#v : pre-incident.

[snufmonki]

dreamt of meeting you again

[joshinyou]

「 tag drop 」

[joshinyou-a]

➠ @actiongrrl

.·:*¨ ✘ ☠︎︎ ✘ ¨*:·. It had been a few months since the disappearance of Hannah and Beth Washington. Life had been turned entirely upside down and Josh felt as though he were being pulled into a rip current and pummeled by waves. Drowning and drowning without even knowing which way was up. His parents didn't pay much attention to him. Melinda lived every day in such shock that she could barely get out of bed while Bob refused to even look at him. Whether it was because his resemblance to the twins was uncannily painful or his father blamed him for what happened, it didn't matter to Josh. He'd been left to his own devices and sought out solace in the form of Chris, Ashley, and unexpectedly, Sam. Every waking moment he tried to fill at least at one of their sides.

Night was difficult, though. At night, he was alone, and that's when the nightmares would begin. They were unrelenting, often driving him to wake up in sweat soaked sheets, screaming himself hoarse. Frightened and oh so desperate for one night of peaceful sleep, he eventually made the decision to cut back on his medication. He knew that vivid dreams were a side effect and hoped to curb that. The moment he was sleeping again, he told himself he'd get back on it. No harm done. Dr. Hill wouldn't even know.

That's when the voices started.

It had been a week since he made the decision to get some sleep. No. Maybe it was two. Josh couldn't keep it straight. Not only had the nightmares stopped, but so had sleeping altogether. Yet his mind felt sharp and perfectly in tune with the world around him. Taking his medication again only numb him to the clues he was receiving. To the messages he felt that only he was keen enough to interpret. No, he needed his mind alert if he was going to solve the mystery the voices lead him into.

He'd also need help. In the past few months, he had grown rather close to Sam. She missed Hannah almost as much as he did. There were times that they'd spend hours talking about everything, and that's what prompted him to seek her out in this time of need. It was near one in the morning and he found himself at her bedroom window, gently knocking on it so as not to wake her dad and brother. "Sam? Psst. Sammy? I need your help," he whispered.

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

Guess who managed to start choking on a drink and dropped a plate of toast & jam 🙈

[temsikfates]

verse tags drop

[comicalgrievance]

threesome w ceo!nanami and a clueless intern!choso

ft. fem!reader, ceo!nanami kento, clueless intern!choso kamo

pls do not interact if you're a minor! xx

tagging my fave pookies: @navi-n0 @milkpup @honey-peachjar

content: threesome (mmf), p in v sex, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap your willy), oral (m + f receiving), fucking ur coworkers in the office, ceo!nanami kento, intern!choso kamo, virgin!choso (IMPLIED), def age gap BUT EVERYONE IS OVER 21+, i wrote that choso has a huge dick cause it's true (don't argue with me, argue with the wall)

you've been working for nanami for around 6 months, and fucking him for about 4 of those months. this started on one particular night, dropping off paperwork in his office on your way out, when he asked you to stay to help him go over something.

next thing you knew you were bent over his desk, with his mouth lapping at your clit... now this became a regular thing for the both of you, ending the day splayed out all over his desk as he has his way with you

"fuck princess you're so tight for me today... been waiting all weekend to see me again?" as he's grabbing you by the hair while he's ABSOLUTELY pounding into you... except this night, the new intern, choso kamo, had accidentally walked in on both of you. kento had stupidly forgot that he asked to see choso after the day was over. choso laid eyes on both of you, face burning bright red and immediately slamming the door shut and running off.

after that incident you had noticed choso and kento talking more, and choso staring at you a whole lot more than normal. one night, while giving kento head he posed a question at you. "what do you think of the new intern?" you look up at him, licking a stripe on the underside of his cock as you sit back up on his desk, not sure where this question is going...

"he's cute, seems a little awkward and shy" you state, whining as he rubs the tip of his cock up and down your slit (listen panties would already be off at this rate let's be so REAL)

"he's definitely into you... wants to please you too... i thought at some point i could invite him to join us so i could teach him. that sound good to you princess?" and suddenly you're the one bright red. you hadn't thought about it at all till this moment, but thinking about it now... you're definitely attracted to the idea of having both of them pleasing and touching you... you nod and he just smiles back at you, thrusting into you.

so the next day rolls around, and you're waiting in kento's office, said he was gonna go grab choso and that they'd be back for you. they both walk in, choso unable to make eye contact with you as he goes to sit in the chair in the corner. kento comes up behind you, rubbing on your shoulders as he chuckles lightly

"princess, why don't you go show him what you can do with your mouth... get him warmed up" and choso, for the first time, looks up at the both of you with the widest eyes. you chuckle at him and make your way to him, tilting his head up to look at you... you've never really paid much attention to him but he is gorgeous

"if it's too much, you tell me to stop okay?" you say as you begin to pepper kisses down his body, starting at his lips, down to his jaw and neck, down his chest, all the way till you are face to face with the erection BULGING through his pants. you palm him through his pants, he whines at you. you unzip his pants and pulls down his pants, and his cock springs up onto his stomach. his cock is HUGE, bigger than kento's, but not as girthy. you have an amused smile on your face as you turn back to look at kento, who looks quite impressed.

you start choso by placing a tentative kiss on the top of his cock, and god he is already SQUIRMING. leaking pre-cum from the lightest of touches, you grabbing him by the base of his cock before putting it in your mouth. you go all the way down on him, the tip of his cock pressing up against the back of your throat, as you struggle to put him all the way in... and choso is just EATING THIS UP, he is groaning, moaning, squirming, ALL OF THE ABOVE.

in your attempts to give him the best head he's ever had in his life (first time he's gotten head probably) you don't even notice kento pulling his chair around to get a better view. "choso, you can push down on her head. i know she can do better than that." OH BOY

you look up at choso, wide-eyed and mouth open trying to form words, when he fails all he does is nod at his boss (he definitely thinks he's dreaming right now) and places his hands on your head gently. he looks at you nervously, but as soon as you give him a nod that it's okay, he is pushing your head DOWN onto him. you gag around him and choso is just groaning, eyes shut TIGHT. he didn't know how messy he'd like it till he saw the spit coming out of your mouth as you came back up for air. he was soooo fucking close

"i can tell you're close choso, facefuck her and finish in her throat... then i can teach you to return the favor" and choso doesn't hesitate this time, grabbing you by the hair and thrusting his hips and cock up into your mouth... it's not long before he's cumming, filling your throat and mouth up with his cum (of course you swallow, SPITTERS ARE QUITTERS)

"fuck, that felt so fucking good, but i need a minute... you are such an angel though, i promise i'll do my best to return the favor" choso says to you as you get up to go sit on kento's lap... this was definitely something you could agree to regularly

oh lordy... pookies this was a LOT but i have plans for a part two TRUST ME... anyways i'm horny BYE

[wafflexdguy]

Murder Drones | Realizing their feelings towards you

Rewriting this from my old book, which is outdated.

Pre-Episode 1 just for the sakes of simplicity.

Reminder you're a worker drone here.

In this scenario, they don't confess, I'll save that for a different chapter.

CW! Swearing

---------Uzi---------

Well, it was bound to happen at some point. You cared for her like nobody else did -outside of N, but this takes place pre-ep 1- and didn't treat her like she didn't belong. You took interest in her hobbies and actually seemed to care about her.

Her reaction to it would be one of confusion and maybe slight panic. She didn't expect herself falling for someone, much less anyone at all. Think of the hours that would be wasted on some stupid relationship! No, she had to keep up her little edgy persona.

At least, until she talked to you again. All of a sudden, she forgot all about what her policy was. What was she on about not being in a relationship with you?

The confusion starts to kick in around when you start actually flirting with her if you return the affection, or just extroverted yourself. She usually just waves you off if she's in the middle of something, or yells at you when in the middle of class.

"sHUT UP-"

Whenever your outside of class though, she's more open to it. Not totally against it, but it'll become obvious that she'll want it to stop after her visor is full of blush lines and her just pushing you away. Note that she'll never verbally tell you to stop and only do the tsundere 'ugghgghhghghgh' and try and push past you if your Infront of her.

You'll get rare moments where she'll actually return the compliments, only for her to just say "Don't look at me like that!"

Yeesh, get a room you two.

--------------N---------------

I think he'd realize pretty quickly after your constant affection towards him. Whether that be platonic or not, it definitely caught his eye on how nice you were to him. A murder drone. Then again, he wasn't hostile to you, even after the whole 'incident' with him.

His reaction to it would definitely be an 'oh shit' kind of moment for him, because while, yes, he would absolutely take up a relationship with you in a heartbeat if he could muster up the courage, he also has the whole 'Disassemble all worker drones' thing to deal with, which is where problems start to occur and where he feels the most guilty about.

He will subtilty flirt with you, however. Though, this is primarily through compliments and attempting to lean on a wall that isn't there. You don't bully him for it though, which he should feel honored about, but it's what he's come to expect, as selfish as that may sound. (to him)

He'd never let V or J figure out that he had an attraction to someone else, much less a worker drone of all people. And as mentioned before, that's where problems start to arise. He has feelings towards you, but he actually daydreams (nightdreams?) about you, and that's where J, his boss, gets really pissed off about, and damn near killed him for it.

You'll notice that he seems happier around you, because he'll start showing off around you, like doing anything that'll impress you. You'll continue to praise him for it, and he'll get that extra boost it takes to put up with V and J.

He does occasionally try to obviously flirt with you, pretty terribly kind of? He'll do kind of a flirty face, which just ends up looking goofy or just right. It's really inconsistent, but it's not like it matters because like always, you don't judge him for it.

He won't tell you about his feelings yet. It's not really your problem, anyway... Right?

-------------V---------------

It'd take her awhile to really figure it out. It's not like it immediately clicked for her that she was into you at all, because she never really thought about it. Never even considered the possibility that she may have been attracted to you until you mentioned the constant 'flirting', which was -in her mind- meant to be teasing was "Almost as if you like me or something". When you said that, it's like a switch flipped that she realized that you were right.

Her reaction to it would be mostly denial with a tinge of slight melancholy. Sure, she may like you back, but that might not last for long, because of the whole 'mission' thing. You might catch on to this and mention it once or twice, but she'll just wave it off as nothing important. And in some ways, she was right. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things.

Until she actually started really thinking about it, and realized it was important to her.

The way she really goes about her feelings towards you is sticking around you more casually and being less of a nuisance and more of an actual friend, or just a flirty nuisance. It doesn't really matter, since she is technically getting the point across.

That transition is slow however, because none of those second thoughts really disappear immediately, and it has her more of just rethinking her relationship with you. For some reason, she can't really imagine a future without you. She finds herself beating herself up for it, because deep in her core, she knows there isn't really anything wrong with having an attraction towards you, but at the same time, you're still a worker drone. The very thing she's supposed to destroy.

And despite her background, you don't care. You treat he like a regular person.

You'll start to notice that she starts to become less psychopathic around you, and actually just hangs around you just because she wants to, and you not having to really hunt her down just to hang out with her. That's not to say she'll just stop suddenly threatening you, because if you start to tease that she seems that she doesn't want to hurt you, she'll think she's proving you wrong by acting more sadistic. It annoys her to some extent when you don't feel threatened by it.

Yeah, she isn't really the best at... expressing her feelings, and just tries to keep it to herself. It's not like you'll return the feelings anyway, so why bother?

That's what she keeps telling herself.

----------J-----------

Oh fucking dammit.

She almost immediately realizes after the first few times that she fails to kill you. You just kind of start talking to her about the things she likes, and generally shifted the vibe from a hostile atmosphere one she actually felt somewhat comfortable in.

She realizes her feelings to you the third time she didn't try to kill you, or internally realized that she didn't want to kill you. It left her being angry -mostly at herself, kind of at you- that she let herself have sentimental feelings to a being below her. How could her priorities just... shift like that?! It leaves her confused and semi-frightened. What if it figures out?

She won't ever show that she likes you if she can help it, but there are a few times where she lets the mask slip, like laughing at one of your puns, or showing genuine interest in one of the stories you like, or just seeming really comfortable in your presence, opposite of the impatient 'I want to get back to work' stance.

Like V, she also feels a little Melancholic. Not because she thinks it's pointless or anything; but because she knows it's pointless. Eventually, it's going to come to copper 9, and all of that emotional attachment she got to you would end up in the shitter.

Unlike canon, you might be an actual reason she'll just switch sides from thinking that Cyn can't be beat, to 'I can at least try', but I'm getting off topic.

Like one of my previous oneshots, she's absolutely going to be somewhat abusive towards you, and it's just going to be you trying to slowly change her to someone that doesn't have to do this, that she can be happy. That she doesn't have to bow down to someone that ruined her life. She ignores you at first, but the more you keep pushing, the more she gets pissed off. But the thing is, is that as pissed as she is, she does listen. She does start to second guess everything, and that's where you finally start seeing a shift in attitude from her.

When you do finally get through to her, she'll just be more casual around you. She still has that 'I'm loyal to the multibillion-dollar company' kind of deal to her, but it's a lot more manageable. She doesn't try to shove it in your face, and actually becomes good company to be around.

She goes from "fuck you I'll kill you' to 'touch them, you die'. But it's not an overnight thing.

[joshinyou]

.·:*¨ ✘ ☠︎︎ ✘ ¨*:·. There was nothing embarrassing about having a single leaf in your hair when you’re out hiking, but Josh couldn’t help but smile at the blush that colored Sam’s freckled cheeks. “Nope. No bugs. Bug free,” he answered before dropping his expression into one of concern. His blue eyes were locked onto a point in the blonde tresses. “Unless… do you count spiders… as bugs? It’s really an arachnid, not a bug…technically…” He let her fret over it for just a moment before a laugh fought its way past his lips. “Eh? Eh? I’m just joshin’ you.” It was the dumbest dad joke but his favorite line to use because it never failed to garner an eye roll.

