s section now–set on finding a dress for the weekend. Suguru trails behind you and apathetically looks at the clothing racks with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets; he’s making no effort to show his unamusement with the outing. 

Trying your best to ignore the way he unzips his parka from the heat in the store and adjusts his pale gray crewneck, you make a beeline for the dress section. He follows you and stands beside you this time, no longer loitering several aisles over, and watches as you skim through a variety of options.

“Too long, too mature, too..eugh–” you mumble while sliding hanger after hanger down the rack until a clerk walks by.

“Hi there! Looking for anything in particular?”

You look up at the woman and shrug slightly. “Oh, no. Just browsing!”

Suguru stands silently at your side and the employee looks him up and down before noticing the sweater hanging over your arm. “Well, if you and your boyfriend want to color match, please let me know! We have a great selection of evening wear that just came in.”

You freeze and try to mumble an excuse while she smiles and promises to get a fitting room unlocked after you make your selection. Sighing in relief when she finally leaves, you turn to Suguru to make a joke when you notice him standing there with a frown across his face. 

“That was awkward, hah. As if I’d want to match with Satoru–”

“Are you almost done?”

Stumbling slightly, you furrow your brows at the man before pivoting to face the clothing rack and slide a few more hangers down. Ok, now he is starting to make you annoyed too.

“Yea, geez. You can wait outside by the food court if this is too much.”

He scoffs and you ignore it before pulling out a satin mini dress that was tucked in between two other dresses. Someone had definitely tried to hide it, and lucky for you it was just your size. 

Pulling it back and resting it on top of the other hangers, you admire the cut of the fabric. It was an A-line black satin mini dress with an open back and an overall length that would fall to your mid thigh. A little short for an evening dinner with family, but you could add tights and high boots to it to even it out.

“This is nice.” You run your hand down the fabric and admire the smoothness of the dress before pulling out the price tag. “A little pricey… but I would definitely wear it more than once.”

Suguru leans over your shoulder. “That?”

You spin and look up to face him. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Aren’t you going to a family dinner?”

“Yea– but I could wear this more than once.”

Suguru scoffs and folds his arms, his eyebrows furrowed to nearly a ‘V’. Having enough of his childish behavior, you mirror his position and stand upright. “Ok, what the fuck is your problem?”

He looks taken aback before rolling his eyes and retreating slightly; he looks away as if there was no issue. “Problem? I don’t have one. I just want to go home.”

You step forward to  make up the distance he created. “No, you’ve been having a shitty attitude since we got to the mall. So what’s up?”

“I already said I’m fine, ok? Leave it.” 

His voice raises and you increase your volume to match; it’s becoming an entire argument. “You’re lying. Just say what’s wrong so I can understand what your problem is.”

Suguru steps forward and looks down at you menacingly, the intimidation causing you to back up slightly and hit your lower back on a clothing hanger. “I don't have a problem. If you want to dress like a slut at his family dinner, then go ahead.”

There’s a silence that immediately follows as the words leave his lips and you stand there frozen. Never, has Suguru ever called you a slut. Not once. 

When your shitty ex-boyfriend called you one for having male friends, Suguru was there to argue on your behalf. And when a sleazy guy once called you a whore for refusing to sleep with him, Suguru was there to punch him in the face– and effectively spent the evening at the local police department while you and Satoru tried to clear his name. 

The word hurts; this hurts. And you can tell the moment it leaves his lips, Suguru is trying to find a way to reverse time and take it back.

“I… I didn’t mea–”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off and grab the dress from the rack before tossing it over your forearm and making a move to walk away as soon as possible.

He’s hot on your heels behind you as you head for the fitting room. “y/n… y/n wait. Please–”

You shrug off his hand on your shoulder and shove him back slightly, eyes narrow and cold as you glare at him. “No, it’s fine. You said what you thought– just go home if you’re going to judge me for my clothing choices.”

Spinning back around, you increase your speed towards the stall doors of the changing area.

“That’s not what I meant.. You know that–”

“I don’t know how else to interpret you calling me a slut. Listen… just go home. I’ll call Shoko and have her pick me up.”

The man shakes his head and tries trailing you again before you disappear down the hallways of fitting rooms and slide into the largest one at the back corner. 

He stands at the entrance for a few moments, his mind replaying the moment over and over again. Standing frozen, he steps back and runs frustrated hands through his hair and tugs on his scalp in self-hatred.

FUCK

He didn’t mean to call you that– he’s never called you anything malicious on purpose. Sure, your entire friend group will jokingly call each other dicks, bitches, jackasses, and more; but you’ve never meant it.

Suguru huffs a few times and runs a hand down his face, tugging his lower eyelids down with force as he tries to think of a way to salvage this. Meanwhile, you shimmy out of your puffer coat, quarter zip, and jeans before stepping into the black satin dress.

It’s hard to look at your own reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that adorn the large fitting room; dejectedly, you sit on the large bench that hugs the opposite wall and tuck your hands into your face.

The dress is cute, perfect even, but you can’t help the weight in your chest that’s tugging you down a hole of self deprecation. Were you trying too hard? Looking back up into the mirror and standing to see the reflection, you notice every detail you wished would change.

Stretch marks adorn your skin in certain places, a few bumps and bruises from moments you don’t remember, and the aspects of your figure you wish would be just a little bit different. Maybe the dress was perfect, but the woman inside felt far from it.

Eyes dropping in disappointment, you spin to fish your phone from your jeans pocket to call Shoko before a knock on the door rings out. You place your phone back on the bench before you can draft a message and move to open it– expecting the clerk from earlier. 

Dark, nearly purple eyes, meet your own and you immediately slam it shut and turn the lock.

“y/n, wait.”

“No, leave Suguru.”

He sighs through the door and tries the handle before knocking again. “Please– please just open it. I want to apologize”

“I don’t care what you have to say.”

Suguru bangs on it again and the door creaks from the force. “I’ll break it if I have to… you know that.”

You groan knowing he literally would, and turn the lock to let him in. Vulnerable and sad eyes meet yours as he steps in and shuts the door behind in the process. The lock clicks back into place while you walk deeper into the room to gain some space.

“Ok, so talk.”

Suguru drags his eyes up and down your figure a few times before awkwardly standing in the center of the room; you slouch and move to cover yourself with your arms as you lean against the opposite wall. 

“I..” he starts before awkwardly coughing and shoving his hands deep into his baggy blue jean pockets. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it… I’m just… not in the best mood is all.”

You sigh and look at the floor. “Ok, great. Now that you’ve spoken, you can leave.”

Suguru pauses, shocked, before huffing slightly in frustration. “No, you don’t believe me. Just listen–”

“I am listening, Suguru. You never explained why you had a stick up your ass and then snapped at me suddenly. So if you want to go sulk just do it somewhere else… I don’t care anymore.”

You do care. He knows it and so do you, but you both know as stubborn as he is to communicate his feelings, you’re just as rigid when it comes to admitting he’s gotten under your skin. 

“I just…” he takes his hands from his pockets and rubs his face in frustration. “It just annoyed me to see you going all out for him, ok? All this effort for a cute sweater, and taking your time to find a dress–that dress, to wear in front of him…”

He doesn’t make any sense to you. You’ve gotten dolled up and dressed pretty for frat parties and dinners with your friends dozens of times in the past, this one doesn’t feel any different.

You roll your eyes and catch your appearance in the mirror again, looking forlorn at the way the fabric clings onto you. “It’s fine. I’m not getting this dress anyways…”

The man in front of you pauses and softens his gaze when he notices the way you’re picking your appearance apart in the mirror before his eyes. “..What? Why not?”

“It just doesn’t look good is all…” You reply softly, standing upright and moving back to the bench to get your clothes in order. 

Suguru knows this is his fault as you dejectedly pull your jeans out from under your parka and shake them slightly to unravel from their crumpled position. 

“What? It looks beautiful– you look beautiful.” 

Shaking your head slightly, you turn to him with an annoyed look and scoff. “Riiight. From a slut to beautiful in under 10 minutes is quite the turn around. Any other contradictions you’d like to add? Or can you leave so I can get changed?”

You don’t let him apologize, too pissed off to give him even the grace to accept his attempts at mending the argument; Suguru steps forward, having enough, and pulls your jeans from your hands.

“Can you– can you just fucking listen?”

Ready to argue again, you raise your voice. “Huh? You’re the one th–”

“Just,” he grabs your shoulders and holds you straight. “Shut the fuck up. Ok?”

You glare at him but remain silent nonetheless as he takes a breath before continuing. “I was wrong ok? I let my feelings get in the way and called you something I never wanted to. I just…”

He sighs and dips his head down slightly to stare at the corner of the fitting room, internally deciding how he should word everything. “I–” he gives a long exhale before peeling his eyes to meet yours, beginning to spew out everything at once. “I like you. Ok? And, I know, trust me I know, we’re friends and are in the same friend group and this is so fucking stupid and could literally ruin everything… but– I can’t control that. I can’t control the fact that I’m in love with you and it’s killing me.”

You stare wide eyed at him as he pours his heart out in an act of vulnerability you’ve only seen a few times before. Long raven hair falls forward as he grips your shoulders slightly tighter as if you’d run away if he let go. “I’ve tried… I’ve tried so many times to ignore it or wish it away but I can’t. And that is what kills me. I shouldn’t care if you and Choso make cookies with Yuji on the weekends. I shouldn’t care when Shoko and Utahime take you to get your nails done after class. I shouldn’t care if you get dinner with Satoru and his family–but I do. And I ruined everything because of it… so, I’m sorry ok?”

Oh, shit.

Standing motionless as Suguru catches his breath and his eyes bore into your own. This wasn’t the situation you were expecting to happen when you had dragged him to the mall, and it certainly wasn’t one you were prepared to address. 

Shoko and Utahime had teased you countless times about your stupid crush on the man; his reserved and coy nature was enough to make countless other women flock to him, so you silently resigned and convinced yourself you were ‘ok’ with simply being his friend. He was brutally honest and at the same time, a terrible communicator, and had on more than one occasion resorted to holing himself up in his room rather than face his demons head on. Suguru preferred to suffer in silence than resort to being a burden on his friends, and knowing that he felt the same way about you the entire time makes your heart ache.

“Please… please say something.” His hands remain on your shoulders while his eyes search yours for some sort of answer hidden beneath. 

“I..I don’t know what to say,” you whisper honestly. 

He winces and peels his head backwards slightly, but his hands remain on your shoulders. Taking a breath of compsore he nods once and attempts to harden his face. “That’s…fine. I’m fine.. if you don’t feel the same. Just, tell me now so I can get this over with and we can pretend it never happened.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, I can’t do that.”

He looks up, mildly confused before you continue, “I can’t pretend this never happened because I do feel the same, Suguru.”

He sucks in a breath and stands a bit taller; his hands fall down to your upper arm as he looks at you steadily for several moments to process what was happening.

��Oh. Oh. Woa, ok… That’s better than what I was expecting to be honest…”

You both stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what was supposed to happen now. Sucking in your bottom lip to moisten it, you watch as Suguru rocks once on his feet as he tries to formulate something else to say. Something to address the elephant in the room.

“So… what now–”

“--Prove it,” he interrupts. 

You pause and raise an eyebrow. “Huh? Prove what?”

“Prove that you like me more than him.”

Blinking a few times, you shake your head slightly. “Him? Satoru? Seriously, Suguru? I just admitted I feel the same way as you do and now you want me–”

“–So show me you do.”

Huffing slightly as he lightens the atmosphere slightly with his signature fox-like smirk, you stand a bit taller. “Stop interrupting m–”

“–I will after you– hmpf”

In an instant your lips on his and Suguru is effectively silenced from annoying you any further. His lips are soft and pillowy; a thin layer of chapstick coats them in a honey flavor you commit to memory before pulling away slightly.

Suguru slides his hands down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps at his touch, before snaking them around your waist to pull you in closer. Pupils blown so wide his irises are nearly engulfed in black, he scans your face with the same grin that leaves his canines exposed.

“Mmm, I’m still not convinced, princess”

Your own mouth curls into a smile as you wrap your arms around his neck to tug him down; your spine arches at tension and you can feel your nipples hardening through the thin fabric at your chest. “It’s not my fault you’re jealous.”

The fingertips that hold your waist steady increase their pressure and effectively render you motionless in front of him. Suguru lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head slightly; his eyes soften at your tease as he relaxes into the moment. “Of course I’m jealous. You were gonna get dressed up all pretty for another guy– can’t let my girl go doing that.”

Noses nearly touching, you smile into him and tilt your head to the side. “ ‘Your girl’, huh?”

“Yea, you got a problem with that?” His lips break into a grin and are parted so prettily just above your own.

When you fake taking a moment to ponder, he drags a hand up to tug your jaw to reface him; he holds it steadily in place while pushing his head forward to collide his lips onto yours.

The movement has force behind it, and the rhythm of his lips rocks your head in moving waves to sync with his pace. Delicious chapstick rubs off further onto you and saliva drips down the crease of both of your lips and coats your chin. Sighing impatiently, his hand leaves your jaw and drops back to your waist before dipping further to knead the flesh of your ass.

Groans escape your lips as he pivots to push your back flush against the mirror; you tangle your hands in his long hair, careful to avoid pulling on any sensitive piercings that adorn his ears. Moans vibrate against your mouth as a few particular tugs against his scalp leave him pinching and squeezing your ass with enough force to leave a few bruises. 

It’s hot. So fucking hot. The heat is blasting within the store and you can feel beads of sweat dripping at your inner thigh– oh wait. It’s not sweat.

Suguru steps back hastily when you glide your tongue over his bottom lip to deepen the kiss. Hands hesitantly glide through his hair as he makes distance; a few curses leave his mouth when he tugs his arms out of his winter coat and throws it to the floor. Immediately after, he tugs the light gray sweatshirt off as well and is left in a basic white-tee. The action has the garment raised just slightly enough to see a chiseled ‘V-line’ snake into his trousers, and a partially unkempt happy trail that starts at his navel and disappears below the belt line. 

Your pussy gushes and clenches pathetically around nothing at the sight. You’ve seen him shirtless before plenty of time, but this one is different. He’s not undressing to go for a swim at a party house Satoru rented and he’s not undressing to walk Megumi’s dogs outside in the summer when he’s busy; he’s undressing for you.

“Why don’t you take a picture, pretty girl? It’ll last longer.”

Looking up and rolling your eyes, you try desperately to act as if the moment isn’t affecting you as much as it really is. Unswayed, he steps forward and reconnects your lips with his tongue languidly sliding in your mouth as if he owned it.

A cool metal orb clinks every so often against your front teeth from the piercing that sits in the center of his tongue; the feeling of it rubbing along every crevice of your mouth leaves you panting for air.

Closed mouth kisses leave you chasing his lips for the delicious honey flavor while open mouth ones cause his tongue to rub with your own. No molar is left unchecked and no surface of your lips remain untouched by his own.

The mirror is cool on your back from the way the dress exposes your skin; still arched, his hands knead the flesh of your ass a few more times before resting on where your rib cage meets your lower torso.

Suguru leaves your lips for a moment before placing fervent hot pecks on the corner of your mouth and down the side of your jaw until he reaches your pulse point. Heart rate so intense under the flesh he can feel the beat on his lips, Suguru chuckles dryly to himself. 

“Fuck princess, you’re getting all worked up f’me? Heh… better leave a few ‘thank yous.’” 

Before you can murmur a response, sharp canines dig into the flesh while his lips pucker on your skin to suck. The sensation is nearly painful but leaves you grinding desperately into his body aching for more. Popping the suction to bite and kiss the skin, before running the flat of his tongue over the marked skin in apology, Suguru trails hot lips to another open spot for him to repeat the process.

It’s dirty and possessive the way he keeps you so obediently still in his hands while his mouth marks you as if it were a brush and your delicate skin an awaiting canvas. Whimpers escape you as he trails onto yet another spot and you’re getting desperate for even more.

Hips jerking forward slightly once more as he runs his tongue flat up your throat, cooling the skin with his piercing, your pelvis grinds into his crotch. Erection straining uncomfortably despite his baggy jeans, Suguru groans at the friction and holds you further still. 

