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kissitbttr · 1 year ago

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Hi lovely! Your cake tasting fic was literally immaculate. I was just thinking about how r and miguel met, and how cute it would be to see a blurb where he gets all flustered when he sees her for the first time? You are amazing! Xoxo

sending u lots and lots of kisses MWAH MWAH thank u baby😚😚😚 anyHOWWWW i’m so glad someone asked for this! I’ve been waiting for it TEEHEE! now i did mention a little bit on the cake testing fic how they first met, sooo i might just have to expand from there yuhyuh!

this turned out a bit onger than i expected lol but I hope you'd enjoy it regardless!

miguel masterlist

—

miguel meeting his wife for the first time

“the laboratory is 80% damaged, miguel. we need to get it fixed or else we can no longer continue our work.”

miguel sighs deeply, pinching his eyebrows with his index finger and thumb. the ungodly amount of research papers stacked neatly in the corner of his working desk, along with bunch of scrunched papers on top.

“jessica, no ahora”

she rolls her eyes at his stubbornness, arms crossed over her chest. his eyes glued on the monitor, framed glasses perched on the bridge of his thick nose bone

“you need a break.”

“I don’t” he disagrees. if anything, he needs to put on more hours of work. “i can’t leave before everything is done. we’ll get it fixed next week.”

“that’s what you said last week, miguel” jessica points out, eyes scanning around the room. “look at this mess! the HQ haven’t got fixed in months! if you want this building to be safely secured and leave no casualties in the future, you have to do what i say.”

again, miguel disagrees. shaking his head without looking up. “and i said, no.”

but jessica refuses to be told like that, shrugging her shoulders like it’s nothing. “well too bad, because i already found someone who’s willing to work on it and you’re meeting them”

that seems to catch his attention, his pen dropping off between his finger as his head whips towards jessica’s direction.

“you—what?!”

“i’m not going to be responsible for many injured people in the future. not when we have too much enemies coming to bite our asses so i suggest you get down from there and come here”

miguel has a temper. a very short one, and it’s not easy to control it when he’s surrounded by people who’s trying to tell him what to do. it’s supposed to be the other way around.

but miguel has no energy to fight back, so instead of telling her to fuck off, he just nods his head.

“alright fine” an upset mutter falls from his lips before he makes his way down the stairs. hands on his hips. “where is he?”

jessica scoffs, “why do you always assume everyone is a he?” she chuckles lightly at miguel’s quirk eyebrow. “you can come in now, ms. y/l/n”

the sound of his office door clicks after that, and miguel seems to be less than impressed because he has no energy in him to talk to people other than himself,

yet, his jaw drops instantly soon as he sees the person who walks through it,

a woman—a very gorgeous one—who looks like to be in her mid twenties makes an entrance as her heels click against the marble floor, carrying what seems to be a tablet and folders. she’s dressed in a grey long tight fitting dress that falls down to her ankles with a cropped beige colored cardigan completing the whole look as an outer, leaving only the left shoulder exposed. a smile appears on her face as she fixes the frame of her black reading glasses.

miguel has never seen a more beautiful woman than the one he’s staring at right now,

“ms. y/l/n, this is miguel o’hara. the head of Alchemax and leader of Spider Society.” jessica smirks at the way miguel is gaping right now, as he makes no intention in hiding it away.

guess, her 70% of her plan is slowly working.

“ugh! come on, jessica you’ve known me long enough to stop saying my last name” she giggles, “mr. o’hara. my name is y/n. it is very nice to meet you. jessica had told me many things about you. i am so impressed with everything you had done”

‘fuck, even her voice is pretty’ he thinks

he regains his composure, clearing his throat before taking off his glasses. “thank you, y/n. you and jessica are close?”

with a nod, she responds, “we go way back. haven’t been off each other’s arms for a long time. hard to keep me away from this woman”

so jessica had been hiding her away from him? that’s rude.

“oh hush. always with the sweet talk” jessica waves her off with a smile. “miguel, y/n has plans on remodeling the hq for us. i’ve told her about what needs to be done and so forth. she has already inspected the lab, cafetería, training rooms. this smart woman right here came with conclusions in just five minutes.”

a blush creeping into y/n’s cheeks, shyly tucking a loose hair behind her ear which makes miguel’s heart warms at the sight,

“i’ve seen her work and i wouldn’t just bring anyone when it comes to our matter. she’s the perfect person for this. now since i have so many things to catch up on, i hope it’s okay for me to leave you two and have her explain it all—“

“yes” miguel replies a bit too quickly, causing the two women to raise their eyebrows. this makes him slightly bit embarrassed at how eager he might have come off. “i mean-yeah, of course. it’s not like i was doing anything. have a bit of a time off.”

“i though you said—“

“that’s enough jessica. thank you” he nods at her, shooting her a tight smile. “i would love to hear it.”

a giddiness blooms in his chest when y/n gives him a toothy grin. and it may become his favorite thing to look at,

“alright then. i’ll see you later. bye, sweetheart” jessica waves at her friend before walking out of miguel’s office and shutting the door behind her,

now it’s just them,

y/n’s gaze averts back to his tall figure. she had heard stories about miguel o’hara. jessica loves to spill teas about her partner and had showed pictures of him when y/n was curious on how he look like. he is indeed handsome.

but now, looking at him in person? fuck, even the greek gods are no match to him

beautiful bronze skinned, broad shoulders, high cheekbones with sharp jawlines. she glances a bit at his toned chest then down to his torso for a bit. abs rock hard enough to be seen through the working shirt he’s wearing. this man built like he contains zero body fat.

however, his mesmerizing red eyes are what got her hooked.

“it’s very nice of you to make the time for this, mr. o’hara. i know you are a very busy man and i hate to be the one who’s preventing you from your work.”

miguel’s head shakes, giving her a small genuine smile. “no apologies necessary. and please, call me miguel”

“okay then, miguel” she nods, returning his smile. “may i begin showing you what i’ve been working on?”

miguel’s arm extends towards a large wooden table, allowing her to walk first. “by all means” he folds his arms behind his back, following her from behind.

he’s very much struggling not to look at her ass while she moves,

“okay, so” she lays her things flat on the table, getting to work quickly. “i’ve planned a pre-design for your laboratory, given that the lab is one that needs extra precautions and highly detailed instructions, i’ve figured i should get that one done first. and here” she unlocks her tablet before tapping one app, showing the minimum design. “there are important keys that needs to be highlighted. i need exact measurements of how many people will be coming in and out of your lab, objects you’re thinking of storing, etc. because it will determine the amount of space i’ll be working on”

miguel doesn’t know jack shit about what she’s talking about but fuck, it sounds incredibly sexy to his ears,

“jessica had explained to me before that there will be less than fifteen people working in there. i would advise to create a fingerprint for entry. and it will require more space, more equipment and materials for me and my team to be able to carry on with our tasks. but i need you to not worry, miguel. i’ve done the trials and errors to limit the damage that might occur with the calculations.” she pushes her tablet for him to see clearly, colorful scribbles of geometry with shapes and patterns,

not only that, but she has a few mockups too. giving him a small vision on how the area would look like once it’s done.

miguel’s eyebrows raise, moving a bit closer to where she stands. “christ. this is amazing. you did that in…?”

“a week” she finishes with a smile, nails tapping against the table. watching how his eyes amazed at her small simple work “some would take more than that but, i take my work seriously, i don’t like postponing.”

his eyes move upwards to look at her, impressed by the details and efforts she had done with it. one thing about miguel, is that he is very much attracted to people who are putting their careers above anything,

and she has ticked that box,

“indeed” he lets out a breathe, nodding. “does that mean you don’t have a lot of free time?”

she thinks for a while. “not much definitely. but it’s not like i’m missing out on anything. what do people do nowadays? partying and gossiping? i rather not.”

he chuckles in amusement, “understandable. i thought that you might be into those kind of stuff.”

“and what gave you the assumption?”

he raises his shoulders. “you look young. young people like to have fun.”

“and how old do you think i am?” she asks with arms crossed,

he pinches his eyebrows. “28?”

she hums with a small laugh. “i’m 26”

miguel’a eyes widen slightly, “makes me older than you, then”

“how old are you?”

“32”

“really?” she asks in disbelief. “i thought older.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. around 40ish maybe.”

“that’s quite offensive, love” he fakes a gasp, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watches her scramble through more papers,

her heart skips a beat at the nickname, though she doesn’t think much of it. “it’s a compliment. the older the better, i’d say”

miguel smiles at that, walking around the table so now he stands across from her. “what did you and jessica talk about?”

“hm?”

“about me” he confirms. “you said that the two of you had talking about me.”

“oh, well” she begins, standing up straight to look into his eyes and miguel swears his knees almost give up. “she told me how much she admires you. your intelligence, bravery. your work ethic. told me all about the good things you had done for the people—“

“i don’t know about that”

“which” she cuts him off. “i am so, undeniably impressed by. keeping the universe intact while trying not to lose your fucking mind is hard, i could tell. I don’t know how you do it. makes me admire you too”

he stares at her as if he’s searching for a trace of doubt or a lie on her face. when he finds none, his heart softens. never in his life had someone come up to him and say how he’s doing a great job. let alone being impressed.

“thank you— i needed that actually” he laughs a bit. “wish people could say the same.”

“in my opinion, i don’t think you need to know about what other people think or say. you’re a grown man, correct?” she taps the eraser of her pencil on one of her sketchbook, eyeing any misguided lines she needs to work on. “if they don’t appreciate that, might as well kick their asses into a new universe”

a genuine chuckle escapes him, nodding in agreement. “i keep that in mind” he clears his throat, thinking about whether or not to make a small talk,

she notices the long pause between them before speaking up, “please, i hate awkward silence. you can talk to me, if you want to, miguel” her head shoots up at him with a playful tone,

“is architectural the only thing you’re doing?” he finds himself curious at her line of work,

“apart from this, i do a little bit of interior design. not too far off from architectural but not exactly the same either. i love anything that goes from there. putting ideas in my head before making it into a reality. also, it’s warming to see how i can help my clients dream come true” she responds simply, a small smile engraves on her pretty features.

“i also am studying in biochemistry at the moment. having a bit fun with molecular study.”

that perks his interest. “biochemistry?” he asks in a surprise tone. “i’m no expert in architectural but i don’t think it has anything to do with that.”

“it doesn’t” she confirms, picking a ruler before sketching out more details on the design. “i do it for fun.”

“for fun?” again, his question comes out in surprise, “why’s that?”

“i just think that learning shouldn’t be limited to one, you know? i like knowing about things. doing more things. the more knowledge, the more you have room to grow. plus, learning about molecules is interesting. might take it seriously on that one”

‘holy fuck, she’s perfect’

“that’s a— wow—“ he huffs out a heavy breath, can’t exactly tell if he’s impressed or intimidated. earning a soft giggle from her.

so, she’s gorgeous, brilliant and ambitious.

“how about you? jessica mentioned about you specializing in genetics. is that some sort of science thingy? because it sounds pretty fucking cool”

miguel scratches the back of his head. “something like that. i more focused on DNA’s, genetics pairings, human genome. all sorts of that. pretty boring if you ask me”

“doesn’t sound boring” she scoffs. “if anything, i find it very attractive when men are willing to learn about science. and i’m not just talking about the glasses, but the brains as well. you ticked every single quota, miguel”

she points at the working glasses he has on, causing his eyes to bug out at her boldness. y/n watches how he shyly takes it off, flustered at the compliment. she smirks as if she keeps trying to keep score on how many times she’s succeeded,

“okay, so” she continues, palms resting on the table before shifting the tablet. “let’s talk about your office. is there something you’re willing to change? because, not to be rude but your infrastructure is quite—shit. keep this up in two months then the apocalypse might have come early”

miguel bites back a laugh at her choice of words, scanning over his office walls, ceilings and monitors. “what do you suggest?”

she pauses, biting the end of her pencil before her eyes begin to do a 360 walkthrough. the sight is almost too perfect for miguel.

“we could do something about elevating the ceilings. make it a bit higher. and i see you have lesser—safety features? which could be quite concerning. we need to install biosafety cabinets, more detection systems and fire protection. I know you’re no ordinary man and could probably handle all the damage that might happen in the future but, it is my responsibility to ensure my client’s safety.”

miguel feels like a lovesick fool right now. and an asshole. he hadn't been listening a lot to what she had to say, merely focused on the way her pink glossed lips moving and how her fingers would occasionally fiddle against one another,

he imagines how her mouth would feel like, molding against his. there is no doubt in his mind that he would immediately be entranced with it.

"miguel? you listening?"

her sweet voice pulls him out of his train of thought, eyes blinking rapidly before meeting y/n's confused gaze,

"oh--y-yeah! yeah uhm.. that sounds great, would love that” his nervous chuckles makes her smile. “you’re really quick with it, aren’t you?”

“just doing my job, mr.o’hara” her tone is professional and prideful. “i’ll work quickly on the building designs, exploring more concepts for it and run a few test drives. however this might steal a bit of your time, from your job. weekly meetings are needed during this process. i’ll bring the mockups, sketches, models and everything. your inputs and feedbacks are required since this is your building after all. would that work?”

spending more time with her? oh, absolutely. he’d make it work,

he gives her a nod. “of course. i’ll clear my schedule off for it, just let me know when”

“excellent!” she exclaims with a bright smile, clapping her hands. “i will do my best to get it done as quickly as possible for you, miguel. i made a promise to jessica and i intend to keep that promise. it’s a long process but i need your full trust on me, okay? do you trust me?”

“yes” he answers without hesitation. “i trust you.”

“great! okay, that is all i have for you today. do you have any questions?”

miguel doesn’t like the idea of it ending here. not seeing her again until next week? that doesn’t feel right.

“you have a boyfriend?”

y/n halts at his question, looking at him with a confused yet amused expression. lip quirking in curiosity. “getting personal, aren’t we?”

“fuck, sorry, hermosa. you don’t have to answer that”

her heart skips a beat at the nickname. he just called her beautiful?

she eyes at how his gaze cast down the floor, head shaking. probably mentally kicking himself at the bold question he had thrown at her,

but she finds it adorable,

tilting her head to the side, she responds. “no. i don’t have a boyfriend. they are not quite up the standards i’m looking for.”

“yeah?” miguel takes a step forward, eyebrow raising. “and what are they?”

“my standards”

he finds it attractive at how she doesn’t like settling for less. she knows her worth without coming off too cocky nor bitchy about it,

“am i not allowed to know?”

“you can fuck around and find out” she smirks, pushing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “i like to see them try.”

“you like seeing men on their knees begging for your time?”

she nods. “i live for it.”

he feels his cock growing hard at that,

“are you free, this friday?”

she bites down on her lower lip, watching how his biceps almost ripping his shirt off when he crossed his arms,

“i’m a busy woman, miguel”

“so am i” he responds quickly. “say dinner or a drink, anything. an hour or two tops, how about it?”

the way he’s looking at her should be illegal. he has this glint in his eyes. primal, confident. and it’s extremely charming in her own opinion,

she hates how it makes her heat rises,

with a hum, she slowly gather up her things, stacking the compiling files on the tablet. tucking them against her left breast.

“pick me up at 7. don’t be late. and i’m choosing where we should go. it was nice meeting you, mr. o’hara. i will see you then” with that she gives him a smile and a subtle wink before turning around to exit out of his office. leaving miguel completely speechless but enamored.

“fuck. i’m in love” he exhales a dreamy sigh

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara imagines

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under-cotton-and-calicos · 1 year ago

Text

Take Me Back To Eden

Multiple Ghosts x AFAB Reader

AN: It’s been a long while. I’ve been busy [insert unhinged ao3 author life update here]. This has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time jeez. Wasn’t really satisfied with any of the directions it took so I finally sat down and committed to something. May or may not have a sequel. I recommend listening to “Descending” by Sleep Token while you read this. As the title implies, I’m kinda obsessed with the band right now. Enjoy!

tags: cult sex, orgy, heavy dubcon, ghosts, ancient deity, mind manipulation, oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, WEIRD CUM

Word count: 3.9k

With a pathetic sputter, the incessant humming of your old corolla’s engine gives way to silence. For a few moments, you sit in the dark and quiet, a mixture of excitement and anxiety raising goosebumps on your skin. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re sure that today you’re going to get your big hit. It has to be.

You slam your car door shut and take a deep breath, a gym bag filled with equipment and cameras slung over one shoulder, your free hand guiding the beam of your heavy duty torch across the entrance of the abandoned bar. The old, faded sign perched above its entrance is unreadable, faintly you can make out traces of looping letters. Its battered and dusty exterior belies the rumours you’ve heard about the place.

You were supposed to come with your posse, but every single one of them had work or family issues that cropped up at the last minute. Not one to be deterred by fear, you ended up making the drive down alone. In spite of the cool night, your skin is warm with anticipation as you cross the threshold and slip into the bar.

Not much is known about its origins or history- it’s a small, rundown lot in a slow and quiet part of town, so no one has ever paid it much attention. It had been a hole-in-the-wall style pub that attracted a small and dedicated group of patrons before mysteriously closing abruptly. Hours of digging through the net gave you enough reason to suspect that there was an abnormal cause behind why it still hadn’t been bought out for decades, though. The reports of ghostly apparitions in the crevices of obscure forums led you down a rabbit hole. Soon enough, you managed to find a video posted online, taken by some teenagers roped in by a bet. You studied it for hours, pausing at every frame.

You can still remember the sweet thrill, the goosebumps that formed on your skin when you noticed the wispy, grey figures hidden behind corners in several frames. Jackpot.

Your friends had told you that they were edited but your gut told you otherwise. There was a genuine fear in those kids’ eyes, you bet on it.

As you manoeuvre through old tables and chairs, you notice that the furniture is still well kept, barring the fact that everything is covered in layers of dust.The retro style bar, stools and shelves are all in good condition, though lacking bottles of booze and the typical drink making paraphernalia. Maybe someone still cares for the place?

You notice a few doors that hadn’t been explored in the video, so you try each handle, one of them leading to an empty storage room, another leading to a kitchen behind the bar, the next to a decrepit restroom. Curiously, there’s a long stairway behind a stuffy curtain going down to what you presume is a basement door. There’s an inlaid symbol on the door, made from burnished golden metal, its fine quality at odds with everything else in the bar. You’ve never seen anything like it before- the silhouette of a tree firmly rooted to the earth, its branches and roots reminiscent of…horns?

There’s something compelling about it. Your stomach dips at the thought of you opening the door, but you want to. There’s something on the other side of it.

When you yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge, breaking you out of your momentary stupor. You shake your head and blink.

Caught up in the moment?

“Damn.” You sigh. Typically, you would leave lockpicking to another one of your friends. There isn’t much you can do about it, so you decide to set up a few thermal cameras overlooking the tables and bar, as well as an REM pod for proximity detection on the countertop.

Kneeling behind the countertop, you turn on your spirit box, its harsh white noise filling the quiet. Through the static, you call into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response, but you introduce yourself and continue. You’re well accustomed to this pattern already, after years of this. The hauling of equipment, meticulously setting everything up, dicking around for a few hours and then packing up and heading home. Keep the time spent idle low, and expectations even lower. Perhaps it’s because you’re alone tonight. There’s a charge in the atmosphere, a certain secrecy and wonder to the ritual.

“I'd really like it if you told me your name.”

“Like.” The artificial, crackly word emerges from the static.

“Yes, I’d like it if you introduced yourself too.” You wait a few more moments before the next word. For a while, monosyllabic words are all you receive. So you dig and prompt until you tag onto something.

“More.”

“More?”

“M…More tha-an.”

“There’s more than one of you?” You say, peering around the empty bar. There’s no sign of the specters from the video, only swirling mites of dust suspended in the air under the glow of your torchlight. “Where are you?”

“H-Here.”

Suddenly, your REM pod flashes green, red, blue against the shadows, signalling that something is close by, very close by. But instead of its typical bleeping, a warbled wail echoes through the empty bar, causing you to flinch from how loud it is. The fuck?

You turn around and direct your torch towards the pod. Your heart falters.

A crowd of grey specters are standing behind the counter, their forms towering over where you’re kneeled on the ground. Their bodies are featureless, rippling as though they could blink out of existence at any moment, at odds with the physical realm. For a second, you can’t bring yourself to do anything. You feel dread, you're stunned, but underneath it all, the irrational, ghost hunting geek in you is baffled. Holy shit, holy shit.

You jump to your feet, backed against the shelves. Their heads tilt upwards, following your movement. And then you’re fleeing, terror driving you to run from the very situation that you’ve been chasing down for years.

The moment you’re behind the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your corolla protesting as it's jolted out of its sleep and forced to shoot down the empty street. You don’t stop to turn and look.

“Wait.” A real voice overlaps with the one coming from your spirit box still clutched in your sweaty palm, but you don’t stop, turning the corner around the countertop and passing through an ethereal, translucent arm reaching out to stop you. You burst out of the bar into the cooler night air and shakily jam your key into your car, cursing as you struggle to get the door open.

Holy shit, you chant over and over again, they’re real, they’re real!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Your alarm wakes you from a restless slumber, one of many in the past few months. With a groan, you fumble for your phone with your eyes still closed and turn it off.

“Fuck…” You curse at the soreness in your back and slick between your legs. It happened again last night.

Tugging your underwear down, you stare at the sticky mess you’d created in your sleep. Glimpses of your dream, or nightmare, flash through your head, sending a quiver down your spine. Your breath hitches at the thought, you palm your stiff nipples through your ratty old shirt and begin fingering your cunt, warm and dripping wet.

You’ve been tormented by a string of dreams lately, each one leaving you aching in the morning. So much so that you have had to incorporate masturbation into your morning routine. It’s never satisfying though, your fingers and toys don’t come even close to what you experience in the nasty recesses of the dreamscape hidden in your mind. All of them are vivid and realistic, but when you wake, you can only recall little snatches- greedy hands taking their fill of your body and being bent over, being filled…being defiled.

And with your equipment left at the bar, what can you do? There is no evidence of your findings. You can’t tell your friends that you’ve been having wet dreams almost incessantly since that night alone in the bar. You would seem like a lunatic.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to call this a kind of madness. Frantic and possessive. Bodies cast in vibrant colour, shadowed and swaying against you. Cast in the black behind your eyelids is a gold insignia, beckoning you closer and closer.

With a whimper, you cum, body folding over and shaking as you ride out your climax. Temporarily satiated, you slump back into your pillows dramatically, staring at your ceiling. Something from that bar had followed you home. And you want to go back.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The empty district is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. It’s a cold night, and you tug your sweater around your shoulders as you lean back in your car seat. It’s undeniable that you’re a little scared- you feel like one of those idiot teenagers in horror movies that get themselves killed for wandering recklessly into danger. Again, something tells you that it’s different. Or maybe you’re just horny.

With your torch in one hand and your phone in the other, you enter the bar. All of your equipment is just as you left it. You trace your finger over the REM pod on the countertop, dusty but intact. It’s…quiet.

What did you expect? To get jumped the moment you came in? There’s no sign of the specters as well. You’re a bit disappointed, because it means that those dreams you’ve been having might not have been supernatural at all, and worse, the specters might have been a figment of your imagination.

Just as you resolve to pack up your things and leave, a sliver of light catches your eye, cast against the dark floor. Purple light streams between the curtains that lead to the locked basement. Your heart begins to pick up pace again, and you rush over, brushing aside the thick, heavy fabric to see the stairway down illuminated. The door is open!

“H-Hello?” You call out, flicking your torchlight off and leaning it against a step. With hesitant steps, you descend, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial light. You know this atmosphere, this tension in the air from the distinctive purple haze of your dreams. Almost instinctively, your core warms and you can feel yourself shiver, a conditioned response.

When you reach the base of the stairs, your breath stalls in your throat and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. The same apparitions that have been haunting your dreams are there, facing you, as if waiting for your inevitable return. Your nervous eyes scan the rest of the room, it looks like you’ve stepped into another realm entirely- gone are the cheap and neon plastics of the bar, there’s a pool of fabrics and pillows, and an altar, carved from stone with tall pillars of candles by its sides.

Dazed, you don’t realise that you’ve been walking until you’re a few feet in front of the specters, their heads following you uncannily.

“I-I…” You sputter, jittery under their heavy, obscured gaze. They haven’t even done anything to you yet, but your head is all cotton and gauze. Slowly, you sink to your knees.

“My dreams. I’ve seen you there.” You say, awe-struck. A delicate voice replies, soft as a gossamer sheet.

“I am glad that you’ve returned.” It confuses you. You’re not sure if the voice is coming from one of the specters before you or if it’s echoing through your head, like you’re on a phone call with someone in the same room as you. Up close, their forms are ethereal, shimmering and tinted purple from the lights, shifting ever-so-slightly.

You can still make out the shape of a mouth and a nose on their faces, as well as outlines of their limbs and hands. One reaches out to you, fitting the curve of your cheek in the palm of their hand- your eyes widen at the touch, it feels real, cold but solid against you.