The air turned serious when she mentioned her dad. Josh couldn’t imagine the adjustment they all had to make, but he had to hand to Mr. Giddings: the guy took it in stride. So to speak. “You dragged me away from a three day streak in bed and got me out of the House of Depression. I should be the one thanking you.” He continued walking by her side, reveling in the sound the trees made as the wind blew. “But Sammy. Really? Hiking alone? Don’t you know how many serial killers prowl forests? The odds are stacked against you, statistically speaking. A woman, wandering around alone, looking illegally good in those yoga pants.” He shot her a smirk.

|| @joshinyou survived the night...

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

−−−¨༺ Sam curiously turned to face Josh who was holding a leaf that he seemingly had pulled out of her hair. Which was- "That's embarrassing," the blonde answered with a slight laugh. One must've fallen onto her head and she didn't realize it. Or, perhaps, when her hair caught on a branch because she forgot to bring a scrunchy and was now on a hike with her hair down; That was more trouble than she wanted. "I know I like nature but that's a tad more than I bargained for. Please just don't say there are any bugs," she answered once more, glancing down at the hair that hung down in front of her shoulders. Raking her fingers through long blonde hair absent-mindedly she looked at the scenery about them with a content smile. "Hey, thanks for coming with me. I used to hike with my dad but since he can't really hike anymore, I tend to go alone," ignoring that, that wasn't safe, "So. I appreciate this."

[darlingdekarios]

look upon me.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 7,381 content: Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot x f!reader, pre and post-incident Jonathan / Spot, reader is described as being shorter than the Spot but everyone is, established relationship, fluff, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [hair pulling, biting, scratching, orgasm control], hurt/comfort, brief obsessive/possessive behavior, this was not edited because I'm lazy

of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on Jonathan's mind like a bad conscience.

"Stop looking at me like that."

You hadn't changed your gaze to look at him, still locked-in on the meticulously organized papers in front of you as you scanned for the patterns and knowledge you needed. From across the table he was slumped forward, his chin resting on his hands as he did exactly that - look at you. It was so often that he needed to do little more than that to pass the time.

"Like what, baby?"

You couldn't help but smile at the false innocence in his voice. He knew what he was doing, he didn't care.

"Like you're just waiting for me to stop," you replied, eyes still locked on the scratches of ink beneath you. "I'm doing important stuff here."

"I'm trying to do important stuff to you."

The kind of embarrassing laugh that was accompanied by a snort left you, your head shaking slightly as you continued your steadfast refusal not to look at him, unwilling to have your concentration broken completely.

"Jonny, seriously," you were trying your best to sound serious and stern, but the smile on your face didn't quite match it. "I'm trying to make sure no one blows up in this deathtrap you're building at work, and your notes are nonsense."

"My notes are perfectly -"

"In the middle of this sentence you just wrote 'banana'," you pointed out, sliding the paper in question across the table and pointing to the word. "Do you know why you did that?"

"Because I needed them from the store."

You laughed again, the sound he was convinced was the most beautiful in the world, your eyes finally raising to return his gaze. When you made eye contact with him it sucked a deep breath from him - he was always struck by you, even after years of knowing you. He'd accepted long ago it would be this way until he died.

You looked annoyed, yet at the same time so profoundly in love he couldn't believe you were looking at him. You laughed again and he took your distraction as his cue to reach across the table, one of his hands laying atop yours gently.

"You're absurd," you stated, punctuating your words with a nod. Your hand flipped beneath his, threading your fingers together as your thumb brushed over his knuckles - the ones you could reach, anyway. "You either make complete sense or you don't make any at all. Black or white."

Sometimes you talked about him like another subject you wanted to figure out. If it meant you'd stay around until you did so, he was content to continue coming up with ways to puzzle you.

"But you chose me, Atom," he replied, reminding you of something that needed no reminder. Your cheeks burned under his special name for you, eyes locking on his as any annoyance left your body. He knew exactly how to melt away any negativity from you.

"Why do you call me that?" you questioned, head tilting slightly to the side in an adorable fashion that always made him love you just a bit more than he had a moment ago. So many things you did caused the reaction from him, and he was happy to continue to add to the list. "Anytime I ask you just smile. I want to know."

Something in the look in your eye and a feeling that now was when he should give you the answer you wanted had the words spilling out of his mouth. Compared to how long you'd waited it was rather unceremonious, but so many things between the two of you had always been as such. Neither of you were incredibly concerned with things being made into a big deal, and now was no different.

You already knew how much he loved you.

"Atoms make up everything," he explained, his hand squeezing yours lightly as he spoke. "You're my everything."

Your eyes softened further as you took in his words, your heart tightening just as his hand had around yours. With a smile you shook your head again, using your other hand to mark your place on the page you'd abandoned.

"How am I supposed to keep reading through this when you say things like that?"

"I could've been the next Shakespeare if I didn't love science so much."

"Did you even take theatre at any point? Or creative writing?"

"No, I took anatomy instead," that cheekiness was returning to his tone, the need heavy in his tone. You raised an eyebrow at his words, already expecting something along the lines of what would come next. "Wanna see what I learned?"

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, a grin that you loved more than anything in the world spreading across his face as he leaned forward in his seat, waiting for permission to come closer, waiting for you to give in. You couldn't help it when you looked deep into his eyes, seeing how badly he needed you…you had to give him something.

As you nodded he immediately grabbed your chair to move it closer, only for you to reach out and grab the table, clicking your tongue against your teeth.

"Well, I still have to finish reading, don't I?"

"But…"

"Aw, don't pout, Doctor," you cooed, turning your head and leaning to kiss his cheek softly. "I'm sure you can find a way to prove how hard you studied while I finish up."

Yeah, he could.

The security deposit the two of you had put on this apartment was forgotten as he yanked his chair across the wooden floor, settling it right next to yours. As he got comfortable you began your work again, the switch of your own activated - when it was time to focus, you could always be relied upon to do so.

Even when one of his large hands slid across your chest, cupping one of your breasts tenderly. The first touch from him was always cautious and respectful, waiting for you to say a single word of disagreement. You nodded, eyes briefly flickering to his before you focused back in one your task.

Thankful for the oversized v-neck sweater you'd worn today he slid a hand into the soft fabric, mentally thanking you for having removed your bra already when you got home. The soft flesh of your breast felt perfect in his hand as he massaged it tenderly before his attention quickly turned.

His thumb brushed over your nipple gently before circling the sensitive bud, his eyes still focused on your face and searching for any sort of reaction. Even when he pinched not a single sound left you, your face unchanging as you read his words.

And while he wanted to let you focus, he couldn't stand to not hear you at least moan for him.

He abandoned his hold on your breast to hike the knee length skirt you were wearing up around your waist, gently pushing your panties to the side - still somewhat waiting for you to stop him. You didn't, convinced you could outlast him in this little game the two of you were now playing, but honestly not really caring if you lost.

You almost lost completely when he leaned down, his tongue circling your nipple as his index finger circled your clit. You slipped - it was understandable - and a soft moan filled the room, your eyes momentarily falling closed as he sucked your nipple gently before looking back up into your face.

"Well finally," he dragged the final letter out as he pushed his middle finger into you, running his tongue over the same nipple again. "You're so wet already."

"I like reading your work," you confessed in a broken voice, allowing yourself a brief moment to forget your focus. You felt his mouth fall open in shock and the groan that he let out at your words.

"Oh."

He kept his mouth busy, as he often liked to do when you were alone together in various ways, but where he chose to focus his attention on proving his anatomy skills was with his hand. As he pumped his longest finger into you he stroked your walls lovingly, pushing against the spongy spot behind your clit carefully and with the perfect amount of pressure each time.

When he pushed his index finger inside you as well, with ease considering how wet you were now and with a downright pornographic sound he couldn't help but moan as he suckled on your breast.

You were trying to focus still - a remarkable feat, mind you, considering how good his fingers felt pumping into you at this speed and with this amount of care - but one of your hands came up to hold the back of his head, fingers pulling at the messy strands of his hair.

"Jonny…"

Your moan immediately had his attention, his mouth abandoning you so he could flash you a cheeky grin, his cheeks deep red in color and pupils blown wide as he took in your face again.

"Oh, now you want attention?"

You blew a deep breath out of your nose, giving his hair a gentle tug as you met a pump of his fingers with a grind of your hips.

"I only have one more page to make sense of…"

"But…"

"You can wait five minutes…"

"I can't," he whined, his voice ridiculous in this tone but earnest - he really couldn't wait for you much longer before he got excessively needy, but you loved pushing him to the edge sometimes. "I swear to…whatever the hell scientists swear to I can't, my tongue needs to be in you now or I swear…"

You pushed his head upward to claim his lips in a heavy kiss, a heavy groan from him falling against your mouth as you licked across his bottom lip before whispering lightly.

"If you're a good boy and let me finish I'll let you cum in me tonight."

If he wasn't so excited about the promise you'd made he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched moan that he allowed to rip through his chest, instead he could only sit spellbound as you sank your teeth into his bottom lip lightly, pulling back slightly before pulling away entirely. You licked your lips slowly, eyes holding his gaze for a moment before you continued.

"But only if you let me finish, Jonny," you warned, turning your attention back to the documents on the table and releasing your hold on his hair. "D'you think you can manage that?"

"Yes," he promised with a huff, rolling his eyes at the fact he had to wait…he understood your fears about his job but at the moment would insist there were other things that deserved attention. He tentatively pumped his fingers back into you, not even risking a glance at your face now. "But…to clarify, I still want my head between your thighs first."

"Jonny," you warned again, flashing him one last serious look with your eyes, though a light smile played on your lips. He removed his fingers from you with another huff, lifting his hand to wrap his lips around them with an appreciative groan.

Aware of your attention on him again and your mouth falling open he grinned as he released his fingers with a pop, shrugging his shoulders unceremoniously.

"Sorry," it was the fakest use of the word he'd ever used, you were aware of that. "Just speaking my truth."

But he was capable - hell, he had a PhD, he could be patient if he really needed to be…no matter how badly he didn't want to be. No matter how hard his dick was throbbing against the black sweatpants he had chosen to wear around the apartment.

He waited until you started putting the papers back in a neat stack, instead choosing to stand quickly, grabbing you by the waist and leaning down to claim your lips in a hungry, somewhat messy kiss. Thankful you returned his kiss and chose calculated movements to encourage it into something more precise, he focused on turning the two of you until the backs of your thighs were hitting the edge of the table.

"Now," he whined out in a heavy breath. "Need you now. Please, now."

He was begging against your lips as he worked the zipper and button open on your skirt, pushing both it and your panties to the ground and kicking the fabric out of the way in hopeful anticipation. You could feel his hard cock pressed between the two of you and knew he had done the best he could in waiting, but that didn't affect how you loved to tease him still.

"You're ravenous tonight," you pointed out in what could be described as little more than a purr, nipping at his bottom lip again to pull another moan from his chest. He returned the favor before he stood straight - well, straight for him - encouraging you to lay back against the table.

"I'm about to show you how much."

He found his own seat in the chair you had been in and leaned forward as his hands slid to grasp your knees, encouraging your legs apart and baring your dripping sex to him. One of his hands trailed upward and he watched in awe as his fingers glided up and down her soaked folds, back and forth, spreading the slick he had already earned.

He continued this motion, adding in gentle rubs to your clit, as he kissed up your inner thigh, enjoying the soft feeling of your skin against his lips as you moaned at the familiar scratch of his beard.

"Jonny…please…"

"Oh, now who's needy?"

But he didn't tease like you, he wasn't able when it came to you, and it wasn't like he could wait any longer. Before you could blink again he had leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue as he ran the thick muscle through them, well intent on tasting every inch of you again like it was the first time.

"Oh, you're indescribable," he grumbled against you after he'd flicked his tongue against your clit, glowing as your fingers found their way into his hair again, holding him close. Any complaints you'd ever made about his smart mouth were always forgotten when his tongue was worshipping you.

"Feels so good, Jonny," you moaned breathlessly, pulling his hair to encourage him back to what he had been begging for.

With a deep groan he continued, alternating between sucking on your clit and running his tongue between your folds, filling the apartment with lewd sounds as he slurped at your soaked pussy, ensuring every inch received his attention. He began to fuck his tongue into you, his nose pushing against your clit as he devoured you exactly how you wanted.

And that's how he got his first reward, your walls fluttering around his tongue as you came around him, your vision clouded as your orgasm rushed through you. As you moaned his name and your shaking thighs came closer around his head he didn't stop, instead continuing to lick at your sex like he was already setting out to pull another from you.

Your whines and whimpers of overstimulation filled the room, pulling at his hair as you fought to catch your breath and wiggle. He took the silent instruction and removed his mouth from your core, instead kissing along the thigh that hadn't received any earlier. He couldn't resist in full, though, his index finger slipping through your folds and into your still quivering sex.

"So wet," he cooed, just before he sucked a purple hickey to the inside of your thigh. "My dick's gonna slip right in."

"Please," you whined again, fully aware that now the tables had turned and you were the desperate one. You knew what Jonathan fucked like on nights where he was feeling like this and you were eager to feel him stretch you again, but through your orgasm's lingering haze you weren't sure how constructed of a sentence you could muster.

"Aw, baby, that's so cute," you could hear the smile in his voice and against your skin as he continued to kiss wherever he could reach, his lips now pressing to the hips he loved to grab so much. "Beg a little more for me?"