“S-Stop squirming.. Ha..” He pants out while keeping his gaze firmly on your throat with predatory eyes. Tilting your head slightly with his nose to make you face the other way, he dips his mouth back down to the other side of your neck. “Gotta even it out first. Then, I’ll deal with her.”

Mind foggy from the feeling of his lips reattaching to suck mean hickies along the side of your neck, you nearly miss the way one of his hands has snaked down to pinch the bottom hem of your dress teasingly. 

Suguru’s nose tickles the patch of skin under your ear as he bites down under your jaw and leaves a small line of saliva dripping down your neck and onto the plush top of your breast.

“Shit..better clean up.” 

Without hesitation, he chases after his own spit and begins leaving open mouth kisses to the top of your tits. His head is dipped down into your chest, causing his hair to tickle your skin and effectively block the erotic view of his mouth attempting to suck as much of your breast he’s physically able. 

“Suguru–” you whine out pathetically from now above him.

He places a few more kisses to the other breast before chuckling; the vibration between the valley of your breasts leaves you aching for him to just fuck you already.

 “Patience, pretty girl.” He stands up right to tug the straps of your dresses down slightly and guide your arms to shimmy out. 

Once both pieces of fabric fall under your arms, he takes both hands to pinch the top of your dress and tugs down to free your tits. Nipples hard in arousal, you instinctively react to cover them before deft hands catch your own.

“Hey now, why are you covering them up? Fucking beautiful…” he mumbles while releasing his grasp to pinch both nipples and smile when you squirm at the sensation. “Even better than I’ve imagined…”

Instantly he dips back down to suck and bite on your right nipple while his hand kneads and grasps at the fat of the other. Teeth pinch the flesh before rutting his tongue over the nub over and over again before pivoting to repeat the action to the other breast.

Your panties are beyond saturated with your arousal at this point, and the erection in Suguru’s pants looks painful for how desperate it grinds against the fly of his jeans; despite that, he’s set on taking his time. 

After he repeats the action to both breasts for a second time, your impatient hands tugs his hair up to meet your lips. Molding to yours instantaneously, as if they were made to fit together, he sighs happily into you.

Tugging his hair back again, you note the way he nearly whimpers at being denied your lips and stare into his dazy eyes. “Need you Sugu, now.”

In all of his disgusting dreams he’s always tried to forget, Suguru takes his sweeeet time before fucking you sensless. Fingering you with deft hands until you cum and then eating you out to effectively taste every drop of your orgasm is the main appetizer to all of his fantasies; the way you say that stupid nickname leaves him powerless before you.

You always had him wrapped around your finger, even if you never knew it– hell he would kill the world if it made you happy. 

But, using the last of his resolve, Suguru steps back and tries to catch his breath and rationality. He runs a hand through his hair and shuts his eyes to come back to earth for a moment; the two of you in a department store dressing room for fuck’s sake. 

This is not how he planned it– any of it. Suguru had always planned on confessing over a nice evening walk, maybe the ones you always do when the bar gets too hot and loud and you want fresh air. He’d pretend he can’t light his cigarette from the wind and let you do it for him instead; but at the last second he would drop the rolled tobacco from his lips and pull you in for a kiss. 

Then maybe you’d get dinner, and if he was lucky and you were down, you’d go back to his apartment before Satoru noticed you two had disappeared. You be in his bedroom, an album he already selected ready on the player to ease the mood, and he’d be freshly showered and shaved.

But he’s not. 

Instead, you’re both here– in a fitting room with top 40 playing on the store speakers, migraine inducing overhead lights nearly blinding his vision, and he’s not sure the last time he’s kept up appearances down there.

The mood is not set for anything other than dressing room panic attacks. But in this moment, with your hair disheveled, tits pouring out from the hottest dress he’s ever seen, and light pants escaping your swollen lips… Suguru is sure he’s never seen you look so beautiful.

“We… we shouldn’t,” he pants out, trying his hardest to not to take you right here and now.

“W-What? Why not?” you scan his face in search of something that rationally limits the line you’ve both already crossed. With a slight shiver of self consciousness, you fold into yourself slightly. “Am I not…what you thought..?”

The way your voice dips slightly leaves Suguru’s heart cracking and he frantically walks back up. “No… no baby you’re beautiful.. Fucking better than I even dreamed of– I just,” he swallows thickly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Eyeing the way he tries to casually adjust the band of his jeans as if his cock isn’t weeping profusely in his boxers, you take his hand and guide it back to your chest. “Please, Suguru. I want this, I want you.”

Fuck. Any strength left in him is quickly fleeting as you bat your pretty lashes up at him; the sight of you could cause a war in Troy. 

“Ok,” he breathes out, coming to terms that this was happening, and slight performance anxiety building in him. “Ok, let’s do this.”

Smiling slightly, you move to capture his lips and rock into him a few times, but before you can savor the moment, Suguru is dropping to his knees. Blind in desire, he kneels before your thighs and hovers eye level with your clothed cunt; pushing the fabric up, he peers up at your dark thong that's fully saturated in slick. The sight alone is enough for him to chuckle pathetically in a daze.

“All this f’me princess? I gotta say my thanks to her.” 

Taking the flimsy g-string by the gusset and tugging it to the floor, you kick it off your ankles before he pinches the flesh of your inner thighs. Suguru’s thumbs dig into the skin just under your pussy to pry it open just a bit more, running a long stripe of his tongue across the weeping folds.

Tapping your legs to spread a little wider, you pivot to widen your stance slightly before he dives back into your cunt. It’s a kiss against your pussy similar to the one he had given your lips just minutes earlier; closed mouth kisses that suck the arousal from your folds before his tongue snakes inside your tight hole as if he owned it.

Metallic orb rutting around inside you, your back arches at the feeling and your hand grabs a fistful of his hair. Nose rubbing your engorged clit, Suguru rhythmically sways his head to lick every surface outside and inside your cunt. A few thrusts of his tongue for good measure, he rocks back slightly to slowly push in his middle finger past the first ring of muscular resistance. 

“Fuck princess.. So damn tight, don’t know if you can even take my cock.”

Eyebrows furrowing at the words and pleasurable sensation, you whimper from above him. “Please Sugu… need it.”

 A chuckle escapes his lips as he watches the girl of his dreams, who plagued them every night, desperately rutting against his finger while begging for his dick. Returning his lips to suck on your clit as a second finger pushes inside to rub around in search of your g-spot, you throw your head back against the mirror. 

One hand shakily leaves his hair to cover your mouth as he scissors his fingers and rubs his tongue piercing against your clit. Moans threatening to escape your lips are muffled by your hand as he flexes his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion against the rough patch in your pussy.

It’s sudden and intense; your hips twitch against his fingers as your free hand tugs his hair in aggressive pulls. Humming happily from his knelt position between your legs, Suguru pulls an orgasm from you as your cunt spasms from the sensation. 

Panting and attempting to catch your breath as Suguru slides his fingers from your soaked hole and pops them in his mouth before leaning back to slither his tongue inside once more.

The overstimulation has you squirming above him. “Ha…ngh w-wait…haaa Suguuu s’too much..”

He mumbles something from under your dress and it takes force to pull his head back and away from your swollen cunt. Slick coats his chin as he looks in a happy daze up from his kneeling position; his eyes almost scream ‘proud of me?’. 

Suguru is dragged to his feet by your pulls and feeds you your own orgasm with his tongue. His hands rub complacent circles against your pelvic bones and his still clothed erection grinds just below your navel in desperate search for relief.  

“Need you inside me..” you murmur against his lips.

He retreats with a dry chuckle. “I just was.”

“You know what I mean, smartass.”

A coy smirk on his lips, he steps back to slide his belt out of the belt loops and tosses it to the floor. Unzipping the fly and releasing the button, Suguru slides his jeans down and pivots them to the side; you miss the way he kicks your forgotten thong underneath his now discarded pants. 

The wet patch on his gray Calvins’ leaves you pausing slightly at the size your best friend had been packing this whole time. Dark raven hair escapes underneath the band of his boxer briefs and his dick twitches from the way your gaze is locked on the shape.

“This is why I prefer to take my time with warm ups…but don’t worry, princess. I think you should be stretched out enough.”

The coy and egotistical statement partially masks his own insecurity as you pivot to the bench the sits along the wall.

What if you thought it looked weird? If you saw he hasn’t shaven in a few days and get turned off? Or if it’s not up to par with your exes–

The sensation of you tugging the waistband down to free his weeping cock pulls Suguru from his thoughts as he steadily examines your reaction. It’s hard to discern what’s going on in your mind as only one word can be formulated in your brain.

Large.

Had he been sheathing this thing in his jeans the entire time??

Longer than any man you’d been with, though not as thick, several veins run from his lower pelvis to the sides of his shaft. A pretty flushed mushroom tip weeps with precum from the slit while some unkempt pubic hair litters his base and heavy balls. 

Understanding now the feeling of vulnerability earlier when he had pulled your dress down to expose your tits, Suguru can feel himself internally retreating when you don’t say anything. 

Before he can suggest just taking this home and resuming from the comfort of his shared apartment, you lean forward to lick the slit of his cock and plant a few kisses along the shaft.

Shivering from your touch, his cock twitches from its position in your pretty hands. It’s bad. In every pervy fantasy he’s conjured over the years of being your friend, he’s always been the one to make you wither beneath him from multiple orgasms. Not him about to cum from the way you gently jerk him off to test the waters to examine how he likes it.

Gently guiding your hands away, he nudges you to kneel on the wooden bench. “Haa I’ll take you up on that later princess. I just need to be inside you right now.”

Letting him spin you, your arms fold into a 90 degree angle while your knees lift your ass up to meet his pelvis. Calloused hands rub your hips slightly in the doggy position before he pushes the fabric of the dress up once again.

“Wait– do you have a condom?” You mumble while tilting your head back to gaze at the man behind you.

Suguru blinks and snaps back to reality for a few moments while looking down at his discarded jeans. “No…and I don’t have anything to clean up if I pull out…shit.”

He should’ve known that his luck would run out eventually; that there had to be something– 

“Stop by the pharmacy after we leave? Get the uh… plan b pill?”

Suguru peels his eyes back to yours and with more excitement than he meant to show, he nods eagerly. “Yea!... I mean.. Yea, that works for me..”

As dark and mysterious as he always tried to act, he was still your dorkish best friend–well maybe a new title considering the current situation. With a nod in approval, Suguru pumps himself a few times before gliding his tip up and down your folds a few times. 

Knowing lube would usually be needed, he coats himself in your previous orgasm and growing arousal before spitting in his hand to ensure his cock would slide in with limited discomfort to either one of you. 

Pushing down on your shoulder blades slightly to increase the arch of your spine, Suguru lines up his cock with your entrance and begins pushing in slowly. Inch after inch slides inside to the point you’re wondering if there’s any room left in your cunt to accommodate the rest of him.

“Haaa… oh shit– Sugu… ngh” 

“Shhh I know… fuck I know princess..”

By the time he bottoms out and you can feel his pubes tickling the skin between your thighs, you’re wondering if his cock is in your lungs from how long he is. Suguru is faring no better above you; pausing to let you adjust while he breathes slowly to imagine a million different scenarios to prevent him from cumming already. 

The thesis paper he’s been putting off, the weather for the upcoming week, fuck even imagining the boring way his advisor Yaga drones on about his future isn’t working. Shallow long breaths escape both of your lips until you twitch slightly to indicate your ready for him to move. 

A few slow pumps leave his cock sliding halfway out before his tip kisses the opening of your cervix; low groans escape you at the sensation of how deep he was inside you. It was the moment you had shamefully masturbated too countless times, and now it was finally happening as your best friend increases the pace of his dick splitting you open over and over again. 

“O-Oh… Sugu haaa”

Labored breaths echo above you as he takes his white tee into his teeth to provide a better view and muffle the sound of his own moans. Heavy balls smack forward and occasionally graze your click while the wet sound of ‘plap! Plap! Plap! reverberates off the walls.

Hands gripping your hips fall forward to snake around your waist as he folds over to hover his chest over your back; Suguru leans partially on the bench as he increases the speed of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt.

He swears your pussy is made for him; sucking him back in with a vice grip to milk him dry. Your nails are desperately digging into the cheap wooden bench for some sense of stability as the roughness of each thrust rocks your body forward until your tits are smushed underneath you. The angle is sharper and causes his tip to hit your g-spot with a gasp.

“H-Here? … gotta fuck you good right ..ngh here, princess?”

A hand snakes around your throat to lightly tug your head up; impatient for a response, you part your drooling lips to answer. “Yes! Fuck.. yes please… right there– Sugu.”

An airy laughs escapes his lips despite the way his body is twitching, eager for a release.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Hi there, ma’am! Is everything alright in there?” 

The clerk’s voice from before rings out behind the stall door and Suguru nearly trips over you to pause slightly. Exchanged worried glances are shared between you both as he urges you to respond to avoid suspicion. 

“O-Oh, yes! I’m alright, thank you!”

Suguru leans back up to his standing upright position and glances at the door before staring at how your cunt is stuffed so full of his cock. Mind drunk from the way your soaked pussy flutters around him, he begins to shallowly thrust again.

His hand keeps your back in the arched angle when you try to scramble forward from the motion.

“Ok, great! And how’s the size? It’s not too big, right? We have smaller sizes available if you want to try those.”

Suguru has to stop from chuckling and settles for a wolfish toothy smirk as you bite down on your lip to avoid spilling the moans that sit in your throat. A particular thrust has you coughing slightly before looking back up at the man with a competitive gaze.

“No, I’m alright. Thanks.”

The clerk remains in front of the door when you push back on your knees to meet Suguru’s shallow thrust and cause him to bottom out completely in your pussy again. Clenching your muscles to pulse around his cock, he folds forward and bites down on your shoulder to hid the way your name is leaving his lips in puffs. 

He was going to cum. 

Fuck. He was trying so hard to make you cream on his cock first, but the way you’re desperately throwing your hips back to take his length makes his dick twitch in anticipation. That, and the fact that someone could hear and catch you, makes him hornier than he expected. It’s a day full of learning experiences. 

The clerk hums from outside the door about a few other color options before you can hear her heels click down the hallway of the changing room; as soon as her footsteps are out of ear shot, Suguru increases the pace to a brutal jackhammer.

“Shit–sorry princess… haaa gonna cum…gonna fuckin–”

Suguru doesn’t get to finish his sentence, interrupted by the guttural groan that escapes his throat and causes his Adam’s apple to flex slightly. Hips rocking to a staccato, hot ropes of cum pour from his cock and fill your pussy to the brim.

The heat has you whining and craving for your own release as Suguru thrusts himself through his orgasm while catching his breath. Ignoring the way his cock is raw in overstimulation, he reaches down to rub circles on your clit and angle his dick to rub slightly against your g-spot.

“O-Ohhh shit–” you dip your head down between your balled fists of the wooden bench and can feel your hips jutting backward to chase the feeling building in your gut.

“Come on princess…wanna feel you cum on my dick,” Suguru coaches as he whimpers at the way your pussy is flexing and gushing against him. 

He makes a mental note to avoid jerking off before the two of you ever meet– in a desperate need to keep up his stamina to give you multiple rounds next time.

Fingers rubbing your puffy clit, the coolness of his ring making you whine, while his cock is rubbing perfectly against your g-spot is all it takes to make your orgasm wash over you. Hands flexing and grabbing at nothing on the wooden bench while your lips part to pant and moan at the feeling; Suguru rubs a supportive hand on the small of your back under your dress as you come down from the high.

There’s a silence as he slips out with a slight wince and appreciates the ring of both of your cum that smeared along his shaft and forms a ring around the base. Tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs, he moves to help you sit upright after admiring the way his cum dribbles from your weeping hole. 

Covered in hickies, knees red from the position, and his semen leaking from your cunt, you sit up in a hazy daze and look up at the man in front of you.

“You alright, princess?”

Blinking slowly and catching your breath, you nod once and come back to earth; you both move to get redressed quickly. 

“What’s with the pet name? I’m not complaining but I just didn’t expect it.”

“Oh that?” Suguru coughs slightly, “I mean…. It’s easier to say ‘you alright, princess?’ than ‘you alright, girlfriend?’ so…”

You pause from the position of reclasping your bra and tugging on your quarter zip to look at him. “Girlfriend..?”

