#warning fanart approaching

[artist-issues]

Well, now they’re even!

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing of Angela Baker from the film Sleepaway Camp. It depicts Angela with her face warped into a gaping smile, mouth open wide. Her eyes are also wide, and she's staring off to the left with her eyebrows raised. There is blood on her neck and chest, which is only just visible and seems to be bare. Her hair is messy, and fades into the black background. The colour palette is comprised of muted neutrals, which make the black lineart and background, and the blood stand out more.]

Inktober - Day 22

Film - Sleepaway Camp (Robert Hiltzik, 1983)

[anonwithanaccount]

so as the last drawing of 2023 i've decided to post cringe since im still in CRK brainrot

so uh- yep here they are

enjoy

[arolesbianism]

Sigh. It begins (being forced to see the worst aro hcs I've ever seen in my life because ppl have a talent for finding the absolute worst characters to be their token aro hc)

[coffee-and-geto]

“IS THIS WHAT YOU EXPECTED?”

✶ pairing: ryomen sukuna × f!reader

✶ summary: yuji itadori had been your crush for a while now. to try and get closer to him despite your bashful nature — you asked him to a movie night at your place. but nothing goes as planned when sukuna takes possession of him and makes you a deal to help you get closer to your friend…

✶ warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, possessive! sukuna, dirty talk, degradation (slut, brat), dub con, dom! sukuna, sub! reader, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), yuji is an aged up character, swearing, fanart found on pinterest if you know the artist let me know pls.

✶ wc: 2, 946

“Oops…” murmurs Yuji as you come down the stairs of your house with a small stack of DVDs in hand.

The bowl of popcorn that you filled just five minutes ago for your movie night is now empty, and you blink as you approach the kitchen counter. “Yuji…” You snort and go to fetch another bag of popcorn from one of the cupboards to refill the bowl.

The sound of popcorn kernels clattering fills the room, and Yuji has a slight pout on his lips. He takes a few hesitant steps toward you and seeks your gaze. Still new to the romantic feelings you had for him, his unusual closeness catches you off guard, and you slowly back up to the counter in measured steps. You force a natural smile, and your heart races at the sight of your friend, whose eyes show disappointment.

“It’s nothing, Yuji. I usually have a lot of popcorn,” you try to reassure him. “But you have quite an appetite for such a fit teenager.” You swallow thick.

Yuji lets out a nervous laugh, seemingly more at ease than a few seconds ago, “You think so?”

Your eyes drift down to his body, eyeing his exposed forearms (he had kept his sorcerer uniform on despite your recommendation to get comfortable), and the defined muscles do not escape your notice: for a teenager his age, Yuji Itadori was very fit.

“Yeah... Pretty much…” Your eyes linger for a moment longer before you look back up at the pink-haired boy whose face you dream of covering with kisses.

Dressed in your pajama shorts and a simple t-shirt, it’s hard to stay perfectly calm, especially when your crush is less than two meters away from you.

Yuji steps forward nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, and steals a piece of popcorn which he skillfully tosses into his mouth. “So, what are we going to watch?”

“I was thinking about some thriller movies or something like that. I’m not too fond of horror movies,” you admit with a shy smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Are you afraid you won’t sleep at night after that?” Yuji teases you. You nod toward the small stack of DVDs, and he takes the liberty of looking through your selection. “Scream’s pretty good,” he comments, picking it up to examine it with a ‘professional’ eye. Yuji’s brown eyes land on you, and you feel an uncomfortable warmth rise in your neck. “The DVD is new. Have you seen it before?” he asks with a surprisingly gentle, almost… concerned and indulgent tone.

You shake your head.

“I won’t spoil it, but I really liked it,” Yuji sets the other DVDs aside and shows you the one for ‘Scream.’ “Is that okay with you?”

You nod faintly, and a slit appears on Yuji’s cheek. It opens, revealing two sharp canines that are easily recognizable from spending so much time with your friend.

“Damn it, you two are really embarrassing to watch.” A voice escapes from the slit — the mouth that acts as an intermediary with Ryomen Sukuna.

“Hey! Go back to sleep!” exclaims Yuji, almost slapping himself, which makes you wince.

A hysterical laugh echoes, and black marks now streak your friend’s face. The laughter and the slit disappear, making way for Ryomen Sukuna. He stretches his arms up, flexing smoothly. “Ahhh!”

You try to back away but have forgotten you’re leaning against the kitchen counter. Now you’re stuck with the King of Curses…

“D-Don’t come any closer…” you whisper in a trembling voice, eyes wide with terror.