To be clear, he was asking - not telling.

"Jonathan," you whined, releasing your hold on his hair to instead reach for his shoulders, hoping to encourage him to finish his climb back up your body. You weren't thinking clearly, it was obvious - you may have thought the two of you were in bed but you weren't, and there was no way this old wooden table would support what he was about to do to you. "Please. Oh fuck please just…please. I need you."

"What d'you need?"

Okay, so maybe he could tease a little…he so rarely felt like he had any power in this world and these moments where he had you, the most beautiful woman in the world, at his fingertips were irresistible.

"Want you to fuck me," you whined, heart bursting as he finally gave into you and reached to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His finger was lazily pumping into you still, holding you on the brink of overstimulation - he truly did know exactly what to do to your body.

"You want me to fuck you?" he questioned, a falsely puzzled tone behind his voice. "Or you need me to fuck you?"

"Semantics."

"Say it."

His voice snapped slightly lower, just enough in the way it did when he was trying to communicate his seriousness - something he honestly rarely did with you. He would never yell at you, but that didn't mean he couldn't let you know the gravity behind his words in other ways. He needed you to say it - exactly it, and to accentuate his point, he removed his finger from you altogether.

"I need you to fuck me, Jonny," you begged against his lips, turning slightly to press lazy kisses to the corner of his mouth until you reached lower, kissing his neck in the spot you knew would melt away this dark streak.

He stood up immediately, shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to the floor and kicking them to join your skirt, fisting his cock and rubbing it through your folds to gather the mixture of cum and his spit that lingered between them.

"Don't tease," you whined again, eyes meeting his in a hope to convey your desperation. His other hand reached to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across the bone before it trailed to your bottom lip, repeating the gentle motion as he quietly shushed you.

He started slipping his painfully hard, leaking cock inch by inch into you, trying to take his time and savor the feeling of each push, but by the time he had sheathed his cock fully in you there was something already unmistakably unhinged about his movements, his hand that had been between your thighs grasping your hip tight.

"Fuck…fuck…" he groaned as he tried to force himself to still for a moment, instead finding he couldn't help but pull completely out and thrust back in roughly, his fingers holding you hard enough to bruise - which honestly, you hadn't been aware he was strong enough to do so until now, and this was far from the first time the two of you had fucked.

"Jonny, o-oh my…"

"Fuck," he groaned out as he continued to thrust into you desperately, his movements hard and a little sloppy as he tried to find a pace he liked. When he finally settled on one he leaned forward to kiss you again, pounding into you with your bodies pressed so close together you could hear obscene sound of his balls slapping against you. "You're so perfect. You're so so so perfect."

You kissed him until you were breathless, repeated moans covering his lips as he continued with the perfect pace to match how feral he felt for you now - quick and hard, almost bruising, desperate to coax you toward another orgasm and earn his own.

You dragged your nails down his back - you might had even drawn a couple of specks of blood with how rough you accidentally slipped into - kissing back down to his mouth as you fought for a desperate breath through moans and mewls. You made a mark of your own on his neck, a spot he would wear with pride for the days it would last on his skin.

"I want you to cum again for me," he managed out between heavy breaths, one of his hands sliding to hold the back of your head gently. "Before….before I…"

"Before you fill me up," you finished for him, your tone breathy and lascivious before you ran your tongue over the hickey you'd just given him.

He moaned - whether it was at your words or tongue didn't matter - and grabbed your hip harder, his pace faltering again into something much for harder and carnal as his mind was overtaken by the idea of spilling his hot load into you.

"Gonna…gonna fill you…" he began muttering promises through breaths and thrusts, any semblance of normal speech pattern forgotten. "So fucking full."

"Please."

"Yeah, baby," he promised, managing to fight through the primal thoughts in his mind to carry out another delicate action, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Know you love it. Go ahead and milk it out of me."

His hold on your head remained as he released your hip, slipping his hand between your bodies instead to rub your clit with purpose, fully intent on not allowing himself release until he felt you spasm around his cock.

With the loudest moan of his name he'd perhaps ever earned you threw your head back, thankful his hand was there to protect it from the hardwood as your vision turned white, the temperature in the room seemingly one-thousand degrees as you clasped your legs around his waist, holding him closer.

His thrusts continued to get sloppier, and when he felt your orgasm approaching a more manageable end, he opted to ask before finding his own release.

"Can I…can I…"

"You owe me two minutes that you interrupted…when I was trying to clean…"

"Baby, no," he begged, his head shaking as he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead and nose, hoping his sweet affection would earn him favor. "Oh, please, no…"

"Not yet."

It was a wonder that he could continue fucking you like this with how hard he was, the discomfort and need to cum evident by his begging and whining. When you finally gave him the permission he was seeking his orgasm was immediate - thick, hot ropes of his cum filling you so much it didn't take long for the thick liquid to start leaking out around his cock.

You were both overly sensitive, but that had never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn't now as he continued to drag his half-hard cock through your painted walls, content on doing so until you were a mess, pleading with him that you'd had enough and it was too much.

He listened, removing his cock from your freshly fucked sex and sitting in the chair that waited beneath him, eyes fixated on your leaking cunt. He couldn't resist - three fingers gathered the mixture of fluids that was flowing from your pussy and he pushed it back in with little consideration toward your overstimulation.

You shot up with a gasp, sitting upright just as he removed his fingers again, wasting no time and unwilling to hear complaints as he dove back between your thighs, messily licking and slurping at your hole until he felt enough of your combined releases were on his tongue. He leaned back up, one of his hands coming to the back of your head to pull you down to meet him in a heavy kiss, passing you the thick liquid he held on his tongue and continuing to lick at your mouth as it slid down your throat.

When he broke the kiss for breath his eyes were full of so much love you thought he might break your shared "no marriage" rule and propose.

"I fucking love you," he finally breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap gently to continue the shared moment of pure bliss.

"I love you, Jonny," you promised in return, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you curled against him. "In every universe."

There was no way for you to know that, and yet, it didn't sound like too much of an impossibility.

"Atom…"

His affectionate tone was matched by the loving way he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before he claimed your lips again in the softest kiss of the night, letting you climb out of his lap afterwards knowing there were things to be done after sex.

"'m ordering a pizza before we go to bed," he called after you as you grabbed your sweater from the floor, using your other hand to attempt to run your fingers through your messy hair.

"'m gonna shower," you replied, grabbing the other pile of clothes to add them to the hamper. He loved how easy things had become between the two of you in these recent years - he wouldn't give it up for all the power in the world. "Extra cheese or I'm breaking up with you."

"What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"The kinda monster that better hurry up so he can join me in the shower."

You took him by surprise by leaning behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your arms hugged around his neck briefly. Sometimes he didn't know how or why or for how long it would last, but he knew for now, at least, you loved him in ways writers try to convey in novels.

"I'll be so fast you'll think I teleported there."

Of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on his mind like a bad conscience. The reason for so many of what he used to hold in his heart as his best days, the very same that now incessantly repeated in his mind, an unremitting reminder of what he used to have. 

When he declared he had lost everything due to the incident, he was speaking of you. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to reach through to steal a look at his lost love, and while he told himself it needed to be something that didn't become a habit that's exactly what happened. Some things never changed - he was still more than happy to do nothing more than gaze at you in silence, enjoying how you adjusted annoyances as you read, the way your nose crinkled in focus, the way you fell asleep on your desk, the way you played with the necklace he'd given you when you were nervous…

He'd almost broken his promise to himself several times now, happening across you on a bad morning and an even worse night when the emptiness in your chest at the loss of him was too much to bare, the false face you normally wore too much effort to carry on forever. You missed him, and sometimes you couldn't bring yourself to do more than sob that fact into the night, clutching the lab coat wearing teddy bear he'd gifted you to your chest.

He was positive he still had a heart, because he could feel it breaking every time.

Now was one of those times, perhaps the worst he'd seen you endure, and he'd only been watching for a minute now…at least, that's what he thought, though he wasn't keeping track of time. Your eyes were burning red and you had a framed photo of the two of you lying on the bed next to you, one of his old shirts hugging your frame in familiarity.

“Jonathan?”

The sound of his name from your lips again punched another hole somewhere in him far deeper than any other. You felt him - without words you knew he was there, his presence occupying your space in a familiar comfort that you’d come to accept was irreplaceable. So he had lost track of time…enough time for you to feel him again, the man you'd spent so many hours with in the past exactly like this.

“Jonny?”

He wanted to disappear, a war waging in his mind between the profound desire to hold you again and the need to hide what he’d become from you. Instead, he was frozen, even his mind quiet as the way his name rolled off your tongue again filled his ears sweeter than any memory. He'd promised himself that you would never have to look at what he had become, insistent that you thinking he was dead was better.

“Please, Jonny…I can feel you,” your voice broke more and more with each word, desperate to plead to him enough to persuade him. “I know…I know you’re there, somehow. Please.”

What was he supposed to do when you begged like this? You used to beg in the sweetest ways, he'd never made you beg for anything in earnest, not through tears like this…

Seeing you like this because of him made him feel more villainous and monstrous than anything else he'd done. It was anxiety inducing to watch you beg for the man he used to be, knowing he could never again give you what he once did. It made him sick - every cell felt sick, every portal poisoned and shrinking, withdrawing within himself.

But one more sob from you and a lapse in judgement from him led to a wrong step, his form stepping through a portal directly at the foot of your bed before he could take it back.

Oh, how he'd missed your bravery. You were sitting in a flash, eyes wide and puzzled but not at all afraid as you looked upon him - the new him. For the first time he had to wonder if this form blushed - he felt his cheeks heating like he would have before, but that didn't mean they looked the same. You leaned against the headboard, away from him which was exactly the opposite of the pull you felt to him.

A familiar pull - one that you'd only ever felt before with one person, with your person. Your eyes resolved in knowingness and you glanced at the photo beside you before your eyes found what was technically his face again, eyebrows pulling together as you worked through your puzzled thoughts.

At least you'd stopped crying.

"J…Jonathan?"

A breath was sucked from somewhere in him and filled the room with a heavy sigh saturated in relief - he couldn't deny how right it felt that you were speaking to him again, seated in the same room…seated in the room you'd shared.

"Remember…you used to say I was so black or white," he cleared his throat that suddenly felt far too dry, an oversized hand coming up to the back of his neck to rub nervously. This is where he used to run his fingers through his hair, you noted internally as your eyes watered again hearing his voice. "Either a genius or an idiot. Now I'm black and white all at the same time…"

His rambling was cut by your arms flying around his middle, the size different between the two of you that had always been there now even more significant in his new form. He stood frozen in his place, form rigid as you squeezed him as though you would never let him go.

"You're here."

"I…I'm here," his voice was shaking and he wanted to run, he could feel the unease spreading across his body and expanding like a sickness. But the worse he felt, the more the holes shrank…everything about him was on-edge. "But I'm not me anymore, baby. I'm…this."

"You're you," your voice was that sweet, understanding tone you'd used in college with him, before the two of you had even dated and when you were both pretending you were nothing more than best friends. He'd always said it was like a lullaby to a baby. "I felt you."

But he didn't want to hear it now, and something dark and incendiary inside him screamed that you were lying - that there was no logical scenario where you were okay with how he looked.

"Don't patronize me," his voice snapped into something dark, holes flaring out again and spreading to almost encompass him in darkness, almost like a shield. "Don't. I know what I look like. I might not have eyes but I can see. I can see that I look like…a fucking freak. An abomination."

You couldn't imagine what he was feeling. There was no lying to him, he was a reasonable, intelligent man - he knew that this form was not what anyone would describe as perfect and was certainly not what you had fallen in love with, and there was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise.

"You look like something tragic happened to you," your voice was unfaltering, the delicate tone coaxing him into the relaxation he used to always feel with you. "But I don't care what you look like, and I never have."

"It's not like a bad haircut or weight gain, Atom," he snapped. The vulnerability he was displaying was difficult to navigate as there was truly never someone to go through what he was…there was no anecdote to help him. These days, his default setting was anger.

Anger was better than anything else.

"I'm hideous. Look at me."

"I am," you said quietly, your voice dropping to just above a whisper. You looked right in his face, unwaveringly. He longed to kiss you more than ever before. "I'm looking right at you, Jonny."

That quieted him as he lost himself in the tranquility of you - you were the only one who had ever understood him enough to walk him through the difficult emotions and that was still true, even with his sorrow and rage felt and expressed tenfold. He'd thought so before, always known so with no scientific way to prove it until now…you were made for him.

And him alone.

"My Jonny."

Before he could register the movement your hands were resting on his chest and the walls he was trying to built crumbled, the spots essentially exploding into dozens of smaller ones all across his body, avoiding where your hands rested. As you lightly stroked your fingertips there they merged again to several larger, relatively heart shaped blobs.

He hadn't felt a gentle human touch since the incident, and he'd never thought he'd feel your touch again. If it was possible, he could have died on the spot. It was obvious that he was lost for a moment, forgetting the danger he presented to you, forgetting to maintain control.

But only for a moment, the horrors ever present.

After temporarily losing himself in the haze of feeling your touch again his shaking hands flew out, grasping your waist tight as his breathing came in heavy, concentrated breaths. Instead of letting him retreat within himself you stepped closer, hands slipping as close to his shoulders as you could reach.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," you said quietly, already teaching yourself how to get used to looking up into his face and not seeing his eyes. "And here you are."

"I lost everything," the vulnerability was shining through more as he opened himself to you again, almost having to reteach himself for a moment that you were someone he could share his emotions with. "My dream job…gone. My body…which was no temple to begin with but now I'm just this…this thing. I lost…I lost you. My dream girl…my everything. I lost my everything."