His expression pales as he jumps to get his other leg into the pants sleeve of his jeans. “Oh, did you… did you not want to?”

“No!-” you exclaim a bit too excited. “I mean– I want to date… I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

Suguru sighs in gratitude before buttoning his jeans and pulling up the zipper; once his belt is secured back around the fabric, he walks over to you and pushes a few strands of hair out of your face. A quick peck against your temple, he gives your ass a quick squeeze before tossing you your pants.

“Wait–” you pause before looking around on the floor. Tugging up the now discarded dress to search underneath, Suguru anxiously looks away as you turn to him. “Where’s my underwear…? I could have sworn it was over he–”

“-- We need to hurry and leave before anyone gets suspicious.” He interrupts while picking up your winter coat parka.

You frown and look at your jeans, not particularly keen on ‘going commando’ in denim. “Yea, but what about when we get back to your apartment?”

He places your coat on the bench and holds open your jeans to step into. “We can shower and I’ll give you a change of clothes. Okay?”

You shrug and resolve to shimmy on your pants with his assistance and awkwardly head out of the changing room one at a time to avoid looking strange. The walking stance is wide to avoid an awkward chafe while Suguru guides you to the nearest self checkout.

The process is quick– both your dress and Satoru’s sweater are on sale, and the two of you power walk out of the mall and drive to the pharmacy near his apartment before returning to your friends inside. 

Choso and Shoko sit at the kitchen island in front of a large pizza box while now Nanami and Haibara pour causal drinks for them.

“Oh, when did you guys get here?” you awkwardly ask as Suguru tries to kick off his boot as fast as possible and avoid the suspicious stare of your friends.

Nanami glances between a chuckling Shoko and Choso before turning to Haibara to see if he also knew about what inside joke was being shared. The brunette man shrugs and pays no attention to you as he pulls a slice from the box. “Uhhh, maybe 45 minutes ago? The pizza just got here though!”

You shimmy off your winter coat but ensure your quarter zip is pulled up all the way and shuffle to follow Suguru away from the kitchen. “Oh that’s fine! I’m not hungry right now.”

Shoko smiles as Suguru shoots her a ‘don’t even try’ glare. “Really? You guys were gone for a while. Did you eat anything while you were out?”

Nanami nearly chokes on his beverage, now understanding the implication and horrifically glancing between the both of you while Haibara stands idly in blissful ignorance. “Wait. Didn’t you two go to the mall?”

Wincing at the way your blonde friend stares in disbelief, Suguru grabs your shoulders and guides you to his bedroom. “Yes, we did. Now if you’ll excuse us–”

Walking away, you don’t miss the way Haibara begs Choso to fill him in on what was happening while Shoko tries to get $15 from Nanami as he rubs his eyes in exhaustion. The door clicks behind you and Suguru moves to click on a few table and floor lamps to illuminate the room in a warm glow.

You’ve been here a dozen times, but now the setting feels different; it feels like home as you walk across the plush throw rug that sits beneath his full size bed. Suguru picks an album from his case and plays the record while moving to open the adjacent door to the ensuite bathroom. 

Curious to see what could’ve given away the fact that you two fucked at the mall, you stand in front of his mirror and shriek his name in horror.

“Suguru Geto!”

Scrambling from the bathroom as if you had just been shot, he stands in the doorway and meets your angry gaze before sheepishly coughing. In the reflection, you can see the way your light wash jeans are now saturated at the crotch from the way his and your own cum has seeped out of your cunt and stained the fabric.

On top of that, sitting pretty at the top of his laundry basket are your panties– the ones from your gym bag. Snatching the pairs and waving them in front of him you don’t miss the now obvious bulge in his front pocket and a sliver of black fabric peeking from them.

“You pervert! You’ve been stealing them this whole time?!”

He avoids your gaze for a moment before offering a guilty smile.

“Answer me, Suguru! What do you have to say for yourself?”

He shuffles awkwardly and rubs the back of his head. “Uh, I love you?”

“–No. Besides that.”

Admitting defeat, he sighs and takes the thong from earlier out of his pocket and hands it back to you with a guilt expression. “It’s true you left that gym bag in Satoru’s car… but.. It might’ve been his holiday gift to me…? Ha ha…”

Ok you were definitely going to murder and rob that man when he least expected it. Taking your fingers and pinching the bridge of your nose at the fact your friend had gifted your panties to your now boyfriend, and the fact your entire friend group knew you were together is enough to cause a slight migraine. 

“You know what, whatever. Keep them–” you push them back into his hands and step around him to start the shower. 

Suguru doesn’t hesitate to sock them away in his dresser drawer before you can change your mind and follows you into the bathroom. “Ok… is there something you want?”

Testing the water to ensure it’s warm, you notice the stacked towels and spare clothing Suguru has set aside for you to change into. He watches the way you strip down and silently glances at the shower for permission to follow you in.

Stepping in, you huff with a nod that he eagerly accepts and discards his clothing to join you under the water. Dark raven hair saturates with the water and he tugs it backward to admire the way soap suds of his perfumed shower gel now coat your bruised and loved body.

Gentle kisses on your back and shoulder blades, you sigh in relaxation as his hands massage the tired muscles on your body.

“I got an idea, princess,” he mumbles into your shoulder before spinning you around. “I mean hoodies and sweatpants are yours already, and my car is essential your lost and found so–”

He takes your hand and guides it up to his ear; a variety of piercings and rings are scattered along the flesh. “Pick one.”

You raise an eyebrow and trace his industrial. “What do you mean?”

“Mmm, I’ll change out the jewelry to one with your initial. So pick one.”

Suguru grins with hearts in his eyes as you smile and move to lights touch all of the little jewels and hoops that scatter his ear. Tutting slightly, you withdraw your hand and the smile on his face falls slightly.

He parts his lips to question your choice before your finger slips in his mouth and lightly tug his tongue to fall down past his lower lip. A coy smile on your lips, you raise your other hand and tap the cool orb that sits in the center. “This one.”

Cock hardening at the possessiveness you seem to share, Suguru plants a kiss to your finger and shoots you a toothy smirk. “Consider it done.”

a/n: woooo i finally finished this one!

tbh the plotting for this took longer than actually writing it -> the draft took like 2 weeks and maybe 2 days to actual sit down put it together!

only 2 left in the holiday hoes frat series! but i really like this AU and might continue it with occasional one shots for other themes/characters within JJK

i'm still working on my longer series and regular head cannons i promise~

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated and i hope you liked it <3

-oatmeal

[hee0soo]

When Stars & Moon Align

Pairing — Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader

Summary — Imperial Commander Park Seonghwa is a strict, unforgiving man, ready to follow through with every cruel command he is given... Until the woman he loves reveals herself to be part of the resistance...

Genre — angst, a lil fluff at the end, hurt/clmfort maybe (?) honestly i don't even know anymore

Warnings — death, suicide (?) like bro she asks him to kill her okay, mentions of war, literally every warning that comes with starwars tbh, bloodshed, mention of embyo death(?)

Word Count — 4.1k

Rating — NC-17

A/N — Plsss don't hate me for any inaccurancys! I haven't watched Star Wars in a good while and was simply inspired by this look ⬆️ for golden hour pt. 2

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Not many things were able to throw Park Seonghwa off. He was a well known Commander within the First Order, recognized for his calm, almost cold persona. A man that did not hesitate to kill when necessary or told to do so by the higher ups, cruel almost if one were to ask the victims of his torturous skills of pulling information out of a stubborn rebel. Many had claimed to withstand him and all had failed.

For the First Order, he was an important asset who knew how to get what he wanted and had no qualms about doing what was needed to get exactly that.

And so it was all the more surprising to see the cold façade of ice crack upon coming face to face with the rebels they had managed to catch just a few hours prior. He had yet to see them, only having known about the incomers after getting the order to prepare one of the chambers.

But now, staring into the face of the woman he had tried so hard to hide from his superiors, he had a hard time hiding the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

Had he known that you, his wife, the love of his life, was one of the rebels the First Order and thus him were trying so desperately to eliminate? Of course not! However to say he was surprised would also be a lie.

You had never been one to do as you were told. A true whirlwind that he had to save from getting her ass handed to her more times than he could count. Someone who was able to bring out the softer, more carefree side of his personality with something as simple as an eye bat and a smile that made it look like the stars were sparkling in them.

Hands bound behind your back and on your knees, glaring at the cold grey shimmering ground under you, you sat there. Waiting for what was to come.

“What should we do with them, Commander?” the muted voice of one of the officers cut through the heavy silence that surrounded them even while standing in the middle of a bustling hangar.

Seonghwa, schooling his face as best as he could back into a cold glaring picture of nonchalance, inhaled before staring down at your kneeling form. “Bring them to the interrogation chambers. I will take care of them in due time.”

He watched your muscles tense upon recognizing his voice.

“Yes, Commander!” The troopers roughly pulled you to your feet and if Seonghwa hadn´t had to pretend to be ignorant of whom you were, he would have ripped the trooper to shreds for doing so.

Hiding his amusement over how you immediately snarled at the poor trooper, swearing up and down at him with every insult he knew you knew off, he walked behind you with quick steps. The two men you were captured with were either dragged behind them or just as stubborn as you were being. It was pathetic how much they struggled with getting 3 non force wielders in Seonghwa’s opinion.

“Don´t fucking touch me you bastard!” you snapped when you were being forced forward particularly harsh, trying to hit the trooper with your leg which promptly got you a blaster smacked to the head. Delirious you sagged in yourself, sight swimming ever so slightly as you felt the spot start to bruise.

“Is that how you treat your guests? Were you not taught how to receive any?” The comment, seemingly directed at nobody, Seonghwa knew was for him to hear.

It was ironic because while when he was rarely at home, you almost never received guests in your house and when you did? You had to show him first how to treat them nicely.

You reached the Interrogation rooms. Funny how they were called that when they should have been called torture chambers, if one were to ask you. Sadly nobody did and so you quickly found yourself strapped to the giant, very uncomfortable looking chair that stood right in the middle of the room.

For the first time in ages did your eyes meet your husband’s as he stood right in front of you. Face blank of emotion and hands clasped together as they were resting against behind his back. He stood still, admiring your face and internally wincing when he saw the drying blood staining the side of your face and your busted lip.

“Take care of the others. She belongs to me.”

His words had you cackling in surprise, well knowing how true his statement rang. If Seonghwa was one thing that you could attest to, then it was possessive!

You were left alone with him. Neither of you wanting to falter first.

You silently raised your eyebrow at his still form, his apparent calmness grating on your nerves. Seonghwa felt the same, but knowing you well enough he also knew that if he didn´t break his silence then he would stand there until the galaxy ceased to exist.

“You never told me.”

It was a statement, not a question and you knew that very well. Instead of straight out answering you tilted your head and smiled.

“Should I have? Would you have accepted it?” you asked in return, knowing very well that Seonghwa wouldn´t be able to answer this. Seonghwa relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. There was no trace of anger or hatred for his actions traceable which left him a tad bit more at peace with the situation.

“You know I can´t answer that.” He sighed.

“No, I guess you can´t… But tell me this,” you began before falling silent. Smile falling a bit as reality began to settle into your bones. “What happens now?”

Seonghwa swallowed, the calm and collected facade now not just crumbling but completely falling. You could clearly see the fear and sadness behind those dark beautiful eyes you had fallen for all this time ago.

“Don´t say it, please don´t say it.” He begged, voice shaking the slightest bit as he took enough steps to stand right in front of you. You felt his gloved fingers gently touching your strapped down ones.

“Hwa… what else is there to say? I work for those you swore to hunt down, there is no other way but for you to-“

“No! I won´t let it come to that!” He didn’t let you speak. Hearing what you were going to say would shatter his resolve completely.

You scoffed gently in amusement. “You have no choice! Ren will kill you if you don´t at least get me to spill some information and you and I both know, that won´t happen. So tell me, what other choice do we have?”

The Commander of the First Order, your ever loving husband yelled, hand running through his neatly kempt back hair. “A different one then me fucking killing you y/n! My star please…”

“I´ll always be your star. But this is not something either of us can change. You either torture me until my heart hives out, or you shoot me right here and now. But please don´t let me wait for my demise in this horrible corner you call Interrogation Room.”

Frustrated Seonghwa turned around and rammed his fist into the hard surface of the wall. You flinched at the sound it made, worrying for his hand more then he seemed to be doing.

“Seonghwa, baby listen to me!” you said and gave him a said smile when he faced you again. A salty tear that you hadn´t notice was ready to be freed rolled down the side of your face. Seonghwa shook his head and came back cup your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the tear while pressing his forehead against yours.

He couldn´t care less if the cameras picked up on what was going on or if his Ren or even Snoke got their hands on the material. All he care about was being as close to you as possible in your position.

“You´ll be okay.” You whispered and received a whimper from the usually cold man in response.

“No I won´t. Not when I do this! I could never live with myself if I did.”

You leaned forward as far as you could, laying your lips on his for a gentle yet heartbreakingly desperate kiss. The tears were coming without anything stopping them at this point, mixing with his own.

“I love you, Park Seonghwa. I did ever since I almost shot you back when we were nothing but teenagers on Niamos,” both of you laughed at the reminder of how you had gotten close. “And I promise that I will do so until all the stars die.”

“My star I can´t-“ he took a deep breath and kissed you once more before backing up to catch himself again. “And I won´t.”

“Hwa!”

“No, I can´t lose you and much less kill you myself! I will find a way, just give me time.” With those last words he wipped the wetness from his cheeks and turned to leave. An anger you had never once felt before took over.

“NO! DON´T YOU DARE YOU FUCKING COWARD! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH IT!” The whoosh of the doors sliding shut could be heard through your screams, leaving you to calm down. “Please baby… just finish us…”

Back on the bridge surrounded by officers and troopers of every kind, Seonghwa fought hard on what to do now. It had been almost 4 rotations since you and your companions had been brought in and just as long since he had visited your cell. He had given the order that no one was to enter it without his explicit permission, reasoning that this was a new technique he wanted to try. Only to give food and a medic droid had been send in as of now.

“Let them stir in their misery.” He had said as if he needed to answer to any of them.

He knew that many questioned him for this, yet none of them dared to say anything out loud in fear of being on the receiving end of the commanders anger.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the Admiral suddenly stood at his side.

“What?” he hissed and enjoyed the reaction he received.

“Lo- Lord Ren wishes to speak to you.” The man stammered and bowed at his waist.

A sigh left Seonghwa’s mouth and he followed even if a bit unwilling.

He stepped closer to the Holo projector, the blue light flickering as the connection shook.

“Commander. Have you made any progress with the prisoners?” The masked man inquired gruffly, causing Seonghwa to shake his head.

“No, none of them have spoken so far. We are still waiting for them to feel a sense of … safety… if you will.”

“You are supposed to break THEM! NOT MAKE THEM FEEL SAFE! This is not a cruise ship you are commanding!” Ren lost his temper and if it were anyone else Seonghwa would have been scared.

“Yes, Lord Ren. I am very aware and will let you know when we have made progress. It will be soon, I guarantee you.”

The Sith apprentice, while not happy accepted the answer, aware that he wasn´t able to do much while being in a different part of the galaxy.

“I hope so, commander. Or this will have consequences…” The threat hanging in the air was clear but the Commander paid it no mind. Whatever Ren had planned for him if this failed could not be worse then what would happen if he didn´t find a way to get you of this ship.

The hologram vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Seonghwa leaned heavily on the projector table when the droid who has been asked to check on you waddled over to hand him the datapad.

“If. You. Have. Any. More. Questions. Please. Don´t. Hesitate. To. Ask.” He stammered mechanically.

Seonghwa took the Datapad and ushered the droid away to read.

None of the located injuries where ones that particulary surprised him. A few bruises, a twisted ankle and a broken finger. Nothing that couldn´t be fixed easily.

The last sentence on the report however left him frozen.

Additional form of life detected.

Could this mean-

FUCK!

He read over it again, hoping that he might have been reading this wrong.

Additional form of life detected.

The words didn´t change, no matter how many times he read over them and something inside him snapped.

Fuck the war. Fuck the First Order and Fuck Ren and Snoke!