“Good one…pretty one…” They close around you, clamouring to touch you. A hand combs through your hair, traces the curve of your ear, another slides past the collar of your shirt to the dip between your shoulder blades, and one presses its fingers against your lips.

Strange, you think, opening your mouth obediently for the cold fingers to savour the wet warmth of your tongue. Every cell in your body is alight, bristling with energy and ready to burst at the seams. This is what you’ve been wanting for so, so long.

How could I have been terrified of them before this?

“More, more.” Not enough of you is exposed it seems. You shed your sweater, your hard nipples visible through thin fabric. The atmosphere bristles a bit, you think, as you finally discard your shirt, your breasts and inviting skin on display for them to grab at, their touch growing more hungry.

They whisper, trailing lower and lower. You close your eyes for just a moment, the jostling bodies around you giving way to darkness as you relish in the feeling of hands that grope your chest, firm nipples being pinched and tugged at, your bare body slowly becoming accustomed to their supernatural chill. Something bumps against your lips and you smile, opening your eyes once again to bat your eyelashes up at the specter that has its stiff cock in hand, unabashedly asking for entry.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for the specter to slide its head against you. You think you hear a whimper, and you’re pleased to feel it twitching as you close your mouth around it, humming as you bob your head and take more of its length down your throat. It’s solid, hard like a human’s, and you can feel the bump of veins trailing down its shaft. Behind you, one kneels down and presses its torso up against your back, a hand cupping your soaking sex and another kneading your breast.

“Here…!” Two more specters hovering over you tug at your arms impatiently, wrapping your hands around their own dicks. Obliging their requests, you stroke them lazily, eyes flitting between all of the spirits that surround you. The ones that are not latched to your body stand a short distance away, fisting themselves, undoubtedly staring at you get busy. Underneath their innumerable gaze, you’re exhilarated, and a thought flits through your mind- they’ll all have a chance to run you through later, and you’ll be able to experience it all in reality.

The specter shoves two fingers into your needy hole, grinding them against your sweet spot. You falter, but the specter that’s in your mouth clamps its hands around your head, sinking so deep that your face is flush with their crotch. The two rut into your tightened grip, gasping and groaning fills your head.

“So good…so good…Ah!”

When a finger flicks at your clit, you cum hard, body arching and thighs quaking. You’re stunned momentarily, and you swallow back the spit pooling in your throat, squeezing around the specter. Suddenly, its grip in your hair grows stronger, bordering on pain as it cums too, cold, thick liquid shooting into the back of your throat and covering your tongue. It tastes like nothing, you note, gasping for air when it detaches from you and releases its grip on your head.

What catches you off guard is the colour of its seed, a thick white substance that drips down your chin onto the floor between your legs, giving off an otherworldly glow. Immediately, another takes its place- the one on the right that had you fisting its cock guides it into your mouth and plugs you up again. This one is less patient, it holds you in place and fucks into your mouth. They use you like a sex toy, taking turns occupying your hands and mouth, grabbing at your chest and fingering your cunt. Any hesitation or endearing nervousness that occupied the specters has disappeared, and you’re elated. You lose count of how many have cum on you, they spill on your face, your chest, covering you in their ungodly semen. It becomes a dizzying cycle, and between your climaxes and theirs’, you lavish them with all that you can give, just as you did in your dreams. What you can take down your throat, you do gladly, an appreciative hum is your reward when you obediently swallow and accept the spurts of cum onto your body.

Suddenly, after a specter smears its cum across your tits, you’re pulled to your feet. Shaky and tired legs unable to support your body, you’re carried over to the altar that you saw earlier and laid upon it. It’s the perfect height, and you groan as a specter grinds its cock against your wet folds. Your legs are spread wide apart, and the empty spaces around you are quickly taken by eager spirits. They pause though, and seem to wait for something patiently. A name is called, something unintelligible, not in the human tongue, not anything you’ve heard before.

They say something in an alien tongue, and look upwards to the ceiling. There is something you didn’t notice before, the same sigil as the one on the door is painted there. In a split second, a collage of memories are made clear in your mind’s eye- you see offerings of wine and food, people kneeling before hulking statues and trees, orgies in secluded areas where hedonism flourishes, lush with the scent of sex and flowers.

The specter between your legs breaks you out of your reverie, and you’re suddenly in the basement once again, fully aware of your dripping cunt, the need. There’s an energy in the room that wasn’t there previously, charged and crackling. You groan when it fits its bulbous head against your entrance, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as it enters you. And finally, finally you are one with them. You stare entranced at where you are joined, its thick, translucent cock stretching your starved cunt.

“Fuck me, please.” You rasp, throwing your head back when it begins to thrust into you, setting a brutal pace. Again, the specters crowd around you and put you to work. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the wave of pleasure, the friction of the heavy cock in your pussy, the numerous hands that guide you and delight in the touch of your skin.

“You…you…” The voice bristles in your head, and there it is again- snatches of that scene and the voice, it’s getting stronger. You can barely focus, between the ghostly bodies all around you and the thread of a connection to It. They’re both equally addictive- the delicious stretch and fill, the wandering hands all over your overstimulated body, and the irresistible draw to something powerful and primordial. Closer, closer, closer.

The specter fucking into you quivers, its pace quickening and its thrusts growing shallower. It’s about to cum inside you, and you wrap your legs around its translucent torso to force it even deeper inside. In response, its hands grab your hips with so much force that you’re sure they’re going to bruise.

“Perfect.” The word is whispered into the shell of your ear, low but with the power of a command. Instantly, you feel like euphoria has flooded your body, too much of it. Every sensation is painfully amplified, the bliss of each thrust between your legs rapturous and overwhelming. You cum, and the specter does too, you can feel its cold seed like ice in your hot, hot cunt, flooding you, seeping into your being. Every cell in your body is screeching from pleasure so high that it hurts.

“Oh. Too much?”

There’s tears streaming down your cheeks. Your thoughts are melting together and no words form on your tongue, all you can manage is a pathetic nod as your body seizes in agony and orgasmic bliss.

“Apologies, it’s been a while.” It says, and just as quick as it compelled you, the euphoria is sapped from your body. The relief is another form of pleasure, and as you relax, you feel a gush of liquid seep past where you’re joined to the specter- you’re squirting, a puddle of it forming on the altar and dripping onto the floor.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” It whispers again, cool and calm as you gasp for breath. “I like it.”

“What…what-” You’re cut off by the specter dragging its cock out of you, leaving you gaping for the next one in line. You let out a high-pitched whine as the mix of semen and your slick spills out of you. As though to comfort you, one specter cradles your cheek and promptly nudges its dick past your lips. They seem to be oblivious to the conversation going on, or they carry on in spite of it.

“Don’t think. Just let go.” Another cock is thrust into you, barely giving you any reprieve as it pounds into you, intent on getting you filled again.

What are you?

“A vague question gets you a vague answer.” It tuts, “I am the bliss that found its way into your dreams, the cruelty that left you wanting more, and the hunger that brought you back here to me.”

Hands reach out to pinch and twist your nipples and clit, forcing you to let out a muffled yelp.

“It hardly seems fair for you to pay little attention to those who have been fucking you so vigorously. Well, given that you can’t form a coherent thought, the ones that have you speared on their cocks are my most devoted followers. They have been so gracious as to offer their spirits for my perusal.”

And now you understand- it’s a god, an ancient deity on the ceiling looking down upon you, casting its impartial and frigid gaze on this debauchery, orchestrated for its sake.

“And you, my little pleasure, are the first taste of life I’ve had down here in a long time.” Its tone has a vicious bite, excitement palpable. At that, the specters, or puppets in you cum, the elation of their master influencing their own pleasure, no doubt. You choke around the cock forced down your throat, cutting off your breathing until it pulls free from you and you choke down air and seed.

You’re so replete, so tired, you’re not sure whether you can take anymore-

“You will.”

Warily, you sweep your gaze across the hoard of hungry spirits hunched over you.

“After all, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Throughout the night, you’re used over and over, your poor cunt fucked and filled more times than you can count. Just as you think it may end, another specter is between your legs, alternating between lapping up the mess between your legs and pumping its seed into you again. All while some ancient and cruel god speaks to you. With each climax, you feel your consciousness slipping further away, the teasing and praise of the voice in your ear growing ever more distant…

When you wake, you’re exhausted. The specters had disappeared, leaving you on the altar. Despite the throbbing in your core and muscles, you manage to pull your clothes back on and make your way up the stairs, the unpleasant stickiness of your skin urging you to get home as soon as possible so you can take a shower.

A draft sends a chill down your spine, a whisper like a caress brushes past you.

I’ll see you soon, little pleasure.

You’re relieved to see your corolla on the streetside, and as you limp to your car you make a mental note to pack up your equipment the next time you’re here.

#monster x reader #monster x human #terato #monster lover #terato writing #monster nsft #nsft #cult stuff #COTTON HAS FINALLY POSTED SOMETHING #HUZZAH!!!!!#exophilia

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daytaker · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! I'd Like to request something for obey me. So MC is an Artist Like Semi realistic or so and then they draw the brothers and themself all together Like some Kind of Family Photo for maybe a sweet gesture to appriciat them, what would the reaction be?

First of all, that's adorable. Second of all, yes, absolutely.

Everyone

The immediate question on everyone's mind is where it should be put. The suggestions are fairly predictable. Beel wants it in the kitchen. Satan wants it in the library. Belphie wants it in the observatory. Asmo thinks it should go in his bathroom, and he acts amazed when his brothers disagree.

You'll probably be the one to suggest making some copies of it if they like it so much. That way they can all have one. The brothers all like this idea, so you head off to the Devildom equivalent of a FedEx store and make some quick copies for everybody.

Eventually, the original work will find pride of place above the fireplace, where everyone will get plenty of time to admire it, including guests. The brothers are all very proud to explain to them that they have a very close friend who's an artist, thank you, and they made that piece of artwork up there for them, for free, because they love them all so much. What do you mean it's too small for that big of a space? Clearly you don't understand art, they'll tell the guest. Satan smirks; Levi rolls his eyes; Asmo whispers something to Mammon and they both start snickering. Real mean girl energy.

Lucifer

It's proved to be more or less impossible to get a photograph with himself and all six of his brothers, so this is an immediate hit with him. Plus, you're in it, which makes it even more valuable. He wonders why he didn't commission a painted family portrait earlier. It just hadn't crossed his mind, he supposes.

He'll buy a very nice and expensive frame for the picture and have it professionally mounted on a backboard. Only a museum quality display will do.

He enjoys looking at the artwork now and then and mentally noting all the details he likes. You captured Mammon's smug smile perfectly, and somehow Levi looks happy, but still like himself. Of course, his favorite part of the picture (along with you, of course) is himself. He thinks he looks very dignified, and he appreciates that you placed him in the center; the true patriarch of the family. Besides that (though he wouldn't bring it up unprompted), he thinks you made him look very handsome, and he likes the idea that you see him that way.

Mammon

You put him next to you?! I mean, of course you did! He's your number one demon, right? Obviously he belongs right next to you! He'll point out his positioning in the picture to his brothers often enough that they've gotten past feeling annoyed about it and just tease him for simping so openly.

He thinks it looks a little bit like you're smiling at him in the picture. You're not. You're staring into the 'camera', just like everyone else. But he tells himself that. He has another copy of the picture made where he cropped out everyone besides the two of you. He keeps it in his sock drawer so he can pull it out when he's by himself and admire it. Lucifer has walked in on him lying on his back and holding it up, staring wistfully at the picture, often enough that he can tell by how quiet it is when Mammon is either sleeping or staring at that goddamn picture of his again.

Speaking of extra copies, he also made some more to try and sell at RAD, but, shockingly, cheap copies of a picture of someone else's family didn't sell well. Diavolo bought one though, as did Simeon. Yeah, maybe it wasn't exactly ethical to try and capitalize on your artwork, but, well, come on, he's in it, and you gave it to him, so that kind of makes him the owner of it, right...?

Leviathan

He's pretty sure he's not breathing right now. That's... That's how he looks? To you? He looks....amazing....!! Look at his smile! His jawline! His glossy hair! His cheeks, touched with color---!!! You must think he's... like....... Ugh, it's stupid, like, who even cares? Nobody, that's who. Nobody except him. He cares. And he wishes his stomach would settle down a little bit before lunch explodes onto the rug. So he'll just take his copy of the painting, clutch it to his chest, and giggle to himself as he slinks off to his room while everyone else stands admiring the painting on the mantlepiece.

Now, to really study this thing. He lies in his bathtub and squints at the painting. He realizes, to his dismay, that all his brothers look extra hot in this thing too. Hrmm... But, whatever! The important part is that he looks amazing! His eyes are shining, his skin looks healthy and smooth, and.... well.... he doesn't look like somebody it'd be weird for you to be into, maybe. Maybe? Possibly.

He's pretty shy around you for a few days after you give them all the picture. He's not really sure how he's supposed to react around someone who thinks he's... h....ha-ha....handsome...???? And not just that, but the look on his face! Does he make faces like that in real life? Does he make faces like that in front of you?

He spends a good chunk of time in front of the mirror trying to imitate the look from the painting, but he can't quite get it right. He always ends up crumbling into a pathetic, groaning, blushing little creep and fleeing the bathroom. He hates himself. But he can cheer himself up with the knowledge that you definitely don't hate him, right? How could you draw someone you hated looking like... like....?!?

Satan

Knowing Satan is someone who admires art in general, you were most nervous about him seeing it. He has a tendency to be fairly blunt and honest, and you really hoped he'd just appreciate the thought behind the picture without subjecting it to any kind of critical analysis.

But of course he did it anyway. He'd expressed his appreciation just like his brothers had when you first gave it to them, but you'd often see him standing in front of the fireplace staring up at the picture with a hand to his chin after that.

Satan's initial thought, after the excitement over the gift and how cute and nervous you looked giving it to them all, is that the composition of the piece, while not particularly original, has definite visual appeal. While he doesn't particularly enjoy Lucifer's position in the middle, he understands why you put him there, both artistically and psychologically. Lucifer dominates almost any group he's in with his annoyingly hefty self-confidence. His ego is smeared all over the picture, but that's not your fault. That's just Lucifer, being awful and ruining things, like he always does.

When he finally gives some attention to how he looks in the painting, he's pleasantly surprised. He looks refreshingly like himself, but also like he's meant to be there, with everybody else. He can also tell you spent some time on his eyes. They look lovely. If you ever want to paint them again, he'd be happy to model for you. What, shy all of a sudden?

Asmodeus

Well, obviously he's the real star of the artwork. It's as if he's glowing, washing out his brothers with his effervescent presence on the canvas! Clearly, you know your art. Never mind he's the only one who seems to quite see the picture in that way.

He has his copy of the painting framed and hung up in his bathroom, where he thought the original should have been put all along. Now he never feels like he's alone in the tub! Every once in a while, he'll talk to the artwork while he takes a bath. Just to amuse himself. But when you go back to the human world, 'every once in a while' becomes 'almost every day'.

He has a theory that if someone stares into the eyes of Painting Asmo too deeply for too long, they'll fall in love with him. The painting version of him, that is. He knows that's silly, so he keeps it to himself, but he can't stop himself from imagining you mesmerized by your own painting of him, bewitched by the very eyes you painted...

Beel

Honestly, Beel is just happy you made a picture including him, his brothers, and you. You put him right beside Belphie with an arm slung around his shoulders. He's smiling more in the picture than he normally does in real life, but that doesn't bother him at all. He wants to look happy in this kind of painting.

He taped his copy of the picture to the refrigerator door. Everyone appreciates this, not just Beel, though he definitely sees it the most often. After you go home, he says good morning to you every day when he first heads to the fridge. It's a nice way to feel like you're still around.

Belphie

Wow... He looks adorable here. And you didn't include him drooling like his brothers always do when they draw him. Though it really isn't fair to compare this to the "drawings" his brothers have made to make fun of each other. Idiots...

You put him right next to Beel. That makes him smile. And he looks...like he's happy to be there. Maybe not grinning like a doofus, but like this is his family, and he's pretty okay with it.

He keeps his copy of the picture taped to his bedpost so he can look at it whenever he feels lonely, especially after your year in the Devildom comes to an end.

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xxblairexxss · 1 year ago

Text

Who are you? p.2

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff, I think

Word count : 2.9k

Warning! Poorly translated French

Part 1 Part 3

It was your second time meeting the country’s gem boy but it surely wasn’t a smooth one.

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"I’m gonna put you here. Oh my God! I’m so excited!” You squealed and dipped your hand into the large box of new clothes that had just been delivered. Linda was all ready for your little haul, like she always was while putting her face mask on. "I bought this dress!"

"It’s so cute! Try it on!”

"What? Right now?" You were in jeans and a crop top, waiting for your VIP driver to pick you up as promised or as you were forced to agree two days ago. You didn’t know if he was the right on time person or someone who never bothered to check the time, so you got yourself ready for the day early because you surely couldn’t survive another round of humiliating yourself in front of the country’s precious gem again.

"There’s like 20 minutes left. He’s not going to knock on the door any second. Quick, try it on! I want to see how it is on you!” Linda assured.

"Fine. Give me a second.” You took out the dress from the packaging, stripped yourself until you were left in your underwear, and slipped the dress on.

It was pretty, as you pictured it would be but it was tight. Too tight.

You definitely picked the wrong size that you couldn’t even walk properly in it.

"Damn! You look good!” Your best friend’s eyes widened as you walked into the frame, completely ignoring your suffocating expression. "Why is the upper part a little loose?"

"I picked the wrong size! I can’t even zip up the back.” You whined and tried to reach the zip part. "Oh, I got it.” You pulled it up, roughly three quarters from the full length, and gave up when it put you out of breath. "Nah, it’s too tight."

"It looks so freaking beautiful! You would be getting all eyes if you ever wore that in public!"

"Only after I change it to the right size because now—oh no." You frowned, tugging on the zipper a little harder. It won’t budge.

"What? Y/N, what?"

"It’s stuck!" You cried and tugged on the zipper again. "What am I supposed to do?"

"How can you get stuck in the dress?” Linda, being the most amazing friend you could ever ask for, burst out laughing.

"It’s not funny! I need—" You whirled your head towards the door as the bell rang. "Fuck! He’s here. What should I say?"

"Ask for his help!” Linda suggested as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"He can’t see me looking like this! Are you kidding me? Talk to you later.” You ended the call before she went into another round of laughter as the bell rang once again.

"Hey?" Charles tilted his head, brows arched as you opened the door with the chain on, which only allowed him to see you from the small gap. "Your appointment is in 5 minutes."

"I’m going with someone else. Sorry for troubling you.” You moved your face away as if the door would hit you when he pushed the door back.

"I thought you had made an agreement with Charles Monaco?”

"I don’t have time for a joke!” You shut him up and groaned. "I can’t go out like this."

"Like what? What is the problem this time?"

"Like this!" You whined.

"In case you didn’t realise, I can only see your head. What do you actually want to show me?” He heard the chain went loose as you closed the door.

"This.."

Charles stepped back when you opened the door all the way, much wider this time, revealing your little dress that grasped every curve of your body. "Dang, you tryna hit the club with that sprained wrist?"

"No, I’m going to punch that pretty face of yours." You stepped aside as he walked in. Just like everyone else’s first time being in a new area, he started looking around, waiting for you to elaborate further on your problems. You, on the other hand, were unable to look at him or bring up the topic, though it felt like you were going to faint anytime soon for the lack of oxygen.

"So? Your problem is?” He took another glimpse of you before checking his watch. "There’s no sense of urgency in that gorgeous body of yours, I see."

You locked your gaze on your feet and mumbled. "I’m stuck.."

"You what?" His brows were drawn closer, frowning at you.

"I’m stuck in this dress!” You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the humiliation that was about to come.

"How the heck did you get stuck in the dress?" Charles wanted to laugh, and he knew you knew he was going to make fun of you too, but seeing you in the dress with your wrist secured in a bandage wrap made him feel bad. "Turn around. Let me see."

"Go ahead." You looked up and glared at him.

"Go ahead, what, silly? I’m trying to help you." He stood there like a statue, waiting for you to turn around because there was no way he would move to your back. He was nearly charged with an attempted murder two days ago, and he definitely didn’t want to take another leap in the dark. And he just met you. No woman would be comfortable enough to show the back of her body to a random guy.

"Go ahead and laugh at me."

"I don’t have time for a laugh, Y/N. We are late! They kept spamming my phone with calls. Just turn around.” He sighed.

You pursed your lips, gathering your hair in one hand as you turned your back on him, waiting for him to fix the zipper.

Charles was astounded. His hands went a little clammy as he saw your half-bare back. The way the body line became more obvious as you moved your arms even by a little bit, stunned him.

"Quit staring!"

"Oh, sorry." He muttered and took a step forward. The zipper was indeed stuck at the spot, as he had to tug on it a little hard to move it down. "Is this okay?"

You just wanted to dig a hole to hide yourself. Nothing could mortify you more than this. Not only did you not recognise the country’s athlete, he was here in your house with your exposed back for him to see. You felt his touch on your back as he pulled the zipper down and had to pray that you weren’t sweating from it. "Yeah, that should be fine. Let me just take this.” You turned around and quickly picked up your jeans and top that you had worn before and scurried to your room to change.

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"We should be able to take your bandage off in two weeks! Until then, please take the medicine if there is any discomfort. If it lasts more than 2 days, give us a call or just come here for a further check-up."

"Oh! Can you.." You took out your phone and went to the notes. "..change the phone number to this one? It’s mine, so it should be easier.” You grinned and handed the phone to the staff.

"No." Charles took the phone away before it reached the staff’s hand.

"What is wrong with you? I’m so sorry. I don’t know this guy and why’s he acting like this.” You sent a glare to the driver and smiled again towards the staff. "Can you just use this phone number, please?” You took the phone back and handed it back, only for it to be in Charles’ hand again.

Your mouths were wide open as he proceeded to speak in French to the staff, completely ignoring you as if this didn’t have anything to do with you at all. The staff nodded and took the phone in his hand as he handed it back to you right away.

"What did you say to her?” You finally asked as you got into the car, after being stopped ten times by his fans for autographs and pictures.

"Oh, I told her she could remove my phone number and proceed with everything in the future with yours.” He arched a brow and smirked, which made you pull your face. "What are you doing?"

"It seems like everyone wants to take a picture with you. I should take my chance too!” You brought up the phone, angled it to where you and Charles were in the frame, and clicked on the snap button. "Gotcha!"

"You need to pay for that.” He turned the engine on and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Yeah, right. Don’t try to scam me. You didn’t ask for money from the fans earlier”. You stared at the picture you just took and cackled at his expression.

"That’s because they asked for my permission. You didn’t. They could sue you."

"Funny!" You pulled the seatbelt as the car started to move and waited for him to pull a face, but he didn't, so your lips went into a straight line. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah. Do I look like I’m playing around?” He turned the blinker on before turning right.

"Do I still get sued if I just keep the pictures on my phone?”

"No, I don’t think so. I can ask my manager about that.” He tilted his head to the right and bit his lips to keep himself from laughing as he saw you gripping your phone with the picture on the screen.

"I’ll just keep it in my photo album. Wait, where are we going? You missed the turn! My apartment is there!”

"Relax! I know!" He kept his gaze forward and proceeded in a straight line.

"Then why aren’t you turning around? I’m calling the police.”

"And tell them what? Charles Monaco is kidnapping you? They won’t do anything.” He turned the blinker again and headed left; your apartment was no longer in sight as he went further away. "You owe me something. Remember when I told you I was in a rush after accidentally hitting you? I had a haircut appointment."

"So we are going to a hair salon? I haven’t been to one since I moved here.” You touched the part of your hair with your free hand while keeping your gaze on the window.

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Charles pulled the door open, allowing you to walk in first as he followed behind. The place was spacious, neat, and decorous. It reminded you a lot of your local hair salon. There were a few people inside getting their hair done, with a few workers walking by.

"Boujour! Est ce que je peux vous aider?" (Hello! Can I help you?)

"Um.." You turned around, waiting for him to take over.

Charles walked all the way to the hairdresser as she hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. The middle-aged woman then looked over to you and gave off a smile as she said something, as if asking the guy to take a seat while she walked back to get something.

You quickly made your way to Charles and tiptoed to whisper in his ear. "Is she your fan too?"

He looked at you and chuckled. "No, she’s my mom.”

"Are you being real? Stop joking around!”

He twirled the chair around and shrugged. "I’m being serious! She gave birth to me, Y/N."

"Oh.." You breathed out. The woman came back, and you stepped aside as she started working on the haircut while you took a seat on the couch at the back where you were facing them and still within the radius where you could hear them talk, though you didn’t understand anything except for the constant repetition of this one word.

"Elle pensait que je m'appelleais Charles Monaco." (She thought my name was Charles Monaco)

"Vraiment? D’où vient Charles Monaco?" (Really? Where did Charles Monaco come from?)

"Je ne sais pas, mais c’est mignon." (I don’t know but it’s cute)

For the next 20 minutes, you had been playing a game where you had to match the colours of the items together and hit the goal in order to go up to the next level. It was very distracting that you lost track of time and managed to go up to 50 levels ahead until he called your name.