He saw the pain flashing in your eyes as you listened to him - as you empathized as you always had, your heart connected to his.

"You found me again," your voice was breaking again as you spoke, desperate for him to understand that all the times you'd said you'd love him no matter what you'd meant it. "I'm right here."

You moved your arms lower to wrap around his waist, stepping closer - but he ripped himself from you the moment you were close to connecting your head to his torso, the holes once again flaring in fear.

"No!" he shouted, immediately kicking himself for shouting at you. He took a deep breath to steady himself, swallowing hard as he calmed his emotions enough to speak again without lashing out. "You can't…the spots…the holes…"

Your brow pulled together like it always had when you were feeling inquisitive and you only sought to close the distance between the two of you again, stepping forward as you took in every inch of him.

"Holes?"

"They're portals," he explained, suddenly feeling self conscious about himself in ways he hadn't experienced since his one attempt at a high school dance. "I'm still figuring out how they work…and I don't want to lose you. I could really…really lose you."

He had missed this expression on you - when you were so deep in thought it was obvious your full focus was on solving the puzzle presented to you. He'd thought of this long ago and come to the conclusion that you would want to study him - to understand him more.

He wasn't sure he was ready to be the experiment under your scrutiny. But he was certain he could never be away from you again.

"Portals to where?"

"Everywhere," just like a doctor and patient, you were asking questions, formulating a hypothesis, he was providing the data. How many times had the two of you lived this scenario? Was now really so different? He remembered how you used to look at him in amazement…your expression now was truly no different than it ever had been. "Sometimes just back through another portal. Sometimes to other dimensions to other…universes. I've gotten lost and…I'd never forgive myself if you fell through. You can't be close to me."

"You just need to learn how to control them."

"I can't," he breathed out, his words exasperated with a break in the middle to accentuate it. It was all he could manage - it was all he had to.

"You can," it wasn't a tone full of false hope, it was decisive and resolute - you believed he could, and with your belief, he would try. "It's just another thing to learn, and you're the smartest man I know."

Before he could react to your sudden movements you closed the distance between the two of you again, sticking your hand through one of the holes in his arm with a deep breath.

"Hey -!"

Almost instantly your hand reappeared through his chest and a sigh of relief ripped through him, a puzzled smile spreading across your face as you wiggled your fingers. "Intriguing," he swore he could hear a familiar purr behind your words, and he had to wonder if you were trying to distract him from the complex mix of emotions he was experiencing. "How unique."

"You…you mean how freakish," he attempted to correct, focused on the feeling of you reaching into him. "This uhm…this has to be weird."

"You've stuck fingers in me," you defended, the playful tone in your voice one of the exact things he'd missed. Then again, in truth, he'd missed everything about you, even the parts he once didn't love.

"Atom…"

You pulled your hand back through him which earned another relieved sigh from his chest, his nervous breaths returning as you wrapped your arms around his torso again, your head finding a rightful position lying against his chest.

"Just hold me. You'd never let yourself lose me."

Your faith in him was misguided and foolish, the love you felt for him clouding your mind from the horror that you held in your arms - he was convinced of it. He froze, unwilling to give into even the slightest movement that would create a domino effect, unwilling to do anything to increase the risk he posed to you.

But seconds passed without incident until he'd been allowing you to hold onto him for several minutes. You were still here, still against him, still warming him up in ways he had longed to feel again for what had already felt like an eternity. Slowly, his arms circled you, pulling you slightly closer, clutching to you like you might still disappear at any moment.

As the minutes ticked away his arms got tighter and tighter, his hands resting on your lower back like you were made of porcelain.

"You kept all of my stuff…"

His voice was still so unsure, like he felt he was intruding…like he didn't belong here, in his own home. Like he didn't deserve to be holding you again. You nuzzled into him further in response, your hands flattening against his back to hold him against you tighter.

"I could never get rid of anything that makes me think of you," you whispered, eyes closed as you soaked in the moment, feelings both familiar and new.

"I haven't…laid in a bed since…"

He trailed off and you could feel the energy around him darken - you knew anger was a secondary emotion and in this instance it followed unimaginable hurt.

"Come to bed with me," you weren't asking, it was an instruction - voice unwavering and unquestioning. You looked up into his face again, and it was just like it had always been - you looked at him like you loved him.

"But why would you…ah -"

You really didn't mind the new height, in fact him towering over you more than ever before was causing other feelings that weren't quite appropriate for this sweet lovers' reunion, but it did make standing on your tiptoes more obsolete than ever, your lips barely reaching his chest. His words were cut off, a whine taking their place when your lips connected with his skin. He melted like it was the first time you kissed him, any residual panic withdrawing further into him as he held you tighter.

You felt the shift in his energy and smiled against him as you pressed more kisses wherever you could reach, mindful when you approached a spot, lips continuing to brush against him as you spoke.

"If you get into bed with me I can kiss more of you," "You're so tall now, Jonny. Can't reach."

One thing that hadn't changed was his complete willingness to obey you, to give in to your every request, to fulfill every instruction…it continued to be true as he scrambled into the bed, nearly groaning at the familiar feeling of his pillow and the sheets you'd insisted they needed again. The seconds that passed with him alone - with him getting used to his new height in the bed he once fit comfortably in, getting used to controlling the holes (when was the last time he'd laid down?).

But when you climbed into the bed beside him, the anxieties vanished. You moved as close to him as you could, one of your hands delicately resting on his torso while the other reached to his face, stroking your thumb across his cheek delicately.

It was the kind of moment where your eyes close in serenity, and somewhere inside him he felt it. Maybe he was a fool for thinking this could last, but with the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd always reach out to you.

All of the versions of you were meant to be his.

And they would be.

masterlist. marvel masterlist.

[to-thelakes]

Reader who has an oral fixation and Luke is all to happy to help her with it.

fixation

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; luke likes to help you out whenever he can ;)

warnings; MINORS DO NO INTERACT 18+, oral sex (m recieving), brief mention of f recieving oral, reader has an oral fixation, brief mention of p in v, dom!luke, sub!reader, kind of self-indulgent

notes; i saw this ask and uhm, immediately had to do it. i was gonna try and downplay it but i literally have an oral fixation and it's honestly so annoying to deal with but i feel like luke as a bf would make it so much better <3 this is a short and sweet like fluffy/smutty one-shot so please enjoy <3

masterlist

(yes... i'm using this gif, shut up)

From the moment that you joined the BAU, Luke suspected you had an oral fixation. There was hardly a time where you weren’t eating, chewing gum or a pen or drinking something and chewing on the end of a straw. But nobody commented on it.

Well, except once, after too many glasses of wine at Rossi’s house, Spencer had called you out on it after you made a joke about biting. You often liked to mumble that you ‘were gonna bite someone’ if you were in a bad mood or something had pissed you off. It was like a reflex phrase for you and when Reid called you out on it, you had gone rigid.

He noticed that you tried to curb your tendencies for a few weeks after that incident before you returned back to always having something to bite on. It wasn’t a bad thing. At least, Luke didn’t think so and so, when your relationship became romantic, he was always more than happy to help you out in whatever way he could.

He kept gum for you in the car or his bag. He kept mints or Jolly Ranchers or any sort of hard candy in his jacket pockets so that he could give them to you at a moment’s notice. It was an unspoken thing between the two of you and you were incredibly appreciative of him. And well, the oral fixation bled into other aspects of your life that Luke was more than willing to help you with.

Like, right now, he had had his head between your legs, pulling orgasms from you while you whined and keened. Your hands had gripped his arm as he made it hard to think straight but after pulling two or three orgasms from you, he let his lips trail back up your stomach. You were breathing heavily, hands clawing to hold any part of him and after watching him between your legs, you wanted to get between his.

“Luke,” You begged softly, tugging at him to come closer to you. He shifted, his hard cock resting heavy on your stomach as he rested his forehead against yours. Your hands moved to rest against his face, fingers scritching his stubble as you let out a breathy whine.

“Tell me what you want,” He said as his hand moved to brush down your cheeks. Your eyes reopened, hazy from the bliss but you knew what you wanted.

“Need you in my mouth, please,” You began and Luke seemed a little hesitant. You didn’t give him a chance to speak again though, “I can- I can pull away before you cum but I just need you in my mouth, please, baby. Please, I just- I want you in my mouth. That’s all I want. Just for a little bit, wanna make you feel good too, please, please,” You quickly devolved into senseless begging as you looked up at him. He groaned softly, finding it so hard to deny when your voice was so high-pitched and whiny like that.

“Okay, okay.” He gave in and the grin that spread across your face was worth it. He knew that your mind was pleasure-addled but he also knew that there was hardly a time where you didn’t desperately want to take him into your mouth. He slipped off the top of you and you clambered off the bed. Your legs were wobbly but you managed to control both yourself and him. You reached out for him and tugged him to the edge of the bed. His cock was hard and pre-cum dripped from the head and you couldn’t help the way you bit your lip.

You sank to your knees and let your kisses trail up from the crook of his knee. They were sloppy and wet, all teeth and lips as you nipped at the skin the closer you got. His thigh muscles were so strong and you loved kissing and gently biting against them. It made Luke squirm as he tried to keep his hands to himself. This was about you. Your lips trailed from his thigh up to his stomach before you pulled back, admiring his happy trail.

“Love you,” You mumbled before you took a gentle hold of his dick. You spat into the palm of your hand before wrapping it around him. You pumped once or twice and when you were sure that he was ready, you leant forward and kissed the tip of his cock. He let out a breathy groan at the sensation before you let your mouth take him in.

You hollowed your cheeks out and the way his cock stretched your mouth open, how he sat hot and heavy on your tongue. It short-circuited your brain and made it hard to concentrate but you were quick to get to work.

However, sucking his dick wasn’t the only way Luke satisfied your oral fixation. He’d be fucking you, nice and deep and slow and his hand would rest against your throat. He would never squeeze but the presence was enough to bring tantalizing pleasure up your spine. Just the power and control he had over you, did something to you. But he knew you liked to have something in your mouth and while he thrusted into you, he let his hand from your neck move up. His thumb would run across your bottom lip and gently pull your mouth open before he slipped his thumb past your lips and teeth. You would whine and keen at the sensation, sucking his thumb like you would his cock. It was embarrassing how messy you would get just from that action alone.

Luke loved it. He loved being able to fulfill that need in whatever way that you needed and it was hard to deny how gorgeous you looked with his cock - or fingers - in your mouth.

<3

[kiwriteswords]

Rule Followers

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: A one-shot, that is technically a companion piece to Wicked Games, but can be read solo! I've also expanded this story so much that I no longer think I can keep the titles within the Wicked Game lyrics...

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Suggestive Language, Implied Sexual Content, Potential Hint at Brat-Tamer!Hotch, Workplace Romance, Mild Workplace Tension, Humor. Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Sypnosis: After disclosing your relationship, you and Agent Hotchner are required to attend a mandatory workplace boundaries seminar, joined by Morgan and Garcia, who seem to be thoroughly entertained by the situation.

Companion piece to: Part V in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read independently, though!)

The seminar room was filled with the monotony of beige walls and a lone projector humming softly at the front of the room. You and Hotch entered together, side by side, with Garcia and Morgan waiting in their seats, smirking like two kids ready for mischief.

“Oh, look,” Morgan murmured, nudging Garcia. “They finally arrived. I thought Strauss might’ve pulled you aside for a pre-seminar scolding.”

You scoffed and leaned over Hotch, who’d already put on his best stoic face, clearly prepping for the ordeal. “We’re here to learn, right, Aaron?”

He barely glanced at you, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching before he composed himself. “Let’s just get through this without incident.”

Garcia, never one to let a good opportunity pass, leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Right, sure, because a seminar on professional boundaries was exactly what this team needed. Especially you two.”

Hotch cast a withering look her way, but before he could say anything, Morgan broke in, “You know, Hotch, I’ve never seen you get flustered—until now. Kind of refreshing, actually.”

You couldn’t resist nudging him with a playful grin. “Aw, he’s just mad because he knows they’ll call him out for all those little glances he sneaks when he thinks no one’s watching.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “I think we all know who’s responsible for this…meeting.”

Morgan laughed. “Oh, there’s no question about that! All those times you two have been ‘subtly’ flirting in the field? Strauss must’ve been waiting for an excuse to get you here.”

“Professional decorum is important,” Hotch said flatly, as though reciting a script.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Decorum? Man, I saw you let her push every button until you were ready to combust. Don’t think you can pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

Garcia gasped in exaggerated delight. “Strauss isn’t the only one watching!”

Hotch sighed, clearly caught between exasperation and mild amusement. “I think it’s safe to say none of us will be contributing to the Q&A session.”

“Oh, come on, Hotch,” you teased, leaning in so only he could hear. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious what they’ll say about us?”

He looked at you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “No, but I’m curious to see how long you can actually sit still.”

Morgan laughed, overhearing. “I give it five minutes.”

As the seminar dragged on, the team shared knowing looks and chuckled silently, each relishing the rare sight of Hotch out of his element. And though you tried to keep your composure, every time you exchanged a sly glance with Hotch or caught him subtly rolling his eyes, you could feel the playful energy between you two crackling, uncontainable even in the most "serious" of seminars.

The seminar was in full swing, and the instructor—a painfully earnest, silver-haired man with a penchant for over-explaining—was clicking through a presentation with slides so outdated they looked like they belonged in a high school health class.

You and Hotch sat side by side, each trying to focus on the presentation, but you couldn’t resist stealing glances at him. The serious set of his jaw and that faint crease between his brows said he was doing his best to keep this under control, though you could tell his patience was wearing thin.