This didn´t just change the situation, it changed his entire view on what he stood and worked for. All of a sudden he didn´t care if the Resistance was destroyed or if the First Order won this war over the galaxies.

All that mattered to him was to get you and his unborn child to safety, even if it meant his own death.

And so he began to form his plan.

With hurried steps he marched of the bridge towards where you were being held captive. The troopers hurriedly jumped out of his way and left after hearing the hissed, “Dismissed. And let them prepare my ship!” being thrown their way.

The doors opened with a hiss and closed again behind him.

“Is it time for your daily taunts already?” you drawled out of boredom, eyes shut in resignation.

Guilt clawed at Seonghwa’s insides upon seeing the state you were in. His orders had very obviously been ignored, the black eye and the additional blood that had dried into the fabric of your tunics were a dead giveaway of that.

His eyes fall onto your stomach, the slight swell that he had not noticed in the hectic of the events just a few rotations prior, now very evident if one knew what to look for.

“Oh, my Star… I´m so sorry dear.” He sighed and opened the clasps holding you in place. Hearing his voice again your eyes flew open.

“What- Seonghwa? What are you doing?” you questioned and couldn´t stop the anger from bleeding into your words.

“There is no time to explain! We have to get to the hangar. Quick, there is no time!” he rushed to say and pulled you upright when you swayed a little to much for Seonghwa´s liking.

Gapping at the nothing saying explanation of his you struggled against him. Seonghwa tugged gently on your arm, causing you to fall forward and into his chest.

“We are getting out of here. You and I,” he said, staring straight into your Soul. “And our child.”

Eyes wide open you looked at him.

“You-“

“Know, yes. And there is nothing that will stop me from getting us out of here, so come. Follow me.”

When you had found your footing again, Seonghwa let go of your shocked form and pulled out his blaster from his weapon belt and opened the door. Gesturing for you to step out in front of him.

You felt the blaster being pressed into your back as he led you through the dark corridors towards the hangar. It seemed you were walking for ages past soldiers and droids that were going their own way until you walked into the hangar bay.

“I hate to ask this baby, but what do we do if your genius plan fails and we get caught?” you murmured under your breath so only your husband could hear.

He huffed a laugh. “We will find out when it comes to that.”

“Because that makes me feel so much better.” You rolled your eyes.

-------

“Commander, Sir! Your Ship has been prepared and is ready for departure. However we need identification that you are permissioned to leave with the prisoner!”

Both you and Seonghwa froze when you were stopped. So far everything had run smoothly so you shouldn´t be surprised that luck was now turning against you.

“I was directly ordered by Lord Ren to bring this prisoner to him and now let me trough.”

The two troopers guarding his ship looked at each other for a moment before turning back to you.

“I´m sorry commander but we need to see identification and validation of that order before we can let you board.”

You took a step closer to Seonghwa, slowly reaching for the gun still stuck to his waist. The moment you had it your hands on it you ducked and Seonghwa shoot the two straight in the head. The smell of burning armor filled your nose and you frowned as your stomach churned in protest.

An alarm started blaring through the hangar and the light turned red.

“GET IN AND PREPARE FOR TAKE OFF!” Seonghwa yelled and shot the storm troopers that were trying to stop them before you were gone.

You ran into the cockpit and sat down in front of the control panel to start the engine. The ship shook but Seonghwa managed to sat down at your side just after you took off, followed by 2 TIE/in Fighters that did everything to shoot you right out of the sky.

“Do something!” you yelled at your husband who was busy trying to defend them. Seonghwa, knowing how you could be under stress chose to ignore this and only muttered a quiet “What do you think I’m doing here?” to himself.

The first exploded into nothing more but ruble as it was hit by blaster bolts followed by the second and you suddenly were in hyperspace.

Seonghwa shut of the tracker that would allow the First Order to follow them where ever they went.

“Will we talk about this, my star?” he asked after silence had settle over the two of you.

“Not right now.” You said flatly, knowing that if you did now, you would probably tried to kill him yourself.

“And where are we going?”

“D’Qar.”

Seonghwa realized that he wouldn´t get anything more from you. He knew that you were mad at him for not listening to your request back in that cell but what was he supposed to do? Had he listened and followed through, then could have also simply asked the next trooper to shoot him right there and then.

“You know why I couldn’t do it.”

“Because you’re a coward?”

Now Seonghwa could admit that from anyone else, these words would have probably unleashed a storm of fury. From you? He knew that it was a defense mechanism to protect your pride and he had to conceal a smile. Even after all this time and all this fighting that shook up the galaxy once more, you still were the same fiery personality he fell for.

His face fell when he thought about what he had almost lost. The Commander could forgive you for fighting against his own cause, he could forgive you for fighting for what you believed in and like he said, he couldn’t even be surprised by it. You had always stood for those weaker than him and this was your own way of fighting for them; trying to save those who couldn’t save themselves from this war the first order had brought on.

However he couldn’t help but think-

“Would you really have sacrificed our child for them? To keep their secrets?”

Your stoic face faltered and in even tho he was only able to see your profile, he recognized the horror glimmering in your widened eyes when the realization set in what you had almost done.

It wasn’t just that you had tried to give your self up for the Resistance and what the Jedi fought for. It was the fact that you had also begged him to kill you, full well knowing that you carried the prove of your love under your heart.

Your hand fell onto your stomach which, now that he was aware of the circumstance, did look rounder than last time he had seen you when he had departed again.

“Don’t fret now, my star. Nothing happened to you and our little moon I promise you now, nothing will threaten you ever again as long as I am there to prevent it.” Even if his words were calm, that did not mean he felt as calm on the inside. You knew he was seething on the inside for your failure and protecting what he didn’t even know existed, even if you had not realized what it would have meant for the life growing inside your belly.

Seonghwa reached for your hand, the once still gently brushing over the swell of your stomach. He didn’t pull it away, no he simply added his own gentle ministration to it and you tears suddenly fell freely and without restraint.

Without having to think the man put the ship on autopilot to pull his silently crying wife into his arms. You went without much of a fight, craving the touch of your husband who you hadn’t seen since the baby was conceived. You had missed him terribly, driving those close to you nearly insane in the process.

It hadn’t been easy being pregnant and fighting your aches all alone when you didn’t feel like you could share, more like didn’t want to share the sweet news with anyone but the man wiping the salty liquid away from your cheeks and whispering soothing words into the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry, Hwa! So sorry! How could I even suggest- how could I not think—?” you wept out between heavy sobs.

“It’s done now, and we shall not think of it again. We are alright. You, me and this little moon of ours and nothing, nothing will ever change this again. How could I let them? Knowing what is waiting for me far away from the battle field…” he smiled, his own tears glistening in his eyes now that the adrenaline slowly settled.

You leaned your forehead against his, noses brushing against each other lightly. You reveled in it like a Loth-Cat getting chin scratches.

Seonghwa closed the gap between your lips, sealing them with yours and it was like coming home before the moment was over far to fast in your opinion.

“So, D’Qar huh? Is that where you have been hiding?” he whispered with a smug grin which in turned earned him a slap to the back of his not so sleek any more ponytail.

[wynsummers]

felt like combining two of my biggest interests so this is my ranking of buffy characters by how much they would enjoy the rocky horror picture show

honorable mention - anya. i can't decide if anya would love or hate rocky. the more chaos-loving anyanka side of her would have a lot of fun with it, but i think she might also hate the idea of going to see a movie only to have it talked over by a bunch of hecklers. especially if she went to a theater where they throw/spray props. so i guess it would depend on whether she went to a showing for the experience or the film itself.

9. angel would walk in, sit in the back row, stare with an intense face at the screen for the entire hour and forty minutes of the film and then stand up and leave without saying a word. he would never come back.

8. xander - xander would enjoy rocky for all of the wrong reasons. he is the cishet man who only goes to see the lingerie-clad women. i've met so many xanders in my time. they always have that smug laugh when someone tries to interact with them, but they're too cool to do anything that they can't use to (attempt to) impress a woman

7. cordelia - i don't think rocky is really cordy's scene, no disrespect intended. i think she could have a good time but some of the more extreme traditions might put her off (especially if someone threw/sprayed something at her, i think she would hate that). she would look at it as that fun thing she did once, probably because someone invited her. that being said, though, if she ended up in a shadowcast, she would put her entire heart and soul into playing janet.

6. oz - i can't explain it but oz is both too cool not to be at rocky and too cool to be at rocky. like, oz has been going to rocky every week for two years but the scoobies only find out when they go as a group and everyone in the theater knows him already. i don't think he's ever said a callback in his life but he definitely has a bunch of them memorized

5. buffy - ok now hear me out. buffy needs something like rocky in her life. she needs a place where she can unwind, yell loudly, dance around, and just have fun. i don't think she'd be super into it right away, but i don't think it would take long for her to get into the rhythm of it. i can't see her going so far as to be in a shadowcast, but i can totally see her being a frequent audience member who tells all of her friends about this awesome thing she found

4. tara - listen, tara is a lesbian witch in college. rocky was made for her. season 4 tara is too shy to participate, but i can see it being a place she returns to a lot, and season 6 tara is definitely in the front row of the theater every friday gleefully yelling at the screen. she might even dress up as janet or magenta (shoutout amber benson for performing toucha touch me)

3. willow - this may be controversial, since early seasons willow is kind of reserved and seems like she would be really overwhelmed by rocky. but often that's the exact kind of person who thrives in rocky the most because it gives them a chance to come out of their shell. at her first show, she probably wouldn't participate at all, but something would compel her to come back, and slowly but surely, she'd start doing more. cut to a few months later and she's going full vampire willow in a theater full of people. i think later seasons willow wouldn't have as difficult of a time at first but i still don't think she'd get into it right away. but once she got it, she'd be a regular for life

2. spike - i think spike has been going to the shows for a long time; it's definitely his scene. it wouldn't surprise me if he invented some of the callbacks. yelling stupid snarky shit at a movie screen is so him. i don't know if i can see him dressing up as a character though.

giles - obviously. fucking obviously. in his ripper days he was frank at his local theater and he still goes to the shows all the time. maybe on special occasions they bring him back as frank for a special show. it wouldn't surprise me if he saw the rocky horror show before it was a movie. if buffy and the scoobies found out about his double life they would faint. (if you haven't seen anthony head as frank, do yourself a favor and look it up)

[mostly-marvel-musings]

First time Noah goes to reader's bed in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare after her and Tony got together, so Tony's there to help comfort him too. Tony admiring how well she can calm down Noah and comfort him, while also doing his best to comfort him and even asking if he wants to sleep there in their room that night. Cuddle pile ensues.

Easing Noah’s nightmares - Christmas With You

A/N: I think I like this little family too much. My fluff loving heart is full 🥹🤍 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Warning: DAD MATERIAL TONY? PERFECT BOYFRIEND TONY?

Christmas With You Masterlist

.

“Tony!”

“Wha—? Love you.” He mumbled, half asleep as he draped his arm around your middle, snuggling closer to you, deeming the conversation to be over.

“Stop snoring.” You rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as his face pressed up against your hair. You two had gone to bed hours before, though Tony’s snores kept waking you up.

“I don’t snore. You snore.” He murmured, throwing his leg over both of yours, locking you in before pressing his entire front against your back, making you chuckle at his childish behaviour.

“I will record you one of these days for proof, Mr. Stark.” Your voice was quiet yet playful as you got comfortable, thrumming your fingers against his arm.

“For your information, I only lightly snore when I’m tired, and that’s thanks to you, you really wore me out.” His voice caused you to blush, hitting him lightly as he chuckled before kissing the back your ear softly.

As you settled into his comfortable embrace, you couldn’t help but think how life had turned out this past year; meeting Tony Stark - someone who’d changed your life for the better, made you believe in love, take chances and build a life of your dreams. Happiness was just one of the few emotions you felt when you were together, which was constant now that you were living with him.

You were grateful that Noah had been eased into this relationship so flawlessly too. He was just as comfortable with Tony now as he was with you, even demanded bedtime stories from him on several occasions. It was a whole other conversation watching Tony with your son, he was just so good with him. Patient and thoughtful, he gave you all sorts of feels every time they interacted, ones that ended up with you dreaming about expanding your family.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that you had stirred awake to find Noah tugging at your blanket as he stood near you, clutching Snuggles.

“I had a bad dream, Mama.” He whispered, on the verge of tears as you sat up, making Tony’s arm slide down, waking the man in the process too.

“It’s okay, baby. It was not real. Come here.” You opened your arms for him, but he hesitated, looking down at his pyjamas that were ruined.

“I—I wet the bed.”

His voice was so soft, almost reluctant as he watching Tony rub sleep from his eyes, asking if he was alright.

“It’s alright, Noah. We’ll get you cleaned, come on.” You picked him up and rubbed his back, knowing it calmed him down as you slowly walked out of your bedroom and into his.

Tony followed wordlessly, changing Noah’s bedsheets while you cleaned him and got him into a fresh pair of pjs. It wasn’t too frequent for Noah to have nightmares but when he did, they usually got bad, and he ended up wetting himself. Your heart swelled when Tony did his routine ‘checks’ to make sure there was no monster under Noah’s bed, reassuring him that him and Dum-E would get rid of them for him if they ever came back.

“Do you want to sleep in our bed, kid?” He offered, caressing his head which was laid on your chest as you hugged him close. You met Tony’s eyes as if to make sure you heard him right.

Noah nodded silently, holding his arms out for Tony to pick him up, a gesture that touched your heart. He usually clung to you but the fact that he trusted Tony enough to let him comfort him after a bad dream really took you by surprise. You watched Tony hold your son, his arms strong and solacing as Noah laid his head against his shoulder.

Once the three of you settled in your shared bed, you brought the blankets up to Noah’s chest to make sure he warm and secure. Tony lay on his side watching you comfort your son with a fond smile on his face. He always knew what a wonderful mother you were, he was in awe of you already, but moments like these made him want more. Noah was already a son to him, he’d wormed his way into his heart and he couldn’t wait to expand his family with you.

“Eyes closed, my little jelly bean. Sweet dreams. I love you.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead.

“I love you too, Mama.” He closed his eyes, keeping one arm around Snuggles while holding yours tight with the other.

“Good night, Noah.” Tony whispered, caressing the hair that fell on Noah’s forehead gently.

“Night, Dada.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Noah’s voice was as quiet as the night but you both heard him. Not stopping the tears that gathered in your eyes, you looked up at Tony who was blinking back his own tears. Reaching out, you interlaced your fingers with Tony’s, squeezing them before he kissed the back of your hand and then Noah’s forehead.

The moment would forever be etched in memory as you two watched your son drift off to sleep, your hearts full of love and minds with the beautiful possibilities of what was to follow.

[oharaslove]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓉.𝟤

Summary: The story of Miguel's first and only love, you. A passage through the most significant moments of your relationship.

Tags/Warnings: pre!Spiderman Miguel x Civilian!Reader + Spider!Miguel x Civilian!Reader, fem!reader, fluff, smut (Minors don't interact, please)

Word count: 8k

Note: This is part 2 of a request!! I think you can read this as a one shot, but it would be better if you read the previous part (linked below). I also recommend listening to "Sugar"-Sleep Token, It is so good (mainly in the 'you know' scene).

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

After realising how he felt about you, Miguel tried to take a little distance. He was scared. Terrified even. He had never felt this. Never felt the need to, the urge, to make someone his.

 And that was what scared him. He was a total loser, how could someone like you want something with him?. You were perfect in his eyes, and he was far from it. You were probably experienced too, which he wasn’t. Miguel’s insecurities were at all time high. 

Besides, he couldn’t get the comments you had made the first time you met out of his head. You hated or at least disliked Valentine's day. So did he, not long ago. Damn, how things changed. 

Six months ago he dreaded the question: ‘There is someone special in your life?’, but now… 

You appeared in every thought. Your face materialised in the most random moments. If someone were to ask him that question today, his immediate answer would be yes, grinning from ear to ear. He would jump at any opportunity to talk about you.

Not every thought was happy, though. Miguel imagined countless scenarios where he came forward, pouring his heart out to you, and you didn’t feel the same way. Negative assumptions clouded his head day and night, leaving an empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to think about them, but there was always a voice on the back of his head tearing him down to pieces. Telling him he didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t enough. He would never be. 