"Making yourself at home? Should I pick you up tomorrow?” He laughed as you quickly stood up and walked over to him. "I’m just kidding."

"Charles!" His name was called out and you tilted your head,nodding at the older woman as she approached both of you with something in her hand. "Ceci est pour vous." (This is for you)

She handed you a small bag full of cute hair clips and kept on patting your arm as she said something to her son. "Ramenez-la à la maison en toute sécurité." (Bring her home safely)

"Thank you so much for these!”You grinned and turned to see that he was looking at you with a smile plastered on his face.

"Take care! Come if you need any haircuts, love!” She hugged you before making her way to treat her other customers as you left the store and headed back to the car with him.

"Oh my God, it’s so cute!" The soft pink hair claw caught your attention the most, so you picked it out and wrapped your hair around it, making your hair into a bun while looking at yourself through the sun visor. "It’s so cute, isn’t it?"

"You look cute with your hair up. Anyway, sorry for dragging you all the way here." He muttered.

"Give me a second. Where is it?" You frowned and dug your fingers inside the bag to find the matching pairs for the strawberry hair clips. "Oh, it’s okay! I got cute hair clips.” You shrugged it off and pin the matching clips to your face framing bang.

"I’m sending you off after this because I have a plan with my friends for dinner. Is it okay for you?” Charles found himself beaming at the sight of you trying every clip on, despite having your hand wrapped up in a bandage.

"What do you mean, is it okay for me? You are supposed to drop me off after your haircut.” The hair clips on your hair were taken off as you dropped them into the bag and left with just the hair claws to keep your hair up.

"Do you not have any plans with your friends?" He asked, picking a random topic to carry a conversation.

"Oh, I don’t have any friends in here.” You replied and played it off with a chuckle. Moving to a new country all on your own was such a new adventure for you that you barely had any time to find some new friends. Your mom kept on saying you weren’t able to find one because you kept on living in your own bubble, but how exactly did you start a friendship with someone who was never in the same school, class, or even neighbourhood with you? D9 you just go to their table and introduce yourself because surely no one would just barge their way into your life just to be friends? "You can just drop me there. I can walk my way up on my own because my hand is the one fully wrapped like a mummy. My legs are all safe and working very well."

He chuckled as you gave a thumbs up before gathering your stuff in one hand and opening the door as he stopped by the side of the road.

"Are you sure you don’t need my help?"

"Yeup! All good. I don’t want to trouble you anymore.” You pushed the door closed and turned back to head to your apartment.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yeah?" Turning around, you bent down a little just to catch his gaze from inside the car.

"We are friends, right? I can be your first friend here in Monaco."

"I’m not sure if you want to be friends with me. I’m not an athlete. I can’t even run 100 metres without dying.” You cracked a joke, but he wasn’t laughing along with you.

"I’m not just friends with athletes, silly. No one’s trying to challenge you to a 100-metre race."

"I’m not rich too.." You mumbled.

"Okay, I really want to know how your brain works because there is not a single hint of logic in everything you are saying right now. Do people in your country print out their bank statements first before accepting a friendship? No one’s flashing their wealth in here!"

You laughed at how frustrated he was. "Okay, sure! We are friends!"

"Which means I can text you, right?”

"Good luck in finding my phone number, Charles Monaco! Bye!" You waved and made your way back without looking back, thinking that would be the last time you would hang out with him again.

Without knowing he had your phone number saved on his phone with the help of the hospital’s staff earlier.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

✧.* tag list for p.2 @styles-sunflower @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @lexiecamposv

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fluff

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rosemariiaa · 2 months ago

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~At Your Mercy~

pairing: Paige x Oc (Rayna)

a/n: i decided to write this short blurb out of nowhere tbh, based on the song guess by charli xcx ft billie , it was originally supposed to be pazzi but this felt way better so don’t yell at me!! happy reading lovelies 💌

themes: teasing, off key singing, sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!!

Paige leaned casually against the bar, her fingers absentmindedly swirling the straw in her drink, as she scanned the crowd. It was busy, packed with a mix of regulars and new faces, the usual Friday night chaos. But when Rayna walked in, the rest of the room seemed to blur into the background.

Rayna looked stunning tonight. The tight red skirt clung to her curves, and the matching lace crop top left little to the imagination, revealing just enough cleavage to make Paige’s heart race. Paige’s eyes traveled downward, catching a glimpse of the black lacy thong peeking out from the sides, the one Paige had picked out for her in Tokyo. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Fuck,” Paige muttered under her breath, feeling her pulse quicken.

Rayna spotted Paige from across the room, biting her lip as a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She moved confidently, each step making her hips sway just a bit more, and Paige couldn’t help the smirk that formed on her lips. Rayna knew exactly what she was doing. Paige straightened up, brushing a hand over her slicked-back hair, feeling her own confidence surge. She’d opted for her favorite purple two-piece set tonight, paired with matching Jordans. The outfit hugged her athletic frame just right, and the glasses—oh, those glasses—she knew Rayna loved them.

Rayna swallowed hard as her gaze flickered to them, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

When she finally reached Paige, Rayna let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at Paige’s outfit. “You really didn’t have to look this good tonight,” she teased, her voice playful but with a hint of something deeper beneath.

Paige raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Oh, I know,” she replied smoothly, her voice low and confident. “But you—” her voice dropped to a whisper, leaning in closer to Rayna’s ear, “—you’re barely holding it together, aren’t you?”

Rayna inhaled sharply, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through her. “You wish,” she shot back, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her.

Paige’s hand found its way to Rayna’s waist, pulling her even closer, their bodies now pressed together. “Do I?” she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Rayna’s ear. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who’s about to lose it.”

Rayna bit her lip, her breath hitching at the proximity. She tilted her head slightly, their faces just inches apart now. “You’re so cocky, Paige,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I should be the one singing tonight.”

Paige grinned, her eyes dark with mischief. “Oh, trust me, babe. You’ll be singing plenty later.”

Before Rayna could respond, the karaoke MC called Paige’s name for her turn. Paige pulled away with a smirk, leaving Rayna breathless for a moment as she moved toward the stage.

Rayna stood there, trying to gather herself as she watched Paige take the microphone. The room was loud, people chatting and cheering, but Rayna could hardly focus on anything but Paige. The way she moved, the confidence in her stride—it made Rayna’s heart race. And then the music started.

Paige’s voice was low and sultry as she began to sing, eyes never leaving Rayna.

“Don’t have to guess the color of your underwear,

Already know what you’ve got goin’ on down there,

It’s that lacy black pair with the little bows,

The ones I picked out for you in Tokyo…”

Rayna’s face flushed as Paige practically purred the words, her body tensing under the attention. She shifted, biting her lip hard to contain the rush of heat that spread through her.

Paige continued, her voice filled with playful intent, and every word felt like it was meant just for Rayna.

“I saw them when you sat down, they were peekin’ out,

I’m gonna tell you right now, they’re all I’m thinkin’ about…”

Paige shot Rayna a wink, her voice lowering with the next line, making the entire room feel suddenly smaller, more intimate.

“I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it,

Pull it to the side and get all up in it…”

Rayna’s breath hitched, her legs nearly buckling at the raw need in Paige’s voice. She felt exposed, completely undone by Paige’s lyrics and gaze, and yet, she couldn’t look away.

“Kiss it, bite it, can I fit it?

Rayna likes boys, but she knows I’d hit it…”

Paige grinned as she replaced the name mid-verse, her gaze never leaving Rayna’s. The crowd cheered, but Paige only had eyes for Rayna, watching the way she squirmed, trying so hard to maintain her composure.

“Rayna, call me if you’re with it,” Paige finished, letting the words hang in the air before stepping down from the stage, her smirk growing as she made her way back to Rayna.

Rayna swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. As Paige approached, the tension between them was undeniable.

Paige leaned in close, her voice low and teasing. “So, what do you think, babe?” she asked, her lips hovering just above Rayna’s ear. “Did I get your attention?”

Rayna shivered, her heart pounding in her chest. She met Paige’s gaze, trying to muster up some semblance of control. “You always do,” she admitted softly, her voice betraying just how affected she was.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand sliding up Rayna’s arm. “Good,” she whispered. “Because you’re all I’ve been thinking about since you walked in.” Rayna’s breath hitched, her skin tingling under Paige’s touch. “And now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips dangerously close to Paige’s.

Paige’s gaze flickered down to Rayna’s lips before meeting her eyes again. “Now?” she repeated, her voice husky. “Now, I’m thinking I want to take you home… unless you’d rather finish this here.”

Rayna’s pulse quickened, and she let out a soft laugh, her confidence returning just a bit. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, shaking her head. But the way she leaned into Paige’s touch, the way her body responded, told a different story.

Paige grinned, sensing Rayna’s resolve slipping. “Is that a no?”

Rayna’s resolve cracked, her hands gripping Paige’s shirt to steady herself. “Paige…” she whispered, her voice now desperate, all the teasing gone. “Take me home. Please.”

Paige grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered Rayna had become under her touch. “That’s what I like to hear,” she whispered, her breath hot against Rayna’s ear. “But I don’t think you’ve begged enough yet.”

Rayna whimpered softly, her body leaning into Paige’s as she practically melted under her touch. “I—fuck, Paige, please,” she gasped, her voice shaking as Paige’s fingers ghosted over her skin, teasing her mercilessly. “Please, take me home. I can’t wait any longer.”

Paige smirked, giving Rayna’s thong a final tug before pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “That’s more like it,” she murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction. She brought her hand to Rayna’s chin, tilting her head up just slightly so their lips were inches apart. “I’m gonna take you home, but when we get there… god i’m gonna do you so good princess. You ready for that?”

Rayna could only nod, her eyes wide, breathless with anticipation. Paige pressed a soft kiss to her lips, not enough to satisfy, but enough to make Rayna’s knees weak.

“Good girl,” Paige whispered against her mouth before pulling away completely, leaving Rayna flushed and trembling.

Paige took Rayna’s hand, pulling her toward the exit with a sly grin. “Let’s go. You’ve been waiting all night.”

———-

a/n: feeling a little frisky lol , idk how to write smut y’all know that so don’t expect it from me any time soon again!

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @mrsarnold

#paige bueckers fic #paige x oc #gays #lgbtq #uconn wbb #rosie fics #rosie moots #rosie’s blog ఌ #paige bueckers #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆

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chimielie · 1 year ago

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got no shame (i love the way you’re screaming my name)

summary: Terushima x Reader. got shame? terushima doesn’t.

word count: 1.6k

cw: terushima’s a slut (who is domesticated unknowingly by reader), bad group project etiquette, general unwiseness.

a/n: this… wasn’t supposed to be this long. essentially nothing happens. it’s completely sfw even though i call terushima a slut. sorry

"Hi," you say brightly, setting your laptop down on the desk next to your assigned project partner. "I was thinking we could set up—"

"Yeah, hang on," he—Terushima, according to the instructor's sign-up sheet—interrupts you. "Hey. Hey. Can I get your number?"

You open your mouth before you realize he's talking to the girl behind you, who agrees as easily as he'd asked. They chat a little while longer, taking their sweet-ass time before he turns back to you and she to her partner.

"So I was thinking we could set up a shared document and do this all online," he says, unapologetic, a lazy grin playing on his mouth. You decide then and there that you hate Terushima Yuuji with everything you have in you.

Miraculously, you survive the group project (with the aid of remote work, aggressively polite wording, and a lot of pep talks from your friends). He should be thankful he survived, you think darkly, casting a glare at him as he chatters to a group of friends across the room. He doesn't know how many times you got through class by imagining wrapping your hands around his neck and just—

Anyway.

You're half-convinced the universe sent him to fuel you with inner rage, because even though you no longer have to work together, he just seems like he's cropping up... everywhere.

He's in the grocery, flirting with the attendant as he struggles with the self-checkout machine. He's in your favorite coffee shop, hanging over the bar while the barista makes your drink. He's even at the parties you go to, his loud laugh penetrating your buzz until you can't think of anything else by the end of the night.

You toy with the idea of accusing him of stalking you, except he'd made it abundantly clear upon your first meeting that he had no clue that you existed on the same earthly plane as him. Plus, at this point, you're slightly worried that it's the other way around.

(You try not to think about the time you'd been lying alone in bed, a little bit wine drunk from a self-care night, legs freshly lotioned, face freshly masked, and one of his social media accounts had happened to pop up on your screen. And your finger had happened to bump the screen and hit follow. And before you could process your actions enough to undo your mistake, a little notification had rung out in the horrified silence: @teru-yuuji followed you back!)

(You had rolled over and screamed into your pillow. You still do the same whenever you think about it too long.)

Anyway, he likes all your updates now, which is terribly annoying because it's not even an acknowledgement of your existence, probably, he probably swipes through everyone's profiles and sends little hearts flying haphazardly because he doesn't care about anyone, or anything. And maybe you can recognize that you're projecting a little bit, obsessing a little bit, but you're pretty sure that you're also starting to experience the same sort of revenge glow-up associated with terrible break-ups without any of the emotional pain, so who cares?

It's not like he knows you're even alive.

"I'm going to die out here," you say out loud, to no one, "and nobody will know."

Your car, steaming—smoking really, but you're trying to be positive—beside you on the side of the road, makes a strange noise in sympathy, and you jump.

In a sorely needed attempt to touch grass, you had ventured by yourself to one of your favorite hiking trails, a secluded spot you and your old car had journeyed to hundreds of times. Its small frame was perfect for the winding, mountainous roads; its engine, apparently, not so much.

Luckily, you still have one bar of cell service, except most people you know don't have a car, your best friend is at work, and when you try to call your father, he doesn't pick up and instead texts you: we went to lunch at this tiny restaurant! This is followed by several images that won't load but that are most likely of his food.

"Useless," you say, "I hate men." Just as a white, tricked-out, and worst of all, familiar car turns the corner, all of its windows down to enjoy the fresh air. You stare at its driver as he passes at about ten kilometers per hour, your eyes wide and despondent, his curious and probably devoid of actual human consciousness.

You momentarily contemplate running the opposite direction into the forest versus asking Terushima for help. As is his way, he interrupts.

"Is your car supposed to be doing that?"

Anything snarky, sassy, or otherwise bitchy you could have answered with dies on your tongue in the face of total, completely confident cluelessness.

"No?" You say, feeling almost as though you're witnessing this absurd interaction from above. "Obviously not?"

"Right," he nods, sliding awful, trendy sunglasses off his face and tucking them up into some compartment before putting his car in park and then exiting. As he advances, you note distantly that his eyes are really, really pretty. "Can I help you out? I am a man, though, just a warning."

He heard you. Great.

"I didn't notice," you say, staring firmly at his middle torso area, which is covered by a shirt which he has cut the arms off of. There are... shoulders, and arms, toned, tan arms showing. And he must have just gotten back from a hike of his own, because the material seems slightly damp with sweat, and it's sticking to what appear to be abs, and you suddenly feel like your car: overheated and broken down. "I guess I can forgive you for that. Just this once. If there's anything you can actually do about," you wave a hand at your car, which has thankfully stopped smoking, "that."

"I can give you a ride," he says, and doesn't seem to realize how completely his tone changes as he does, how his words suddenly sound layered and intimate and... You need to get a grip.

“I have a friend on the way,” you say. You don’t. But he’s still technically a strange man and you know better than to seem completely abandoned.

“Oh? Good,” he says, and you think that’s the end of it. He’ll leave you to your beforested demise. “Can I check the hood real quick, though?”

“Do what you want.” He waits for you to pop the hood—you had earlier, but fuck if you knew what you were looking at.

"Thanks, babe," he says, and you hate him all over again. Then he opens your hood, muscled arms stretching up as he latches the strut in place, bent at the waist ever so slightly, and you're sort of collapsing into a very emotionally confused puddle on the side of the road. "Aw, I think your fan is fucked. I have a buddy I can call, he can tow the car if you want? He’s a mechanic but he can take it to your usual person if you have one.”

"That would be really nice," you blink at him, feeling your mouth stretch into a smile without your permission. "Do you think we could call him now? I don't want to leave my car without being sure someone's coming for it."

"Sure," he nods enthusiastically. "Gimme a sec."

What follows is a bizarre five minutes where Terushima paces in front of where you've seated yourself cross-legged on the road, occasionally casting you furtive glances and muttering things like "Yeah, from the... Yeah, that one. Please, bro, I'll owe you... I'll get you Miwa's number. I promise. When have I ever... Okay, fair, but c'mon. Thank you. I'll give you our first-born."

You tune him out after that, fully baffled.

"Okay!" He finally turns to you, beaming a sunny smile you've never seen on him at you. "He's coming. I sent you his website and shit, so you know he’s real."

“He’s not," you say, holding out a hand so he can help you up. He does, and you immediately regret this decision, because he's standing so close, and his hand is really big in yours, and you're pretty sure you're flirting with him. "You’re crazy."

"You’re funny," he says, and laughs, clear and ringing. He’s flirting with you, but you can’t tell if that’s just his natural dialect or if he’s— "So your boyfriend’s coming to pick you up? Why didn’t he come with you?"

"I don’t need a chaperone," the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, which is becoming a worrying pattern. "And I don’t have one—a boyfriend, anyway. I was on the phone with my dad when you showed up, you know, ‘I hate men’. Or trying. He's too excited about grand opening discounted fried fish."

"Fried fish is important," he says solemnly, eyes literally twinkling, what the fuck. You didn’t think that was real. "I understand."

“See,” you roll your eyes, “This is why I hate men.” He’s looking at you with a soft gaze that makes you aware of your whole body, down to your toes, and it’s starting to make you flustered. “I, um, I actually don’t have a ride coming.”

“Then why’d you—” he starts.

“I thought you might murder me,” you shrug. “And then I panicked. You don’t seem like a murderer, and we’ve had classes together, so… I’m sorry about that.”

“So,” he looks hopeful, in a way you don’t understand. “You still need a way back?”

“I do,” you nod, “but seriously, if it’s an inconvenience at all, I really don’t want to—”

“Please,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get on your good side for a while. Let me take you home.”

#terushima x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #terushima yuuji x reader #terushima yūji x reader

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vnards · 9 months ago

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Ghost A/B/O is Back! Pt.9

I feel like prey again. Flinching at the multiple people in and out of my room. Everything’s too loud. So many people asking the same questions, “Are you okay?” “What happened?” “Did he touch you?” “Did you-“

“Hey, Darling,”

Jacob, after catching wind of the commotion, came to sit in the empty seat next to my bed. “How’re you holding up?”

I sigh. There wasn’t a different answer I could conjure up this time. So I didn’t, “I’m fine.”

There was a silence between us. A lie.

“Look,” Jacob reaches out to grab my hand. I resist trying to pull away, “That alpha won’t bother you again.” The beta looks around us, checking for any listeners before he drops his voice to a whisper, “I can get you out of here.”

I can go back home?

A burst of nervous excitement began to build a flicker of hope in me. A dangerous thing. “Really?”

Jacob chuckled, “Of course. Did you think we’d just keep you here forever?”

I suppose he has a point.

“I just need you to do one thing for me.” His tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck, “Tell them that that alpha touched you.”

I slipped my hand from his, absorbing his serious expression of what he’s asking of me. “But…that didn’t happen.” Another statement I’ve given over and over. “He didn’t touch me.”

There was a pitying smile as he looked at me. As if I was clueless, “Are you sure? You were asleep, weren’t you?”

Something’s wrong.

There was an alarm going off in my head. I get to go home, but only if I ruin the alpha that saved me? “Where’s Ghost?” Jacob must have noticed the shift and saw the questioning in my eyes. He gave another disarming smile, releasing his neutral scent.

“Of course, I know it’s been a long night. I’ll clear out the room so you can get some rest.” The sergeant raised from his seat and patted my shoulder comfortingly. I watched him retreat, starting to talk to the security guards and other staff in the room, herding them out of the room in a gentle suggestion.

Just as the room was almost empty, another visitor arrived. Captain Price.

“Captain, Vic needs to get some rest.” Jacob insisted.

“I know. I won’t be long.” Having been thoroughly dismissed, Jacob and the rest of the staff left the room. The door was not clicked closed, left slightly ajar. Price made sure to approach me at a steady pace and he stayed a respectful distance across the room. “I’ve heard you’ve had a long night,” He chuckled, trying to bring a lightness to the situation. I tried to give a polite smile, but it falls flat. The captain rubs his face, the tiredness becoming apparent the longer you examine him. The tightness in his shoulders. The consistent tapping of his foot. The redness in his eyes. The man hasn’t been back from a mission for 12 hours and he’s been dragged from his rest.

“I’ve known Ghost for a long time.” He begins, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and recounting memories, “He’s been through hell and back twice over. Strong sonofabitch he is.”

I can’t help but interrupt, tired of being treated so softly, “Why are you telling me this?”

It looks as if Price doesn’t know how to answer the question at first, opening his mouth for the words to come and nothing comes out but a sigh. “Simon is a lot of things. But he is loyal like a dog. One I trust with my life. And it seems,” another sigh as Price rubs his eyes for the nth time, “That same loyalty has extended to you.”

Loyal. Protector. Safety.

The words catch me off guard and send a chill down my back. “Where’s Ghost?”

Price tilts his head, “He’s outside.”

“I want to see him.”

The captain hums and moves to open the door, letting in a large shadowy figure with a black face mask on and a muzzle. It’s the first time I get to see the top of the masked alpha’s face. His eyes crystal blue and short hair cropped blond. A scar peeking out from the mask going up his face. The handcuffs clink softly as he walks in timidly, trying to make his frame as small as possible. As if he wasn’t the strong alpha I’ve seen him to be. I reach my hand out to him and he nearly stumbles coming to my bedside.

A warmth envelops me as he holds my hand. A calm balm soothes everything, my mind going blank for the first time in hours. His thumb begins to caress the back of my hand, “You were having a bad dream.” He begins to explain, “I just wanted to help calm you down. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know.” When I saw Ghost, I knew I was just having a bad dream, nightmares to haunt me. But that was after everyone came rushing in, a whirlwind of commotion as I watched my alpha be violently subdued. I take in the bruise under his eye. I know it looks worse than it is, but I can’t help but checking on it, making sure he doesn’t need any more medical attention, “How’s your head?”

A quiet hum came from Ghost, almost like a chuckle. “It’s fine.”

I grumble under my breath, “It’s not fine. They kicked you.” I outline the bruise with my thumb. Simon preens under my attention.

Another, more confident chuckle, this time, “I’ve done a lot worse than just get kicked, baby girl.” I feel my cheeks get warm, the name holding a softness I haven’t experienced in a long time. And hearing it coming from Ghost makes it sound more like a promise than anything else.

masterlist ->

#cod omegaverse #a/b/o #ghost cod #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #simon ghost riley #cod mw2

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atomicladytimetravel · 1 year ago

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Look at Me

Summary: No outbreak au. You live with your cousin after catching your husband having an affair. He hires contractor!Joel to do some home repairs. After flirting back and forth, filth ensues. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Semi-public sex/exhibitionism kind of, unprotected p in v, creampie, some pet names (pretty girl, pretty, baby, darlin’ etc) Joel is a little cocky but still pretty sweet.

Warning: mild drug use (a little devils lettuce)

Word count: 2,903

“Broderick, you’ll never believe it…I got the fucking house!”

You had just gotten off the phone with your divorce attorney and she gave you the good news. Your stupid rich (soon to be) ex-husband hadn’t bothered to ask you to sign a prenup. You suppose he figured he was too smart to get caught fucking one of his employees in his office. Well, he wasn’t, and you were getting half his fortune and the house. In the meantime, your cousin and best friend since childhood had graciously opened his home to you.

“That’s what I call karma!” Broderick grinned. He gave you a high five. “You are one rich bitch.”

You practically skipped to your room to call your best girl friend and tell her the news. You talked to her for almost an hour before deciding you were in need of a celebratory joint.

Meanwhile, Joel Miller was in the stairwell inspecting a small hole in the ceiling when he heard your door open and close downstairs. He peeked over the railing to see who it was - he wasn’t aware anyone else was in the house.

He saw your figure walking away from him and into the living room. You were on the phone, too engrossed in your conversation to notice him peering over the stair rail. You were wearing tiny, black cotton shorts and a cropped black band tee. He stared for a moment longer than he probably should have because, well…you were hot.

“Well, at least I married rich and he was too stupid to ask me for a prenup,” you said to your friend, rummaging through the end table beside the couch. You pulled out the necessary equipment to roll a joint and Joel watched as you did so effortlessly.

“You wanna know what the worst part is?” you asked, pinching the end of the joint before lighting it up. “He was actually good in bed. Like, I can’t even take comfort in the fact that at least she’s not getting good dick, ya know? ‘Cause she definitely is. Meanwhile, I’m getting none. Bastard.”

The conversation was cut short on Joel’s end when you took your joint onto the deck and closed the sliding door. Joel couldn’t help but notice that when you leaned against the railing, your shorts rode up just a little higher, giving him just the slightest peek at your cheeks.