As the instructor droned on, a new slide appeared with the title: "Avoiding Favoritism in the Workplace."

You leaned just slightly toward Hotch, voice barely above a whisper. “Well, that’s relevant.”

Without looking at you, Hotch replied quietly, “Don’t even start.”

But you couldn’t resist, nodding at the slide with mock seriousness. “You know, Aaron, maybe I should stop winning all those ‘favorite agent’ contests.”

He gave you a sidelong look, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Last I checked, those weren’t real.”

You leaned in a little closer, murmuring, “Oh, right. All my campaigning for nothing.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat, his voice low. “I don’t play favorites in the workplace.”

You stifled a grin, keeping your tone innocent. “Good to know. So, if it came down to it, you’d rather be sleeping next to me at night than…Reid?”

Hotch’s lips twitched with the faintest smile. “It’s a close call.”

You smirked. “Come on, admit it. I’m your favorite outside the office.”

He finally glanced your way, just the hint of warmth in his eyes. “Outside the office? That’s never been in question.”

Satisfied, you settled back with a smirk. "Glad we got that straight."

You settled back, but when the next slide appeared—Examples of Inappropriate Behavior—you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. The slide showed two people standing far too close to each other, gazing with barely hidden longing, and you swore the actors looked vaguely like you and Hotch.

He let out a quiet, barely perceptible sigh as the instructor spoke. “It’s important to recognize when boundaries are becoming blurred. You may think a close colleague is just a friend, but others may perceive favoritism or unprofessional behavior.”

At that, you leaned closer to Hotch. “Think we should ask if our relationship is coming across that way?”

His gaze remained fixed on the slide. “I think the goal is to make it through without drawing attention.”

You held back a laugh, nodding seriously. “Right, right. We’re practically invisible.”

The instructor continued, oblivious, as the slides shifted to Physical Boundaries and Inappropriate Contact. You watched as a series of awkward stock photos appeared, showing coworkers sharing prolonged eye contact or lingering touches.

“This is absurd,” Hotch murmured under his breath, sounding almost resigned.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying it doesn’t cover our unique situation?”

He gave you a sharp look, the faintest glint of warning, but there was something else too—almost a glimmer of amusement. 

“Not a word.” But his silence didn’t last long. When the instructor started explaining the potential “distractions” that could arise from workplace relationships, Hotch muttered so quietly you almost missed it, “As if I’d ever be distracted.”

“Oh, really?” you whispered back, daring him with a playful smirk. “Then why do I catch you staring at me constantly?”

He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes forward with military precision. But you could see the telltale clench in his jaw and that faint blush creeping up his neck. You couldn’t let him off that easily.

“Guess you must be the picture of focus,” you murmured with a grin.

“Unlike you,” he replied in a dry whisper, “I can keep my focus exactly where it needs to be.”

“Right, so no distractions at all,” you said, casting a quick glance his way. “That’s why we’re at this seminar, after all.”

Just then, the instructor called for attention, clicking to a slide that displayed a list of “Appropriate Boundaries” in the workplace. His voice carried through the room with a practiced authority. “Maintaining professional boundaries ensures that all team members are treated fairly and equitably. Distractions, romantic relationships, or favoritism can erode the integrity of your work.”

You leaned over to Hotch, keeping your voice low. “Integrity, huh? Think ours is intact?”

Hotch’s tone was barely more than a murmur. “Strauss seems to think we’re hanging by a thread.”

You feigned a sigh. “Guess it’s a good thing I enjoy walking that line.”

He shook his head, gaze fixed on the screen as he struggled to maintain his composure. “You’re impossible.”

The instructor’s voice droned on about “a professional atmosphere free of personal entanglements” as another slide appeared—Common Workplace Hazards. The image showed two colleagues leaning too close over a desk, an almost magnetic pull between them.

You bit back a grin and leaned toward Hotch, your voice a soft murmur. “That one looks familiar…maybe a certain night in your office?”

Hotch’s jaw tensed, and his hand brushed against yours, sending a thrill down your spine. Without missing a beat, he murmured, “We are not having this conversation here.”

But you couldn’t resist, letting your fingers brush his just enough to keep him on edge. “Come on, Aaron… Remember how you locked the door?”

He shot you a sharp look, his tone low and commanding. “Behave.” His hand settled firmly over yours, stilling your movements, and his voice softened. “Or I’ll have to remind you exactly who’s in charge, even here.”

You smirked, feeling a thrill of defiance. “Promise?”

Hotch’s gaze held yours, intense and unyielding. “Trust me, I do,” he whispered, a quiet edge in his voice that left no room for argument. The glint in his eyes, though, hinted at something deeper, a shared memory lingering between you both.

Silenced and properly reeled in, you gave him a slight nod, unable to resist a soft, satisfied smile.

The seminar dragged on, but now there was a new energy between you. Every time a stock photo showed another awkward interaction or the instructor stressed the dangers of “inappropriate workplace affection,” you and Hotch would exchange the faintest of glances, each one saying everything you couldn’t in the middle of the seminar.

By the time the last slide finally clicked by with a bland “Thank you for your attention,” you were practically buzzing with pent-up energy, and you could see Hotch was just as eager to be done with it. Maybe more.

As you both stood up, gathering your things, you couldn’t help but murmur, “Well, I hope you took notes. Wouldn’t want any slip-ups in front of Strauss.”

He gave you a wry smile, finally letting the humor slip through. “I think I have everything I need right here.”

You raised an eyebrow, catching his gaze. “Does that mean I’m off the hook?”

Hotch looked at you, his voice so low and sincere that it sent a thrill down your spine. “Let’s just say I have a pretty good handle on where we stand.”

And with that, he held the door open for you, his hand brushing your lower back as you exited the room. Maybe you were supposed to keep your distance, maybe the seminar didn’t exactly condone it—but you knew you’d both be just fine.

As you and Hotch stepped out of the seminar room, Morgan and Garcia followed close behind, each wearing matching grins that hinted they’d been waiting for a moment to pounce. Hotch let his hand on your lower back drop, straightening up as if trying to re-establish some level of professionalism.

Morgan shook his head with a smirk. “Well, I think we can all agree that’s two hours of our lives we’ll never get back. Honestly thought they’d use some real-life examples from our team for a minute there.”

Garcia grinned, nudging Morgan. “Hey, I was bracing for it! I thought for sure they’d pull out that slide on pet names you shouldn’t use for your coworkers.”

You let out a snort, looking at her with amusement. “Oh yeah, we were all waiting for ‘chocolate thunder’ or ‘baby girl’  to make its big comeback.”

Hotch, keeping a straight face, gave Morgan a sidelong glance. “I think we’re all grateful they kept things…general.”

Morgan chuckled, leaning back with a grin. “Oh, sure, Hotch. General works for most of us—but something tells me this seminar’s gonna stick with you two a bit longer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into the faintest smirk, just for a second. “I think we’re clear on what’s expected.”

You shot Hotch a sidelong smile. “Yep. Message received, loud and clear.”

Garcia, ever the gleeful instigator, clasped her hands with a grin. “I, for one, am just thrilled to have witnessed the two of you sitting through all that…professional advice.”

Hotch’s gaze flickered between the three of you, and he let out a resigned sigh. “Let’s keep the commentary in check, shall we?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell us twice,” Morgan replied, shaking his head with a laugh. “But you two might be in for a few more of these little ‘reminders’ from Strauss, just saying.”

Hotch straightened, his expression returning to its usual calm. “I’m fairly confident we can stay on the right side of things,” he replied, casting you a brief, meaningful look.

As you all walked toward the elevators, his hand brushed your back in the subtlest of gestures, enough to remind you that, whatever Strauss or the seminar said, both of you knew exactly where you stood.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

[joshinyou-a]

➠ @darkstarsrise said: “ i know i’m not the person you want, but i’m here. ” [from Chris]

.·:*¨ ✘ ☠︎︎ ✘ ¨*:·.  Josh stood on second floor patio of his house, staring transfixed on the horizon. A warm, half empty can of beer was clutched in his hand, dangling by his thigh. Though he registered the words, he didn't move, his expression glazed over as though he were a thousand miles away. It was true. Chris wasn't the person that Josh wanted. He wanted his sisters there, but that wasn't going to happen. It had been months since he last heard their voices. Voices that used to tease and annoy him. Voices that he'd give his own life to hear again.

Blinking, he finally turned to acknowledge his friend with a raised eyebrow. The expression was alight with playfulness as though the thousand yard stare hadn't just happened. "Yeah well, Megan Fox couldn't make it, so I'm stuck staring at your ugly mug all night." He gave Chris a teasing punch on the shoulder as he turned away from the railing and took a seat in one of the patio chairs. It was a rough day. The worst day, Josh thought. It was his birthday, and thus, the first birthday without Hannah and Beth. Usually the occasion marked a wild, raucous party at the Washington household, but this year, there was none of that. There was no one. Only Chris.

[nekrosdolly]

haunting you - a. wesker x reader

you're a stripper and he's a scientist who's never felt the touch of another.

a/n; first wesker piece i've written in a whiiiile so i'm sorry if this is a little clunky!!

content warnings; set in 1998 before the mansion incident, jill moonlights as a bartender, virgin!wesker, stripper!reader (no set stripper name), wesker is in his late thirties (38), reader is 21, loss of virginity, brief dry-humping, sex (p in v), dirty talk, technically bottom/sub wesker, top/dom reader, this might be ooc (im rusty), light petplay (you call him a puppy and he almost creams), whiny wesker, slight condescension from the reader, not proofread as always lol

terms of endearment; darling, sweetheart, dear, puppy (wesker)

wc; 2.460k

You stare at your reflection in the vanity mirror, one of many workers tonight who are less than strapped for cash not unlike yourself. Since you were legal, you’d made the choice, albeit degrading, to start stripping. That was three years ago. Now twenty-one, you’re less naive and smarter with your money, but still lacking financially. Not to mention, you’d been at this club for three years, why change that? No real job would take you if you told them what you’d been doing as a makeshift career anyway.

And so you stare. Your makeup is kept simple but alluring enough for most anyone to be drawn to you, but your outfit is the real showstopper. Strappy and black, you’re nearly naked, but you’re used to that by now. The usual pre-performance jitters have struck you once again, leaving you with cold feet and nerves that aren’t much warmer. Even in the back rooms, you can hear the bass-heavy music and high whistles of men vying for more of whomever’s attention. It’s enough to draw you from your shell and with a few deep breaths, you force yourself away from the vanity. The path to the stage is short, much to your chagrin, and the lights are hotter than hell when you step out to the shiny stage. While you get no cheering, you get your own special welcome of drunken customers whistling lowly and the occasional whoop. 

You know from experience that, while intoxicated, watching someone work the pole is hypnotic at the least. Your audience can hardly take their eyes off of you, rolling your body against the chromatic steel pole. It’s still warm from the previous dancer. Your anthem for tonight is seductive and slow, as most dancers’ songs are, and your face is the peak of seduction even as the inebriated crowd douses you with cash of all varieties.

After the dance, you’re slick with the slightest sheen of sweat. Nobody ever said dancing was easy, even the exotic kind. You walk to the bar, swaying your hips with every step. Despite the money you’d earned from your on-stage performance, you’re hounding for more. You refuse to leave with less than your month’s rent tonight. So you saunter to the bar, your sultry gaze scanning the sea of people carefully.

“A drink?” Jill, the bartender asks as you lean against the bar. She’s always liked you, so she slips you a free drink now and then.

“Please,” you nod softly and she smiles, ready to make your usual as a platinum-blonde man approaches you. He offers you no smile, just a somewhat menacing stare. You’d be scared if there wasn’t something so virginal about him. Otherwise handsome, with pale skin and blue eyes behind slightly dorky prescription glasses. Not to mention, he’s dressed in a suit.

“Lovely show,” he says with a somewhat nasally voice. Like clockwork, you smile and sip the cocktail Jill slides over to you. His lips twitch slightly at the corners- a smile by his terms in return.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Of course, dear.” He takes a seat on the stool beside you, flagging Jill over for a cocktail of his own. He seems confident, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s got money or because he’s talking to someone attractive. Your gaze remains steady on his face, although his trails much lower on you before flicking up to meet your eyes. Weird, you could’ve sworn they were blue just a moment ago…

“Do tell, darling,” he ghosts a pale, elegant hand over your shoulder, “how much would a few hours of privacy with you cost me?” 

Just looking at him, he seems like he has money. He reeks of crisp bills that can hardly fit in his overflowing wallet. Part of you wonders just how much you can get out of him. Your performance left you with roughly $360- not quite enough. Should you play your cards right, he could be your last customer for the night.

“Three hundred per hour.” You say with that same smile. He doesn’t flinch at the number like most men might. Then again, you get the feeling that he’s not like most men. He seems respectful, too- maybe you were wrong and he’s a regular, or maybe he doesn’t want to get kicked out. He nods and you finish your drink quickly. He does the same.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the back of the club where there’s less light and doors that lead to private rooms. If he were allowed to touch you, he’d offer you his arm.

-

You can always tell the experience level of men when they’re alone with you, away from friends whom they might try to fool with a hyper-masculine persona. This man- whose name you still don’t know- is similar to that. He grows a bit more fidgety, maybe out of impatience, and when he sits down on the plush velvet booth surrounding the stage, he struggles to stay still. He clears his throat quietly and looks away from you as you straddle him.