His feelings were growing bigger and bigger, despite his attempts to keep them down. His chest would explode at any minute if he didn’t let them go. The words at the edge of his tongue, begging to come out. Every time he was close to you, so close he could smell your scent, which drove him crazy, he felt like throwing up. The air would be pushed out of his lungs every time you smiled at him. You stared at him with those beautiful eyes, fueling the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same. 

That there was a possibility. 

It didn’t help that, due to the advances on both of your researches, you had to stay more time in the lab. Meaning, it was just the two of you, for hours on end. Many would say it was the perfect opportunity, but what if you said no? What if you secretly hated him? What if–

“Miguel?” you asked gently, moving closer to where he was standing. He had been staring off at the wall for at least five minutes, unmoving. He was barely blinking, and his hands were sweaty. “Are you okay?” you continued, moving even closer. 

Miguel instinctively took a step back, creating distance between the two of you. You were intoxicating. He shut his eyes hard, trying to clear his thoughts. While doing so, he missed the hurt look over your face. 

“Yeah, I… I am fine, don’t worry” he whispered. He clutched the edge of the table. Come on Miguel, take a grip on yourself. 

“Are you…, are you sure? You don’t look okay” You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater.

“Yes” he huffed. His breathing became more erratic. Miguel dropped his head, eyes remaining shut, hoping to block you off. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t tell you how much you affected him, even though he wished to. All he wanted was to hug you, make you feel how you made him feel. But no. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

“Did I…” you began, your voice trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”. You sniffed, making Miguel open his eyes immediately and look at you. 

You were looking down. Tears streaming down your cheeks, despite your efforts to keep them at bay. Your hands, barely visible, pull at the end of your sweater, making yourself smaller. Trying to hide. 

Shit. “No no no” Miguel whispered, hurriedly walking towards you. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to hug you, but would that be alright? Or, should he just go for a supportive hand to the shoulder? So, that’s what he did. “You.. you did nothing wrong. Hey, please. Look at me” he mumbled, barely audible. Thankfully, he was closer than he realised. His mouth only inches away from the crown of your head. He was basically towering over you. 

You looked up. Teary eyes locking into his. Trembling lips mumbling incoherent things, a lot of ‘sorrys’ and ‘please’. Miguel’s heart broke. He had done this. Him. No one else. He was so focused on his own feelings, on not getting hurt, that he didn’t realise how his actions were affecting you.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Miguel cooed, drawing figures with his thumb on your shoulder. Hand, that he noted, you hadn’t pushed away nor seemed uncomfortable about.  

You leaned into his touch. Your cheek grazing his hand, never breaking eye contact. Miguel’s eyes traveled from focusing on one eye to the other, to your nose, your mouth, everything. He wanted to memorize your face in case this was the end. While doing so, ever so lightly, his hand drifted upwards, caressing your cheek, without realising. 

You closed your eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling. His hands were sweaty, but he was warm, and he smelled nice. Your breath slowed down, calming yourself. You nuzzled your cheek further. She’s adorable, Miguel thought, lost in how ethereal you were. His body moving on its own.  

Miguel's eyes went wide. A moment of clarity letting him be aware of his actions. He wanted to retreat his hand, stop touching you, but at the feeling of the slight pull movement from his hand, yours instinctively wrapped around his wrist gently, keeping him there. 

You opened your eyes slowly. Small droplets of water hanging from your lashes. Your eyes searched his, a message clear on them. Stay. “Please” you begged. Your words vibrated against his skin. Your cheek squeezed against his hand. Your eyes big, like a puppy begging for treats. 

Miguel left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His shoulders instantly relaxed. The worried lines on his face dissipated, and a small smile pulled at the edge of his lips. He didn’t want to leave, he would stay how and where you wanted for eternity. All you had to do was ask. 

He had a feeling this was the night, and the conversation wasn’t going to be short. So, better get comfortable. 

 “Come, sit” he said, retreating his hand slowly, trying not to startle you, before slightly bending down to grab the nearest stool behind you. He gently placed his hands against your shoulders guiding you down. 

You sat down, putting your feet on the bar and tugging them closer to your chest. Placing your chin on top of your knees. Miguel sat down in front of you, leaving a decent space between the two. 

Your eyes were still glassy from crying. Miguel felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. That someone being himself. He clenched his fists over his legs, grabbing the material of his trousers. How could he be so stupid?. 

¿Qué mierda me está pasando? Miguel muttered looking down. He was losing his head. (What the hell is happening to me)

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, even though it was barely audible. Did he just say that aloud? His eyes shot to yours. You were curious, he could tell, and also scared. Of him, for him? He couldn’t tell, which made him anxious.

“I am sorry if I ever crossed the line” you continued, seeing that he wasn’t responding. “I-” You dropped your arms and placed your feet on the floor, getting more comfortable in the stool, breaking eye contact while doing so. 

“It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.” You rubbed your face, cleaning the tears and pushing back the hair stuck on your cheeks. You looked down, placing your hands together over your legs. “I just thought that,” you shrugged your shoulders. “you liked me”. You looked up slowly, biting your lip. Your face  was a little turned away, looking at him softly, eager, but also scared by the response. 

Miguel’s eyes opened like plates. Like you? Like, like like you? He was stunned. Miguel couldn’t believe his ears. You liked him! This was the greatest moment of his–

“Or maybe it was all in my head, I don’t know” you continued, turning around on the stool, giving your back to him while you hugged yourself. Asshole. How long were you silent for?

“NO!” he shouted. His first instinct was to stand up and get closer to you. “No,” he said more calmly, collecting himself. 

You turned around slowly. Fresh new tears adorning your face. Slowly, but surely, Miguel reached for your cheek. His fingers made contact with your skin, immediately feeling your warmth. As soon as he felt you lean into it, he applied pressure caressing you, wiping the tears away. 

“I’m sorry.” He began. “I… I am a loser” Miguel scanned your face. He couldn’t back out now. 

“You don’t–” you wiped the side of your face with the back of your sleeve, still leaning onto his hand. ”Don’t seem like one to me” You placed your hand on top of his, melting into his touch.

“Maybe, but I am” He sighed, looking at your face. You were so beautiful. He needed to sit down. He could feel his whole body trembling. Miguel was nervous. Even more nervous than when he interviewed for Alchemax. He looked back, spotting the forgotten stool. He wasn’t leaving your touch again, so he reached with his foot and pulled it towards him. 

He sat down, much closer now, your legs brushing against each other. The proximity was exhilarating. He could smell your perfume. Feel your warmth under the palm of his hand. He could see the way your chest went up and down from your breathing. How your lashes gently touched the top of your cheeks every time you blinked. 

Miguel was charmed by you. If you told him you were a witch who had cast a spell on him, he would believe it. No doubt in his mind. 

Focus Miguel, he thought. This was a golden opportunity, and he couldn’t let it slip away. His eyes landed on his hand, gently stroking the skin of your cheek. You were so soft and warm. Miguel could feel your eyes staring at him, but he couldn’t look at them. Not now. He needed time to be bolder, to build the guts to pour his heart out to you. 

“Miguel” you whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I understand.”

Miguel moved his hand, breaking away from your grasp. He moved down the curvature of your face. The back of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their way. He grabbed your chin gently, his thumb centimeters away from your lips. Hovering. Oh, how he wished he had the experience. The bravery. The audacity to just dive in and capture your lips with his. Say everything with his mouth that words couldn’t express. Tangle his tongue with yours instead of it tangling with the thoughts running through his head.

“I am a loser” he repeated, more serious this time. His focus remained on your lips. “I don’t know how to do this.” he confessed, his thumb finally making contact with the pout that had formed in your face. They were soft. They looked so kissable. He traced the shape of your mouth lightly, before using his fingers under your chin to angle your face towards his. 

His eyes finally gazed into yours. Your cheeks were redder now, skin warmer. “I’ve never done this” He whispered, inching closer. “All I know–” he gulped, looking down again, to your lips. “is that you drive me crazy. I like you, I really do”. Your noses were now brushing together. His breath fanning over your cheeks, gently moving your lashes.

His lips hovering over yours, too scared to make the final move. 

“Miguel” you pleaded, looking at him from your hooded eyes. Your mouth slightly agape. He looked up to your eyes again. There was a pause. Neither of you dared move. 

The tension was palpable in the air. Both your breaths united. Words weren’t needed in this moment, only actions. His eyes sent you a silent plea. A question. Permission to do what he wanted the most. You nodded softly, and that is all it took for him to take the leap. 

Miguel’s lips crush into yours softly. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch, and so did he. Your lips were softer than he had felt with his hands. He had done it! He was kissing you. But now, in the act, he didn’t know how far he could go. Miguel’s hand on your cheek froze, he was cupping your face lightly, but his grip faltered. 

You pulled back softly, creating distance. Miguel chased you with his lips, not wanting to let go yet. You giggled, as you moved back, staring at his cute face. It was all red and warm. His lips slightly parted, letting out puffs of air out. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, blinking, as in a trance. Miguel was met with your smile, that pretty smile he learnt to cherish and to look forward to. 

“It’s okay” you whispered, taking both of his hands and placing them in your waist. You shifted closer, the stool screeched against the floor. Your legs parted a little, leaving enough space for one of his own to settle there. 

You placed the palms of your hand over his chest. Your eyes trailed from his chest, to his neck, until your gazes met again. “I trust you.” you smiled. You dove back again, this time showing more confidence. 

As soon as your lips brushed against his, Miguel’s heart skipped a beat. Your hands travelled from his chest to his neck, while his were still locked around your waist. Every thought that miraculously was still in Miguel’s head, flew out of the window. All he could register was you.

 All of you. 

The way your lips brushed and pushed against his. How they slightly parted, little amounts of air leaving them, making contact against his skin. The way your hands were now playing with the curls on the back of his neck, twirling them around your fingers. Miguel groaned. The taste of you becoming unbearable. He needed more. 

Hopefully, you understood. Miguel felt your tongue against his lips, before granting you access. As the kiss deepened, the tension on his body dissipated. He could feel your hands playing with his hair, loosening his muscles. 

As every second passed, Miguel grew more confident. 

First, he squeezed your waist, testing. He didn’t want to overstep, but at the same time, he needed more. He wanted to feel your skin on his. Pull noises out of you, created by his touch. 

His hands moved up, stopping below your breasts. His thumbs slightly grazed under them. You inhaled sharply, surprised, but glad he was loosening. You too wanted him to explore more, to take you. To make you his. 

While one of his hands stayed there, squeezing and drawing figures over your sweater, the other detached from your body, before making contact with your arm. He squeezed your forearm, before tracing your arm and reaching your neck. 

Miguel grabbed your neck, taking control of the kiss. He angled you just the way he wanted, giving him more access to explore your mouth. You groaned, the vibrations traveling through Miguel’s fingers.  He pressed his thumb against your throat, the kiss becoming more passionate. 

You pulled at his hair, his sweater, everything your hands could grasp to keep him close, to pull him even closer. Miguel was feeling lightheaded, his breathing becoming more ragged, but he didn’t want to stop. He had had a taste of you, and he didn’t know if he was ready to stop. 

Every sound he coaxed out of you made him more confident. He was obsessed, as if he wasn’t already. Every caress, each touch without an exception your hands made on his body drove him nuts. His lungs were beginning to scream at him for air, so were yours, but neither made an attempt to pull back. You were in a fever dream, and you didn’t want it to stop. 

Miguel’s body was on fire. The kiss became sloppy, teeth clicking against one another. The lab wasn’t silent anymore, your breaths were heavy, both of you panting, an occasional moan erupted from you, making Miguel groan as a response every time. 

He knew if he continued, he would do things he would regret. Not entirely because of the action, but because of the timing. You were his first, he didn’t want to fuck up. He needed to go slow. 

Miguel reluctantly pulled back from the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, his hand still around your neck, his thumb caressing your warm, and slightly sweaty skin. Both of your chests going up and down, catching your breaths. He could feel the warm air exiting your mouth hit his face, making him smile. It wasn’t a dream, you were right there, in front of him, touching him, melting under his touch. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, squinting, not comfortable with the now really bright light of the lab. You had been kissing for what felt like hours, his eyes had been shut all the time, basking in the feeling. 

He found you staring back at him through your lashes. A grin formed on your face once you two made eye contact. Miguel’s expression mirrored yours, he was ecstatic. His hands moved up your neck, towards your cheek, drawing figures there as well. 

“So..” you began, leaning into his touch. Your voice was a little hoarse. Gosh, you sounded so sexy. You bit your lip, looking down a little, towards Miguel’s lips. “Does this mean you like me too?” 

Miguel laughed, his whole body shaking. You giggled as well, breaking the tension on your body and in the room. Miguel cupped both sides of your face, before bringing you in for a quick peck, and a kiss to your forehead and nose. 

He pulled back, admiring you. Your smiley face squished against his hands. “Yes” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing visible, just melting into you, feeling drawn to you. Nothing else mattered. 

The lab fell silent, you both just staring at each other. It was comforting, the feelings being out in the air. Reciprocated feelings. You liked him, and he liked you. Nothing could go wrong from now on. 

That moment of clarity made an idea pop on Miguel’s head. “So… are you free tomorrow?”

𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

Your first date was ethereal. Miguel had decided he didn’t want to go to a restaurant, or be near people in general, knowing that both you and him preferred to be private. Instead, he arranged a nice picnic with a beautiful view. 

You had the time of your lives. Miguel had never felt so care free and light. His heart was content and he felt on cloud nine every time you laughed, you smiled at him, or kissed him. Mostly when you giggled into your kisses, he thought you were adorable, and he didn’t know how he could say goodbye to you everyday. He needed to be with you 24/7, although he knew it was best for you both to have some alone time. Don’t move too fast now Miguel, Jesus.

Three months had passed since you two confessed your feelings in the lab. Three whole months of stealing kisses from each other, dates every week, seeing each other at the lab every day, being so close that Miguel couldn’t remember his life before you. How had he lived so long without you by his side?

Miguel couldn’t believe that at first he worked by himself in the lab. You two were like one, working around each other like it was second nature. Stolen touches here and there. You wrapping your hands around his waist from the back, leaving kisses, melting his heart and still, making him blush, despite all the months of dating. 

Unfortunately, today you had a meeting elsewhere. Meaning, Miguel was alone. He was feeling a little under the weather, he didn’t like being away from you. The routine you both had broken for a day. Thanks to his mind not being present one hundred percent, he had missed how one of his co-workers messed with his machine, causing the accident. 

Miguel had been experimenting with DNA fusions, something you knew about. This particular moment, he was curious if he could split his own (you clearly weren’t there to tell him it was a stupid idea). He had no clue what he had gotten himself into, nor what his coworker had done. All he knew is that, after surviving the experiment, he felt different. Changed. 

Miguel had always been a tall, muscular guy. But, he felt stronger, more powerful. He squinted his eyes, the artificial light in the lab hurting his eyes. Weird. He was fine just some minutes ago. He went to shut the lights. When his fingers made contact with the switch, he broke it, an abnormal strength surging from his body. 

He felt wrong, he wanted to throw up. At that moment, all he could think about was you. Miguel rushed towards his things, throwing everything aside looking for his phone. Once he had it in his hands, the eyes staring back at him in the reflection of the black screen weren’t familiar. They weren’t his usual brown ones, they were red. He dropped the phone in shock, the screen shattering in pieces. 

Miguel was pissed, causing a set of talons to emerge from his fingertips, scaring him off. What am I? What should I do? What would you think? He crumpled to the ground, shaking. What was he supposed to do? You couldn’t see him like this, he couldn’t lose you. He picked up the remains of his phone, before quickly gathering all his belongings and rushing to his flat. He needed time to think, he needed to be away from people. He needed to be away from you. He couldn’t let you witness the monster he had become.

A few days went by, Miguel had had no contact with you. He didn’t go to work, he didn’t answer his phone. Nothing. Clearly, you grew worried. He had never pulled a stunt like this before. Reason why, you were now standing outside his flat door. 

“Miguel?” you called, after knocking the door a few times. No answer. “Miguel please, I know you are in there” you pleaded, worry evident in your voice. 