“Wouldn’t mind bein’ the one that gives her some,” Joel thought to himself. He shook his head and turned around, reminding himself that he’s a professional.

Once he finished upstairs, the deck was the only place left he needed to inspect. You were still out there chatting and he felt unsure of how to proceed. He settled on just opening the sliding door. When you heard the noise, you jumped and whipped around. You saw a man you didn’t recognize standing in the door frame. He was a very attractive man, but a stranger nonetheless.

“Hey, let me call you back,” you muttered into the phone. You looked up at the man nervously. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m a contractor. Broderick called me for an estimate on some repairs. He didn’t tell me there would be anyone else in the house,” Joel explained.

“That makes two of us,” you replied. A slight breeze carried some of the smoke from your joint in Joel’s direction.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” you apologized, snubbing the joint out and fanning the air around him.

“No worries, I’m almost done and you guys were my last stop,” he said, waving your apology off. You stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before you spoke again.

“Well, I reckon I’ll let you get to it. It was nice meeting you, uh…?” You looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to give you his name.

“Joel,” he offered. You smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Joel.” You introduced yourself before opening the sliding door and stepping inside. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.”

Broderick trotted down the stairs as you were shutting the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming?” you hissed. “I would’ve, ya know, gotten dressed.”

“I forgot I made the appointment for today. But honey, he’s so hot, how can you complain?” he replied. He looked out the glass doors at Joel, who was slightly sweating in the late afternoon Texas heat. His muscles made the white t-shirt he was wearing tight around his arms.

“Mmm mmm, come to papa,” Broderick said under his breath. You laughed and shook your head.

“What are the chances he’s gay, Brod?”

“Literally zero. I saw him checking you out earlier,” he pouted.

“Oh whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “He’s way too good looking to have been looking at me.”

“Bitch please,” he scoffed. “You managed to land one of the hottest, richest men in Texas!”

“Yes Brod, and if you remember correctly, I’m staying with you because he was fucking the hot intern.”

“You’re hot babes, trust me. And Mr. Contractor wants a piece.”

Joel came back inside then and announced he was finished with the inspection. They discussed the repairs that needed to be made and Broderick approved them and scheduled Joel to get started the following week. You smiled sweetly and waved as he walked out the door.

—————————

When Joel came back the next week, you made sure you wore the least amount of clothing you could get away with. When he arrived on the first day, you were out on the deck in yoga shorts and a sports bra. He brought a few guys with him to help and they were open with their stares as you went through your morning yoga routine. Joel only stole glances when he knew he could get away with it. He didn’t know if you had worn that outfit for his benefit or not, but he hoped you had. He was in the kitchen painting cabinets when you walked in for a drink.

“Morning Joel,” you chirped as you walked past him.

“Mornin’,” he replied with a smile that almost made you melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Would you like anything to drink?” you asked. You opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. “We have lemonade and sweet tea - ya know, the basic southern staples - and water.”

“I’m fine for now darlin’. Thanks though.”

You squealed internally when he called you darlin’ in that Texas drawl.

“Could I bother you for a glass from that cabinet next to the one you’re painting?” You batted your eyelashes at him sweetly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard.

“Sure.” He reached into the cabinet and handed you a glass. You made sure to brush his fingers with yours as you took it from him.

“Thanks Joel,” you smiled demurely.

You filled the glass with lemonade and he watched as you sashayed back to the deck and settled into a lounge chair. He was in for it if this is how it was going to go the rest of the time he was there.

You flirted with Joel subtly and not-so-subtly for the next two days. You wore cute outfits to try to get his attention. He always flirted back and you caught him looking you up and down more than once. If he didn’t make his move today, you were going to take it upon yourself to make one. You were horny enough as it was, but Joel being around every day was making it almost unbearable.

You skipped the cute outfit this time and opted for comfort, throwing on an oversized t-shirt over your white cotton panties. You were happy to find Joel in the kitchen when you walked in for a snack. You hadn’t seen him all day. You leaned against the island, elbows resting on either side of you.

“Hey Joel.”

“Well look who it is,” he greeted you with a smile. “I was beginnin’ to think you forgot about me.”

“Me? Forget about you? Never,” you flirted.

“No cute outfit today?” he asked casually. You fake pouted.

“You don’t think this looks good?” You looked up at him coyly, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Didn’t say that,” he smirked, taking several steps toward you. “Ya know, you’ve been the only thing my guys can talk about. They’ve appreciated having something to look at.”

Your bodies were tantalizingly close. You looked up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t want any of them.”

“No? Then tell me - who have you been showing off for, hmm?” he teased, resting his palms on either side of you and caging you in.

“I think you know,” you smirked.

“Mhmm, I do know. But I said tell me.”

The change in his voice made you shiver. It was low and commanding, a total 180 from the respectful southern gentleman he had been when he first arrived.

“You, Joel. Just you,” you responded in a hushed tone. He reached up and ran his thumb along your bottom lip before taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head upward.

“That’s right, doll. Just. Me. Tsk tsk…they’ll be so disappointed to find out the boss gets you all to himself.”

He lifted you onto the island and stood between your legs, his hands resting on your upper thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he took that as permission to finally kiss you.

“You want me to touch you?” he murmured against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Where baby? Show me.”

You took his hand and guided it between your legs. He grinned and rubbed light, slow circles over your panties.

“More, please,” you whined, bucking up into his hand.

“Aw, nobody’s been touching this little pussy, have they?” he asked, poking his bottom lip out mockingly. You shook your head. “What a shame. I bet you make the prettiest sounds. Let’s find out.”

He applied more pressure to your clit and you moaned softly.

“I can feel how wet you are over your pretty panties,” he marveled. “You need this, don’t you baby girl?”

“Yes…god yes,” you whimpered. He reached his hand in your panties and gathered your slick to use as lube to rub your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned quietly. You’d been doing this to yourself for months but it was always so much better when someone else did it.

“M-more…faster,” you said after you could no longer stand the teasing pace at which he was touching you. He obliged and you let out a long sigh, tipping your head back.

“Mmm, I was right. Such pretty sounds.” He kissed your exposed throat and bit gently into the flesh. You felt the pleasure building until you were breathlessly begging him to make you cum.

“Let it go darlin’, go on,” he encouraged. You gripped his bicep tightly as you reached your peak, your breath coming out in short staccatos. You would’ve preferred to be more vocal, but you tried to control yourself given the circumstances.

“There we go baby,” he cooed, grinning widely. He slowed his movements but didn’t completely stop and your hips twitched upward every time he completed a circle.

“Joel…,” you whined. He put his lips against yours to quiet you.

“Mm? What is it, pretty?”

You weren’t sure what it was, but it drove you absolutely wild when he talked against your lips. You let him kiss you for a few moments before answering.

“Fuck me,” you whispered into the kiss.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He took his tool belt off and laid it on the counter before hastily undoing his jeans. He pulled them down with his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was slightly thicker than your ex, but about the same length. You prayed he knew how to use it.

“You want it?” he asked with a smirk as he pushed your panties aside and teased your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Please,” you responded desperately. He chuckled.

“Okay pretty girl, I’ll give it to you.”

He slid in slowly and you uttered a breathy moan of his name. He teased you with a languid pace, looking down to watch as he inched his cock back into your pussy.

“So hot,” he murmured.

“Faster, please,” you begged. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. You put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself as he picked up his pace. He gripped your waist as he snapped his hips forward repeatedly.

“God damn, this pussy feels so good. Takin’ me so well baby,” he praised. You kissed him and threaded your fingers through his hair. You let out a high pitched whine into the kiss when he hit your g-spot.

“Right fucking there,” you mewled.

“That feels good, huh?” he questioned with a hint of cockiness.

“So fucking good,” you agreed. “Please don’t stop.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to. Pussy feels too good to stop.”

“Oh god, Joel.” Just listening to him talk like that was almost enough to get you off.

“Been wantin’ this since I saw you in those little black shorts the first day I was here. I got off that night thinkin’ about eating your pussy until you were beggin’ me to stop.”

“Oh my god, that is so fucking hot.” You kissed him desperately, breathing heavily and moaning. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Yeah? You want me to make this pretty pussy cum? Hmm?” He began to pound into you and it was all you could do not to cry out. “Answer me.”

“Yes, please make me cum! Need it so bad.” You were practically crying.

“I know you do pretty girl. I’m gonna make you feel so good, don’t worry,” he soothed.

Just then, you heard the swinging door to the kitchen open.

“Hey Joel, we nee - holy shit!”

You instinctively looked back and saw one of Joel’s employees. You didn’t really care that he was staring at you, dumbstruck, while you were getting absolutely railed by his boss. Joel grabbed your chin and turned your head back to face him.

“Don’t look at him, look at me.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered pathetically. This just might be the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

“Get out,” Joel growled to his employee, who was still frozen to the spot. You heard the swinging door swish and you knew he was gone.

“Sorry,” he grunted an apology.

“Don’t be,” you panted. “It was hot.”

“Fuck, you’re a filthy thing,” he grinned. He pressed his thumb to your clit and rubbed in quick circles as he continued to pound into you. “I want you to cum for me, okay? Can you do that baby?”

“Yes Joel, god yes,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”

“Good girl. I want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum. I want to see how pretty you are when you’re soaking my cock.”

That was all you needed for your release to wash over you.

“God damn it I’m fucking cumming.” It hit like a fucking freight train, and the shout that came from your throat was involuntary. You were sure the rest of Joel’s guys had already heard about what was going on in there so you didn’t particularly care. You locked eyes with Joel and tried to maintain eye contact, but it felt so good that your eyes rolled back and your head tilted upward. He gripped your chin once again and brought your head back down.

“Eyes on me pretty mama,” he panted as he chased his release. “I’m gonna fucking explode. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, I’m on the pill.”

“Holy f-fuck,” he stuttered, not expecting that answer. “I’m gonna fill this pussy so full.”

“Yes baby, fill me up. I wanna feel it in me for the rest of the day.”

“Shit, I’m close,” he warned. “Cum for me one more time and I’ll fill you up.”

He wrapped one arm around your waist and held your thigh onto his hip with his other hand. He pounded into you with all he had.

“Oh god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you chanted. “I’m cumming again.”

“That’s right, c’mon baby girl. Cum on my fucking cock.”

You came a second time, clenching around him. The grunts and broken moans coming from him only fueled the fire that was exploding through you. Your mouth opened, but no sound save for the tiniest squeak escaped. All the breath had been taken from you.

“Oh fuck, here it comes,” you heard Joel groan through the rushing in your ears. “I’m cumming so hard.” His hips sputtered and then stilled as he drained his balls inside you. You rested your forehead on his shoulder and caught your breath. He rubbed your back in gentle circles.

“Did so good,” he praised breathlessly. He pulled out slowly and some of his cum pooled onto the island. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped it up before readjusting your panties. He patted your now clothed pussy and grinned.

“Now you have something to remind you of me until I can fuck you again. If that’s alright with you, that is.”

“You could fuck me all day every day,” you told him seriously. He laughed and kissed you softly.

“I’ll take that deal.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou series #tlou smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

Text

You Should Come Thru (Hawks x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Fan Art by @almaadst ❤️❤️

Pairing: Keigo "Hawks" Takami x Black!Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: After a month of hard work, no play, and a bad date, Hawks invites you over to his apartment for some tea to relax and finally get some time with his bestie, but as the night grows long, you suddenly lose your filter and begin telling him things that he shouldn’t know. All because of his very special tea.

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Friends to Lovers; Hurt/Comfort; Marijuana Consumption; Stripping; Mutual Oral; Mutual Masturbation; Body Worship; Voyeurism; High Sex; Dubcon (only because of the weed but there is verbal consent given); Facesitting; Riding; Mild Choking; Mirror Sex; Dom!Hawks/sub!Reader; Mild Namecalling; Wing Stroking; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Aftercare

Writer's Note: Thank you again to @curiouscutie143 for trusting me with your fantasies & ideas enough to bring them to life! -Jazz

**********

When you knock on his door that late night, Keigo already knows you are standing behind it.

He smiles at seeing your face in the peephole and opens the door without a greeting. Seeing you there still in your work dress, shoes, and pantyhose from before, he leans against the door frame and smirks at you despite your tired expression. “Well, what a surprise,” he says, sarcasm evident. “I don’t suppose you’re selling something?”

You hold your tote bag and a box from the restaurant you went to tonight in your hands. “If you think it’s a free dessert that the waitress gave me ‘cause she felt so bad for me, then yes, I do,” you glumly reply. “Can I come in?”

Keigo’s smile grows as he runs a hand through his short-cropped, blonde hair. “Shit, you kiddin’ me?” he chuckles. “Nothing’s better than pity dessert. Come right in.”

He opens the door wider, allowing you to walk inside the gorgeous, empty penthouse. Judging by Keigo’s attire of sweats, a white tee, and some slides, he was busy cleaning up for your arrival. The counters are clean, the pillows are fluffed and organized on the couch, and the TV is playing the newest episode of “Dinner In Dungeon” on Netflix.

“Take off your shoes,” he says, shutting the door behind you. “You look like you need to.”

You immediately do so, sitting down on the expensive couch in front of the TV to kick off the flats that you’ve been wearing all day at work. Keigo comes over to take the box of dessert from your dinner date, giving you a soothing smile as he does.

“Thank you again for letting me come over, Kei,” you sigh, relieved to have your feet released from the traps of your shoes. “I’m sorry it’s so late.” He pulls a sour face at you. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “My crib, your crib. Besides, I invited you over here after work to chill, remember?”

He turns to walk into his pristine, thousand-dollar kitchen with its granite counters, silver steel appliances, wine cooler, and personal mini-bar that has long since been used less since he eased up on his drinking. After Keigo got his burn scars from his fight with Dabi that almost claimed his life, he turned into a whole different person…for the better.

He cropped his hair down to snip off the burned ends from the fire, bulked up a bit more so his muscles are more defined, and he stays out of the limelight more than he used to. Less clubs, fewer groupies, and less expensive shopping sprees. The burn scars on his cheek, neck, and back are testaments of the changes he’s gone through.

But he’s still the same man you’ve been friends with for years now. You first met him three years ago when he opened his account with your bank with you as his teller. Years later, you’re still his teller and your friendship is stronger than ever. You’d never do anything to change that…even though deep down, you secretly want to.

“Well, that was to relax because you think I’m killing myself with work; not to trauma dump about my string of bad dates.” You kick your feet up on the couch, wriggling your painted toes.

Keigo pauses in the kitchen and walks back over to the doorway, leaning his hip against it. His shirt rises up a bit to show off one of his burn scars and his toned lower stomach where you see a patch of blonde hair. You look away. “Oh,” he realizes. “Tonight wasn’t the one, huh?”

You look back up at him, feeling your stress and the tension inside of you since your Uber ride here from your date melt away at the sight of his soft, almost somber expression.

“Definitely not.”

He comes over to you, holding your dessert on a plate with two forks for you both. Your waitress took it upon herself to personally give you a free chocolate mousse cake topped with whipped cream and peaches. She probably saw how unhappy you were on your Bumble date and did it as a way to make sure you didn’t stab yourself with a fork.

“Well, you know what eases stress from work and makes you feel better after bad dates?” Keigo smirks down at you, his golden eyes tinkling. “Ugh, no weed, please,” you say in disgust. “And no alcohol. I had two glasses of wine at dinner.” Hawks shoots you a look. “Don’t worry, I took an Uber here.”

“No, tea,” he finally answers, laughing lightly. “Not alcohol and of course not weed! I know you don’t smoke, silly girl…unless you do now.” He smirks at you. “Is work kicking your ass that bad?”

You roll your eyes, taking a fork to get a piece of your dessert. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” you sigh. “Ever since I took that promotion, it’s like they’re running me ragged over there. The only good thing is that this pay leaves me with extra money after the bills and rent are paid.”

You’ve had your job as a bank teller for over six years now and you take it very seriously…however, when you clock out, you don’t take calls or texts from work. Your time out of work is your own which you usually spend sleeping. Ever since you received your promotion several months ago because of your great work ethic, you haven’t spent much time doing much except working and sleeping. Which means your time with Keigo has taken the back burner.

“Well, tell me all about it while I getcha a cup,” he says, taking a forkful of the cake before walking into the kitchen. “Take the load off and relax.” You hear him putz around in the kitchen, clinging this and clanking that, while you eat your dessert. It is rich and sweet with the peaches adding the right amount of juiciness and syrupy sweetness.

“Don’t get me wrong, the job has great benefits, but…sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. I barely have time to hang out with you now.” You frown, thinking off all of those video game nights and days on the town that have vanished because of your exhaustion. When you come home from work, you immediately hit the hay like you haven’t slept in decades.

And on the weekend, a time that is meant for freedom, you’re spending it in your apartment getting ready for work again! It’s exhausting!

“Oh, I know,” Keigo calls. “That’s why I invited you over. What kind of tea ya want?” You lay back against the pillows, putting your hands on your plump stomach. “What do you got?”

“Uhhh, Merlo, orange blossom, camomile, lemon mint, lavender—“

“Lemon mint, please,” you decide. “With honey and sugar.” Keigo’s fluttery laughter exits the kitchen as he fills a kettle of water and puts it on the stove. “V, we’ve been friends for years. I know how you take your tea after making it for you for so long. Keep talking.”

You smile, glad to have someone who knows you so well. You groan, your feet flopping against the couch tiresomely. “I'm just so tired all of the time now. I don’t even look forward to my days off because all I do is sleep!”

After a few minutes of the tea kettle whistling and more putting around in the kitchen, Keigo exits the kitchen with a tray of two tea cups, organized tea bags, and the cutest little pots of sugar and lemon slices you’ve ever seen. He sits down beside you on the couch and fixes you a cup. ”I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you,” you sigh apologetically. “Even with your hero work, you still make time for me.”

His golden eyes cut over to you, serious yet soft. “Hey,” he firmly says. “Stop. Life is hard. Adulting sucks. We’re still friends regardless of work and responsibilities. Now drink.”

He hands you a cup of your tea, the scent of lemon mingled with mint filling your nostrils. You hold the warm cup against your nose and breathe in the steam before taking a much-needed sip. You’re immediately filled with warmth. “Ah,” you sigh. “That’s nice.”

Keigo leans back against the couch with you, spreading his legs as he sips his tea and visibly relaxes into the couch. You keep your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to stare dead at his thighs or his groin though it’s right in earshot. “See? Works like magic…though weed works too.” He breathes in his lavender tea and takes a sip, his eyes fluttering shut. You like seeing him relaxed like this. He looks way more handsome to you in this state.

You don’t quite know when you started thinking this way about your friend. You just know that these thoughts have yet to go away. But you won’t dare acknowledge them or tell him anything. Keigo is your bestie and that is how he’ll stay. You two have been through way too much as friends and have too much of a great relationship for you to ruin it with emotions you can’t decipher or make sense of.

He turns to you now, pulling your feet into his lap. “So tell me about this date you had tonight. Didn’t you say it was with some guy you met on Bumble?”

You nod, sipping your tea. “Yeah, we’d been talking for about two weeks and decided to meet for dinner. Really, I just agreed because he was paying and I thought it’d be a good distraction from work, but…”

You pause, not really wanting to delve into tonight’s story about your horrible date. You started dating again five months ago, going through dating apps like Bumble, Tinder, and Hinge. You figured trying to find a nice, loving relationship wouldn’t hurt, but so far, your efforts have been futile. If you haven’t found hookups, you’ve found a slew of bad dates with mansplainers, closet incels, and the scummiest losers on these apps. The most recent one takes the cake.

Keigo raises an eyebrow at you. “But?” he encourages. “Damn, was he that bad?” He laughs a bit, though he tries to stifle it as much as he can.

You sigh, picturing your date tonight. He was a beautiful man on the outside—Colgate smile, curly hair, nice body—, but on the inside, you felt like you’d need all kinds of cleaning products to clean up his nasty personality. “Well, let’s just say I won't be calling him again.”

Keigo laughs at this and you shove him in the arm. “At dinner, all he talked about was himself, he kept sneakily checking out other girls even though I saw, and then he acted like I had to give him “some” just because he paid even though he said he would! I even suggested we split!”

The pro grows increasingly interested in hearing about this, especially hearing that your date was clearly a whore. “Well, what did he say?” he asks. You stare at the TV, not really watching the show. “He just kept trying to get me to go home with him, telling me he had good beer back at his place. When I said no, he looked fed up.”

You take a sip of your tea, becoming more open with every sip. “Like, I should’ve been the one who was fed up,” you scoff. “I had to force him to ask questions about me at dinner because he kept droning on about the fact that he’s a licensed plumber and how he usually meets girls below his caliber.”

You roll your eyes, something you’ve been doing all night. You’re shocked they haven’t rolled into the back of your head or fallen out yet. Keigo makes a noise between a disproving grunt and a lamented groan. “Oh, he was that type of guy.” He takes a forkful of the cake.

You do the same, your hands brushing against one another as you reach for your fork. You ignore the slight spark you feel when you touch him. “Yeah,” you sigh. “But the thing is I don’t even think he liked that I have a job where I have a higher salary than he does. He was so weird about it.”

You take another sip of the tea and pause, realizing that you’re not as angry or as disappointed as before. You feel so relaxed and at ease, your body melting into the sofa. It’s like you’re at a spa, listening to soothing music while you get your feet rubbed. “God, I’m so relaxed. That’s a first in I don’t know how long.”

Keigo smiles, happy to hear this. “Well, that’s a good thing. Now….” He lowers his cup down and places a hand on your ankle. “Tell me more.” And so you do. You tell him about your bad date, your fears about being alone, your mother constantly getting on you about being single and giving her some grandbabies soon, etc.

With every sip of your magical tea, you become more open and honest with your friend, running off with the mouth about your life. Keigo listens intently, running his hands over your aching feet and flicking the TV channel every so often. He never once speaks or interrupts. He only listens, which is exactly what you need.

Finally, once the tea is almost gone, you sit back against the couch and hug a pillow to your chest. “I don’t think he’s ever gonna call again,” you continue, referring to your Bumble date. “And I don’t care! I’m so tired of meeting the same jerks who only wanna brag about themselves to anyone who will listen and only look at women as sex toys.”

Keigo pushes the plate of empty cake aside, pouring you more tea in the process. “Not to sound like your dad or anything, but why do you even wanna try if the dating pool is so shitty?”

You take a moment to think about it, mostly because your mind is moving so slowly. It’s like everything is moving in slow motion. Maybe going on your date after work wasn’t a good idea. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to find somebody good.” Keigo raises an eyebrow at you. “Somebody good?” he asks. “What does a “good” partner look like to you, V?”

You are stunned by the question and suddenly at a loss of words. You’re not sure why. You’ve had these types of conversations with Keigo all the time! But suddenly, you feel nervous and like the walls around you are closing in.

“Like…I dunno….someone who listens and is interested in me. Someone who’s understanding, caring, kind…someone who doesn’t always think about themselves. Someone who I can count on for anything.”

Keigo doesn’t say anything. He just fixes you with an unreadable yet almost personal expression. “Don’t get it twisted though: I love my life as it is!” you quickly add. “I’ve got a great job, a crib, a car, friends, family...I don’t want you to think I’m desperate for a man to make me feel complete.”

The blonde sips on his tea, looking confused at your sudden interest in proving to him that you’re not desperate for a man. “I didn’t say that.”

But you continue on: “It would just be nice, y’know, to have a loving relationship. Sometimes I get lonely and I think that I’ll die alone with my cat.” You play with your fingers, looking at anything but him. You don’t want to see the pity in his eyes.

“I know that it’s just me being stupid and overthinking shit, but it’d be nice to have someone I click with, like we do,” you confess. “I’d like a partner like…you.”

That’s who you want in a partner. Someone who thinks of you like they think of themselves. Someone who is there for you to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or a smile that gives you butterflies. Someone who you look forward to seeing and makes you happy when you think about them. Someone like your good friend, Keigo.

Shyly, you look at him and you can see the stun in his eyes at your confession. Realizing how this sounds, your body and face flame up. “No, no, not like that!” You protest, flustered. “I-I just mean I’d want a guy like you as a partner. Y’know, someone who makes me feel safe and secure. Beautiful, even.”

The silence that swells around you is intense and uncomfortable. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you awkwardly chuckle. “There must be truth serum in this tea or somethin’.” You lower your cup down on the coffee table, pushing it away as if it’s poison.

“Actually, no,” Keigo says. “It’s weed.”

You pause, letting the wheels turn in your head as you process what he just said. “....What?” you finally ask. “You’re joking.” You even giggle to yourself, but he doesn’t. You can tell from the look he’s giving you. “You’re serious,” you realize.

He sips on his tea, somehow proving it to you by doing so. “Deadass,” he replies.

“Hawks, what the fuck?!” You shout, sitting up from the couch. “Why would you do that?! You know I don’t smoke!” Keigo clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, relaaaax,” he draws. “I didn’t put that much in it. Just enough to relax you. If I would’ve asked, you would’ve said no.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t say no!” you protest, jumping up from the couch. “Because I don’t do drugs!”