“So tell me,” you purr, cupping his jaw and guiding him to look at you in all your seductive glory. The way your hair is styled compliments your makeup, the curve of your pliant flesh between the straps of your skimpy bikini bottom that’s adorned with black gems, and your top decorated with those same gems. His cheeks heat up at the smooth sound of your voice, red tinging his alabaster cheeks. Nervous eyes trail up your body to meet your own, your heavy gaze inflicting arousal upon him. The heavy feeling pools in his gut, his cock twitching to life in his boxers.

“What’re you looking for? A lap dance? Something a little more?” It’s a little late to be asking that but you get the feeling he doesn’t mind. Even though you’re just hovering, you can feel a hint of the bulge in his pants.

He swallows thickly.

“What would a little more get me?” He asks quietly, his hands unsteadily hovering around your waist. Seeing such soft skin begging to be touched makes his mouth water. Little do you know- you might, given how anxious he seems to be- he’s had very few chances to touch someone as gorgeous as you. He’d taken none of those chances and to this day, remains a virgin. He’s not used to being so close to someone like you.

“Sex, sweetheart.” You rub his cheek with your thumb, resisting the urge to tease him into oblivion. Technically, soliciting sex is against club rules, but what your boss doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Would that cost extra?” “Yeah, it would. You buying?”

“H-How much?”

“An extra three hundred.”

He rushes to grab his wallet from his pocket and dig out the three hundred. You smile as you take it from his trembling hand and tuck it into the waistband of your panties.

“Thank you…”

“Albert.”

“Thank you, Albert,” you settle your full weight onto his lap, really feeling the extent of his boner under your clothed cunt. He groans quietly, biting his bottom lip as he stares wantonly at you. A soft giggle escapes your throat, “just a few rules though.”

He gulps and nods, trying his hardest to pay attention in favor of rutting against your warm, inviting cunt like a dog in heat. You let go of his face.

“One; you cannot leave bruises- no hickeys, scratches, bitemarks, etcetera. Two; no kissing, I need my makeup to be perfect. Three; I’m in control and if you have a problem, speak now or forever hold your peace.” You give him a moment to voice any protests, but he’s quiet as a mouse.

“Fourth and finally, if you cum inside of me, you’re paying me an extra hundred per load. Do you consent to all these rules?”

“I do.”

“Good man,” you feel his cock throb at the praise. Albert sucks in a sharp breath as you slowly roll your hips, a shaky exhale following when you guide his hands to your waist. His hesitance feeds your confidence like fuel to a fire. He tips his head back, each movement against his clothed cock forcing a pathetic whine from the back of his throat. He bites his bottom lip hard and true to a virgin’s ways, his climax is approaching quickly. Sure, he’s masturbated before, but this is much different. You’re so pretty and wet, your dripping arousal soaking through the gusset of your panties. Watching him slowly come undone, the menacing facade melting into the mess he’s trying so hard not to be is satisfying. You’re relatively unphased, even as his cock bumps your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. He’s getting too close to cumming.

“I-I’m going to- Wait, please,” he grips your hips tight, making you still, “I need to be inside of you.” You nod softly and scoot back a little, allowing him to unzip his fly and shove his pre-cum stained boxers down so his cock stands free. Pale fading to pink at the tip, weeping with sticky, salty fluid- he’s long, about three fingers thick, and clean-shaven. He looks down at your hand as you grab his length, cooing quietly at him with faux sympathy and stroking him once, twice.

“Please,” his hands ball into fists with the effort of his restraint. Needy, half-lidded blues meet yours again, “please fuck me.” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” You chuckle softly and push your panties to the side, careful of the cash hooked on your waistband, and shuffle closer. He nearly cums the moment you lower yourself onto his achy length, his mouth dropping open. You wince slightly at the stretch- it’s on you for forgoing prep, but how can you deny him when he’s so pliant in your hands? His hands shoot our to grab your waist firmly, struggling to maintain what little composure he has left. Panting, his cheeks are bright red, and he can’t stop looking at you. 

He allows you a moment to adjust- though it’s mostly for himself to will himself to avoid cumming on the spot. You’re wet and warm, gummy walls surrounding his length perfectly. It’s even better when you start moving, rolling your hips smoothly. Hands on his shoulders, you keep yourself steady as you ride him. Soft moans fall from your lips, his cock brushing against your spongy g-spot deep within your velvetine walls. He’s all but whimpering, his perfectly aligned teeth digging hard into his pale pink lower lip so hard he might bleed.

He does once you lean forward and move faster, your face just inches from his. If you hadn’t set the rule of no kissing, he’d be pressing his lips to yours to hide his pathetic noises. 

“You know,” you murmur, locking his eyes to yours again, “you look kind of like a puppy.” His cock kicks inside of you at that, a stray moan slipping from his lips. He shouldn’t like that, really. He’s a scientist- a virologist to be more specific-, a professional, uptight man, and yet he’s acting so subserviently. It would be bothersome if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you and nearing his climax quickly. 

Panting, he struggles to restrain himself. He can’t help himself as he leans forward and wraps you in his (oddly) strong arms, burying his face into your neck to stave off his orgasm for just a little longer. The obscene squelch of your slick makes his head spin, each roll of your hips making him grunt or groan louder and louder until-

“C-Cumming- cumming-” he rasps, his pulsing length spilling hot, sticky seed deep within your gummy walls. The moan he lets out is downright shameful, his grip on you tightening exponentially.

You gasp quietly at how much he cums and how deep it is, nearly reaching your cervix. You pause for his sake, allowing him to relax against your soft body as he recovers from his high. In attempt to soothe him a little more, you rub his upper back. He grumbles and pushes himself against the back of the booth, huffing. His once-perfect hair has become a bit mussed, likely loosened due to the light sheen of sweat. He can’t seem to look at you as he slips another hundred into the waistband of your panties alongside the three other bills.

“Do you want to-” He gestures to you, still straddling him with his soft dick inside of you. Like a nice man, he wants you to finish, but you know you shouldn’t. It would likely increase the chances of you getting pregnant and you simply can’t have that, birth control implant be damned.

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head softly and get off of him, fixing your underwear as you turn away to give him privacy. He tucks himself in his boxers and zips his pants up before fishing for his now-thinner wallet, though it’s not completely empty yet. If you didn’t know better (and you don’t, he’s a stranger after all,) you’d think he gets off on this kind of thing- his wallet being drained.

Albert hands you three more hundreds and mumbles a quiet “thank you” for your services. It hasn’t even been an hour, but it’s not like he cares. Who wouldn’t want to give their money to someone as pretty as you?

He’s satisfied by the looks of things, his face less red now that he’s calmer and more composed. You take the money happily, watching him walk to the door with a smile on your lips.

“What’s your name, dear?” He looks at you over his shoulder.

“Come back soon and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Albert leaves with that, his dignity shattered and his pride dismantled. 

Weeks later and you’re at home sitting on your couch, watching the news late at night after one of your shifts. You’re barely paying attention, looking through missed calls on your motorola cd930 when you hear a familiar name come up on the missing persons list. The news anchor is reading off a list of names from the most recent tragedy- a mansion exploding in Arklay County, where supposedly some members of the local S.T.A.R.S team got trapped and barely made it out alive (so you’ve heard.)

“Albert Wesker, Joseph Frost, Richard Aiken, Edward Dewey…” The tired man drones on, listing off the rest of the names as pictures start to pop up. Only one face sticks out to you.

“No way,” you sit up straight and lean closer to your television, your eyes focused on Albert’s picture. Save for the sunglasses, that’s him. You’re shocked and honestly a little disheartened. 

In your dreams, you see him again.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: the babysitter | part 2

part 1

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller/babysitter!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 3858

summary:

Joel is ready to move on from last week's....incident.

You're not going to let him off the hook that easy.

author's note: the people have spoken, and they want more joel x babysitter! everyone owes this anon for their original request. thank you all so much for your support on my works and for 600 followers. please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you enjoyed!

you can also buy me a coffee

content warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), pre-outbreak, age difference (21f and 36m), no use of y/n, sarah is younger than canon, joel's guilt about power imbalance dynamics and age gap, major daddy kink, dirty talk, guided masturbation, snooping/perv behavior, mentions of joel being on the atkins diet, begging, praise kink, pet names, orgasm control, unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if any are missing!

Joel’s palms are sweaty as he checks his watch for the hundredth time. You’re due at his house in five minutes for your scheduled evening of babysitting so that he can go out with his brother, Tommy, and he wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck if not for the fact that the last time you were here, he’d gotten his mouth on your delicious cunt and the taste of you is the only thing he’s had on his mind for the past six days.

He tries to block out the vision you’d made, writhing around on his tongue and fingers, hips flexing against his face as you try to keep quiet, but it’s a fruitless effort. And when he catches himself thinking about you, the guilt rolls through him in equal measure. You’re young, too young, and Sarah’s babysitter. His daughter adores you and would be devastated if he had to replace you because he can’t keep his fucking dick under control.

Which is why he’s so nervous tonight. He needs to be the adult in this scenario and put his foot down. What happened was a mistake and he would very much like to move past it, so long as you’re comfortable with that. If you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore, he’ll just have to grin and bear it.

A knock at the door interrupts his nervous pacing. Sarah flies down the stairs in a flurry of curly hair and gangly adolescent limbs, opening the door and immediately wrapping her arms around you. You hug the girl back, smoothing her hair and smiling down at her as she launches into a retelling of her past week away from you. Your undivided attention to his daughter and your kind, patient smile as you listen to her story make his heart clench in his chest.

Finally, you look up at Joel, giving him a sweet little smile of his own. He swallows nervously.

“Sarah, could you head upstairs and give us a sec to talk?” He asks his daughter. She pouts, grumbling about wanting to play Jenga, but does as she’s asked. You look at Joel expectantly.

“Listen, I just…wanted to apologize for last week,” he starts, running a hand through his hair nervously. “What I did was extremely inappropriate. And if you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore–”

“Woah, hey. Everything’s totally fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, cutting him off. 

He lets out a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” you reply. You place a hand on his shoulder and he can feel the heat of it through the cotton like a brand. He feels stuck in place as you squeeze gently, before letting your hand slide down his arm as you remove it. “I’m absolutely sure.”

You wink at him before taking a step back and head in the direction of Sarah’s room without looking back at him.

Shit.

______

You’re playing Jenga with Sarah, as promised when Joel pops his head into her room to say goodbye to his daughter. The young girl squeezes him tightly around his middle, looking up at him with all the love in her eyes. Your smile is soft as you watch the pair.

You’ve been Sarah’s babysitter for three years now, since she was three years old and Joel reached out to you at the recommendation of his neighbor, your former English teacher in high school. Back then, the stress of navigating the terrible twos and threenager stages of toddlerhood had really been wearing the single father down. Between his hard labor as a contractor and a strong willed daughter, he had been stretching himself thin.

You remember when you first met him. He’d answered the door with his hair still wet from the shower, slicked back from his handsome face. His brown eyes had faint circles beneath them and his smile was tight as he ushered you inside and introduced you to his daughter.

The little girl had acted shy but all it took was telling her your favorite Disney princess for her to emerge from her shell, her little fingers wrapping around yours to lead you to her room to show off her doll collection.

It gives you a quiet sense of satisfaction to look at Joel now and see that the circles of exhaustion have faded and that the tension in his shoulders has eased thanks to the break you afford him. You want to take care of him. To please him.

In more ways than one.

You shake yourself free of your thoughts as Joel turns to say goodbye to you. He lifts his hand in an awkward little wave before heading downstairs. You hear the front door open and shut, breathing a sigh of relief. The Jenga blocks tumble to the floor with Sarah’s next move, drawing you back to the present.

There will be time later to think about Joel. 

You just have to be patient.

________

You quietly shut the door to Sarah’s room before tip-toeing down the hall to the closed door of the master bedroom. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you tentatively turn the knob.

The room is dark, but you can make out the dark shapes of the furniture as your eyes adjust. Your eyes zero in on the large bed in the center of the room, the sheets still rumpled from sleep. Joel Miller doesn’t make his bed in the morning. Your tummy flutters at the idea of knowing this little tidbit about the older man.

With careful steps you make your way to the bedside table, flicking the lamp on. The room illuminates in the warm glow, and you take in the small details that make up the man you’ve had an all-consuming crush on for three years.

The hamper of clothes in the corner and the stray articles of clothing that didn’t make it to their destination littering the floor. His dresser is mostly clear, save for some mail and a bottle of cologne with the top left off. You pick the bottle up, the glass heavy in your hand as you bring it to your face.

It’s citrusy, like fresh oranges, but there’s an underlying spice to it that reminds you of fresh cracked pepper and your favorite bergamot candle. The scent settles over you like a comforting blanket, making a little shiver dance across your spine. You want the scent all around you.

On top of you.

Under you.

You set the bottle back down, moving on in your exploration. The cluttered nightstand calls to you next. 

There’s a stack of three books on the corner. One of them is a business advice book, likely for his endeavor to branch out and form his own contracting business with his brother, Tommy.

Another is a book on the Atkins diet, which makes you frown. Joel has an incredible body, the strength of it earned from hard work and the softness of it earned from a life well lived. Your mind drifts to thoughts of those strong arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him like he can’t bear to let you go. Or wrapped beneath your back as his hips slam against yours, his brow shiny with sweat from his effort.

Fuck.

The third book is a new copy of The Da Vinci Code. You open the hardcover to read the excerpt, only for a piece of paper to flutter to the ground. You bend to pick it up, turning it over in your hand.

It’s a photo of you and Sarah from when you took her to the aquarium on a day when Joel got called into work for an emergency at a job site. You remember Sarah had been bummed that she would miss her dad on a Saturday, one of the only days she got to spend with him since he always works so late. But the aquarium had mermaids and Sarah was obsessed with The Little Mermaid at the time.