Miguel was pacing left to right in his living room, in front of the door. He didn’t want you to see him, but he could tell you were worried. He hated making you something else that wasn’t happy. The dilemma was making his head hurt, the light coming through the windows wasn’t helping. During the days he had been hiding, he noticed his senses had been amplified. His eyes were ten times more sensitive to the lights.

You continued banging on the door. Tears were now running down your face.

“Miguel please,” you hiccuped, each breath was harder to take in. “Please, I don’t know what I did wrong. But please, let me in. We can talk about–”

At that moment, Miguel opened the door. He couldn’t stand hearing you cry any longer. You sobbed, launching yourself to him. Your arms landing around his waist, your face burying in his broad chest. 

Miguel’s arms stayed in the air, not wanting to touch you. What if his talons came out and he hurt you? He wouldn’t bear it. Seeing your wet and flushed face from the crying was torture enough. 

You cried a little more into his chest, creating a small patch of water in his shirt. You pulled yourself together, detaching yourself from him, allowing Miguel to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from sobbing. 

You had tear stains all over your cheeks. Miguel made an attempt to caress your face, wiping them away, but he froze in the middle. He pulled his hand back. He inhaled loudly,  shutting his eyes and making fists with his hands, before turning around and going to sit on the couch. 

You stood there, a frown in your face. What had you done for him to be so mad about you?. 

“Mig?” you mumbled, too scared to make sudden moves. 

Miguel groaned, rubbing his face between his face. You approached him slowly, barely making a sound. You watched him quietly, deciding what to do. As there was no reaction, you sat down, leaving some space between you two. You reached towards him, placing a hand over his arms. 

Miguel flinched away, making you retract your arm and look down to the floor. 

“I’m sorry” you began, trying to not break down. You sniffled, you could feel the tears already forming in your eyes. “I don’t know what I did, but I am sorry”. 

Miguel ran his hands through his hair, pulling a little. He didn’t want you to blame yourself. You had done nothing wrong! But he also didn’t know how to tell you what he was. 

“You,” he began, not looking at you. “You did nothing wrong”

“Then why?” You shifted your body, facing towards him. “Why have you been avoiding me? I thought we… I thought we were doing great.” The last words were barely audible. 

“We were… we are!” he corrected himself, now facing you, but not quite catching your eye. 

You played with your fingers in your lap, resisting the urge to reach for him. “Then… why?” You looked at him expectantly, searching for his gaze. 

Miguel hesitated. He played with the material of his sweatpants. He bit his lip, his knee going up and down. He needed to tell you. Either way, this relationship was over. If he didn’t tell you, you would break up with him because who would date someone who hides everyday in their flat? And if he told you… Well, you would probably freak out, call him a monster and walk away. Both outcomes pointed to heart break. 

“I– I can’t do this” he placed his head between his hands and started to cry.

Your heart broke. You didn’t understand what was wrong, but you hated to see Miguel so sad, angry and frustrated, all at the same time. 

“Shhh it’s okay” you scooched closer, hesitating to place a comforting hand on his back, but deciding to do so anyway. 

Miguel flinched at the contact at first, but later melted into you. He leaned into you, before collapsing in your lap. He curled himself into you, his big body retracting to feet on the couch and into you. 

You wanted to cry just from the sight. You rubbed his arms lovingly, trying to calm him down. Miguel was shaking, sob after sob cursing through his body. He mumbled incoherent stuff. Strings of ‘I’m sorrys’ and something along the lines of monster. You didn’t know, nor care. All you wanted was for him to calm down, you wanted your baby to be okay. 

After a few minutes, Miguel regained composure. He could breathe normally. Your warmth was soothing. The way you run your hands through his hair, caress his cheeks, tracing his sharp cheekbones. Lifting his shirt up a little so you could run your nails down his back.

For a moment, he forgot why he was so worried. You had done this countless times, you were his safe space. He could trust you. He needed to believe you wouldn’t leave him.

Miguel placed his feet on the floor, lifting himself off you. He wiped the tears with the back of his hands, before making eye contact with you, for the first time in days. He saw all the worry lines in your face, making his heart clench. Miguel could see your sad expression, a pout in your lips. Your gazes locked, and your eyes widened. 

“Miguel! Your eyes” You reached forward, placing your hands at each side of his head, examining further. 

“I know, that’s part of the problem”

“What happened?!”

Miguel explained to you in detail what happened the day you weren’t in the lab. And, after that, he gave you a demonstration of what he had learned. He stood up and showed you his talons, as well as his fangs. Both retractable. 

You sat there, shocked, while Miguel stood in place, watching you carefully, fully expecting you to shout “Freak!” and storm out. 

You gathered your thoughts, and stood up slowly. Miguel took a sharp breath in. He was terrified. 

“Miguel” you began, looking him straight in the eye. You still had that loving stare in your eyes, that is a good sign he thought. 

You walked closer, and when you were at arms reach of him, you slapped his arms, with all your force. 

“OUCH!”

“How dare you!?” you shouted. “Do you know how scared I was?. I thought you were dead. Dead!” You grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled, now pacing from left to right in front of Miguel, while he rubbed the spot where you had hit him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you figure this out!” You threw your hands in the air, mumbling some more things, a few curse words and some other things Miguel didn’t know if they were for his ears or for yours. 

“I thought… well, maybe you would call me a monster and leave” He mumbled the last part, feeling ashamed. 

That made you stop in your tracks, snapping your head towards him. 

“Leave?” you whispered in disbelief. “Leave?” You repeated slightly louder. “In what world would I live? Oh you are so fucking oblivious. I would rather die than leave you, you asshole. I love you, and I–”

“You love me?” Miguel cut you off. His eyes opened like plates, an alarm going off in his head. 

You froze in place too, realising what you had just said. 

“I–” you gulped. “I do. I love you”

Miguel smiled. A toothy grin from ear to ear. He rushed towards you, lifting you in the air and spinning you around, not a care in the world if you bumped something. He hugged you tightly, burying his head in your neck. Once he placed you back on the ground, he grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. 

“I love you too.” he sighed. “Te amo” He pressed his forehead against yours. 

You smiled, and hit his chest playfully. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like this ever again. You hear me?” 

“Si mi vida. Perdón” He kissed the top of your head before enveloping you in his arms. 

“I love you” you mumbled against his chest. You truly did.

Miguel was going crazy. You had been teasing him all day long. Slight touches here, caresses there. Pressing your whole body flushed against his. You were driving him insane, more than he already was. He couldn’t wait to get to his flat and let you have him, because he had to be honest with himself. He didn’t have a clue of what was going to go down. 

Yes, he had done research. But that doesn’t mean anything. Besides, he knows that things like porn aren’t realistic, so he had a rough idea, but not quite. 

The end of the work day couldn’t come fast enough. Once it was over, you guys went to a nice dinner place, had fun, enjoyed some nice food, before deciding to go back to his place.

Miguel’s leg was bouncing up and down in the car. He was nervous, and you could tell. You placed your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to where he needed you the most. 

“It’s okay Mig. We don’t have to–”

“No!” he cut you off, way too eager. “I want to.”

“Okay” you rubbed his thigh affectionately, leaving your hand there for the rest of the ride home. 

As soon as you stepped into his flat, Miguel’s lips were on your own. Sloppy, needy, warm. His hands roamed your body, tearing away the outer layers, dropping them to the floor. You doing the same with his. 

He walked you backwards into his room, never detaching his lips from yours. You bumped a couple things on the way, but neither of you cared. Once you reached the bedroom, you turned you both around, pushing Miguel towards the bed. 

His legs hit the edge of the bed, landing on it on his back. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap. You ran your hands over his body, from the hem of his trousers to his neck, while Miguel’s hands landed on your waist. You bent over, your chests touching, your faces centimeters away from each other. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yes” Miguel breathed out, before grabbing the back of your head and slamming your lips together. 

The kiss got heated. Tongues exploring each others mouth, while hands explored bodies. Your whole wait was on top of Miguel, but he didn’t care. You began moving your hips, creating friction. Your center was on top of Miguel’s hard on, the only thing separating your core from him being your panties. 

Your dress had rode up over your thighs, exposing more skin for Miguel to squeeze and touch. He groaned into the kiss, the movement of your hips driving him crazy, but he needed more. His hands planted themselves in your waist, guiding your movement. Once in a while, one would sneak down to grab a handful of your ass, giving it a pinch, resulting in a moan from you. 

Your kisses moved down, kissing along his jaw, down to his neck. You sucked the skin into your mouth. Miguel inhaled shakily.

“Amoor” he grunted. 

 You smiled into his neck, biting and nipping a little more before moving down his chest. You undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the majestic skin underneath. He had some scars thanks to being Spiderman, but he was beautiful. You could see how his muscles moved with every breath he took. 

You kissed down the middle of his chest, over his sternum. Miguel arched his back towards your mouth, enjoying the feeling. You bite down, and nipped, tracing the scars with your tongue. You moved down, parting his legs, before sinking down to your knees, your eyes in level with the tent on his trousers.

You could already tell, he was big. You could see the outline over the material. Miguel used his elbows to lift himself off the bed, getting a better view of you. You pecked his dick over his pants, gazing up at him. Miguel swallowed hard.

You massaged him on top of his pants, getting Miguel used to the feeling. He groaned, closing his eyes momentarily, but opened them when he felt you undoing his belt. He snapped his eyes open, staring at you.

“Is this okay?”

“Ye– yes” he stuttered. 

You smiled at him, before continuing your actions. After a few seconds, you freed his cock out of its confinements, pulling his pants and underwear down. It hit the bottom of Miguel’s stomach, standing proud in front of you. 

You licked your lips, staring at him, already salivating by just the sight. 

“Is it okay?” Miguel asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

“It’s perfect” you answered, and as to show him, you wrapped your hand around his tip, spreading the precum already there. 

Miguel threw his head back, your hands felt way better than his own. 

You continued to stroke him slowly, up and down. Your thumb massaging his tip, pressing at the head over his slit. Miguel was breathing heavily now, uneven. His thighs began to shake. 

You wetted your lips, and continuing your hand movements, kissed his tip, tasting the salty precum. You spit on him, before wrapping your mouth over his head, beginning to match your hand movements with your head. 

Miguel tried to keep looking at you, but the warmth of your mouth and the way your tongue ran over his slit drove him mad. His elbows gave away, his back hitting the mattress again. He fisted his sheets on his hands, curse words leaving his lips. 

“Yess, Jesus, fuck” he moaned, spurring you on. 

With your free hand, you massaged his balls. Rolling the skin over between your fingers and squeezing them. You hollow your cheeks, sucking at his shaft. You took him as far as you could, his tip hitting the back of your throat, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Oh, God, yes” Miguel breathed out. He was feeling light headed, his skin sweaty, sticking to the sheets. He could feel a knot in his lower belly, almost at the point of bursting. 

You pulled back, taking a moment to breathe, but never stopping your hands. His tip was red, precum leaking from it. Tons of it. He was close, you could tell. He was lasting more than you would have thought, to be honest. 

“I’m closee” Miguel choked out. “Please” he begged, opening his eyes slightly to stare down at you.

You continued jerking him off. Your mouth going to his balls, sucking at them, before licking a stripe down the side, following the most prominent vein, reaching his tip. You gave a few kitten lips before putting it in your mouth again. Miguel’s head flew back, eyes shutting hard. 

He moaned your name over and over. Strings of “Yes, right there” “Fuck” and your name falling from his lips. All of a sudden, his vision went black. Cum spurted in your mouth, while you tried to swallow most of it. 

Miguel’s chest was heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, at the same moment you took his now softening cock out of your mouth, a string of saliva and cum still connecting the two. 

“Fuck” he mumbled. You looked so pretty. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling at him and winking. You stood up slowly, letting your dress fall off your shoulders leaving you only with your panties on. You pulled them down your legs, kicking them behind once they reached your feet. 

Miguel was star struck. He couldn’t believe you could be more perfect than you already were. But you could. Before him, he was seeing a goddess. He was about to be fucked by a goddess. 

You straddled his lap once more, now without any item of clothing between your skin. You could already feel his dick hardening again against you. Miguel’s hand flew to your neck, bringing you in for a heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth, moving your hips to create the much needed friction you craved. His cock rubbed against your clit with each movement. 

His hands explored the new skin available, being cautious at first, but growing bolder. He squished your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, even pinching them, making you groan into his mouth. He swallowed every sound you made, and so did you. 

You broke this kiss, running your nails down his chest, looking between your bodies. You needed him inside of you, and he wanted you to be around him. He wanted to feel all of you. 

“Condom?” You breathed out, pulling back the hairs stuck to the sweat of your forehead. 

“In the drawer,” Miguel answered.

You climbed down his body, for a split second Miguel missed your warmth, but before he could complain about it, you were already back, motioning him to get more comfortable in the bed, before seating back in his legs. You opened the squared package, pulling the condom out. 

You looked at it, and back at Miguel. “Are you really sure?”

Miguel nodded, the anticipation making his brain fuzzy. He didn’t think he could speak right now. 

You nodded, positioning yourself better. You stroke him a few times, before rolling the condom on. You lifted yourself up, using Miguel’s chest as support, while his arms flew to your waist to help you. You aligned his dick with your entrance. You were already wet from the anticipation and just making him come. He sounded so pretty, breaking under your touch. Cumming just for you, and only you. 

You rubbed his tip along your slit, tapping your clit a few times, before aligned it with your hole. You breathed in, before sinking slowly. He stretched you out so perfectly, it stinged a little, but it felt so good. 

Your mouth and Miguel’s fell open. It was so intense, finally being connected. You reached down, your hips flushed with his. Miguel’s nails were digging into your waist, while your hands squeezed his shoulders. 

You got used to his size before starting to move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Miguel let out a shaky breath, watching your movements. 

“Touch me” you purred, leaning over and taking his ear lob between your teeth, your breath tickling the side of his face. 

One of his hands stayed glued to your waist, while the other played with your breasts, alternating between the two. You nipped at his neck, leaving hickies and bite marks where no one could see them, only you. 

Miguel whined, he was enjoying the feeling, but he needed more. 

“Please, more” He begged, his hand squeezing harshly on one of your tits. 

You sat up straight, placing your hands flat on his chest for support. You lifted yourself up, leaving only half of his cock inside of you, before sinking back down. You both moaned at the same time, he felt so good inside of you. 

You kept doing that a couple more times, while Miguel forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching how his dick disappeared inside of you. Once you got used to it, you set up a rhythm, using Miguel’s chest and shoulders as support. Miguel’s hands went back to your waist, while his head flew back. His mouth was slightly open, groans and moans feeling up the room, combined with the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Miguel’s sounds were turning you on so badly, you could barely concentrate. He grunted your name, moaned it so loudly you were sure even the neighbours could hear. You weren’t any better. His dick was hitting just the right places, stretching you out just the way you liked it. 

“Fu-Fuck” you stuttered, shutting your eyes. You were getting close, and so was Miguel, by the way his cock twitched inside of you. 

“Mig– I’m close” You cried out, the pace you had been setting faltering. 

“Me too” he said, through gritted teeth.

His hips had begun to lift from the mattress, meeting yours halfway, helping you reach both your orgasms. 

“Migg” you whimpered, slumping forward.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, as much as he could. Your nails were digging on his shoulders, while he had a death grip on your waist. One of his hands caressed your stomach, disappearing between your bodies, his thumb making contact with your clit. You jolted forward, the stimulation overwhelming you. 

Miguel began drawing tight circles on the num, matching his and yours broken rhythm. He could feel you were closed, your pussy was squeezing his cock so good, getting him over the edge. 

“Beba” he mumbled, before throwing his head back and cumming inside of the condom, making you fall over the edge and come around him.

You collapsed on his chest, his thumb rubbing small figures still in your clit while you rock your hips in circles, coming down from your high. 

You stilled your hips, while Miguel his hand from between you, placing it in your back and rubbing it up and down, with the little power he had left. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, recovering. Both of your bodies covered in sweat, and the both of you with smiles over your face. 

You lifted your head slightly, placing your chin on his chest, looking at him. He looked so peaceful, breathing slowly from his nose, eyes closed. You pulled back a strand of hair stuck to his forehead, caressing his face with the back of your fingers. Miguel opened his eyes, his gaze falling on yours. 