“Well, neither do I!” he retorts, standing up with you. “I’m not a pill popper or nothing, V. It’s just weed. All it does is soothe your nerves, gives you the munchies, and makes you sleep. Speakin’ of munchies, I’ve got some fried chicken takeout left in the fridge.”

“And it also makes your anxiety skyrocket,” you angrily argue. “That explains why I’m runnin’ off with the mouth and sayin’ shit that I shouldn’t be saying!”

You place a hand on your head, feeling it thump like a heartbeat. Speaking of heartbeat, you become hyper-aware of how much it has increased in the last few minutes and now, you can’t stop focusing on it. “God,” you exhale. You close your eyes, trying to slow your breathing and your racing mind.

Keigo immediately turns around and rushes to you, laying a hand on your back. “You okay?” he asks, worried. Once he realizes what’s happening, he immediately springs into action and takes your hand. Slowly, he leads you back over to the couch and sits you down.

“Stay there,” he says and as fast as lightning, he zooms back to the kitchen to get you some water and flaps back over on his big, red, fluffy wings like an angel. “Sip this,” he says, handing you the glass. “Just relax, honey. You’re okay. It’s just the weed talkin’.”

He gently touches your knee and rubs it as you drink the ice water, taking slow sips. You try to ignore how hot you feel with him touching you, but it’s impossible to ignore. It’s been a long time since a touch has made you feel like this. His voice too—so soft and silky. “I promise I didn’t put that much in there,” he says, sounding guilty. “But maybe I shouldn’t have put any in at all. I’m sorry, V. I just didn’t like seein’ you so tired.”

His hand gently grasps your knee and you shudder like he’s touching bare skin. “I had hoped this would relax you. You walk around like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, y’know? The bad dates don’t make it better.”

He looks at you then. Really looks at you, like he sees all of you—the woman you are, the woman he sees, and the woman you want to be. All in those golden irises like sunken treasure. “You deserve to be happy,” he softly says. “And you deserve to have a partner who will make your happiness and well-being their top priority. I hope whoever it is knows how amazing of a person they’ve got.”

And in his eyes and his handsome face, you see it. He’s telling the truth. Suddenly, you feel warm and those butterflies start flapping away in the pit of your stomach. Looking at him, you think to yourself that all that you want in a partner…could it be that maybe, just maybe, who you want is…him?

Suddenly, your hand moves on its own and cups Keigo’s face. He flinches slightly, stunned by the sudden movement, but he doesn’t push you away. “V?” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you.

Wordlessly, you lean in slowly, assessing his face and giving him time to pull away. He doesn’t. It’s like you’re watching yourself from the outside, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to his. The kiss is tentative and short, but it absolutely sets your entire body ablaze. His lips are soft and taste faintly of lavender from the tea. His cologne engulfs your nostrils, making your hormones run wild.

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life…and it just so happens that it’s with your best friend.

You pull away, both of you silently staring at one another, shocked by how great of a kiss that was and what the fuck just happened. Keigo doesn’t freak out or even remotely act like he didn’t enjoy it. He only whispers, “V”, his voice barely above a whisper. But it’s enough to send your mind careening back down to Earth. “I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice small. “I didn’t…I-I don’t know why I—“

But Keigo stops you by turning your face towards his again and kissing you once more. This one is longer and slower. He takes his sweet time getting to know your lips and introducing you to his, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your jaw. It feels good.

So good, in fact, that you find your hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers feeling up his toned arms and biceps. It feels good. He feels so good. You can’t believe how right it feels to be kissing and touching him. Slowly, he pulls away, his breathing ragged. “We should probably talk about this.”

But you pull him back in for more kisses, these ones eager and heated. “We can talk later,” you whisper. “Just keep kissing me.” He listens to you, a soft moan leaving his lips as your tongue caresses his bottom lip. He parts his lips, granting you access, and your tongues begin to swirl amongst each other as your hands wander. You feel the, on your waist, your back, your ass, squeezing and kneading.

At some point, Keigo walks you back to the couch and sits down first, pulling you on top of him. A soft, surprised moan escapes you as his hands grip your ass, keeping you locked in his lap. You straddle him and his groin, encasing him in the heat between your luscious, jiggly thighs. You keep kissing, your hands sliding down his chest, indulging in his muscles, and wanting so much to feel his bare skin.

He pulls away with a soft pop as your lips disconnect, his gaze hooded and dazed as he stares up at you. “You feel so good here,” he sighs. “You’re so soft.” He pushes himself against you as he begins to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You moan, tossing your head back, letting him litter your throat in slow, wet smooches. Unconsciously, your body responds by grinding against him, causing something very hard to grow between your thighs.

You gasp, looking down at his bulge. You got your best friend hard! He gives you a sheepish look with an endearingly awkward smile. “Sorry. You’ve got me excited.” A fire ignites inside of you, desperate to be freed. It might be the weed, but you feel just as excited and aroused as he is. “That’s the idea,” you giggle. You lean in to kiss him, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Bedroom. Please.”

Keigo’s eyes flash with worry, your plea awakening something in him. “Are you sure you want this?” he whispers. “We can stop here if you want to—“

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna stop. I want this.” To prove your point, you take his hand and slide it between your thighs for him to feel your second heartbeat. Your pussy is throbbing and sobbing for him, quickly becoming more insistent on being touched. Keigo’s mouth parts, a shuddering breath leaving his lips.

You watch his wings shudder and ruffle as if you’ve touched them. He’s told you before that his feathers are sensitive. You make a mental note to experiment with them later as he cups his hands under your ass. “Hang onto me then,” he orders. “Don’t look down, okay, darlin’?”

The pet name makes you feel hot all over and you nod, holding onto him tight. You lock your arms and legs around him as he stands up with you in his arms and gently flutters his wings. Though you gasp as you’re suddenly levitating off of the ground, you close your eyes and hug him close as he flies up the stairs to his bedroom. He chuckles at your reaction having not taken you flying before. He’ll have to do that later.

Once you get to his bedroom, he gently puts you down on your feet and shuts the door. You look around the spacious room, noticing the sweet smell of roses and the cleanliness of it. The balcony on the left side of the room next to the bed is cracked, bringing in a soft summer breeze. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen your bedroom before.” You turn to him, noticing him sizing you up in a way that excites you. “You never had to.”

You turn back to the king-sized bed, big enough for at least four people with a soft-looking red comforter, pillows, and… “Is that…a mirror?!” you gasp, looking up at the ceiling. There, in the square-shaped mirror hovering above the bed, you see yourself staring back.

Keigo comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Yeah, I know; I’m a freak. Is this okay with you?” His concern for your comfort turns you on even more. You’ve never seen yourself have sex before, but the idea of looking up into the mirror and watching yourself take dick and tongue while seeing Keigo’s handsome face contort in pleasure makes your pussy spill all in your panties.

You turn around in his arms and nod, too aroused to speak. He lazily smirks at you, his eyes hooded from arousal and the weed. “Then help me out of these clothes, will ya?” He groans, pulling on his pants. “I can’t take much more of this waiting game, babe.”

You can’t either. You’re dying to see what he looks like without clothes. “You get naked first,” you suggest, a purr in your voice. He fulfills your wish and works his pants off while you peel off his shirt. At one point, Keigo almost falls trying to get his pants off, making you both giggle hysterically.

Keigo gets very giggly and goofy when he’s high, something you know from many calls where he’s been high as a kite and you’re trying to sleep. Apparently, you get giggly too, unable to stop laughing. The clothes continue to come off until he’s just in his undies, exposing all kinds of savory, tanned muscle that you can’t help but touch, stroke, kiss, and lick. Keigo moans and tangles a hand in your hair as you do as you please, whispering, “Fuck, baby” and arousing “Mmm-hmms” as you do.

When you pull away, you ogle at his burn scars for a moment, trailing your fingers over the rough patches of skin. You feel Keigo tense as you do and look up into his eyes, seeing insecurity. Quickly, you soften this by cupping his face in your hands. “I like you like this,” you whisper. “Gives you character.”

Keigo cracks a smile and laughs, the sight adorable to you as your thumbs stroke his cheeks. “Your turn, darlin’.” Slowly, he begins to peel off your dress, slowly kissing you as he does. It’s one of those painfully slow, sloppy kisses with tongue that leave you weak in the knees and craving more of him.

Once your dress and bra are off, Keigo sits you down on the bed and works on getting your pantyhose down. He watches you watch him pull the nylon stockings down your thighs, exposing your milky, brown skin and luscious thighs that he can’t help but stroke and grip as he leans over to kiss you.

His lips trail down to your breasts, making you moan as his soft lips touch your hardened nipples. When he latches his mouth around one of them and gently sucks, you gasp and grasp his hair, arching your chest into his mouth. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs. “How the fuck could any man fuck up a date with you?”

He turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it the same attention he just gave the one now tingling and coated in his spit. He toys with your tits, molding and squeezing them gently in your hands, loving how soft and heavy they are. Loud moans escape you as you tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, your pussy throbbing in your panties. “Keigo,” you mewl. “Baby, touch me.”

He pulls away from your nipple to speak: I am, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Where else do you want me?” His golden eyes twinkle up at you with lust and mirth. Your fingers slide down to your clothed pussy, silently telling him just where you want him. You guide his hand there, but he stops. Instead, he keeps your hand there, staring at you. “No…show me.”

You blink at him, confused. Gently, he pushes your legs open more to expose yourself to him. Then he sits up on his knees beside you and, his eyes still locked with yours, takes down his briefs to show you his very hard, very thick, very pretty cock. You gape at it, marveling at the vein trailing from the pink, bulbous head dripping in pre-cum to the base where his heavy balls hang. “Show me how you touch yourself and I’ll show you.”

It feels like fire has crackled beneath your skin and in your veins as you do what he says. Slowly, still overcome by the weed, you pull your panties aside to reveal your glistening, wet cunt to him. “Shit,” he sighs. “You have such a pretty pussy.”

You whimper pitifully at his nasty compliment, rubbing your clit in slow circles. You feel deliciously dirty and sexy under his gaze as he watches you, his hand stroking his dick in tandem with your slow pace. You pay attention to how his hand grips the thick base and strokes upward before going down, wanting to do the same.

The more you stroke your pussy while he strokes his cock, soft moans and hums of pleasure leaving his pillowy-soft lips, the more you want to go further. Sitting here with your legs open and your fingers teasing your wet pussy while he gently pumps his cock in your face is the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. You need more of him.

You tilt your head up and begin giving the head of his cock kitten licks and kisses, earning soft moans in response. Peering up at him under your lashes, you beg him with your eyes to give you what you want. “You want this?” he asks, pressing his cock against your cheek. You nod, parting your lips as he slides his cock over to gently rub it against your mouth.

You open your mouth wider, allowing him to slide his cock in your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, his gorgeous eyes rolling in the back of his head as his cock settles against your tongue. He lets you take the reins, only slowly thrusting in time with the slow bops of your head and sucks. You take your time blowing him, wanting to get to know his cock. He is thick and stretches out your throat, causing you to have to breathe through your nostrils and feel an ache in your jaw.

But it feels so good. You love how he feels in your mouth. You love how he tastes. You love how warm he feels encased in your mouth and throat. You love the amount of spit that collects in your mouth and drips down your chin as you continue to blow him, using your free hand to play with his balls. “God,” he moans, his hand tangling in your hair. “You feel so good, V, what the fuck.”

He feels good too. Your pussy gets wetter, your juices slipping down to your asscrack, as you continue to rub yourself in time with your slow deep throating. You absolutely love sucking his cock. It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to begin tightening and you rub a little faster. “Kei,” you exhale around his cock. “I-I’m ‘bout to…I’m gonna—“

“No.” Keigo’s golden eyes flash at you, firm. “Stop.” You do as he says, slowing down before coming to a pause. “Sit on my face,” he bluntly says. You blink at him, stunned. “What?” you dumbly ask.

“You heard me, baby: sit. On my. Face.” His hand slides down to cup yours over your pussy. “I want you to do what I’ve dreamed of you doin’ to me for years and that’s cumming in my mouth.” A cocky smirk pulls at his lips. “Don’t worry. I can handle you. If I die, I die happy.”

You roll your eyes while he laughs, but you still think it over.

You’ve never sat on a guy’s face before. It’s the first time you’ll be doing so. What if he’s uncomfortable? What if you can’t breathe and you accidentally smother him? What if you crush his neck with your full weight? Those pesky “what ifs” continue to haunt you, but at the sight of Keigo’s lustful eyes and warm smile, they begin to dissipate.

So you agree. “Pat my thigh twice if it’s too much,” you say, earning a scoff in return. He then crawls up to the top of the bed, giving you a view of his great ass, and flops onto his back, head against the pillows. His smile widens and he motions you to come hither, his cock standing at attention for you.

Suddenly feeling shy but not wanting to back out, you slowly crawl over to him and on top of him, your thighs straddling his chest. “Uh…so how do I do this?” you awkwardly ask. He laughs, his chest vibrating beneath you. “Well, first, you’ve gotta get close to my face, baby. Don’t worry; you won’t fall. Just sit on me.”

Drawn to his smile and encouragement like a moth to a flame, you sit up on your knees and scoot closer until you’re hovering over his handsome face. His eyes peer up at you, coaxing you to come down. Slowly, you do and almost immediately, your jaw drops, and your eyes go wide at the immense pleasure you feel when his tongue hits your clit.

“Oh, God!” you cry out, grabbing onto the headboard for dear life so you don’t spray all over your best friend’s face. In this position, he can reach everything, from his tongue caressing your clit and the folds of your cunt to his hands gripping and massaging your ass. He’s able to drink right from the source now, so he does so. He slurps and drinks like a thirsty man from your pussy, falling in love with how you taste.

And you fall in love with his mouth. You can’t help but grind yourself against his nose as he slurps at your pussy, his tongue moving magically between your folds. “Fuck, Hawks, yes!” you sob, tossing your head back. “Fuck, please, keep going! Oh, don’t stop!”

From between your soft, sweet, thick thighs, you can hear Keigo mumbling about how good you taste and whimpering as he continues to slurp your pussy. You’ve never heard him whimper before. It sounds so pathetic yet so sexy coming from him, the sounds vibrating against your pussy. “Fuck me,” he pleas from underneath you. “Fuck my face, baby.”

So you do. You can’t help it. His mouth just feels too good! Your hips move on their own, grinding and rolling, causing your pussy to glide along his tongue and your clit to bump against his nose. His face becomes your surfboard and you’re trying desperately to catch that wave of pleasure that will surely cause a wipeout for you. Your moans and cries grow louder, bouncing off the bedroom walls, possibly alerting the neighbors of how good you’re getting fucked.

Finally, that knot in your core reaches its limit and you feel yourself come undone in Keigo’s mouth. “I’m cumming!” you gasp, using one hand to grip Keigo’s hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming!” Greedily, Keigo takes all that you give him, his tongue moving slowly yet deliciously along your wet slit as you cum in his mouth.

He moans eagerly, taking everything you give him that floods into his mouth like the most delicious waterfall. Your moans are like music to him, making his cock strain and ache. He needs to bust at this point! When you begin to feel overstimulated, he finally stops and you roll off of him.

You flop onto your back on the mattress, panting heavily and staring up at your body in the mirror. Your brown skin glistens in sweat and your hair is a tousled mess. Keigo gently strokes your side, his pants matching yours. “That was perfect,” he sighs. Tiredly, you nod. “You okay?” He worriedly asks.

You’ve never felt better. But now you want more. So you turn to him and kiss him, tasting yourself off of his lips. “I want more,” you whisper. You don’t need to elaborate any more than that for him. “Lemme just get some stuff,” he murmurs, kissing your lips before moving to his nightstand drawer.

There, he retrieves a bottle of edible lube and a water bottle for you. As you drink the water, you peek over his shoulder, spotting a pack of pre-rolled blunts that he no doubt smokes while he’s in here. Shockingly, you put a hand on his shoulder and nod down at the blunts. “Take one out,” you say. “I wanna try somethin’.”

Keigo looks shocked since you seemed so freaked out about weed initially, but he does as you say and places the blunt and a lighter on an ashtray on the nightstand. You coax him to lean back, relishing how eager he seems as he lets you do as you want to him. You then straddle him, his hard cock pressing against your mound, and press your lips to his ear.

“I wanna smoke while I ride you,” you whisper. “I want you to blow smoke in my mouth while you watch me take your cock.”

Keigo shudders at your dirty suggestion, swearing under his breath. “Ya mean shotgunning?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. You flush bashfully, shrugging. You’ve only ever seen the act in movies, but the idea of it turns you on, especially when you’re taking cock. “I like you freaky like this,” he pants, gently nibbling your bottom lip. “Go ahead then, baby. Take your time.”

So you do. You use the lube on him, stroking the cold substances up and down his shaft. He shivers at the chill until the lube warms up in your palm, your ministrations making him moan and whimper. “C’mon, mama,” he groans. “You’ll make me cum before I’m even inside you yet.”

You add some lube around your entrance despite being as wet as an ocean. But you decide that you want to feel all of him, so you want to be as slick as possible. Taking hold of his shoulder with one hand while he securely handles your hips, you take his cock into your hand and rub it against your slit. He locks eyes with you, enjoying seeing the pleasure in them. “Fuck me,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take me, baby.”

Slowly, you press the head against your entrance and gently slide down his shaft. You take his head first, the sensations you both feel causing you to gasp in unison. Then, inch by inch, you take more of his thick cock inside of your soft, curvy body. You slowly rock your hips and bounce up and down in his lap, taking him deeper and deeper with every passing second. “Mmm, fuck, Keigo,” you whine, gripping his hips as you bounce on his dick. “You feel so fucking good!”

Keigo would tell you the same, but he’s too busy watching your pretty ass take his cock like a good girl. He loves the way your stomach jiggles; how soft your back rolls feel as he traces his fingers over them; how your tits bounce and your thighs ripple. You’re truly a specimen, especially when high.

Speaking of high, he remembers the blunt he put on the nightstand and reaches for it, never once taking his eyes off of you. He grabs the blunt and his lighter, still watching you ride him. “You’re doin’ so well for me, baby,” he groans. “You feel so fuckin’ amazing. Keep bouncin’ on me, okay?”

You nod, continuing to sink down onto his cock as you watch him light his blunt. He wraps his lips around one of the ends and puffs once, twice, three times as the other end burns red from the lighter. Keigo then tosses the lighter aside and inhales deeply. The smoke billows from his lips as he exhales, his golden eyes hooded and lazy.

“Mind if I smoke?” he jokingly asks, smiling lazily at you. You’ve never seen him look sexier. “C’mere,” he murmurs. He puts the blunt to his mouth again and inhales, holding the smoke between his cheeks.

You lean in and make a small O shape with your puckered lips. He leans in and exhales slowly, blowing the smoke in a steady stream into your mouth. The weed smoke combined with his dick inside of you is a different kind of high. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment before opening again, dazed and slightly red.

Keigo lets out a sexy chuckle as he watches your eyes glaze over. “Nice, right?” You slowly nod, smiling deliriously at him. As you slowly grind your clit against his stomach, you lean in again, wanting more. “You want another one, huh?” he asks. “Keep fucking me just like that then.”

You do as he says and brace yourself on his shoulders, letting him shotgun you again for an indirect kiss. It quickly turns into a direct, sloppy tongue kiss as he presses his mouth to yours. The scent of marijuana and his spicy cologne mingles in your nostrils, somehow making you wetter and more needy. “Put your hand on my throat,” you beg. “Please, Keigo!” A fire flashes behind Keigo’s eyes, excited by your sluttiness.

His big, red wings suddenly move around you as if to shield you from everything but him as his hand shoots out to gently grasp our throat. “Fuck, babe, you’re so hot like this. Who knew all it took to turn you into a little slut was some weed?”

He watches you between his golden slits of eyes, his lips pressed together in pleasure as he feels your slick pussy stroke him again and again, both of you softly moaning in the darkness of his bedroom. The bed creaks and bounces underneath you, your ass softly clapping against Keigo’s thighs. The lewd sounds of you fucking only makes you move a little faster and harder. “Fuck, Kei,” you whine. “I’m gonna…gonna cum soon.”

Through gritted teeth, Keigo nods, his face flushed. “Shit, I know,” he hisses. “Me too. Need to..need to fuck you harder.” Without warning, he shoots forward, wraps an arm around you, and begins to lift his lips up to fuck you back. You gasp and toss your head back, eyes closed from the ecstasy and his thick cock stroking your insides. Your clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, getting you closer to your end.

“No,” Keigo growls. “Open your eyes.” You do so and look down into his lust-blown eyes. “Look up,” he demands. “Look at yourself getting fucked, V. Look at you take that fucking dick.”

You slowly look up into the mirror, watching the woman above you. Her tits jiggle and bounce like ripe, hanging fruit; her soft, plump body ripples as the handsome man below her fucks up into her, bringing her closer to the brink of orgasm. Her face is contorted in pleasure, her brows furrowed and lips parted as moans and gasps leave her lips. She is beautiful. And she is you.

Seeing you look so hot getting fucked like that…God, it’s too much. You dig your nails into Keigo’s shoulders and press your face into his neck, wailing from the pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” you cry out. “Fuck yes, baby, I’m gonna…gonna…oh, fuck!” Your orgasm sneaks up on you like the killer in a slasher flick and tears you up from the inside. You come apart at the seams on Keigo’s cock, clenching and throbbing around him as you cum.

Keigo is right behind you, slamming his hips sloppily into yours as he tries to chase that high, even babbling as he does. “That’s it, baby, cum on my cock,” he moans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yeah, I’m gonna cum too!”

To get him there quicker, you begin to gently stroke his wings, starting from the wing bone to the tips of his feathers, earning a soft white and a shudder in response to your ministrations.

After a few more thrusts and a ruffle of his wings as you slide your fingers against them, Keigo’s muscles clench and he holds onto you for dear life. Ah!” he gasps as he explodes deep inside of you. You weakly moan as you feel his warm cum flood your insides, making your pussy and thighs feel wet and sticky. “Take it all,” he exhales against your chest. “Take all of me, V. It’s yours.”

You whimper and shudder against him, overcome by your and his orgasms. The aftershocks begin to set in, causing you to hold onto him as the aftermath of the sex begins to fade. After it does, you feel exhausted. Silence swells between you both despite Keigo still being inside of you. With a soft moan, he carefully slides out of you and flops onto his back.

You roll off of him and lay beside him onto the cool comforter. For a while, you just lay side by side, never saying a word. Your heavy pants turn into one, mingling with the sound of cars outside. In the silence, reality sets in: you just had sex with your best friend.

Keigo clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Uh, that was…” He trails off, trying to find the right word, but not being able to.

“Yeah,” you agree. It was fucking amazing. But also fucking strange.

Slowly, the winged blonde turns toward you, one wing moving to cover you like a feathery, crimson blanket. “Do you wanna talk about what just happened?” he asks. “‘Cause I think we should.” You don’t say anything because what can you possibly say to this?

Keigo props his cheek up on his fist, looking down at you in worry. “Do you regret it?” The moonlight illuminates the fear in his eyes. He’s scared you’ll say yes.

“No,” you immediately reply and you see relief set in. “But I don’t know where we go from here. I mean, we pretty much just ruined our friendship doin’ this.” You let out an awkward chuckle though your stomach flips at the idea.

“No shit,” he chuckles. “But if I can be honest with you, I’d rather us have done that than not. I just hope you know that everything I said to you is true: you are an amazing woman, V, and you do deserve an amazing partner like…” He stops immediately from saying whatever he is going to say.

“Like who? You?” you joke. You look up at him and snort at your own joke…but he isn’t laughing. He looks conflicted like he’s trying hard to hide what he wants to say. Your heart leaps into your throat and your stomach does a gastric flip. “Hawks?” you quietly ask.

Finally, he speaks. “I’ve had these…feelings for you for some time now,” he confesses. “I don’t know when they started, but they just appeared one day. I had always adored you as my friend, but once I realized how much I wanted that to change, I started looking at you as the woman I wanted in my life and adored you even more.”

Under his soft yet intense gaze, you feel like you’re on fire. You lay there next to him, completely frozen, afraid of ruining this moment. “I don’t wanna spring this on you,” he continues, “and if you’re uncomfortable, you can always leave. But, V, all I want is for you to be happy and I’d be lying to your face if I said I didn’t want you to be happy with me.”

He looks nervous, playing with a silver ring on his ringed fingers. You take his hands into yours, finally feeling brave enough to state the obvious: “I feel the same,” you whisper.

Hope appears in his widened eyes, his lips twitching up into a smile. “So?” he coaxes. “Are you down for this?”

It now occurs to you that all of this time you’ve been searching for the one on dating apps and in the streets when all you had to do was look right beside you at the one person you would’ve never suspected. Or expected. And it could be possible that things won’t work out, but it’s also possible that Hawks could be the best thing that ever happened to you. And you want to find out. You don’t care what happens. You just wanna enjoy this with him. “Okay,” you giggle. “Yeah…let’s give this a shot.”