The photo in question is of the two of you posed in front of the giant shark tooth display, your arm around Sarah’s shoulders and hers around your waist. The photo is cracked, like it’s been folded a number of times. You trace the faint line that bisects the image between you and Sarah. 

Folding it along the same crease, you’re left with just a photo of you. 

Interesting.

Mr. Miller can’t come home soon enough.

________

Joel’s feeling good as he unlocks his front door. The few drinks he had with his brother have softened the worries that linger in his mind surrounding you. Everything is going to be fine and the two of you can move past this. 

The house is dark when he opens the door, a surprise to him given that you’re usually watching TV in the living room or studying in the kitchen when he comes home. It’s quiet, too. No gentle hum of muffled dialogue from the TV or the soft music that you’ll play.

Joel heads upstairs. He pokes his head into Sarah’s room, her night light revealing a mass of curly hair tucked beneath sheets that she’s pulled up to her chin. There’s no sign of you in her room, either. He closes the door as quietly as he can, the click of the latch ricocheting in the quiet hallway.

He checks the upstairs bathroom, only to find it empty as well. 

Which means there’s only one other place you could be.

His heart rate kicks up as he approaches his bedroom. There’s a faint strip of light at the bottom of the door, like a beacon calling his name. With a deep breath, he turns the knob and steps inside.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” He hisses, shutting the door sharply behind him. 

You look at him through half-lidded eyes, right hand slipped into a pair of lacy white panties, fingers moving in slow circles beneath the fabric. Your hips jerk against your hand, back arching on the bed, his bed, as you let out a quiet whimper. You’ve got one of his shirts on, the fabric rucked up to the middle of your waist, nipples straining with your arousal. 

“Waiting for you to get home, daddy,” you reply, voice high pitched and needy. 

Joel sucks in a sharp breath of air, eyes fluttering as he tries to control himself. “Don’t call me that,” he finally says through gritted teeth. 

You regard him for a moment, and Joel feels like his every thought and emotion is flayed open for your perusal. “Why? Because you don’t like it? Or because you like it too much?” You smirk at him. “I found the picture, daddy. You been lookin’ at me all alone at night?”

Joel’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He stares at you for so long he can feel his eyes burn with the strain of trying not to blink, in case you disappear. He feels like he’s caught at the top of a rollercoaster, the biggest hill possible with the greatest fall on either side.

On the one hand, he could fall into bed with you.

On the other hand, he can fall out of your life.

And the physical pain he feels at that option has him rubbing his chest to soothe the ache.

He takes a cautious step forward. Then another. He sits himself on the corner of the bed as you watch him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Why’d you stop, baby?” He asks, nodding towards your hand. “You sure were feelin’ bold, snoopin’ around my room and gettin’ into my bed, huh?”

“Just wanted to be close to you, daddy,” you tell him. Your fingers start moving again, tentatively, nothing like the rapid rhythm from before.

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He asks, eyes trailing your body. “Lift up that shirt for me.”

You do as you’re told, your gorgeous tits on display for him. He palms his cock, rock hard in the confines of his jeans. 

“I want you to pinch one of those pretty nipples for me,” Joel says. He groans as you follow his instruction, thumb and forefinger grasping the pert nub, twisting as you moan. “That’s it, want you to get them nice and sensitive for me, princess.”

“Now, spread your legs for me,” he continues. “How wet did you get your little pussy before daddy interrupted?” You spread your legs and Joel can barely stop himself from reaching out to run his thumb over the wet spot that’s formed on the gusset. “I asked you a question, darlin’.”

“I-I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“Check for me, will ya? Slip those little fingers down there and show daddy,” he whispers. He can barely recognize his own voice, the deep tenor of it a register he hasn’t heard from himself before. He licks his lips as you slip your hand beneath the elastic, running your fingers through your pussy. He can hear how wet you are, the slick glide of your fingers echoing in his head. “Show me, baby, come on, don’t keep daddy waitin’.”

You withdraw your hand and hold it out for his inspection. The digits glisten with your essence, the earthy scent hitting him like a freight train. Joel groans, head dropping as he fights to keep his composure.

“Take your panties off,” Joel demands. You lift your hips from the mattress, pushing the scrap of lace down your thighs. “Give ‘em to me.”

You drop the garment in his outstretched palm. Joel brings it to his face, taking a deep inhale. The scent of you, the combination of laundry detergent and vanilla and the musk of your wetness left behind in the threads, has him feeling lightheaded with desire. You whine, squirming impatiently.

“Daddy…,” you whimper. “Please touch me.”

“No, sweetheart, I shouldn’t be touchin’ you but this…this is fine, right? This ain’t touchin’,” Joel says, moving himself closer to you. “This doesn’t count.”

“Can I at least see you? Please?” You beg. And god, with your big doe eyes shining up at him like that he’s certain he’d kill a man if you only asked.

Joel stands from the bed, eyes never leaving you as he fights to remove his boots and jeans and shirt. He grabs your panties from where he’d dropped them on the bed in his haste to stand, wrapping them around his palm and taking his cock in hand. He lets out a desperate groan that you echo with your own.

“Put those dirty fuckin’ fingers in your cunt,” Joel growls. You run a finger through your folds before sinking one deep inside yourself. “That’s it, honey, that feels good, right? Giving your pretty little pussy some attention?”

All you can do is nod, mouth open in a silent moan as you work your hand against yourself. “Wish it was you, though, daddy,” you whine, hips flexing as you use your other hand to rub your clit.

“C-can’t, baby,” Joel stutters, hand slowing on his cock to bring him back from the edge. The sudden rush of endorphins makes him lightheaded.

“Please? I’ve been such a good girl,” you say. “Just a little bit, please!”

Joel’s chest heaves with desperate breaths, heart nearly beating from his chest. He can’t do this, he can’t touch you, not again. This is safer, this is a compromise that he’ll just have to live with.

“Just a little?” He finds himself asking. “And then you’ll stop beggin’?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” you sob. He plants one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling up the mattress toward your sweet, soft body. He longs to touch you, to run his rough hands across the smooth skin, but he has to draw the line somewhere, even if the line is as permanent as smoke in the wind.

He kneels between your obscenely spread legs, your pussy glistening in the low light and the heat of you so close to where he needs it most he feels his resolve crumbling to dust. He gathers the spit on his tongue and lets it drip onto your mound. Your back arches, the motion dragging the sensitive head of his cock just barely through your wetness.

“Christ, darlin’,” Joel grunts. “I’m not gonna survive you, am I?”

“What a way to go, huh?” You reply with a breathy laugh. Joel smiles down at you, a little grin lighting up your face and he has a flash of a vision of you downstairs in the kitchen, giving him the same smile when he comes home from work. 

Joel shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts before they can embed themselves any deeper. He takes himself in hand, sliding the thick head through your slick before notching himself as your entrance.

Your pussy welcomes him with delicious warmth, the slow glide of his cock through your tight cunt pure torture. Joel keeps his eyes fixed on your face, on the way your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as you press your head against the mattress. Your body welcomes him, like he’s been the missing piece this whole time.

“Daddy,” you murmur as he bottoms out, the front of his thighs pressed to the back of yours. “You feel so fucking good.”

Joel’s cock twitches inside you, making you cry out loudly. He doesn’t even think before pressing a hand to your mouth, your eyes wide above his palm. 

“Can’t be sayin’ that, baby, I’m tryin’ to keep my promise,” Joel all but begs. His hips flex the smallest bit and he can feel the responding moan from your lips against his palm. “Fuck.”

Joel removes his hand and plants his palms on the mattress on either side of your head. You flex your hips, the movement sliding him in and out and fuck, he can’t take this anymore.

He hopes hell welcomes him with open arms.

Joel slides himself free of your body with a groan, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he twists your body beneath his. Your ass is in the air, putting your desperate cunt on display, begging to be filled again. 

He shuffles forward, thrusting back inside of you in one sharp movement. He can hear your muffled shouts being absorbed by the mattress as he pounds inside of you.

“This what you wanted? Huh? Wanted daddy to take this sweet little pussy?” He asks through gritted teeth. He groans, a deep rumble in his chest as he withdraws, slow as he can manage, to feel the grip of your walls around his cock. “Ohhhh, f-fuck, baby. You f-feel so goddamn g-good.”

You turn your head, and Joel relishes in how wrecked you look. Your hair is a mess and there are lines across your face, imprints of his sheets from being pressed into the mattress. Your eyes are wide and glassy, pupils blown so black he thinks he’d see the stars in your eyes if he looked long enough.

“D-daddy,” you whine. “Wanna come!”

“N-no, don’t you fuckin’ dare come until I say,” he growls, punctuating the command with a sharp smack of his palm across your ass. “You understand, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Fuckin’. Girl,” Joel growls, slamming into you with as much force as he thinks your sweet little body can take. You bury your face against the mattress as you sob, your pussy clenching tightly around him. 

He pulls out again and your body sags to the mattress without his support. He maneuvers your bodies so that you’re facing each other, pulling a leg over his hip so that he can thrust his cock into you once more. 

This position is intimate, your breaths mingling as he flexes his hips against yours. You brush your lips against his and he topples over another cliff, destroying another poorly drawn line as he groans into your mouth, clutching your body desperately to his as your tongues tangle together.

“This pussy,” Joel says, “feels like heaven, sweetheart. Fuck.”

“Please let me come, daddy,” you sob, your damp forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Please, please, please.”

“Just a little longer, baby, I promise, I just wanna feel you,” he murmurs soothingly. “You just feel so good, honey, I can’t let it be over yet.”

You give a sad little whine as you nuzzle against his neck, your lips pressing against his frantic pulse. You bite and lick and kiss at the delicate skin and Joel can’t hold back anymore. He needs to feel you come undone around him.

“A-Alright, baby, I’ll let you come now, okay? Can you do that for daddy? Can you soak his cock so fuckin’ good, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant. Each thrust Joel gives is punishing as he grinds himself inside of you. He slips a hand between your bodies to swipe at your clit before capturing your lips with his own to swallow the moan that spills from between them.

Your body goes tight around him, pussy fluttering and squeezing him within an inch of his life. He bites back his own release, desperate to feel you through yours. When your limbs start to go loose, he slips himself free, grinding his cock against your low belly until he comes, hot ropes of his spend marking your skin. 

He holds you as you both catch your breath, the cool air making your sweat slick skin break out in goosebumps that he chases with his fingertips. As the fog of his orgasm recedes from his brain, Joel feels the telltale tendrils of guilt creep in.

“Please, don’t freak out, Joel,” you say with a sigh. You lean back to look him in the eye. “I wanted this.”

“But—“ 

“Nope. Shush. Go get me a washcloth, please?” 

Joel stands on shaky limbs, heading to the bathroom to fulfill your request. When he returns, he smooths the wet cloth first through your sensitive, puffy lips before using it to collect the sticky mess he’d left behind on your skin. You watch him with another little smile, eyes soft and clear in your post-orgasm haze.

“Thanks,” you tell him before sitting up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a discarded t-shirt. You pull your shorts up your thighs, shimmying them into place on your hips. Joel feels his cock give a valiant little twitch at the sight. “Now, walk me out, will you?”

Joel feels like he’s got whiplash, following you out to your car parked in the driveway. He opens your door for you and watches you settle in. When you look up at him, he can’t help but lean forward and press a slow kiss to your lips.

“Drive safe,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. You roll your eyes as you shut the door and start the car.

Joel knocks on the window, a thought having occurred to him. You roll it down and raise your eyebrow at him.

“You left your panties,” he says. 

“Keep ‘em,” you reply, lips tilted in a devilish smirk. “I’ll be back next week.”

Joel Miller taglist: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123on123 @bean-is-readingng @darlingpedrodro @silkiers @pascals-cat

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[whirlybirbs]

I DIDNT ASK YOU TO CARE ABOUT ME 😭😭 YOU KNOW WHO

;   —   webs && whispers    |    miguel o'hara

summary: set pre-atsv. he's the hero. you're the villain. but, that's been changing, hasn't it? pairing: miguel o'hara / villain!reader (gender neutral) tags: pre-established 'situationship' aka hero v. villain, enemies to lovers, sexual tension thick enough you can cut it with a butter knife, established reader pseudonym a/n: ... the people asked, so the people got *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

EARTH-928B. NUEVA YORK. MANHATTAN. WEST & 13TH. 11:56 PM.

"You're a hard spider to find these days."

Miguel feels irritation slip up his spine long before the phantom shift of your voice meets his ears. It's a hazy sound, like a chorus of susurrations converging into one. 

In the last few months, he's grown accustomed to it. 

Miquel, however, isn't sure he'll get used to the way you slip in and out of space like the flea on the tightrope. Here nor there, always lurching between the frames in reality, always ephemerally present. And the sound — voices of past, present, and future all overlapping at once, then: silence.

In a disjointed stutter, you're suddenly close — encroaching on his personal space in a way that makes his lip curl. A flash of fangs emerges beneath his mask. 

His back is still to you.

"I'm not in the mood, Whisper."

Beneath your mask, your face twitches. He sounds exhausted — though that isn't entirely new for Nueva York's un-friendly borough-stalking Spider-man. 

"Are you ever?" you quietly chirp as you stalk up beside him; you cross your arms, "I'm inclined to think you're avoiding me."

Up here, on a penthouse roof backlit by the nightlife above and below, you watch tension ripple into his shoulders as he rolls his posture back. That black mask hasn't left the horizon. Tar-black eyes stare out over the city, only narrowing slightly at your accusation. 

"We aren't friends."

He turns to walk away.

In a rush of hushes, you appear directly before him.