“Hi!” You whispered, stroking his cheek. 

“Hi” he smiled, eyes tired, blinking slowly, like a child almost falling asleep.

“I love you Mig”

“Te amo, mi vida, y siempre lo haré” (I love you, my life, and I’ll always do)

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

Authors notes: AHHHH I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the first one!!! Thanks for all the love 🥹☺️

I'm a little anxious or nervous about this one because of all the lovey dovey stuff (mainly the smut) but anyway, I really like how it turned out and I hope you do too!!! I had so much fun with this one.

It turned out to be sooo long!! Funny that I cut the first one because I thought that 2k was A LOT, and this is 8k. Oh well.

I may edit this a little later, cause I don't really know how to feel about the smut. I honestly wanted it to be longer. But maybe I'll do another part, or a side story featuring what I wanted (Basically, Miguel eating you out). Anyway, let me know what you guys think!! Be truthful, don't hold back!! You can tell me: "Never write Smut again" And I'll allow it.

Practice makes perfect I suppose, so the more I write about sex the more I should improve, right? But, well. I think it is good to be the second time.

Tags: @guilty-pleasures21 @boogiemansbitch @amberbalcom14

[my-castles-crumbling]

together - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 230

“So,” Barty mumbled, head resting on Evan’s lap as they relaxed in the Common Room, “who should we tell first?”

Evan considered. After a screaming match of epic proportions, they had somehow found themselves throwing themselves at each other instead of throwing spells. After over an hour of furious snogging, they had ended up in the Common Room. “I think Regulus. We’ve traumatized him the most, what with him having to share a room with us, after all.”

Barty grinned. “Now we can just traumatize him differently,” he said suggestively.

But before either could say more, the door to the Common Room opened, and Dorcas, Regulus, and Pandora walked in.

Neither boy moved. It was normal for them to sit like this, after all. They figured they could tell Regulus later. 

Until Pandora got about three feet from them, froze, and pointed at them, eyes wide. “You two’re together!” she screeched.

Barty and Evan both gaped. “How did you–?” Barty began to ask, but Evan sighed. He should have known better than to try to keep anything from his sister, even for a few minutes.

“Yeah, we are,” he confessed.

“Oh, good,” Dorcas mumbled. “I was about to tear my head out from the fighting.”

Regulus, however, snorted. “As if that’ll change. Now they’ll just literally kiss and make up.”

They looked at each other again, shrugging. He wasn’t wrong.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 5

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Also posting on AO3 which you can find here.

Might have to take a few days off so I can catch up on some writing. I am very happy with the direction this story is taking. (If you couldn't tell, this is more of a slow burn piece because I can't imagine Jason as anything but someone who yearns.)

TW: Minor depictions of violence

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Chapter 5

You dropped your letter off the following morning before heading to your first class of the day. The first two weeks at Gotham University passed in a blur as you tried to orient yourself. You liked school when you were a kid. It distracted you from the harsh realities of the world. College was a different beast entirely, especially one as prestigious as this.

It was hard not to feel othered here. Other students came from old families, ones with money and prestige. You recognized some of their faces from interviews or social media. It was their seats that went vacant in class. They had nothing to prove. There were no consequences when you had money to throw at a problem.

You settled in your seat of your history class. From Goddesses to Witches: An Overview of Women’s History. With a title like that, how could you not sign up for it? There were a lot of cool classes here, and you wanted to take them all, but there were only so many hours in the day.

The blonde who usually sat on your right had already arrived. Her purple hoodie was branded with the University logo, though you don’t recall the school store selling purple apparel. She offered a friendly smile as you sat. You failed to return it as you sifted through your bag.

Sure, you wanted to make friends. It would be nice to find like-minded people who liked to discuss classic literature and the relevance of the oxford comma, but you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

Returning a smile might have been a smart move, but the moment had passed. Your table mate shifted her attention to her phone, so you decided to do the same.

A text awaited you from your manager: Rosa quit last night. I need you to come in tomorrow night to cover a party.

You suppressed a groan. Seriously? Rosa had wanted to quit for a while, but now it fell to you to pick up the slack. You shot back a quick text though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference: I have a night class.

Bubbles appeared instantly.

Shit.

His response was exactly what you expected: I wouldn’t be asking if we had options. I hired two new waiters that need a veteran to show them the ropes. You’re the best I have.

Flattery would get him nowhere, but you’d be stupid to turn down an extra shift—especially as an event lead. That role usually went to Rosa who had a kid to consider. Now, the title would shift to you, and the boost to your salary would reflect it.

With a defeated sigh, you replied: I’ll be there.

I’ll send you the details tonight. You’re a lifesaver, he shot back.

Hardly, but you weren’t about to argue. This decision was entirely selfish on your part. If you did this, you’d have a valid argument to ask for Christmas off in a few months.

Your professor arrived and class began. As she talked about your assigned reading, which you’d already finished and annotated the night prior, your mind wandered as you considered your options. Skipping one class wasn’t the end of the world. It was a philosophy class that didn’t count toward your major, but allowing this set a dangerous precedent. Your boss got what he wanted this time. What would stop him from trying again?

Some students might get away with skipping class, but you weren’t one of them.

Glancing back at the blonde, you noticed meticulous notes she’d started in glittery purple ink. She was also in your philosophy class, though you didn’t sit next to each other.

In hindsight, maybe you should have returned that smile.

Your fingers drummed the table. It’s not like you were asking for a lot if she was already taking notes. She might be cool to talk to, to hang out with. Friendships had blossomed for less.

Or maybe you were asking for too much?

Ask for notes and leave things there. After years of doing things for yourself, it felt like cheating to rely on the kindness of a stranger like this. Not to mention, you were a little rusty at making new friends. The ones you had came from work and the shared trauma of working in catering.

Do you even know how to make friends?

You warred with your pride until the professor dismissed you. The blonde hopped out of her chair, swung her bag over her shoulder in one fluid motion, and hurried out before you mustered the courage to speak. You were moving before you realized it, abandoning your bag to hurry after her.

“Hey! You in the purple. Wait up.”

It wasn’t the best identifier, but she stopped anyway, peering over her shoulder. Her surprise gave way to something friendlier as she grinned. “That’s me.”

You approached, your heart pounding. “So, I hate to ask this, but I got called into work tomorrow night. Since you’re in my philosophy class, I was wondering if you could take notes for me?”

“Yeah, no problem,” she said as she pulled out her phone, “What’s your number? I can text you a picture of them once class let’s out tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can just grab them when I see—”

“Don’t sweat it. Professor Edwin is an ass. He failed me last year because I slept through our final exam and refused to let me retake it for partial credit. Like, come on man, it’s not my fault I overslept. I’m not going to let anyone fall victim to his shit if I can help it.”

How did that make him an ass? You almost asked, but she shoved her phone in your face and continued, “I’m Steph, by the way. Pre-med.”

You introduced yourself as you punched your number into her phone. “Writing and Classics,” you offered as you handed her phone back.

“Radical.” She gave you a quick once over. “I’m thinking red.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what color I’ll write the notes in. Something about your aura just screams it, ya know?”

You did not. “Black ink is fine too.”

Steph looked at you like you had just suggested slaughtering a small child instead. “Absolutely not. Why would I do that when the world is such a colorful place? I know we live in Gotham, but that doesn’t mean we have to abstain from happiness.” Her phone beeped in her hand, and she gasped. “Crap, I gotta get to class, but I’ll send you a text later.” She hurried off, leaving you to stare after her in disbelief.

Huh.

Maybe making friends was easier than you thought.

***

Your manager failed to mention the party was at Wayne Manor.

Deep down, you knew it didn’t matter. You had catered dozens of his parties over the years, but that was before you accepted his money like a sellout. How working for him was any different, well, you weren’t exactly sure—it just was.

Anxiety bubbled in your belly as you lit the food warmers on the banquet table along the far wall of the sitting room. Every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder like you expected Bruce Wayne to step out of the shadows and yell at you for skipping class.

This was stupid. Bruce Wayne had no idea who you were beyond a name on an application. He didn’t care that you skipped class. Students skipped all the time. Hell, your first letter probably hadn’t even reached his desk.

Still, a small part of you disliked the power he had over you.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you whipped around to face the elderly butler who’d let you in that evening to set up. He quirked a wispy eyebrow, almost amused.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Master Wayne asked me to check in with your team to ensure you have everything you require.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you tucked your lighter away. “I’m good on the food end, but I should check with our bartender to make sure. How many guests are we expecting again?”

“Fifty, ma’am.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

This was a more intimate affair than what you were used to, but intimate usually meant easy.

You tasked the new hires with preparing platters of hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen. They arrived in ill-fitting uniforms and messily knotted hair. They also seemed more interested in their phones than listening to you. If they made it through tonight, you’d be impressed.

Catering was lucrative, especially when the owner never turned a job down. Not a single one, even if the client was far from reputable. Staff turnover was unreal because of it, but you didn’t mind if you got paid at the end of the night (and the mob paid very well for discretion). You had a rule. Keep your head down and do your job. People largely ignored you as long as you did.

It was the same here, among the Gotham elite. No one looked at your face or bothered to learn your name.

You ducked inside the kitchen where Mark, the bartender, sorted through a crate of liquor. Several platters of half-finished hors d’oeuvres sat on the counter, but the new hires had disappeared.

Your eye twitched. “Where are they?”

Mark looked up from his crate. A few strands of strawberry blonde hair fell into his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and held the pose to show off the carve of his bicep. It was a well-practiced motion that made the ladies swoon. You have been one of those ladies before you learned he used that move on everyone.

“They mentioned a smoke break and left out the back.”

You scoffed. “Great.”

“Starting to feel a little sympathy for Rose, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.” You crossed the room to lay out the platters yourself. “Do you need anything? The butler asked.”

Mark whistled softly. “I wish I was rich enough to have a butler.”

“Who knows? You might finally get a sugar momma if you play your cards right.”

“That’s the goal. You could find yourself a sugar daddy if you tried.”

“Hard pass.” You’d accepted enough charity in your life. No one but the Red Hood knew about the scholarship, and you wanted to keep it that way. Accepting handouts went against your morals, and you didn’t want people calling you a hypocrite—even that was exactly what you were.

“I should go track those assholes down,” you grumbled as you finished one of the platters, “I don’t think they’ll last an hour.”

Mark snorted. “Have a little more faith. I bet they can make it to the end of the night.”

You wiped your palms off on the front of your apron. “I don’t bet on anything.”

“Lame.”

You left out the back door to search for your servers. What were their names again? Brian and Jon? That sounded right, but if it was wrong, you weren’t going to feel bad about it. They had spoken less than a dozen words to you since arriving at the manor. You rounded the corner to find one of them with a burning cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Where the other one?”

Jon/Brian (you couldn’t be pressed to tell them apart) glanced up from his phone, his blatant disregard for the job palpable. “Brendan took a lap to stretch his legs.”

Brendan. Fine. Brendan and Jon.

“He’ll have a chance to stretch his legs once the party begins. Find him and get your asses back inside.”

“Bitch,” he grunted as he flicked his cigarette at her feet. He stalked off to find Brendan.

Men, you seethed to yourself as you stomped out his cigarette.

At least Rosa was fun to talk to. That and she made sopaipillas for your birthday. Shame she had to go and quit on you.

You returned to the kitchen as the butler stepped inside. He noted the half-finished platters with an unimpressed sniff. “Would you like some help? Our guests are due to arrive any minute.”

Your shoulders sagged. “Yeah, that would be great.”

An hour later, the party was in full swing, and you were counting down the hours before you could go home and work on your readings for class. You wove through the guests with a full platter of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts balanced in one hand. Some people grabbed them before you had a chance to offer, while others waited for you to present them with a vacant smile and a pleasant, “Would you like one?”

It was automatic at this point. You didn’t think. Jon and Brendan on the other hand…

You searched for them in the crowd, but it was difficult with all the bodies crammed in one room. Fifty people were just shy of too many people for the spacious sitting room, but no one else seemed to mind. You shared a look with Mark, who mixed drinks at the bar in the corner.

You motioned to the crowd, and he shrugged, already guessing your question. He hadn’t seen them either.

Perfect.

Your boss would have hell to pay in the morning because this was ridiculous.

A man knocked into your shoulder as he passed, nearly spilling your platter in the process. You swore as dove to save it. As you did, your attention snagged on familiar tattoo that painted the guest’s knuckles a deep crimson. You’d seen it before, but only ever on the east side and when you did, you knew it was time to run the other way.

A member of the Blood Knuckles—here at Wayne Manor.

Your mind raced as you made a beeline for the bar. Mark passed a glass of red wine to a woman with flushed cheeks. She giggled at nothing as she dropped a crisp twenty in his tip jar.

When she stumbled off to join her partner, you set your platter down and said, “Head back to the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Just do it. I can explain everything later. I need to find the—”

A shot went off behind you. Screams rippled through the crowd as you hit the ground. The Blood Knuckle stood with his back to you. He raised his gun to the ceiling, shards of crystal raining down from the chandelier. Three more men removed guns from their waistbands, each donning the brand of their gang.

 Bruce Wayne stood near the fireplace, a trembling hand raised as if he were soothing a wild beast. He wore his usual black on black, his jaw set with a severe expression as he stared the gun down its barrel. “Woah there,” he said as he tucked a younger boy behind his back, “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do we. Well, not with most of you anyway.” He turned his attention to but an aging man in the corner with thinning hair. “Oscar Franz, our boss has business with you.”

Oscar staggered back, the color leeching from his face. “W-Who sent you?”

“Oh, I don’t kill and tell.” He leveled the gun at him. “But we have a few questions first.”

Your ears rang as you scanned the room, weighing your options. If only you’d noticed sooner, you might have gotten Mark and you out of the room before the Blood Knuckles revealed themselves. They usually kept to their territory, so seeing them this far outside of East Gotham unsettled you. They weren’t usually hitmen, and you weren’t too keen to watch a man die before your eyes tonight.

Slowly, you got to your feet and used one hand to flip your platter. It clattered noisily to the ground, drawing the attention away from the target. The hitman locked eyes with you, and you recognized him instantly.

Brendan—now dressed in a tuxedo to blend in with the guests. How had you missed the tattoo before? Did you even get a good look at his hands?

Your manager would hire gang members by accident. To think, you could have been having a deep philosophical discussion about morality and the error of humanity instead. Now, you had to face the reality of your morality as he trained the gun on you.

A laugh bubbled in your throat as you lifted your hands, feigning innocence. And here you thought he was just a shitty server. This made a lot more s—

You sensed someone behind, but it was too late. Jon cracked the butt of his gun on the back of your head and the world went dark.

[ttheggrimrreaper]

Trust

Oliver aiku x reader (NB!)

Kinda angsty... Mostly sad Ig

Warnings: Cheating and sexual implication

"Baby, come on now, you can trust me" Oliver teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Today, you had decided to confess to the man, After pinning over him for 2 years since freshman year. Leaving a note in his locker, and he had come just as you hoped. Hiding behind the bleachers as he was crouched ever so slightly, his nose gently brushing over yours.

"I trust you," you said before you leaned in closer, closing the gap between your lips and his own. That was the first time you had heard those words.. and you weren't ready to hear them for the second time.

(3 years later, Aiku is now 17)

"Come on Baby, you can trust me~" he teased as he hugged you from behind, leaning against the closed door of his bedroom. Three years... He was going off for some dumb soccer camp. Where you couldn't follow. "It's only a couple months.., and you know there won't be anybody worth my time there." He comforted you as you sighed, giving into the silly illusion that he was being honest.

"I trust you." You said again, He let go of you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he pulled away. Grabbing his bags and headed for the front door.. leaving you standing in his living room.. alone.

(1 year later, Aiku is now 18)

"Baby, come on now! Don't be ridiculous.. you know you can trust me!" He spoke, standing Infront of you with his flirty smile. He wanted to join a team... The u-20 team. Which was fine,.. except it would take away from the already limited time you got with him. Hugging yourself as you looked down.

"I trust you..." You mumbled, nodded slightly. He closed the gap between you two, hugging you as he chuckled. You didn't want to be selfish.. it was his dream to do this after all.