With a happy smile, Keigo leans in and presses a joyful kiss to your lips, cupping your face in his warm, calloused hands. You giggle, filled with giddiness. But then that happiness is stumped when your stomach rudely begins growling.

“That’s the weed talking,” he laughs, raising his brows humorously at you. “How about we end tonight with that takeout, some more cuddling, and a round two, hm?” He takes your hands and presses two kisses to your knuckles that travel down to your pussy, making it throb impatiently.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you purr before leaning up to kiss him again.

You never do make it to round two. The weed fights back after you chomp down on fried chicken and Hawks’ snack stash in his kitchen, causing you both to drift off to sleep snuggled against each other. But you don’t mind because being snuggled up underneath him in his bed, feeling the softness of his wings wrapped around you, is the most intimate thing you could ask for.

And the next morning, in the golden light of dawn pouring in through the balcony to air out the smell of weed, he makes up for it by fucking you senseless into the afternoon.

Yeah. You definitely made the right decision.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #black coded reader #my fic shit #bnha smut #hawks x black reader #hawks x black!reader #hawks x y/n

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sorrowfulrosebud · 2 years ago

Text

The Lone Wolf (again…)

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Contents: in which Wolf! Katsuki royally fucks up

Genre: extreme angst

CW: this is a very dark fanfic so I can’t really put the tws without spoiling the story. I’ll try my best anyway. TWS for blood, neglect, death and etc.

This is for @vampyrsm s collaboration! I’m sorry it took so long but it’s finally here! It can also be considered an alternative AU for my papa wolf series and can be read as a stand-alone piece.

“I’m leaving you”.

These were the words that made you stop scrubbing the dishes in the basin as the muscular frame of your mate stood unbreakably behind you. Your brows furrowed at the proclamation, wondering where the hell it had come from.

You had had a slight idea that he was unhappy, being more growly and quick to trigger than usual, but you had just assumed that he was nearing his rut again. Determined to see what he had to say, you stood your ground and remained facing the stone basin. The slight trembling in your hand informed Bakugou that you had indeed heard what he had sprung on you and took your silence as a means of continuing his speech.

“I’m getting soft and weak, for god’s sake. I’m a wolf, not some sort of damn domesticated house pet that you can play with whenever you feel like it. I can feel it that staying here is making me lose my edge, and what kind of wolf would stay with some sort of weak little human like you, huh? The very idea would have you slaughtered in my pack for acting like a domesticated pet,” Bakugou spat. The way he borderline snarled the word made it seem like it was some sort of dirty slur.

But I suppose, when you are forcefully ripped from one lifestyle and thrown into another, you’re bound to feel shaken up. That’s the strange thing though. The last year and a half of your life after meeting him was the best time of your life, and judging from the endless belly rubs, walks in the woods and helping him through his ruts, you were certain he had the same feelings for you as you did him.

==================================

The way you had met was less than conventional; when checking your rabbit traps and snares in the forest, you had found Bakugou muzzled, naked and chained by a collar to one of the thickest trees with a huge gaping wound slicing his Achille’s tendon to prevent him from running away. (Not that he could have to begin with. You figured that it was to add insult to quite literal injuries).

As a twig snapped under your hunting boots, the thrashing of the chain ceased as carmine eyes pored into yours. You were mesmerised by how a well-sculpted man could seem so animalistic until you were able properly see the well hidden ash blonde ears tucked in with the rest of his hair and with a quick swish, you were also notified of a fluffy tail being raised on alert. A sharp snarl pierced the air as Bakugou tried lunging at you, secretly dying internally from the horrible humiliation of someone from the species he’s mortal enemies with seeing him in such a disgusting manner.

In Bakugou’s pack (as he explained to you), being even remotely associated with humans would mean that you were the lowest of the low; a domesticated dog who would do cheap tricks for their master. Bakugou had been found sneaking off to the local human village to observe how humans function as a society, to study what they eat, how they take care of their young and how they farm crops. The leaders of the pack (his parents) decided that the punishment should fit the crime:

First, the traitor would be stripped naked as a symbol of stripping their morals for the enemy

Next, the heels would be sliced open to prevent any further disloyalty to the traitor’s new master by running away after the disloyalty for the pack was displayed

Then the traitor would be muzzled since it is a reflection of the biggest rule in the pack: NEVER SPEAK TO A HUMAN

The most humiliating thing was next. The traitor would be collared and leashed to a tree in hunter territory since acting like a pet means that you get treated like a pet, much like a dog being chained to a kennel. If the traitor loves humans so much, they can see how much they enjoy being skinned for their fur and having their teeth torn out for jewellery.

Eager to help the handsome stranger that you found, you raised your arms in peace and ambled slowly in front of him. You were EXTREMELY aware of his claws so you sat a good three feet away. Bakugou couldn’t deny that he was intrigued by your actions; he was still highly on guard but most hunters would have raced away for a spear or bow and arrow to put him out of his misery. With a small smile, you had introduced yourself to him to try to establish some sort of relationship, only to be met with an annoyed growl and chuff of his breath. In an instant you totally remembered that he was naked and rootled through your bag for a spare pair of hunting trousers that you carried. Your soft hands held them out to Bakugou to see if he wanted them instead of sitting there with his whole body on show.

Bakugou made no move to grab them from you, thinking that you had doused them in chloroform or some other drug that would seduce him to sleep. Instead, he just glared at you with intense eyes. The yanking on the chain had stopped completely as he studied you ferociously.

“Go on, you can take them! I can’t guarantee that they’ll fit you but I’m sure it’s better than sitting out here naked and covered in your own blood,” you offered with a gentle smile. Katsuki glowered at you as you set them down for him and turned your back so he could change himself.

Internally, Katsuki was in two minds; accept the clothes and kill you at any point in time if you threatened him, or sit here bound and helpless for god knows how long…

Katsuki growled as the fabric temporarily dug into his bleeding heels. He eventually managed to shimmy them up his legs, toned calves strained against the fabric due to their size.

“Are you done? Can I turn around right now?” You asked him politely. Katsuki let out an annoyed growl at your question, but you took it as a yes. You turned back around, borderline chuckling at the size of your trousers on Katsuki’s lower half before immediately being shut up with an angered glare.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Now you’re going to have to stay still whilst I-” you fumbled in your pocket for a knife, the silver blade glinting in the sun.

You only just managed to avoid the swiping of claws against your skin as Katsuki lunged for you, hackles raised and sandy ears pulled taunt against his head. Your fingertips pressed against the wound and you audibly winced at the amount of blood; even though he nicked you, there was still 4 big slits in the side of your tunic.

“Fuck, shit that hurts! What the actual fucking hell, asshole?!” You yelled at him, “I was going to unlock the muzzle around your mouth!”

Katsuki still growls, but his ears go back to normal. His entire body feels so… sluggish.

“Woah, hey are you okay?” Your face donned a worried look as the adrenaline of his night finally floated away from him and he slumped unceremoniously at your legs.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The pops and crackling of the toasty fire surrounded Katsuki’s senses as he finally started the descent out of sleep. He had no fucking clue where he was; there were certainly no soft couches back in his cave, nor were there little carved woodworks of various woodland creatures.

A soft humming could be heard from what Katsuki would assume to have been the kitchen. You entered Katsuki’s eyesight with a carefully balanced tray of stew (lamb by the small of it), and placed it carefully on the oak coffee table next to your plush couch. Katsuki shot up from the couch, snarl in his throat, ears all the way back and hackles raised as you raised your hands once again.

“Hey, relax, please! I’m not going to do anything, I swear! I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You passed out on me in the woods, so I took you back to my house to clean your wounds and feed you,” you lowered your hands to your waist and looked at Katsuki for his reaction. His ears slowly went back to their original position, the glint from his fangs could still be seen. His breathing was harsh, toned pecs heaving in his fear rage.

He slowly reached for the bowl of stew before sniffing it.

Well, it doesn’t smell poisoned. He thought. Might as well eat some, I’m fucking starving.

He tucked in with hesitation, but as soon as the first bite of juicy lamb hit his tongue, the bowl was next to empty. You stood dazed at how fast he consumed the bowl before offering your hand out to him. Katsuki immediately shrank back on the couch.

“Woah, I just wanted to know if you wanted seconds? You’re obviously hungry and there’s plenty more in the pot if you want some,” you spoke gently to him, almost like he was a pup, or a wild animal. Katsuki clearly thought for a second before shoving the bowl in your chest with an annoyed huff. You smiled at him widely before trotting back into the kitchen.

It suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t have any extra heaviness from that damned collar on his neck, and upon further inspection, you actually had stitched up the gaping wounds on his ankles. He still wore the trousers you had gifted him, so he was at least quietly grateful that you granted him privacy.

Well. This is going to be one hell of a summer.

=================================

“Katsuki, what the hell do you mean? You’re leaving?? When did you decide this?!” You turned around to face him properly and were instantly met with an annoyed expression.

“It doesn’t matter when I decided it, I’m fucking leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it!” He snarled at you. Deep inside, he loved you more than anything he could ever think of. He wanted to be your mate for his entire life, to wake up with you every morning and maybe if you would let him, indulge in his fantasy of having a few pups of your own. Alas, he had heard rumours around the village about a group of werewolves terrorising the local village’s cattle and he desperately wanted to see his old pack again.

“But Katsuki, please think about it! Where would you go?! You know that if your old pack were to see you again, they are more likely inclined to kill you!” You shouted at him, face crumpled up in tears.

“No they fucking wouldn’t, my pack respected and adored me! I just put my own personal interests before the safety of my pack, and that got me landed here in this shitty fucking cabin with you. A filthy human who would probably sell me to a hunter the minute I started acting like a true wolf,” he snapped back, his eyes dilating to pin pricks in his anger. Your own eyes glared back at him with tears delicately lacing your lash line.

“They. Fucking. Left. You. For. Dead. You went against your pack, and your PARENTS of all fucking people decided that they would slice their own fucking SON and LEAVE HIM FOR DEAD! I have done nothing but take care of you, through each of your ruts, each full moon, I EVEN FUCKING NURSED YOU BACK TO HEALTH.

DAY AND FUCKING NIGHT, I WAS AT YOUR SIDE HELPING YOU TO WALK AGAIN! EVERY INJURY YOU EVER HAD, I WAS THERE TO CLEAN UP AND KISS. SO DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DARE SAY THAT I’M JUST SOME STUPID FUCKING HUMAN WHEN I WAS MORE OF A PACK TO YOU THAN YOUR OWN FAMILY!” The words were spewing like venom at this point, you couldn’t fucking breath and the tears were pouring down your face thick and fast. In an instant, Katsuki had a death grip on your wrist, carmine eyes reduced to slits and his ears were flat against his head.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Disrespect my fucking pack again. Y’know, my pack was right. Humans do nothing but brainwash you into domestic shit. This was a mistake from the start,” he spat maliciously. His claws were digging deep into your wrist, making your face screw up in pain.

“K-Katsuki, let go! You’re hurting me!” You sobbed as you tried to pry him off. It wasn’t until the smell of blood hit his nose that Katsuki realised that he had actually hurt you. With a cry of pain, you clutched your bleeding wrist to your chest. The red stained your shirt a violent colour.

Katsuki could feel his rage ebb away and was slowly being replaced by worry.

“Woah, hey are you ok-“ he tries before you flinch away from him, hitting your back against the sink behind you in an attempt to get away. Your whimpers physically hurt him in ways he never knew existed.

“Hey, don’t push me away! I’m trying to see-“ he tries again before you finally turn to him and his heart breaks further at your teary face.

This was such a stupid fucking thought, he was so fucking stupid, why the hell would he leave you for his old pack?! Katsuki finally reflected on your words before his blood felt like ice. Why would he say such awful things to you to try to prove to an old pack who left him for dead?!

“Baby, please, I want to help,” he borderline whimpers, ears twitching dolefully. Your face screwed up in anger before you stood at your full height.

“You want to leave you fucking bastard, then leave. I’m not going to fucking stop you. I hope your pack was fucking worth the one person who stuck with you these last few years. Now, get the fuck out of my house.” You snarled lowly, eyebrows furrowed in pain. Katsuki reached out for you with a trembling hand before you started borderline shrieking.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I CALL THE DAMNED HUNTERS TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!”

Katsuki had never felt so low in his entire life. You started swaying in your rage, trying to shoo him away. He let out a whimper as he looked at you one last time before fleeing out of the house, your screams of pain and fear ringing in his head.

==================================

1 year later…

Katsuki was miserable. Utterly, and purely miserable. He had found his old pack, and for a moment that had hope flutter through his stomach. Until of course, as you predicted, they tried to kill him for his betrayal (and the fact that he still stank of human).

Slurs of “pet” could be heard through the snarls as Katsuki had narrowly avoided claws and fangs, before tumbling down a hill and running for his life. It was against his morals to do so but he couldn’t face losing another family.

For the past year, Katsuki had tried making his own way of life; finding a small cave further into the mountain range near your cabin and stealing from the local village for meats and blankets. He made his own new home, but it didn’t feel the same without you whatsoever.

He missed you. He missed your sleepy smiles, he missed your stupid little jokes, he missed kissing you awake on Sunday mornings, he missed… you. Every night, his hands loosen the thick red collar you had given him as a joke and thumbed it carefully. Trembling hands caress the leather as small tear stains plop onto it and whimpers reverberate around his cave. It may have started as a joke, but he never took it off even after you threw him out, only to lament painfully on his regret. Most nights he substituted your soft body for his tail, clinging on to it until it hurt.

He hadn’t seen you for a year. 365 days without your cuddles, belly rubs, gentle kisses and warm smiles. Katsuki could feel himself going mad, so he made a decision.

He was going to apologise.

==================================

Katsuki checked his appearance in a puddle that had accumulated in his cave; his hair was somewhat kept better, his ears and tail were freshly groomed and he held a large bouquet of wild flowers he found in a field.

Katsuki let out a shaky breath before hardening his face.

“I just have to show her how much she really means to me. I can’t- I can’t be without her.”

And so he began the trek to your cabin.

==================================

He began to walk at dusk; it gave him a cloak of protection from hunters, plus you would be really surprised. It only took him about half an hour to find your cabin tucked snugly in the back of the woods. But the sight before him made his blood feel like ice.

The door was absolutely shredded. Large claw marks had sliced the door to oblivion, as well as the surrounding walls. Even though it was almost as thick as the trees that the wood came from, it was nearly folded in half and torn off its hinges.

Bile raised in his throat. As did his hackles.

“(Y/N?)” he tried anxiously.

No answer. However, he detected a new smell.

Blood.

He crept behind the door, immediately on high alert. Whatever did this was not fucking human.

His heart lurched dramatically at the state of your home; all of your belongings were either torn to shreds or thrown across your floors. Carpets were torn up, pillows shredded, curtains torn from their windows.

“(Y/N)! I’m not fucking joking, if you’re there then say something!” He yelled through the house. Fluffy ears twitched intensely, desperate to hear some call of validation. He was frightened absolutely shitless. The only other time he had felt so afraid was the day he lost you.

Creak…

Katsuki pinpointed the noise to upstairs. All survival instincts flew out of the window as he bolted up the stairs, only thing on his mind was to ensure your safety. He nearly fell down a few steps before reaching what was your shared bedroom.

The bile actually came out.

Your bedroom door was identical to the one downstairs; torn to shreds and laid in pieces on the ground. The soft blankets that laid on your bed had gigantic claw marks slicing through them, all the way down to your thick mattress.

Again, your curtains were brutally ripped off the window. The window itself had been smashed, shiny fragments glittering across the entirety of the room. Katsuki stepped lightly on the floor, the smell of blood poisoning his sensitive nostrils.

It was the strongest in your bedroom and-

“Oh my fucking god, no.”

Strewn like a rag doll, mangled on the floor in an inhumane position was

you.

The exact same slices on your door were buried deep into your stomach and neck. Thick, red torrents of blood seeped from your body and deep into the wooden floor. Your eyes had completely glazed over, staring back at him with gray.

Tears had crept down your face in your last few moments; Katsuki could smell the salt on your face.

“B-baby? Oh my fucking god, please no!” He screamed brokenly into your corpse. His tears dampened the dress you were wearing (the same one you wore when he tore your heart from its chest). All Katsuki could do was scream in pure, unfiltered pain at the loss of his love.

Memories of you both flittered through Katsuki’s mind. Mornings where the sunlight trickled into your bedroom as he studied your face sleepily. Memories of the sweet and shy kisses, of lazy summer days, of comfort from agonising nightmares all cursed Katsuki as he mourned your death.

He truly had nothing now. No family. No friends. No you.

So, Katsuki did the only thing his paralysed mind could think of; the same claws that scarred your wrist brought hell down on his neck, his claws shredding his gullet within seconds.

Katsuki coughed, once, twice before the metallic tang of blood seeped into his mouth and seeped down his face in buckets. Not that he could see before due to the tears in his eyes, but the quickening of the blood down his body reduced his vision greatly, black spots already swimming in and out of his peripheral.

He only managed to sink down beside you, wanting his last dying moments to be beside the very person that made him happy. The very person who changed his life. The very person who’s life he had ruined.

Through the tears, Katsuki nestled his head close to you, tears dripping on to your wounds as he found it increasingly difficult to breath. He gasped unconsciously for breath as he tried to grip on to you, feeling scared of his descent into death. As long as you were there, he would follow you and plead for forgiveness.

He started to feel content.

‘I- I’m so sorry. I’m coming,’ he thought. His face rested on your shoulder as his body started to shut down completely.

But it wasn’t until his final breath did his eyes shoot open one last time at the sound of the four small whimpers across the room.

“D-daddy?”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #hybrid bnha #wolf bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #wolf Bakugou #Wolf Bakugou angst #hoo boy this took months #hybrid bnha x reader #papa wolf katsuki #major tw #bnha x reader angst #MHA x reader angst

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cinnaleaf · 27 days ago

Text

ESSENCE OF US - CH 12: MAYBE, BABY?

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 11 | MASTERLIST | READ CH 13

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: FLUFF, smut (mirror sex), language, mentions of pregnancy, smau wc: ~8.5k song inspo: Me & Ur Maker x ¿Téo? ft. Maesu | Real Thing x Pink Sweat$ ft. Tori Kelly 💌: as always, anyone can read but the IG smau is how y/n looks TO ME

It had been almost a week since the infamous pregnancy conversation you had with Camille at Les Notes d’Amour. It was laughable at first, but here you were six days later..still without a period. That little fact took up residence in your mind, rolling around like a pebble in your shoe. You were a bit on edge to say the least.

This couldn’t possible be happening to little you – but it was.

Today, your unease only grew at the sight of the stack of Miu Miu clothes sent over for an event they invited you and Ezzie to in London after the Tea with T video went viral. Normally, you wouldn't consider yourself someone who would dive into the world of flashy events for the sake of digital consumerism, but you didn’t mind wearing the influencer title if it meant your younger sister could immerse herself in the fashion world she adored.

You slipped into a dark wash two-piece that sat snugly on your frame. The crop top hugged your chest just right, stopping just above your waist with the classic Miu Miu logo stitched on the hem. The skirt sat high on your waist, fitting around your hips and ending mid thigh. It would be a cute look any other time, but today..not so much. You were bloated as hell.

Okay, what is going on?? Did I give them the right measurements?

You were bloated to the point where the waistband of the skirt dug into your skin, making you extremely irritated off rip. You tugged at the hem and then the waistband, trying to shift things around like that would automatically fix the outfit, but nope. Didn’t work. You weren’t really feeling this outfit.. or any of them for that matter.

I can’t wear this… I look so bad.

Frustration washed over you as you stripped off the set and your eyes started to sting in a flurry of oncoming tears. You grabbed a dress next and quickly slipped it on, but it wasn’t any better than the two piece set. The fabric skimmed over your bloated stomach and it all felt wrong.

I can’t do this for nine months. There’s no fucking way. I can’t be pregnant..what the hell am I supposed to wear?

Irritation gnawed at you as every single thing piled up, making you feel worse. Rêveur was smelling weird to you lately and you couldn’t figure out why. You also hadn’t seen your perfume diary in forever, which held every single work in progress. Lastly, the possibility of being pregnant was looming over you like the darkest cloud. You bought the test, but you hadn’t taken it yet or even told Trent there was a growing possibility of pregnancy on the horizon. If you didn’t know..maybe you could pretend everything else was fine. Still, just looking at yourself in the mirror heightened the possibility even more. You huffed, not even wanting to go to London for the Miu Miu event anymore. If the look wasn’t eating you weren’t trying to be seen at all, especially if you really were pregnant.

Downstairs, you heard nothing but loud noise and rambunctiousness. Ziggy, Trent, Marcel, and Tyler were all lounging on the couch, yapping over a Boston Celtics and Dallas Mavericks basketball game. You made your way down the stairs, each shout and laugh grating your nerves. When you made it to the last step, you took in the scene: the boys were all leaning forward on the edge of the couch, eyes glued to the telly.

Ziggy got up on his feet, shouting and pointing at the TV, “You see Luka Dončić’s fadeaway?! He’s floating! Look at the form. Fucking legend! They call him ‘The Don’ for a reason!” Trent shook his head at your brother’s antics. “Nah. Tatum’s gonna come through. His stats are solid..he’s got the range for a win.”

Marcel shook his head and threw a pillow at Trent, laughing. “Delusional. His shooting is not that great. Luka’s working with a lot less and getting it done.”

Tyler was hyped by the back and forth, clapping at the telly like he was a coach on the line. “Luka’s got this..I’m telling you.”

You rolled your eyes, not knowing what the hell they were going on about because you were more of a footie girl. You watched them, annoyingly fascinated by how well your brother managed to integrate into their life so seamlessly. Ziggy had somehow found the time to come over for workouts in Trent’s home gym setup, but Trent and your brother spent the majority of the time yapping rather than training, aggravating you whenever they had a chance. It was kind of cute at the same time – no one would have ever known they hadn’t seen each other the past 10 years. They were nearly inseparable.

As the game intensified, Trent looked over at you and caught your eye – like he felt your presence immediately even though you didn’t say a word. He grinned and gave you a nod of acknowledgement, immediately perking up your mood. You walked over to the couch, standing right in front of their view of the TV just as Luka took another shot.

“Y/N! Fucking move!!!” Marcel yelled, waving his hands in the air like a mad man. “You’re not made of glass you know!” Ziggy reached out to give your a harsh prod on your leg, yelling at you too. “You’re blocking the telly! Get out the way! Can’t you go do something else with Ezzie?”

You ignored them and turned to Trent, tugging on his hand while batting your lashes. “T, baby... can you help me with something, pleaseee?” you asked, dropping your voice into a flirty tone. Trent didn’t need much convincing at all and got up immediately, completely immune to the complaints surrounding him. He gave you a kiss where your jawline met your neck and collective annoyed groans followed.

“Ugh, get the fuck out of here with that! We don’t want to see it!” Marcel yelled with a dramatic eye roll. Ziggy rolled his eyes too and pretended to gag while muttering something about Trent displaying ‘ultimate simp behaviour’, Tyler shook his head and crossed his arms, telling Trent he was beyond gone and completely whipped. You were unbothered by the peanut gallery full of haters and stuck your tongue out at all of them, reaching over to shove all of them in the head for good measure. “You lot are just jealous.” Trent laced his fingers in yours as you led him away from his boys’ night. Once you reached the bedroom, Trent looked around curiously eyeing the scattered clothes covering the floor. “What am I helping with again?” he asked, taking in the tornado that just ransacked the bedroom.

You let out a sigh, crossing your arms as you surveyed the hotchpotch of outfits, purses, and jewellry around you. “I need you to be my audience,” you frowned, feeling a pang of frustration. “Nothing looks right on me today.” Trent tilted his head, moving his gaze over your frame in awe like he always did when he looked at you. “I doubt that.. you look good in anything,” he replied simply, without a hint of doubt in his voice.

You led him over to the walk-in wardrobe which was now overflowing with your clothes, purses, shoes and half packed boxes. Trent’s eyes widened, taking in the scattered stacks of items that took over his space within the past week. You had finally taken him up on his offer to officially move in – you basically lived here already anyway, so it made sense. The more you unpacked, the more you underestimated how much stuff you were bringing over. You kept your apartment for now, mainly due to your instincts telling you to not fully let it go just yet – it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, you did, but you always needed a plan B..and maybe a plan C. Even with all the packing, you couldn’t find the perfume diary that was still MIA. You turned your entire place upside down looking for it while packing, but you still couldn’t find it. The notebook had all of your handwritten notes, formulations and every scent memory you pieced together. It was like a personal archive for everything you ever crafted – the foundation of Les Notes d’Amour.

“I think we’re gonna need more space,” Trent gave a suppressed laugh, eyeing the collection of clothes and accessories that claimed the majority of what used to be his space. To make room, he moved a bunch of his own things into a spare room, just to make you more comfortable.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit moody. “Oh? Now we need more space?” you shot back. “You didn’t mention any of that when you kept begging me to move in. I can leave. I have my own space.”