"Mierda—!"

"Sorry."

"We talked about that, Whisper," Miguel leans his weight onto one leg, reaches up, and pinches his brow through his mask, "It's called personal sp—"

You roll your eyes. You straighten up and move to step back, but — instead — shift a meter backward. You talk over him.

"Personal space, right, sure, Spidey," you slip towards the edge of the building, planting a boot on the lip of the ledge. You wind your arms tighter around yourself, "You're ignoring my question."

"You never asked one," he grits; against his better judgment, he moves to your side at the ledge.

"It was implied."

"I've been busy."

"Too busy for your nemesis?" you tsk and click your tongue. 

He's looking at you now. 

"Please. 'Nemesis' is hardly the correct title."

You scoff. Your shoulders bob. "Oh? C'mon then, Spider-bite, what is?"

It's a fair question — one that Miguel wasn't sure he has the answer for. 

In the beginning, this little tango was rife with explosive violence, scalding anger, bloodied knuckles, and sworn endings. You were a terrorist, fated to exploit and destroy the people whose mistakes made you: Alchemax. He was the hero, destined to protect and serve the people of Nueva York. Good and bad. 

Constant. Like the rise of the sun and the fall of the moon. Spider-man versus Whisper. Frontpage headlines. Time and time and time again.

Then, something shifted. Miguel can't remember when it began, or why... But, the collisions of fists became a tandem of fists. A team-up brought on by — was it Mysterio, maybe? You never liked the guy. 

Lyla remembers. She remembers everything. The footage from the incident is shaky — blame the multiple CCTV views all meshed together in a hot tangle of the canon-relevant plot. 

Spider-man is down on his luck. On his knees. Mysterio: laughing. Vitals: dropping. Three ribs: broken. Mask: compromised. Lyla's footage swivels inward, the sight of Miguel's one eye. A rageful carnelian smithed hard into a pained gaze. 

Then, you. Standing: tall. Voice: rageful. Fists: lit with power and already cracking across the opalescent globe of Mysterio's helmet.

SPIDER-MAN IS MINE. 

Yours. 

When did that happen? When did you begin to see his side, when did you begin to admire the safe consistency he built in this city? When did you envy it? When did the rage fade at the thought of him? When did something more tepid, more comfortable crawl in?

You turn your face upwards; there's a when moment your masked gazes connect. For a moment, things are still. Slow. There isn't danger here, nor hatred nor anger. The tension is different. Palpable still, but it feels like swallowing roses more than blood.

He looks away first.

"Try 'Number One Annoyance'."

His voice is distant.

You hum. "Care to enlighten your 'Number One Annoyance', then? You've been gone. People have noticed."

He was afraid of that.

Miguel exhales tightly. "Get out of here, Whisper."

He can feel your scowl. Then, your physical form flickers for a moment. A wash of emotions is present — a tell. In the past, that was how he knew you were going to snap. Now, in this context, he isn't quite sure what to make of it. There's a rush of voices, smothered quickly by a grounding inhale. 

You're quiet for a long moment then. Miguel's chest is tight — it's guilt.

"I'm only asking because I care," you finally say; it's like it's been wrenched out of your chest by his own clawed fist. It's an admission as quiet as the shadowed hushes that follow your every warp through space. 

He reacts coldly. The only way he knows how to these days. "I didn't ask you to care."

The claws twist. 

Another fast crackle, transparency pulsing quickly through your spine and nerves. Here nor there. Ephemerally calm. Like the ocean before a storm. Your face twists fast to his. Mask be damned. Miguel can see anger. 

Guilt. And the dawning realization this was a mistake. 

"It's better if I do this alone," comes the follow-up. It's... gentler. Still cold. Harsh. 

You look away. "Do what?"

Your eyes stay affixed to the horizon. Spider-man doesn't move. The stirring in your chest hurts. Hurts worse when you realize he's right. After all, he's the hero and you're the villain. You both have roles to play. Parts to act. The show must go on. 

"...A part of you knows I can't tell you that."

You sigh, rolling your neck, "You're right."

"...And a part of me wants to tell you."

It's quiet. Nearly inaudible. But you hear it. And you can't help the loose grin that flashes across your face at the admission. Your scoff is more like a huff. Gloved palms slip to your hips as you step back from the ledge. 

Suddenly, the tension is different. Lighter. Like it was a handful of weeks ago before he disappeared into the woven stream of time. 

Miguel follows suit. Beneath his own mask, his expression has lightened. 

"Yea?" you ask, stepping back like a prey recognizing the hunt. 

Miguel steps forward, shrugging easily. His voice is almost playful. "Yea. But, y'know, last I checked you're wanted on a new charge of grand larceny—"

"Oops. Sticky fingers," you chitter with a waggle of your hands. He watches you slip downward and through the fabric of space. You emerge behind him in a whisper of wind. 

Miguel is quick, he catches your hand with a web and tugs. You let yourself land in his grip — his black-gloved hand wraps around your wrist. He knows you're allowing this. You could easily wash away through the air, manifest around him in any three-meter radius. 

The closeness is tight.

"While the Spider's away..." he tsks.

Your glove slips around the web and tangles it tightly in your fist. You push back and move around him. He's allowing this. His arm crosses behind his back. You absently admire the ripple of muscle there. 

Then, you unceremoniously kick the back of his left knee and he crumples. The grip on his hand is tight. Miguel grits his fangs. 

"Play nice," he warns.

"I've known you long enough to tell when you're stalling, you know," you let slip the chirp with a sly look at the black and red Spider-man. 

On cue, there's the hum of a patrol copter over your shoulder. A few blocks away, still, but it's coming. Somewhere, in the bowels of the city, sirens begin. 

[ BOLO ALERT, MOST WANTED. ALIAS: WHISPER. ]

"If you leave now, you'll beat them by a minute," he says slowly, "Sixty-five floors is quite the trek."

You loosen your grip and gently shake the web from your hand. Miguel rolls his shoulder. You slip through time, landing before him in a low squat.

Your voice is sincere. 

"Try not to be a stranger."

"No promises."

"I'd never ask for one," you call over your shoulder as you stand and move towards the far ledge. Your costume, as pitch-black as the darkest night, is light in red and blue from the arriving patrols.

Just like that, in a haze of voices and a whisper of time, you're gone. 

And Miguel is left to himself on that rooftop, again.

[imustbenuts]

i finished metaphor refantazio which means i can talk about this game's themes with a working braincell now.

under the read more: pre-ww2 japanese history and religion fuckery. word vomit for anyone who might be interested in my perspective

Major spoilers head

i was RIGHT about louis being enamored with the royal family in some way and having a buttfuck ton of the royal family flowers in his room in his airship. i think this plot point is now heavily hinted at but currently discarded due to development/writing hell. i think louis probably followed hythlodaeus v out of the sanctum in extreme admiration. he has a lot of similarities with More in that they both had reality + lonliness crushed into their faces. his current self in the game is driven by despair and fear.

this is interesting bc theres actually also a lot of allusion to japanese pre-ww2 history going on from my admittedly very limited knowledge. so here goes:

There's a lot about Louis that reminds me of the whole shitshow going down during the Meiji era up until ww2. the gist of this past 200 odd years was that the western world came in knocking with christianity as a tool for colonization. which was understandably yikes, so they shut themselves off, only to then get another visitation later with pretty intimidating technology in the form of iron steamships with cannons. gunboat diplomacy. this meant that a previously imperialistic japanese society build on conquering had to react/adapt to this drastic force like fucking whiplash.

so they pretty much went from pro-military samurai shogunate to pro-emperor. the gist is there was a very pro-emperor-god-king rhetoric going on that sought to rid anything inconvenient towards that narrative. to keep people in line yes but to also get japan big and powerful enough to sit with the same western colonial powers.

so in place of the old caste system under the shogun, there eventually were now oligarchies, far right military factions etc under the emperor. only something like the top 5% of the population had a say in this new democracy system they set up too. (it got way more democratic in the 1930s? not sure. but what im saying here is 1860s-1900 ish at least)

so things were going. for a while. messy, full of 'expel the foreigners, revere the emperor' rhetoric but it was going.

then more depression happened and the overall economy went to shit in 1900. that era leading up to ww2 had a lot of young men in Japan being extremely nationalist and pro military, in part due to a whiplash of culture change and in other due to poverty. (ive come across the topic of white rice being offered for those who conscript. white rice was seen as the emperor's luxury food so that was somewhat of a draw to young men back then.) There were a lot of far right political factions and assassinations going on. international relations were also imploding bc the military had this idea that japan was the superior divine race and they were destined to conquer the world/asia. so they did some sabotaging false flag operation shit in manchuria in order to try and start a world war. (Mukden incident. 1931)

Which is then not a surprise that in 1932 a prime minister by the name of Inukai Tsuyoshi got assassinated by a bunch of far right pro military guys in their 20s. They were even then praised by the judge bc of their act being seen as pro-emperor and therefore patriotic. Bc again emperor god king delusion.

(read up on the League of Blood incident where these people also plotted to kill the oligarchs and liberal politicians. they uh actually succeeded in some cases btw. look, too much shit.)

meanwhile, the emperor, Hirohito, wanted peace, wanted better foreign international relations and relayed his desires to the same Inukai Tsuyoshi, but the military was going out of control. (and Inukai got assassinated so the position of prime minister is now Not Safe.) so out control they eventually became beyond any civilian/state control and bam ww2. pearl harbor and all that stuff.

(i havent read up on what kind of person hirohito actually is so ill refrain on commenting on his character. but in terms of actual power over his country hes VERY Hythlodaeus V in metaphor)

so while there isnt an organized religion in the form of a church, there is absolutely an element of religious and military fanaticism in that era.

So Louis has a lot of this vibes going on. He was also a young military boy. Is young probly in his 20s. Has a lot of royal flowers in his skyrunner that points towards this royal family worshiping thing. Seized control of a military faction that went completely out of control from the state. Is of some 'pure blood' race if his elda bloodline is any indication. Murdered the pro-equality but failed figure head bc he did not live up to Louis' expectations and was responsible for a lot of failures in the state policy. started a false flag operation that resulted in people dying and forced to leave an area.

also, did i mention lowkey eugenics? yeah that same imperial military was big on this too. the strong will survive the weak will be culled etc etc.

Meanwhile the mc gels well with the benevolent emperor narrative that is popular in JP media even today. I think it could be some indicator of how the general japanese feels towards the royal family, since supposedly an emperor is sworn to an oath of leading with valor, wisdom and benevolence. These are also represented by 3 regalia, a sword, a mirror and a jewel, presented during the official coronation ceremony.

The regalias might be treasures from different tribes originally, at least that's what some scholars think.

So I won't be surprised if the Drakodilos lance ends up being a part of the imperial treasure thing after the mutsari tribe gets protected under law. the mustaris here are the aforementioned 'different tribes' thing.

in fact, more on this topic with the mustaris. these people arent just random tribal people, to me they are more south/south east asian people. their biome is jungle island like, which means polynesian, and places like philippines, vietnam, thailand, indonesia etc.

the brown/tan skin is found in a lot of SEAsians, and the third eye is too a popular asian mysticism thing. it is especially prevalent in hinduism and buddhism. the idea is that a 3rd eye means enlightenment, or at least the ability to perceive the unperceivable.

if we subsitute sanctism with shinto, then theres some parallels here to be had with whats going on at the time too. bc the funny thing im seeing here is, shinto is sanctism, and mustari's religion has big buddhsim vibes without the name.

(that mustari arc boss looks like a twisted banged up buddha/boddhisattva what with the prayer position and multi arms thing going on)

in that pre-ww2 time period, shinto buddhism was going through a split and defining in order to prop up the emperor god king narrative. this process meant suppressing elements of buddhism. wont get into the reeds of this, but know that buddhism originated in india in a response against the hindu caste system. so in a way, a 'foreign' religon.

now, there is absolutely a thing going on here where Me:Re can come off as inherently pro-emperor and even a little pro-japanese nationalist, what with the whole 1 nation of vaguely SEAsians under a (japanese written) king thing. frankly, as a SEAsian this is gross but nothing surprising considering how hard Me:Re feels like an echo of pre ww2 jp politics. and also how jp media tends to be with topics surrounding this. im iffy on the japanese nationalist part, bc the needle is definitely moving in terms of racism/colorism today, and in the game lacks certain elements for me to see it as a big red flag.

that said, i wont immediately napalm the intentions behind this game to the ground. this game has got excellent commentary on racism and some stuff about policies. its got nuance. it is even a criticism against how the old japanese empire tried to go about doing things. it is open to the idea of democracy and even seems to say that politics arent perfect and can fail but its better to try than not at all.

this is far more valuable than blatant doomerism imo.

all this is why in the final segment, we fight More in the middle of shibuya scramble. this isnt just meta for the sake of meta, its allusion to their history specifically. this game is NOT so much a criticism about organized religion as it is about governance in relation to its people. this game is talking about politics without specific policies.

i can respect that despite all the major ick i might have.

this is why despite saying oppression is bad, it doesn't have any queer representation because it's leaning towards a conservative pro emperor ideology on the overall spectrum. Queerness is not part of that century old conversation at all in this context so take this as you will.

(personally the fact that queerness is not even remotely touched on means the overall thoughts on opression hasnt radically changed. Personally, this, specifically, sucks. Bc this means this narrative feels like it could've been easily released even 20 years ago and brought the exact same challenge to the table but ymmv. I suppose this is why people have been saying the game reminds them of old jrpgs.)

sooo yeah Me:Re is very much a big middle finger to fanaticism, but is also very japanese history at its roots. i had fun, and it def made me think