(1 year later, Aiku is now 19)

"Baby! What are ya on about!? You can trust me!" He spoke urgently, quickly as you packed your things from your shared apartment. 5 years.. 5 years of hearing the same damned words whenever a disagreement came up. Today, you caught him cheating. You walked in on him, bent over another girl on your shared bed, the worst part, he put away all photos of you and him.

"Yeah!?! Can I?" You yelled, throwing one of the pillows at him. Tears sting your eyes. He nodded, smiling softly as he caught the pillow, stepping forward to close the gap. " 'You can trust me!' is what you said after you forgot my birthday and managed to convince your friend to give you his reservation at the restaurant for his girlfriends birthday! 'you can trust me' is what you said when I called you in the middle of the night, and I heard moaning on the other end and you insisted it was you jerking off! But it wasn't huh? It was another gal wasn't it!? 'you can TRUST me' is what you said when I called you on for coming home at an ungodly hour EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. Tell me Oliver, How did I respond every single time!?"

You gritted your teeth, zipping up your bag. Before you turned to him. He didn't even look remorseful.. because right.. his type is someone who didn't look like a hassle to break up with... Well you were about to be a hassle, after years of just laying down and gaslighting yourself into believing that he wasn't visiting your hot neighbors in the middle of the night for sex. When you didn't get the answer you wanted from him, you answered for him.

"I trust you. Thats what I said every single time. But now, you're not gonna get that answer Aiku. I will be back in the morning, pack up my stuff for me or don't, I don't care. Go fuck our neighbors again because why the fuck not right? It's not like you had a faithful significant other sitting on your bed sobbing because she knew." You started on your way out, hearing Aiku stumble over the blanket he wrapped around his waist.,. He didn't even get dressed while you fought... And you swore you heard him tell the girl before she left to come back in a few days.

"y/n baby... Come on-" you heard him start. You opened the front door, but before you walked out you looked over your shoulder at him.

"Aiku baby, Come on now.... You know you can trust me... And that I am never going to fall for that again." You said, in the same tone that he used every time he told you those words. With that, you left, slamming the door behind you.

I don't know if I can write for Olivier or not... But hey! Guess this is how I am gonna figure it out.

[milkwaydreams]

I see this, so I'm gonna do the opposite

I don't buy at all that Jun likes Po.

It just makes no sense to me Jun SUDDENLY falling in love with Po but everything he do adds up if he likes THAME instead.

"He is not gonna like you. He likes tiny and cute girls. Won't like a big guy like you"

This can come from his own experience from liking Thame but never getting a chance with him because Jun himself is a big guy.

"He is always like that. He used to do the same thing with me when I was getting closer to Thame" - Dylan

This explains itself. Jun just tried to make Dylan not fall for Thame so Thame wouldn't be with Dylan.

"It doesn't matter what I feel"

Why they didn't ACTUALLY confirms that he likes/liked Po?!

"You were using him to write a movie review for you"

"Have you ever noticed his potential?"

I mean, anything that I get from that scene can come from his own experience (and this series likes to play with it, like Po throwing all his hold back emotions from Earn to Thame in the 1st episode without actually saying it was all about Earn and not Thame at that moment). Thame always treated Jun well, he wanted Jun back first cause he is important to Thame. Thame is just a innocent lil ball, kinda stupid to be honest that doesn't realize the consequences of his actions.

If you think about it, what he did to Po, the phone number thing, "You're important to me", on the phone for 9 hours, made Po fall in love with Thame easily and Thame DIDN'T EVEN REALIZED WHAT HE WAS DOING until Pepper point out.

Everything Jun says and do could be because of the same reason. Thame did all of that to Jun, talking on the phone all night (and he ACTUALLY says he did), taking to the movie, treating he nice like that, so Jun fall for Thame but in the end, Thame just saw him as a friend.

So, FOR ME, he was stirring things up with Po maybe to prevent Po from falling for Thame too, or to keep Thame all for himself even if just as a friend. Maybe he did caught feelings for Po in the meantime cause Po is the sweetest, how not to fall? But, in the end, when Thame confronts him, he realizes that Thame really fell for Po and he knows Po really likes Thame so he backs up and let Thame go. So he advices Thame to not lose or treat Po badly because he cares and saw how Po is sweet and hurt already, he don't want Thame to hurt someone else (like, maybe, he hurt Jun)

"I just don't want to see you being a lousy partner to anyone."

It is indeed amazing how everyone watches the same thing and feel different, I love that, seeing other POVs. So I wanted to share mine🥰🥰 OFC I can be wrong, but still wanted to say how I feel now before more questions are answered so it's the real me now yk?!

And I also COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND the JunPo shipping and that Jun likes Po thing. I just feel different about it 🥰🥰🥰

Jun (Not) Liking Po

It's interesting how people can watch the same thing and take different things from it.

Personally, I read Jun in episode 8 like this: he likes Po, he knows Po likes Thame but he assumed it was one sided, once he realized it's not, that he doesn't have a shot with Po and that he doesn't want to damage his friendship with Thame he backed off.

I know the dialogue says one thing but the visual framing of Jun not even attempting to stop Thame's final point in the game makes me think he "let Thame win".

Like Dylan said, Jun avoids conflict. Also we've seen Jun be outspoken about messing with people. That's why I personally don't think he was trying to "trick" Thame into finally confessing to Po or anything like that.

I did see a lot of people being all "See! Jun doesn't like Po!" and that's not what I got from this episode at all.

Maybe I missing something. Maybe people already know some twist from the book that I don't but yeah... that's where I am at right now.

[goodnightwindy]

hey guys. Ouuhghh

[skrunksthatwunk]

thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.

[edgy-ella]

So I can’t speak for the Heroes stuff (I spent $20 on Heroes in 2017, got nothing out of it, then uninstalled the app and refused to touch a gacha game ever again), but as the number 1 Fates apologist I’ll throw my hat into the ring on this.

To preface my positions on each game/character:

Fates is probably my most played game of all time. Since I’ve played it across three different 3DSes and two different laptops (via Citra), it’s hard to get the exact numbers, but believe me when I say it’s definitely over 1000 hours, probably closer to 3000 if I’m being honest

Three Houses is my most played Switch game of all time at 1000+ hours

I main Byleth in Ultimate (along with Sonic lol), but use Corrin as a secondary

I don’t have any pictures of it anymore but when I was like 16(?) I dressed up as Corrin for Halloween lol

And yeah, I think Corrin is a little overhated. BUT, comparing them to Byleth specifically, I get why people are a little more brutal, and it’s not just because Three Houses is the “better” game.

First of all, smash fans absolutely did not welcome Byleth on arrival. Hell, I was in the middle of playing Three Houses when they got announced and even I was pissed that they got in instead of characters like Dante or Rayman, characters I wasn’t even all that invested in in the first place (both now and in 2019, the only character I really want in smash is another Sonic rep). To this day I think Byleth’s moveset would make more sense on Anna, FE’s pseudo-mascot, than it does on Byleth. Smash players only started to warm up to the Ashen Demon after they started performing really well in tournaments.

Granted, a lot of the Byleth hate came from timing. Some internet commentators like Schaffrilas will want you to believe that it’s actually somehow Corrin’s fault that Byleth got so much hate on release, but really, Nintendo has no one but themselves to blame. Byleth had the monumental task of being the finale for the game’s first batch of DLC in a DLC pack otherwise full of third-party fighters. An expectation was set, and Byleth broke away from it for what most fans consider a lesser product. Compare that to Corrin, another blatant advertisement character. Not only was Smash 4’s DLC more focused on first party rep (Mewtwo, Roy, Lucas), but Corrin was announced alongside Bayonetta. Therefore, they went mostly under the radar. Probably helps that Smash 4 Bayonetta is one of the most broken characters in smash history.

But we’re not here to talk about smash bros fans. We’re here to talk about fire emblem fans.

Like I said, I agree that the hate for Corrin and Fates as a whole is blown waaaay out of proportion by most FE fans. Fates has some of the most memorable levels and involved mechanics in the entire series without ever detracting from the main strategy gameplay (unlike Three Houses, where most of your playtime will be spent at the monastery). Units are customizable without sacrificing individuality. The route split feels meaningful, with very few shared maps across all three routes. It’s challenging, but fair. Can we please stop saying that this is the worse FE game when Shadow Dragon is right there.

What about Corrin specifically, though? Well…

Really I think the Corrin hate when compared to Byleth boils down to a few key factors:

Fates’ marketing. Fates’ marketing put a lot of emphasis on its narrative and how Your Choices Matter™. However, in the game itself, there’s only two choices the player can really make: the route split (predetermined for most players by which version of the game they bought), and killing/sparing Shura in Conquest. There are level by level side objectives, but these rarely if ever impact the narrative. So when the story goes somewhere you don’t want it to go in a game that told you that Your Choices Matter™, you get frustrated, and therefore you end up blaming the player avatar for not acting as you would in that scenario. Three Houses similarly lacks a lot of serious player driven choices, but the game’s story was marketed more on the intrigue of crests and the Three Houses™ themselves than on idea of seriously influencing the story at every turn.

Fates’ writing. This is a dead horse at this point but it is a serious knock against Corrin. It also goes hand in hand with the previous point. Personally I don’t really care in a game where I can just skip all the cutscenes, but there really are a lot of overly contrived plot points in Fates that tends to bring the whole experience down for others. Sadly, Corrin and Azura end up being the biggest victims of these contrivances by virtue of being protagonists. Rewatch that cutscene after Conquest chapter 15 and tell me this game isn’t even the slightest bit bullshit. Takumi’s legitimate grievances with Corrin are all forgiven at the end of Conquest. In Revelation everyone ends up blindly trusting Corrin enough to literally jump off a cliff for them. The list goes on and on. Ultimately I think Azura gets hit with this the worst, but I see why people pin these on Corrin as well. Byleth on the other hand, doesn’t get moments like these because they’re not the active force in the game’s story. The house leaders are.

Byleth is not the only lord in Three Houses. Unless you do Silver Snow, Byleth will always have Edelgard, Dimitri, or Claude to round them out. Dimitri and Claude are beloved by fans for their distinct personalities and interesting motives, and say what you will about Edelgard, but at least she’s not a “dialogue choice generator” like Byleth is.

Reverse classism. Basically a fancier way of me saying “people think Byleth is cooler than Corrin.” Corrin grew up in a big fucking castle with a squad of retainers at their beck and call and loving adopted siblings that would visit whenever they were lonely. Corrin has the Chris Thorndyke problem—it’s hard to feel bad for them being “isolated” when they live with a bunch of servants that act like found family members. Byleth, on the other hand, is a mercenary living with their badass war hero father, both of whom have essentially been on the run from the church for decades. So purely from a backstory perspective, Byleth seems more grizzled and “real” while Corrin comes off more like a spoiled rich kid, even if that’s not what they actually are.

Presentation of their powers. Why can Byleth time travel? Why does god live in their head? Why can Byleth use the sword of the creator? They have god’s heart inside their chest and the sword of the creator is made out of her spine. How is this information revealed to the player? A slow burn over the first half of the game, with further details elaborated on in specific routes. Why can Corrin turn into a dragon? Why can Corrin use the yato? Corrin’s real dad is a water dragon. How is this information revealed to the player? In the library hidden behind a cipher and some paid DLC you need to buy on top of all three routes. Part of the reason people call Corrin a Mary Sue is because the origin of their powers is barely, if ever, presented in the main plot.

Silent protagonist vs. speaking protagonist. This one’s a bit more divisive. A lot of people prefer and/or have an easier time relating to silent protagonists in gaming because they rarely do or say anything that the player themselves wouldn’t do, so they can place themselves in their shoes better. This often leads to the protagonist coming off as an observer, or someone being led through the story rather than an active participant in it, which is definitely the case with Byleth. Comparatively, Corrin talks and Corrin acts. But some of Corrin’s actions are very, very dumb. Now, I don’t think this works with Byleth because they have too much lore for me to project myself on them like they’re a Pokémon protagonist and too generic/“samey” dialogue choices for me to truly role play as them like a Persona protagonist. I think for the role Byleth serves in the game’s story, they’d be a much better character if they just talked like normal. But it’s a disconnect some players face, so it’s worth bringing up.

That being said I think as far as being an actual character is concerned I like Corrin way more. Don’t get me wrong, they do some interesting stuff with Byleth, but it’s all undermined by the fact that they don’t talk. I struggle to get attached to them when they can’t meaningfully contribute to a conversation. For all Corrin’s faults, at least they can interact with others. Byleth feels like they exist more as a prop for the other characters. Which is fine, but it’s not ideal.

Also female Byleth is totally the canon option because if you play as male Byleth you’re basically forced to marry either a Corrinsexual like Flora or one of the child characters (otherwise you miss out on someone’s kid). Her being gooner bait for the foot fetish weirdos is just an unfortunate consequence of that lol

It's 5am where I am so I'm no doubt gonna regret posting meaningless whining about my favs compared to other characters when I wake up but rn who tf cares

I'm still incensed under the surface about how Byleth gets a better reception than Corrin, and how Corrin specifically is represented in a grand scheme of the FE franchise, mostly with Heroes.

"Corrin gets positions and authority when he doesn't deserve it!" then silence for Byleth when he gets a teaching position, and later either the archbishop spot or outright becomes king of an entire continent.

"Corrin's dragon powers aren't used in the plot enough!" Byleth's powers are only ever plot device fodder, are mechanically indistinct from other FE protag powers before and after him, and have terrible ludonarrative applications.

"Too many people worship Corrin!" About 70% of the cast's morality when defecting from their home (and sometimes partaking in harming it) is dictated by Byleth having enough tea parties with them, after being enrolled in a job he wasn't qualified for

"Corrin's character and personality is bad" Byleth doesn't even have one, he's just a dialogoue choice generator

"Corrin is the worst FE rep in Smash, had the worst trailer, and is representative of FE having imbalanced representation" FE has a clone/Echo fighter problem and consolidating Roy, Lucina and Chrom into Marth as alt skins a la Bowser Jr. would auto fix that controversy given the Smash community's "if I don't see it, it doesn't exist" approach to character slots; there is no universe where a trailer showcasing one of the worst villains in 3H-and the FE series as a whole-is better than even the cringiest lines in Corrin's trailer; there is more unique properties and applications just in Corrin's side special than there is in Byleth's entire kit, which was really a mish-mash of different Smash archetypes, inlcuding ones other FE characters covered. Not to mention the fucking PNG Sothis Final Smash with the embarassing lip flaps, jesus.

Every problem that Corrin is accused of having, Byleth does it worse. Every problem that Byleth gets jabbed with, eventually gets redirected back to Corrin for "starting it."

And it's seen as justified, because why? Well, 3H is a "better" game of course! After all, it's the best selling one! If it sold that much and was so well received that means it must have done everything exponentially better than Fates did! (ignore the fact that Fates was the best selling game in the series before 3H please). Why wouldn't Byleth simply be objectively, immutably better than Corrin in every metric going by this logic?

And, like always, CYL is gonna reaffirm this again for everyone. Cuz why wouldn't Byleth get so many votes last year despite him getting a great Christmas alt just the month before? He deserves it after the female version already won after all! And why wouldn't he win this year when he's guaranteed an Emblem alt in the future, and most likely to be on one of Valentine's, Children, or Wedding banners?

It made sense for the Robins to win one after the other cuz they're cool and awesome and not weak and annoying, so it makes sense for Byleth too!

Why would Corrin get this "it's his turn treatment" when he's not a good character and the female version only won because everyone knows she's just dumb fetish bait 🤪🤪🤪/s

It's just... so infuriatingly transparent. Even Male Alear isn't hit with this quite as hard tbh, because at worst he had half the votes Female Alear did, whereas M!Corrin at best had barely over a third of F!Corrin. And that only fuels my perspective on how M!Corrin, for all his alts, always feels like his presence is treated compulsory and obligated, and F!Corrin is always sold with "she's hot, who cares" in mind.

FE fans made it clear that Corrin's character was hated, so the solution became to sell the Fem one for horny whales, and have the Male one just slightly behind in numbers to keep up the illusion of fairness (while always making him inferior in gameplay).

All that just for Byleth, a non-character, to get every excuse and love from a fandom that hated Corrin for the same issues he has. Crazy.