Trent grinned, unfazed by your sassiness for now. “Baby.. I’m just saying. You have a lot of clothes.”

“No. I don’t. Some of us just have taste and like to wear more than trackies and matchday kits..unlike you,” you snarled back. It came out a lot ruder than you anticipated, but he was starting to get on your nerves, so your point still stood for now. Trent placed a hand dramatically over his chest like you wounded him with daggers. “Ouch.. that’s how you really feel, huh?” He still wasn’t all that phased by your moodiness, but he also wasn’t going to let you get away with it the longer you kept it up either.

You sighed, tilting your head back and ran your hand over your forehead. “I’m sorry..I didn’t mean it like that.” You started taking off the dress you were wearing, quickly eyeing for any other pieces that would make you look better than you felt at the moment. “Nothing I put on looks right…it’s really frustrating.” You could feel tears pooling and you lightly dabbed at the corners of your eyes, not wanting him to see how crazy you were for almost crying over an outfit.

“What about that? Put that one on and lemme see you.” He pointed to a two piece set that featured an edgy washed denim corset top that was laced at the front with a matching skirt that had a frayed hem. You looked at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head as you tried to picture wearing it to the Miu Miu event with your sister. Normally, you would’ve loved the look – but you just weren’t feeling your best today.

Hmm..maybe my man does have taste? This is cute..but I don’t know.

With a sigh, you slipped into the two piece set and Trent stood behind you, staring in appreciative amazement as his hands settled on the slight curve of your stomach. “Yeah..wear this one, baby. You look fucking unreal.” he murmured against your skin while he drank in your reflection through the mirror. “I’m a lucky man. I’ll never get tired of this view.”

You tried to smile, but him having his hand on that part of your stomach made you tense up. You were cringing internally, suddenly feeling like this was an impromptu maternity shoot. Trent noticed immediately and turned his head to look at you and not the reflection of you in the mirror.

“You okay?”

You nodded, pulling yourself from his embrace. “Yeah..just cramping. I’m okay.”

It wasn’t a total lie, you were cramping – but that was a symptom of pregnancy too. You kept trying to convince yourself your period would come soon, but the longer it took, the more worried you became. You were praying to every deity by this point, too scared to just check and get it over with for your own peace of mind.

“Oh. That time of the month again?” he asked, watching you as you avoided his gaze and tried to distract yourself by fumbling around with random clothes around the room.

You shook your head, “Um, no.. not yet, but almost.” You turned back at him with a forced smile, trying to change the subject immediately. “But..do I really look good in this?” you motioned to the two piece set you were wearing. “Or are you just saying that so you can go back and watch the basketball game? Be honest. I won’t get mad if you say I look terrible...are you lying to me?”

Trent burst into laughter and cupped your face. “Y/N, you would be pissed if I told you that.” He brushed his thumb over your lips before giving you a tender kiss. “I’m not lying though. You always look incredible. I almost want to convince you to stay here with me.”

You scoffed, knitting your brows and crossing your arms. “So if I did look a mess you’re just going to let me walk around...looking a mess? Without telling me?” It was meant to be a rhetorical question at first, but you kind of wanted to know the answer at the same time.

Trent was not winning this quarrel. Every question was a set-up at this point. He tried to stifle a laugh, realizing he was treading into dangerous territory. “Nah, nah. I’m saying you look good mostly. But you’re telling me you want me to tell you if something’s off?”

You nodded, still crossing your arms. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t let me go outside looking crazy just because you’re scared I’ll be mad at you.”

“You don’t have that many bad days..so I’m safe.”

Oh, he fucked up with that one.

“Excuse me?? So there’s been days where I looked a hot mess and you didn’t think to mention it?” You leaned in and gave him a cold stare, feeling your irritation grow. There was no winning this for him and you both knew it. Yet he still looked at you with a soft smile – infatuated with every part of you. Trent scratched his head and laughed awkwardly, trying to quickly think of something that wouldn’t have you interrogating him. “Uh...no? That’s not what I meant. You just –”

Before he could dig a deeper hole, you heard the boys downstairs shouting at the top of their lungs about the basketball game.

“THAT’S WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT! LET’S GOOOO! TOO EASY!” Tyler yelled with way too much excitement. The other two joined in, clapping loudly and yelling way too much for your liking. You gave the nastiest eye roll and sighed. “I know it’s not that fucking serious..” you snapped, feeling your patience wearing thinner. “They’re being so loud..and for what? It’s just basketball.”

“It’s a pretty intense game, baby.” Trent tried to explain, but he was amused by your irritability and started laughing at you, much to your displeasure.

“Trent..get out. You’re annoying me so bad right now. Nothing’s funny.”

His smile faded and he moved his hands to your hips, pushing you up against the wall as he stared into your soul. “You wanna try saying that again?”

You let out an exasperated breath, looking at him like he was stupid. You weren’t in the mood for any of his nonsense, so you didn’t back down with the sass. “I said you’re annoying me. Get the fuck out.” You waved your hand toward the door, fully expecting him to just laugh and walk away, but instead he pinned your arms above you.

“Not keen on that tone of yours” he said in a low voice, his eyes challenging you.

You wanted to say something back, but you couldn’t think of anything witty when you saw the dominating way he was looking at you. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you started stammering over your words. “T-trent. Seriously...just go.”

“Yeah? You want me to go back downstairs? Say it like you mean it then.” he murmured, daring you to push back. He kissed your neck, making you suck in your breath. “I thought you said you needed my help?”

“Trent…we’re not the only people in the house,” you whispered shakily, trying to mask the effect he was having on you. “We can’t.”

“I don’t give a fuck. This is our house.” he breathed against your neck, pulling your skirt up to grip your ass. “Just be quiet for me, yeah? Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

You bit your lip, nodding as he took the set off of you. He guided you forward to position you in front of the mirror, staring back at your naked reflection. Your heart raced as Trent’s hands trailed down your sides. His breath ghosted over your neck and goosebumps appeared on your body when he whispered against your skin, his gaze staring deeply back at your reflection through the mirror. “Eyes on the mirror, baby. Just keep watching. Don’t look away.” He nudged your legs apart with his foot and slipped his long fingers between the folds of your pussy, gliding through the warmth easily with a sensual touch that made you tuck your lips in, struggling to hold back a moan. His hand kept working you and all you could do was stare at the reflective glass while he continued with hunger in his eyes.

“See?” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss the curve of your shoulder while his other hand moved to pull his shorts down. “I told you..” you could feel his dick spring free and push up against your entrance, “you’re beautiful. Now be a good girl for me.” You felt his lips twitch into a grin against your skin, savouring the face you made when he positioned himself to tease you before sliding inside; his dick deliciously filled you up and left you on the verge of moaning loudly.

“Trent..” you gasped, struggling as he began his thrusts in a smooth rhythm, each stroke more intense than the last. “I can’t..” You barely managed to get those three words out, much to his satisfaction based on the smirk you saw on his face in the mirror.

“Yes you can. Arch your back for me, pretty girl.” He slowed his thrusts to a teasing pace to pull your arms behind your back, leaving you squirming as you attempted to arch your back like he told you to.

Once he started thrusting into you again, you couldn’t hold back any longer and you moaned louder than you wanted to, but you couldn’t control the way he was making you feel; your head fell forward which made your eyes drift from the mirror. Trent stopped and one hand left your arms to grip your chin, lifting it to make you meet your reflection again.

“Nuh uh. Watch yourself.” he commanded. “I can edge you all night. Your choice.”

You nodded, wide eyed with tears streaming down your face from the intensity of it all as he resumed. He increased his pace, using his grip on your hands to buck into you harder. A string of expletives left your lips in a whimper and one hand left your arms to smack your ass. “Shhh..you can take it baby.”

“Mmm fuck,” you hissed, loving the stinging sensation. Your lips parted when you saw him look down to watch the recoil of your ass from his relentless thrusts. He looked back up at you through the mirror and gave you a sinful smirk and then licked his lips.

“T..oh my god” you whispered, catching your own eyes in the mirror when you saw how fucked out of your mind you looked. Your breaths came out in shallow gasps but he kept thrusting, knowing you were getting closer.

“Best view in the house. Y’know that?”

You were struggling to hold back, feeling the tightness in your core winding like a musical box. Trent’s grip on your arms tightened and held you in place as he pushed you to the brink of seventh heaven, but just as you were about to orgasm, he stopped. A strangled cry escaped your lips as tears continued to stream down your face. You tried to push up against him but he stilled you and released your hands. He snaked one arm around your waist while the other hand trailed up to grip your neck.

“You still think I’m annoying?” he whispered in your ear in a teasing, commanding tone as he held you against him. You shook your head ‘no’ in a dazed state, but he wasn’t satisfied with a half answer, he wanted to hear you.

“Say it” he softly commanded again, searing his gaze at you through the mirror. “Talk to me.”

A breathy whine escaped as you tried to grind against him again, seeking the orgasm he was skillfully withholding from you. “Nooooo. You’re not annoying. Trent, pleaseee. I want to cum.”

He hummed in satisfaction, brushing his fingers over your jaw and pressing soft kisses along the side of your neck, trailing up to your jawline. Then he brought his eyes back to the mirror, tracing every detail of your blissed out face and the curves of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. See how pretty you look like this?” he asked, his voice hoarse. You nodded, barely holding back the sounds threatening to spill over. Fucking you was one thing, but fucking you while speaking to you in affirmations had you ready to soak him immediately.

“Yessss, I see it. Please Trent.” you whimpered, biting your lip. Any coherent thoughts you had were long gone. Your pleas drove him further and he picked up his pace, bringing you to the edge again; but this time the tension snapped. He could tell you were about to let out the most sinfully loud moan, so he moved his hand over your mouth, stifling your sounds as you came undone around him; each muscle quaking and pulsing around him with the strength of your orgasm.

“Oh shit,” he strained, struggling to hold back when he felt the way you were squeezing him. His body trembled and you felt his dick start to twitch around you, but you managed to grab his wrist and push up against his hip bone to signal him to pull out just in time. You dropped to your knees and let him finish in your mouth. You touched the patch of skin underneath his balls that always drove him crazy and he groaned your name loudly as he spilled into your mouth, but then his head fell back and hit the wall behind him.

“OW! Fucking hell!” He flinched and grabbed his head like he was just knocked out by the world’s heaviest boulder, making you giggle.

“Aww, you’re fine. So dramatic, aren’t we?” You rubbed the back of his head, pretending to check for any actual damage but you both knew there wasn’t any. You let out a playful sigh as you smoothed a hand over his curls and pulled his shorts back up before giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “Thank you, T...but you were supposed to be helping me with outfits.. not fucking me. Now go. I need to finish packing.”

He eyed you with a lazy grin, still trying to catch his breath. “I did help, though. Wear this one.” He pointed to the set that was now scattered across the floor. You scoffed, patting his chest. “Fine. I’ll wear that one. Now go back and watch Luka Donkick or whatever name they keep screaming about. I’m fine up here.”

Trent laughed and rubbed his head again. “Damn. Not even going to offer me any ice? AXA staff treat me better than my own girlfriend..that’s mad.”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms and flashing a smug smile. “Doubt that. I don’t think the physios have you moaning their names..and if you are moaning their names, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ahh, touché. You’re feisty today.” He laughed as he turned toward the door, giving you one last look before he went back downstairs. “I’m gonna see about extending the wardrobe for all your clothes.”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk as he disappeared downstairs, laughter and yelling from the boys followed shortly after. You glanced back at your reflection in the mirror, shaking your head and smiling with a loving glint in your eye. You were in a better mood all of a sudden, maybe all you needed was sex? Sometimes, all a girl needs is the attitude fucked out of her.

You made your way to your suitcase to finish packing, and you opened it – noticing there was a notebook that looked eerily similar to the one you lost. It was pastel purple, but it looked brand new. You scrunched your brows in confusion, knowing you weren’t the one who put this notebook in your luggage. You noticed your first initial was etched into the front of the notebook, followed by the last two letters of Trent’s initials. He was still keeping up with his marriage joke, of course.

Huh? What is this…? That’s not my initials.

When you opened the notebook, there notes left on multiple pages. The handwriting was unmistakably Trent’s:

I don’t know what all you had written in your other one, but I memorised some things. Maybe we can figure out the rest together?

Me:

Lavender

Geranium

Apple & Mandarin Orange

Vanilla

Cedar & Guaiac Wood

Sandalwood

You:

Vanilla?

Amber maybe?

I smelt marshmallows too I think?

Something else sweet..can’t figure it out yet

Us:

Bergamot

Cardamom

Pistachio

Ylang Ylang

Jasmine

Tuberose

Tonka Bean & Coconut

???

I read the other notebook a lot while you were sleeping..wanted to learn how your brain works a little more. Hopefully this one will be just as useful.

I love you for as long as the stars shine, my forever.

- T

You were shocked he wrote down the notes for the fragrance you were testing on him; you couldn’t remember all of the notes yourself, yet somehow he figured them out with his own nose.

Of course he’s annoyingly good at my job too. What can’t this boy do?

Finding yourself getting lost in the notebook, you read the notes and doodles he jotted down. He clearly spent a lot of time on this and his doodles were amateur at best, but adorably his. You ran your hands over his words, pausing on a drawing he added under one of the pages – it was a stick figure version of himself grinning beside a smaller stick figure of you. His figure held a football and yours held a perfume bottle – both of the figures hand in hand. Next to that, he drew what looked like a squiggly outline of Les Notes d’Amour and a bunch of happy stick figures lined up outside. Up above the stick figures, there was a tiny sun partially hidden by the moon with lines radiating around it like a beam of light. He tried shading the moon with messy scribbles to make it stand out against the sun. You could practically imagine him frowning and biting his lip in concentration, adding little details to make it as realistic as he could. It was almost poetic and made you feel like you were over the moon with joy. Maybe he didn’t mean to be so deep, but it felt like a symbolic capture of what you both found in each other: an unlikely pairing threaded by fate that just...worked.

You curled up with the notebook in bed, flipping through the pages and studying each detail Trent added with the type of focus usually only reserved for when you were at work. His handwriting was beautiful and his careful lettering reflected the amount of effort he used to write everything down for you. All the notes, doodles, and quirky additions had you smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. Maybe you didn’t need the old notebook...this one was better. The longer you looked, the heavier your eyelids grew; eventually the lines and scribbles of his handwriting blurred together. You kept telling yourself you would read just one more page, but before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep still clutching the notebook in your hands.

Hours later in the night, Trent pulled you from your sleep with his voice. It was edged with unusual seriousness. “Y/N.” He shook you gently, trying to get your attention. “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” you murmured, still half asleep.

“Why is there a pregnancy test in the bathroom?” His voice was steady, but there was a thread of concern in his tone. There were only two girls in the house at the moment – Ezzie and you, he knew it couldn’t be for your sister. It had to be for you.

Your eyes immediately flew open and the grogginess vanished in a second. Your heart sank when you realized you left the test laying around. You didn’t want him to find out this way. You sat up in bed, avoiding his gaze because you felt cornered.

“Uhh...I’m just a little late,” you mumbled, trying not to let the conversation spiral out of control. “But I’ve been cramping so...I probably won’t even need it. It’s fine..no big deal.” You tried to sound casual about it, but you were rationalizing more with yourself than him. Trent nodded, slowly absorbing the new information, but he still looked worried. The dots were starting to connect for him like little constellations in the sky: the moodiness, the sass, your strange cravings for sweets and salty snacks. He noticed the bloat too, but as a man he knew better than to mention that. Plus, he loved whatever your body looked like. He didn’t care.

“You can still take it, right? Just check.” he said softly, studying your reaction. “May be better to go ahead and get it over with for peace of mind for both of us.”

You looked down, fiddling with your shaking hands as you tried to think of an excuse. “I’m really tired Trent.” you whispered, not being able to meet his eyes. “I’ll take it in the morning before I leave. I promise.” Procrastinating for a few more hours seemed logical to you at the moment since you were scared of what the result could be. He sighed, torn between wanting to press you further but not wanting to push you into an anxious spiral. Finally, he nodded and placed the test back on the counter before returning to bed to lay beside you to go to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up still feeling anxious. You were up at the crack of dawn, unable to sleep any longer. You grabbed your phone, hoping a doom scroll through social media would be enough to calm your nerves...but it made it worse. The moment you opened Instagram your heart plummeted to your ass. SpillTheBeansUK made a post about you, claiming to have a verified anonymous source confirming your pregnancy.

SpillTheBeansUK 🚨💥 EXCLUSIVE ALERT 💥🚨 Y/N PREGNANT WITH TAA’S BABY?! 👶🏽🍾 According to a very reliable source (you know we love a verified anonymous tip 👀), it looks like Y/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold might be entering their PARENT ERA! 💫 We can’t confirm specifics just yet but we’ve seen proof there’s a little Scouser on the way. ALLEGEDLY 😳

You read through the comments, not letting a single thought of yours settle. You never told anyone besides Camille and Trent. Trent wouldn’t send that in himself, that would be ridiculous.

But Camille...she wouldn’t. Would she?

You sprung out of bed to make your way to the bathroom to FaceTime Camille, not even checking the hour. You held your breath until she answered, her face popped up with tousled hair and a pillow crease on her cheek. It didn’t look like she was at home.

“Camille,” you hissed before she could even say hello. “Did you say something?! Have you seen STB’s post?!?”

She blinked back a couple of times, confused with your audacity to question her with something so ludicrous. “What?? NO! Why would I–” She paused and looked away from the screen for a little too long. Your eyes narrowed as you waited for her to finish, tapping your nails impatiently on the edge of the unopened pregnancy test box. She finally looked back at the screen, whispering. “Y/N, I would NEVER,” she insisted, but you could tell by her voice that she knew exactly why you were asking.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back a long rant. “Why are they saying there’s a ‘verified source’ then? I only told you and Trent..he wouldn’t send something like that to them.”

Camille yawned and stretched out her arm. “That page makes up stuff half the time..they’re probably just running with some random rumour that just so happens to be close to something accurate this time around.” In the background, you could faintly hear voices from a Spanish TV show. This was definitely not Camille’s house, but you let it slide for now.

“Um, no. Not accurate.” You held up the pregnancy test box in front of the camera. “I haven’t taken it yet.”

“Anddd…why not? Why are you dragging it like this?”

You groaned, feeling embarrassment and nerves churning around in your stomach. “Because...if I don’t take it..there’s zero percent chance I’m pregnant until I feel a kick or something, right? But if I take it right now, there’s a fifty percent chance and those odds are way too fucking high right now.” You knew your logic was flawed and sounded more like girl math, but it felt true enough in the moment. “Camille..I really don’t think a baby on my hip is a cute look for me. That’s definitely not my type of lifestyle right now. I’d rather have a dog or something.”

Camille snorted, shaking her head. “Girl..just take the damn test. You sound insane right now.” You knew she was right, so you groaned again and opened the test to read the tiny lettered instructions line by line – you were procrastinating again. Camille rolled her eyes with impatience. “Babe, it’s not rocket science,” she said with a smirk while watching you fumble with the instructions. “Just dip the stick and wait for a couple of minutes until it pops up. Two lines is a yes..one line is a no. You can’t mess it up.”

Her attempt at humour didn’t really ease your nerves but it gave you the final push. With a deep breath, you tore the test open and took it. The next few minutes of waiting for the results to load felt like agony. Who knew three minutes could feel like an eternity. You had the test face down until your timer went off; with a deep sigh you flipped it back over and took a hard glance.

“Oh. My. God.” you covered your mouth, gasping in shock as the results popped up.

“WHAT DOES IT SAY?!?! Don’t edge me like this, girl!” Camille half whispered, half yelled through the screen as if she was trying not to wake someone. You were shaking, almost crying while you stared at the results.

“Wait....is it positive?” she asked, reading your reaction to gauge the results.

You took a deep breath and held up the test in view of the screen, shaking your head. “It’s negative!” you shouted, grinning as relief washed over your face. “Oh my days..I swear I saw my whole life flash before my eyes in those three minutes. Imagine me waking up and there’s a tiny version of Trent staring back at me and pulling at my boobs for milk? In this mess?? Absolutely not.” You patted your stomach, thankful the bloat was likely just a PMS symptom. “Thank you for not betraying me, ovaries.”

Camille burst out laughing, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. “They would probably have his eyes, huh? A googly eyed gremlin running around would be so wild.” she snorted, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Thank god though. Now we can get back to our regularly scheduled madness.” Just as she said that, you noticed there was someone resting their head on her chest with a silky durag tied around their hair.

“Camille...where are you right now? you asked, arching a brow once you realized.

A guilty grin spread across her face. “Barcelona. And before you ask – yes, I am laying in Jules’ bed right now,” she said in a playfully sheepish tone. “He wanted me to fly out for a shoot, okay? That’s all you need to know, babe.” She tilted her head, winking as she ran her nails across the silk on his head. “You know the vibes.”

You giggled, shaking your head at her antics. “Well..I’m glad the French we learned is coming in handy for you outside of the perfume world.” You paused before adding a teasing statement. “La Liga, though? That’s going to get real interesting for El Clásico. I don’t think Jude will appreciate that very much.” Camille stifled her laughter but then stuck her middle finger out at the screen in a playful manner. “Fuck Jude. He’ll get over it.”

After chatting with Camille for a few more minutes, you wrapped up the call to eavesdrop when you heard Trent and your brother’s voice down the hall. They were being very hush-hush about something and it piqued your curiosity. You crept down the hallway, stopping just out of sight to catch bits of Trent and Ziggy’s conversation.

“Yeah, I know what to do.” Ziggy said, sounding more grown up and certain than you had ever heard him before.

“Looking forward to it, mate. I’ll let ‘em know.” Trent replied, pulling Ziggy in for a quick brotherly hug. You were suspicious but you brushed it off, chalking it up to the bond they reignited after the gala. After a while, you couldn't resist breaking into their huddle, so you crept up on Trent and poked his sides with your index fingers, making him jolt in surprise.

“Congrats, you’re not a daddy yet! Just checked. I think we should try for a cute puppy instead, maybe.” you whispered into his ear, adding a cheeky smile. Relief flickered across his face and you wrapped your arms around him, shifting your head to the side to narrow your eyes at Ziggy. “What are you two yapping about now?”

Ziggy looked like he was caught red handed but he recovered quickly and shrugged with a smile. “Uh, nothing. Just footie bants,” he replied innocently, but it seemed like more than that. He changed the subject quickly and put his focus back on Trent.

“Hey, can I stream on your gaming rig? Gonna play some FIFA and maybe some Val with Marcel.”

Trent shrugged and gave him a radiant smile, “You know you don’t have to ask, right? We’re brothers now.” Him and Ziggy dove into the most ridiculously overly complicated handshake you ever saw in your life, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity.

“Why are you stealing my man?” you asked your brother, sticking your tongue out at him playfully.

Ziggy didn’t skip a beat and fired back before making his way to Trent’s gaming PC. “I found him first” he quipped with the same protective tone he used when you were walking home from the park the day you asked what the older boys’ name was.

Trent turned around and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in for a soft embrace. “Thank you for the notebook” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Didn’t know I had a ‘nose’ as a boyfriend now. I don’t even remember using a marshmallow note...how did you figure that out?” Trent gave you a sly smile as he glanced at you with pride twinkling in his eyes. “I’m learning a little something” he teased, gently squeezing your sides in a similar way you did to him earlier. He looked at his watch and then back at you. “Ready to head out?”

Much to your dismay, taking the train to London was out of the question nowadays. The block was too hot and you were garnering a lot more attention than you did before you met Trent. Being the best boyfriend he could be, he graciously booked a private car service for you and Ezzie. It would be a long drive, but you were thankful he took the time to cater to your needs.

A few hours later, you and Ezzie arrived at New Bond Street in Mayfair. The street was lined with designer boutiques and prestigious brands like Alaïa, Hermes and Burberry to exude luxury that was just as quintessentially London as the red telephone booths dotting the city. Snazzily dressed passerbyers strolled around with designer bags in hand, some holding takeaway coffees from nearby cafés, others glancing at window displays that looked more like curated art galleries than store fronts. The faint sound of heels clicking against the pavement mingled with the ambiance of the street as Ezzie took the scene in, barely able to contain her excitement. Her gaze flickered from storefront to storefront, enchanted by the scene.

“Oh my days, I’m sooooo excited!” she squealed, bouncing around as she latched onto your arm. “Thank you, thank you, thank youuu! You’re the best sister ever!” She repeated with each step. Her enthusiasm was contagious and you smiled, feeling so overjoyed by seeing her happiness. She had been fashion obsessed since she was a child, so this opportunity was a dream come true for her.

As you scanned the high end stores and their shining windows around you, your thoughts drifted to Trent. A gift felt appropriate for everything he did for you. He was your rock and never once let the chaos of his world intrude on you any farther than it needed to. You wanted to buy him something as a thank you...maybe a watch? You made a mental note to stop in a boutique nearby after the event.

“Are you really pregnant?” Ezzie’s sudden question jolted you out of your thoughts, her voice was lower but it was clear she was curious after seeing SpillTheBeansUK’s post. She must’ve noticed the curious glances you were getting as well. “I thought you said you would never give a boy a baby before a –”

“I’m not pregnant! It’s just a rumour,” you said quickly, hoping to shut down the conversation for now. You still couldn’t shake the possibility of someone in your circle spilling tea about your pregnancy scare, but until you could figure out who it was...it was best not to talk about it with anyone, especially in public – whether you were pregnant or not. Ezzie looked disappointed for a split second, but nodded in understanding as you walked through the doors of Miu Miu.

Inside, the store was transformed from its usual modern look to a more lively setup with sections curated for content creation. Brand representatives moved between influencers and their mini entourages, offering champagne in glass flutes while discussing the different pieces on display. Racks of Miu Miu’s latest collection were arranged meticulously by color and style. You wanted it all, everything was so cute – especially the bags...but that wasn’t what you were here for. Your mum’s words left a fire fueling within you and there was no way you were walking out of the store without securing a deal for your sister. The brand was interested and had already made it clear once they checked Ezzie’s engagement rates on Instagram. The rep you spoke to was pretty receptive, nodding and jotting down notes as you spoke. They eventually agreed to all your terms without much negotiation needed at all.

“You can send the contract to my assistant, Ember. I’ll review and send back” you told the rep, sounding very much like a girlboss as you gave them her email. You glanced over at Ezzie who was chatting animatedly with another girl, she was definitely in her zone. You gave her a thumbs up and she responded with a happy squeal before mouthing another ‘thank you’ across the room.

Yeah, life was hectic for you. Stressful and overwhelming some days, but it was finally coming together. It was like both your world and Trent’s had finally merged into a new universe where you could both belong and exist together. You were in a good mood for once, so you took out your phone and posted a few pictures you took while in London:

Liked by trentarnold66, ohlacamille and others

yourusername: big city miu~sings

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trentarnold66: come home 😮‍💨🤤

yourusername: omw 😘🤍

ohlacamille: so gorg!! obsessed w you

ezziebee: why can’t I like this twice?

judebellingham: 🔥🔥🔥

brasilgurl1: vc é ouro (you’re gold)

y/nstan: you know you’ve reached icon status when the brasileiros gas you up in the comments

trentarnold66: my forever

reveur4vr: she has this man simping publicly and double commenting? congratulations 😭❤️

miumiu: excited for what we have planned next!

yourusername: sooo excited!

itstara04_: 💌 for you

SpillTheBeansUK: forever or never?

After wrapping up at Miu Miu, you and Ezzie strolled over to another storefront on Regent Street – it was a boutique that specialized in timeless pieces that would make anyone swoon. Regent Street was much like Bond Street and featured a blend of luxury and history in its architecture. People bustled along the pavement, dressed in an array of styles with tourists stopping to snap photos while London locals walked along hurriedly, each on their own mission.

When you stepped inside the store, you were greeted by a polished ambiance. There were rows of glass cases filled with watches, rings and jewellery that glistened under the warm lighting. There were different sections carved out for different types of jewellery like classic rings, wedding bands, and intricate limited edition timepieces.

The watch you chose for Trent was a Patek Philippe timepiece with a midnight blue dial that featured a moon phase indicator. It was the perfect watch considering the full moon had become something special between the two of you, even when you were separated across cities you would both look up at it, knowing your other half was seeing the same silver glow above a star studded sky.

On one particular night, you and Trent stayed back after a match to watch the full moon at a very empty Anfield. It was a lot quieter without the chants from fans filling the stadium, and the moon hung up high to bathe the pitch in its luminescent beauty. Nestled into Trent’s jacket, you leaned against him for warmth. You tilted your head to look at him, smiling. “How do you remember every single full moon?” you asked playfully, giving him a soft nudge on his arm. “Are you Zeus, God of the Sky?”

Trent chuckled with his gaze fixed on the moon as he wrapped his arm around you to keep you warm. “Nah” he mumbled in a hushed tone, like he didn’t want to disturb the moon’s beauty. “I have it on a calendar.” He glanced down at you with a sweet smile. “I know it’s calming for you..and the view’s not bad either.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to capture the moment. The moon felt abnormally large that night as it hung over the pitch, its lighting spilling over both of you. It was breathtakingly stunning and was surrounded by scattered stars like diamonds on velvet, each one faintly glimmering in the dark.

Trent angled the camera up to capture it all: the silent stadium, a sweeping arc of empty seats, the pitch bathed in silvery light, and the two of you – side by side, framed by the vastness above. In the picture, both of you were smiling with your heads leaning together underneath the backdrop of the sky – like a tiny time capsule to commemorate your relationship. Just as he snapped the photo, the sprinklers from the irrigation system burst to life and sent arcs of water over the grass, glistening like tiny crystals in the moonlight.

“Oh shit! Run!” Trent shouted with laughter roaring through his chest as he grabbed your hand to pull you towards the tunnel. Both of you sprinted across the field together as laughter echoed around Anfield, water droplets scattering in every direction. Halfway there, your foot slipped on the wet grass but before you hit the ground, Trent scooped you up with a wide grin and carried you the rest of the way. When you both finally made it to the dry shelter of the tunnel, both of you were absolutely drenched.

“You’re a terrible defender” you teased, laughing as water dripped down your face.

He laughed with you, shaking his head as he set you down. “That’s absolute rubbish and you know it.”

After purchasing the watch, your attention shifted over to a nearby case filled with rings. Your eyes locked onto a delicate diamond band. It was subtle, not too flashy..but incredibly stunning. You felt drawn to it in the same magnetic way you felt drawn to Trent, like the threads of fate had your name engraved on the inside of it. One of the staff took the ring out of the display case and before you knew it, the ring was on your left ring finger. It looked gorgeous against your skin and sat so perfectly on your finger that it felt like more than just good sizing – it felt serendipitous. The ring looked like it belonged to you, like it had been waiting for this exact moment to slip onto your ring finger. You admired it for a little while longer before snapping a joking picture to send to Trent – keeping up with his ongoing marriage jokes.

Maybe MRS does have a nice ring to it 😋💍

Ezzie peeked over your shoulder, grinning as she read the text and made a mental note of the ring size. You didn’t notice it, but she was in on something you had no idea about.

“If Trent proposed..would you say yes?” she asked inquisitively.

The question caught you a bit off guard which made you laugh nervously. You paused for a minute, genuinely thinking about what you would say if he did ask, but then you shrugged. “Hmm..maybe I’d consider it like a year from now,” you stated plainly, turning your hand to catch more of the sparkle from the gems under the light. “There’s just way too much going on right now to be planning a wedding, y’know?” Ezzie gave you a nod, but you didn’t catch her shoot a quick text to someone when she glanced at the ring one more time. She sighed, playing along casually. “Yeah, timing is everything,” she replied. Little did you know, Ezzie had a mission of her own and was tasked with gathering intel on your ring size and how you felt about a proposal.

Then your phone pinged with a response from Trent:

T: What size is that? What store?

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was probably being serious before typing your response:

Wouldn’t you love to know

T: Worth a shot 🤷‍♂️

He was one step ahead of you though.

Always.

Down to the timeline.

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! i appreciate each and every one of you who take the time out to read my creations.

song inspo:

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold angst #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #taa x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #fem!reader #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines

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charon-cries · 5 months ago

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dave the diver is an *almost* perfect game. it's definitely in my top 3 of all time, but i think it would have made #1 if it weren't for the fatphobic jokes.

granted, they don't come up super often (unless i've blocked the majority of them out), and dave is always allowed to be made offended and uncomfortable by them, but the game never really takes them anywhere? i wouldn't have minded their presence at all if they did, but iirc, no one ever apologizes for it. no one ever says, "i'm sorry, that was mean," so the effect ends up being that it feels like we're supposed to be laughing at dave's shame and embarrassment when people make comments about him. which sucks, and feels very out of place in an otherwise extremely body-positive game in which the fat protagonist is explicitly shown to be a healthy and happy person, living a fulfilling lifestyle.

genuinely, this guy is like barbie to me. dave is, in the base game and dlc: a deep sea diver; a wildlife photographer; a fish farmer, a crop farmer, and an egg farmer; a conservationist/animal rights activist; a folk hero; a restaurant manager, host, and waiter; godzilla's friend; and a genuinely good person. he's kind to himself and to everyone around him, even when he's clearly frustrated or upset.

the game never frames his body as something bad that needs to be fixed, and i find that genuinely wonderful. it's a rare thing to see! but they do act as though it's inherently *funny.* it's an approach i find particularly strange, because dave seems to be a character designed specifically with the idea of a man who takes care of himself in mind. he has issues standing up for himself and saying no, but he does a job that he loves, he eats food that he loves, he goes on vacations. he is a successful man who takes care of himself, and his fatness is a visual signifier of the gentleness that he treats himself with. why should i laugh at that?

idk. i just really think we could've gone without a little girl calling him a walrus, or a mermaid pointing out the fact that he looks different from other humans (a completely unnecessary comment which pretty much only serves to embarrass dave) unless there was going to be some sort of resolution to it. from what i've seen, there never really is? unless there's something post-story that i haven't come across yet. all-around a genuinely delightful game which is held back by some frankly tasteless jokes at dave's expense.

#dave the diver #indie game #video games

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transmutationisms · 1 year ago

Note

Thank you for letting me do this, really~~~

Like you mentioned in another post, this isn't specifically about oppenheimer or any narratives it portrays but the wider discussion that's been resurging around usamerican imperialism, nuclear weapons and the military/militarization in general. And this is so very long so I apologise.

The fact of the matter is, even after all the "lessons" learnt from bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the us wanted to do further testing to see the full extent of the impact of nuclear weapons. These tests were carried out in the Marshall Islands in the Pacific, which was already heavily militarized by this point.

As usual when it comes to military interventions and imperialism by core nations, these tests were framed as a necessity "for the greater good", and to "end all wars", even framing its supposed necessity through religious narratives (which, well, christian missionary efforts).

There were 67 tests conducted from 1946 to 1958, and some of the weapons tested like the Bravo bomb dropped on March 1, 1954 over Bikini Atoll were many times more powerful than the ones used in WWII. As expected, these tests completely destroyed the Marshall Islands, from the ocean to the atmosphere to the land. So much radioactive fallout, so much devastation and literally uninhabitable to any living being.

I want to talk specifically about one of the most atrocious aspects of this whole ordeal which is that while the usamerican authorities evacuated the Marshallese people in Bikini and Enewetak during the 1948-52 testing period (operations sandstone, greenhouse and ivy) to nearby islands, they failed to do so for operation castle series begun in 1954. The relocated populations suffered as well, since there weren't enough resources on the islands they were resettled in to sustain this extra population, and of course, the nuclear fallout would affect them even though no weapons were directly tested in these islands.

The impact of the bravo bomb detonated over Bikini was mainly on the people from Rongerik, Rongelap and Ailinginae atolls, who were not evacuated until after the bomb was detonated at which point they were already exposed to high levels of radiation. In fact, the Rongelapese people were basically used as human test subjects as they were relocated back to Rongelap in 1957 where they remained until 1985 when they had to evacuate themselves.

The us actually declared Rongelap safe and that there were no long term effects from nuclear fallout in order to relocate them. Edward teller himself has gone on interviews to declare how little of an impact the bravo test has had on human lives. Iirc the documents regarding the tests were only declassified in the 70s, so Marshallese people were deliberately kept in the dark about the cause of the illnesses they were experiencing due to nuclear fallout. Here is Lijon Eknilang, a Rongelapese survivor talking about her experiences:

In June 1957, when we did return, we saw changes on our island. Some of our food crops, such as arrowroot, completely disappeared. Makmok, or tapioca plants, stopped bearing fruit. What we did eat gave us blisters on our lips and in our mouths and we suffered terrible stomach problems and nausea. Some of the fish we caught caused the same problems. These were things that had not happened before 1954. Our staple foods had never made us ill. We brought these problems to the attention of the doctors and officials who visited us. They said we were preparing the foods incorrectly, or that we had fish poisoning. We knew that was impossible because we had been preparing and surviving from these foods for centuries without suffering from the problems that appeared after 1954.

It has always been interesting to me that even the people who were not on Rongelap in 1954, but who went there with us in 1957, began to experience the same illnesses we did in later years. Foreign doctors and other officials called those people the “control group,” and we were told the sickness of that group proved our illnesses were common to all Marshallese. We did not believe that, and we learned only recently that the “control group” had come from areas that had also been contaminated by radioactivity from the weapons tests.

The usamerican authorities to this day do not acknowledge how serious and how much of an impact the nuclear weapons have left on the Marshall Islands and its people. There is no acknowledgement of the fact that people outside of the Enewetak, Utrik, Bikini and Rongelap atolls during testing were affected even when they show effects of radiation. There is no acknowledgement of just how much destruction they've brought upon these islands (also keeping in mind that animals were not evacuated). And of course, there is no acknowledgement of the fact that none of this was necessary in the first place (even if it can ever be called necessary). It was basically a large scale human experiment done for the sake of science and the "greater good", with little to no concern about the impact it would leave on the people of Oceania.

Oh, and there's also a huge crater left on Enewetak from the testing that's basically leaking nuclear waste into the soil, still contaminating the flora and fauna in area and beyond. There's so much spending by the us military in the Pacific region, especially now with the whole AUKUS agreement, but nothing has been done to properly contain this waste. Or actually address the violation of Marshallese people's human rights due to nuclear weapons testing. There has never really been any talks of reparations either, and whatever money and resources the us has spent has been woefully inadequate.

While the testing stopped decades ago, this is only a part of the ongoing militarization of Oceania by the US (and associated core and semi-periphery nations). Of course, this is all framed as selfless efforts by the us to prevent wars (which it always seems to be doing), for the greater good of humanity, to take us into further advancement and so on. Lastly, to mention a sliver of the role science has played in all of this: they were celebrating the discovery of new elements after the ivy mike detonation (1952), while people were suffering the impact of ongoing nuclear testing, and iirc, they were actually hoping to discover new elements from these nuclear reactions, so who's to say that these weapons were not made as a part of the race to discover elements, aka scientists' version of a dick measuring contest.

Sources and for more info for anyone interested:

Barbara Rose-Johnston. Nuclear Disaster: The Marshall Islands Experience and Lessons for a Post-Fukushima World [where I got the quote and most of the info from]

April L. Brown. No Promised Land: The Shared Legacy of the Castle Bravo Nuclear Test

Carl Zimmer. Nuclear Tests Marked Life in Earth with a Radioactive Spike [the sheer scope of the radioactive fallout from bravo]

Kit Chapman. Element Hunting in a Nuclear Storm

Edward Teller interview

#ty for this & for sources!#us imperialism

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ineedtorantaboutjiangcheng · 2 years ago

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Fuck, I'm here again. Goddammit. I've been doing well. I've been keeping Jiang Cheng off my mind (and my computer screen). Things have been peaceful.

And then today happened.

Again, a fic. Again, not naming names, both because that's rude and also because this issue is hardly specific to one fic alone. I've seen it many times.

But I've been pacing for half an hour, too agitated to keep reading, so I'm just gonna get this off my chest, and then skim through the fic 'til it stops talking about it.

I need to talk about the golden core reveal.

Specifically, I need to talk about an attitude I've seen cropping up recently in a lot of fics. (By recently, I don't mean it's only recent fics that do it, just that I've only noticed it recently.)

So it'll be a fic, usually canon divergent, but prior to the golden core reveal. Wen Ning or Wen Qing will often be involved (though I can think of a few times it was Lan Wangji). And the character, who knows the truth about the golden core transfer, will urge Wei Wuxian to tell Jiang Cheng.

They'll say "you have to tell him". They'll say "he'll find out eventually". They'll say "he deserves to know".

And... the fic will support this.

Will frame Wei Wuxian as irrational, paranoid even, to keep it secret.

Will sometimes even punish him, narratively, for his "failure" to disclose such a thing.

And I am... completely baffled.

Where the fuck is this coming from?

I suppose, if I'm being generous, I can kind of see why an individual sympathising with Jiang Cheng might have a knee-jerk reaction to this. If you see them as being essentially family, the idea that a family member that you love deeply, keeping what amounts to both a huge sacrifice and a massive disability from you would be extremely painful. You might feel hurt, that they didn't tell you. Angry, at the implied lack of trust.

I get it, as an emotional response you might have in the moment. I don't find it particularly relatable, but I can follow the thought process.

But like... that's an emotional response. Surely, at some point, logic has to kick in, right?

Because the thing is. Okay, there's two aspects to the secret, right? One, is that a medical procedure was done to Jiang Cheng, sort of like an organ transplant, I suppose, but he wasn't told that the organ was donated by Wei Wuxian. And the other is that Wei Wuxian made this huge sacrifice for Jiang Cheng, and didn't tell him.

But thinking about this for even five minutes should tell you that... neither of those things are actually Wei Wuxian's responsibility to deal with?

The first one is the by far the more common argument I've seen. I've read fics where Wen Ning and Wen Qing are tortured with guilt over having performed the procedure without telling Jiang Cheng all the details. I've even seen people have them blame Wei Wuxian, for demanding they keep it secret, had them secretly resent him for it. He's portrayed as deeply selfish, for keeping the truth of Jiang Cheng's operation from him.

But the thing is... if you're going to apply modern medical ethics to the situation... Wei Wuxian was in the right? They all were?

Under modern medical ethics, you have no right to know the identity of your organ donor. That can feel a little weird (it's probably why people often have a knee-jerk reaction that demands the opposite); after all, it's my body, shouldn't I have a right to know where the organ that goes in it comes from? What if it has cooties?

But according to medical ethics, the donor's right to medical privacy is more protected that the recipient's right to that information. Right to medical privacy is pretty highly valued; it kind of ties into body autonomy, which is kind of the keystone of... most modern ethics. You have a right to control what happens to your body, and that includes controlling whether or not people know about any medical conditions/procedures. So you might have an emotional response, thinking Jiang Cheng is valid for being upset that his golden core came from Wei Wuxian without him knowing, but... ethically, Wei Wuxian has the right to withhold that information.

But! some scarecrow says, If a person has the right to control what procedures happen to their body, surely that means Jiang Cheng has a right to control what happens to his own body! Therefore, the procedure was still unethical, because he didn't know everything!

And I say, well... not really. The reality is, we don't actually know how much Jiang Cheng was told. He was told to walk up a mountain, lie to the person he encountered about his identity, and ask for a golden core. And he left that mountain with said golden core... but we don't know how much Wen Qing told him when he reached the top. We know he believed Wen Qing was the Baoshan Sanren. We know he received a fully developed core, not just the ability to form a new one. Was he told that the core was from someone else? Were there signs of the transfer? Did he know the chance of success/failure? Did he not find any of the situation dubious?

(Did he really spend two and a half years fighting a war alongside, and then running a sect for a year with, someone and not realise they didn't use orthodox cultivation even once?)

The truth is, a doctor is required to inform a patient of risks, and answer any questions they ask. Wen Qing may well have disclosed the risk (if there was any to Jiang Cheng, other than potentially the transfer failing) prior to the surgery, we just don't know. We don't have any evidence that Jiang Cheng asked any questions, and from what we see in the novel, it seems likely that he simply didn't want to know. He got a core, his life was somewhat back on track; we never see any evidence of curiosity or confusion in him as to the specifics of how that happened.

The only lie we are sure that he was told was the identity of the person who he met on the mountain, who "gave" him the core. I could be petty and point out that as he was also lying about his identity, it kind of cancels out, but that would be a bit ridiculous, and unnecessary besides. The truth is, ethically, Wen Qing could have knocked him out and performed the surgery from the comfort of her own office. Because one of, if not the main reason you can ethically violate someone's body autonomy... is to save a life. And Jiang Cheng, after losing first his family and sect, and then his golden core, displayed clear suicidal ideation. He indicated, repeatedly, that he wanted to die. He refused food. Wei Wuxian even doubled checked, before giving him hope of getting a new core, that he was serious! (Rereading that scene is horrible; Wei Wuxian's dread, and eventual resignation/resolve becomes very apparent once you know what's happening).

The characters around him, including a trained doctor, believed that if he didn't get a new core, he would give up and die. Under those circumstances, a doctor has authority to make medical decisions, without a patients consent, if they believe it is a medical emergency. Wen Qing was an unquestionably brilliant doctor; if she believed doing the surgery was the right/necessary decision, who the hell are we to dispute her?

So, to be clear, under modern medical ethics (which seems to be what is being applied in these claims), Wen Qing has the right to do whatever surgery she feels necessary to save the life of her patient, no consent needed, and Wei Wuxian has the right to keep his identity as the donor a secret, since that's his own private medical history. Modern medical ethics (a bit ridiculous, when talking about magic powers, but I've seen the argument) supports our protagonist.

Now, onto the other thing. This is a lot less... ethics discussion and a lot more feels-bad-so-wrong type thing. Wei Wuxian kept the loss of his golden core a secret.

Jiang Cheng being upset by this is understandable. Like I said, I can follow the emotion/logic. Someone keeping a big secret from you can be hurtful.

But just because it's hurtful to you, doesn't mean they're in the wrong to do it!

If someone I cared about kept a massive secret from me, and I found out, I'd be upset! But my first thought would be 'Why did they feel they couldn't tell me?' And the answer here is obvious; Wei Wuxian didn't think he could tell Jiang Cheng because he knew he'd be horrible about it! Wei Wuxian admits, after the reveal, that the process of losing his core was distressing, and that he wasn't as okay with it as he pretended to be. If something like that happens to you (not... that it can, but, you know, equivalent), and you're struggling to hold it together, the last thing you want is someone you care about yelling at you about it, insulting you, making you feel bad for what happened!

Wei Wuxian didn't tell Jiang Cheng because he knew Jiang Cheng would be awful to him because of it. Jiang Cheng's jealousy when they were young was something Wei Wuxian felt he had to manage*, and he knew Jiang Cheng would feel inadequate if he realised his accomplishments were made with Wei Wuxian's core. And he would then lash out at Wei Wuxian for it, at a time when Wei Wuxian was already feeling emotionally fragile. Hell, nearly twenty years later, Jiang Cheng getting up in his face was enough to cause a Qi deviation; I can't imagine it would have been better any sooner!

No one wants to think of the people they love keeping secrets from them. And sometimes, people who keep secrets are doing it for their own sake, because they're scared, or unsure, or guilty, or whatever. But sometimes, when a person keeps a secret, the reason is not internal. If someone acts horribly to you when you tell them things, you're going to stop telling them things. And the person responsible for that gap in communication is them; all you're doing is protecting yourself.

And before anyone thinks that I'm assigning reasoning to Wei Wuxian that he doesn't have; he essentially admits it. After the reveal, Wei Wuxian states that he knew Jiang Cheng would react badly (though he didn't expect it to be quite so bad). Wei Wuxian is shown to have been managing Jiang Cheng's moods since they were young**, it's probably not the first secret he's kept. But that's kind of just... how that works; if a king kills every person who brings him bad news, eventually, all his advisors will only ever bring him good news. And he has no one to blame when his kingdom falls but himself.

SO. tl;dr. Modern medical ethics supports Wen Qing performing the golden core transfer, and Wei Wuxian keeping his identity as the donor a secret. Jiang Cheng can be upset at Wei Wuxian for not telling him that he no longer has a core, but it's not unethical, or selfish, and the nature of their relationship, with Jiang Cheng lashing out with impunity and Wei Wuxian trying to manage his moods, meant that secrets like that were pretty much inevitable. Unhealthy relationships are unhealthy. Truly, newsworthy take.

And one final note, on Wei Wuxian keeping secrets from Jiang Cheng and being portrayed as selfish for doing so; I have yet to see a. single. fic. that says Wei Wuxian keeping his sacrifice secret is wrong, but then goes on hold Jiang Cheng equally accountable for keeping his sacrifice secret. Not. One. Jiang Cheng often tells Wei Wuxian afterwards, that he deliberately got the Wens attention, but he's never framed as selfish for keeping that secret. Not. Once.

* see post-Xuanwu argument, when Wei Wuxian drags himself out of his sick bed, having just woken up from a coma, to reassure Jiang Cheng that he's no threat to his birthright. Because Jiang Cheng was jealous that his father acknowledged Wei Wuxian's skill in surviving, under horrendous circumstances. -_-

** childhood flashback; after arriving in a new place, having a massive change in lifestyle and meeting many new people (and, it seems, trying to make a good impression), Wei Wuxian took the blame for his broken leg, despite it being because Jiang Cheng locked him out of his room and threatened to sic dogs on him. Entirely because he knew one of them would get blamed, and he wanted to keep Jiang Cheng happy. People who grow up with aggressive/abusive family/people around often end up learning to juggle mood changes.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #canon jiang cheng #urgh #i didn't mean for this to be so long #or so lecture-y #look i just feel very strongly about body autonomy #and the ethics around privacy #so i get really really angry when people act like wwx was in the wrong here #you have a right to medical privacy!#its IMPORTANT #(but also sorry)

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