Another hysterical laugh escapes Sukuna’s lips. His eyes — so different from those of your lover — examine you from head to toe, and one eyebrow arches. “What was his type again? Tall girls with big asses?”

You blush at his mocking tone and don’t dare say a word. Even your breathing seems to have become labored, as if the oxygen had thickened in just a few seconds.

A sneer never leaves Sukuna’s lips as he approaches you with an overwhelming air of confidence. When he reaches you, he narrows his eyes and looks you up and down a second time. “So this is the kid you want to flirt with?” His voice is dripping with arrogance…

You swallow hard and don’t dare to respond, your throat tight and your wide eyes fixed on the tattoos of the King of Curses.

“Come on, rabbit, cat got your tongue?” Sukuna snickers.

You shake your head, and a rough whisper escapes your dry throat, “N-No…”

“Oh really? Because the atmosphere a minute ago was so cringeworthy! You two looked like a couple of idiots fresh out of their mother’s womb, ugh!” Sukuna leans in provocatively, his hot breath brushing your cheek and stealing your own.

“What do you want from me?” you murmur reluctantly, pulling your head back slowly to find some breathable air.

“Nothing, just to avoid hearing your terribly awkward conversation any longer,” Sukuna replies, shrugging.

“It wasn’t awkward, you made it seem that way. Give Yuji back his body,” you dare to retort. Your heart pounds faster and harder in your chest, loud enough for Sukuna to hear.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. I don’t want to deal with the stifling aura of a hormonal teenager again.” Sukuna rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side. “Do you like this brat?”

You squint without answering.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he raises a playful eyebrow. “How about we make a deal?”

“No,” you reply immediately.

“What an ingrate! I grant you my tolerance and you dare refuse a deal I give you?” he retorts with a much less sympathetic aura. His hands leave his pockets to rest on either side of the counter, effectively trapping you with him. “I don’t recall asking you a question.”

And his voice immediately makes you regret your words. Being trapped at home with Ryomen Sukuna was not something you could let slide, much less making a deal with him. “No, actually— I—”

“Hush.”

Sukuna’s hands slide from the counter to your hips, gripping them firmly, making you startle in place. His lips descend to your neck, leaving a line of soft kisses, causing a slight shiver. His eyes notice the goosebumps on your skin and his lips curl. “Is this what you expected?” His whisper reverberates like a shockwave through your entire body.

“I— You— No,” you manage to reply almost in a gasp.

“Here’s my proposition then. I help you get closer to the brat on one condition.” A manic smile lights up Sukuna’s face, and your heart now tries to escape your chest.

“What?” you let out almost in a whimper when he presses his lower body against yours.

“Let me use you.”

Your breath immediately reacts to the panic that overwhelms you. No way. You’ll end up dead in that case.

“No, that’s out of the question—” You try to finally slip out of his embrace, but your strength doesn’t match Sukuna’s. He applies more pressure on your hips and plants a kiss on your trapezius muscle. "Just for tonight. Nothing bad will happen to you…” His insistent tone is like a flirtatious purr.

The sensation of Yuji’s lips and much more on you and the idea of being closer makes the blood rush to your head, so how can you refuse such a tempting offer?  But the awareness that he’s using Yuji’s body cools your thoughts.

“No, I can’t— It’s disrespectful to Yu—”

“Are you his owner to know what respect means? Do you think I’m unaware of his adolescent thoughts imagining you with him?” Sukuna’s hands move up to your waist, his nails digging into your back, eliciting a whine from you. “The number of times he’d dreamt of hearing you moan like that?”

If your face could get any redder at this point, the blood might as well explode from your body at any moment.

Your features twist in irritation and anger at what he said next. “If I let myself get fucked by someone like you, I’m sure I won’t come out of it alive!”

A chuckle is your only response. “I’ll try to go easy then. But no promises.” Then he grabs you by the hips to lift you onto the counter and roughly spreads your legs. He slips between them and captures your lips in a rough and hungry kiss. Your breath leaves your lips as he swallows it, not giving you a moment to respond to his taunt. You respond against your will, your lips devouring each other and teeth clashing.

Sukuna sinks his teeth into your lower lip, making you suck in a sharp breath. His wet tongue soothes your aching flesh and moves down your throat to lick a strip of bare skin. The tension and weight of his movement make you shiver, and you hastily take the initiative to remove your shirt, revealing your chest encased in a bra. It rises and falls with your breathing, radiating a heat full of desire.

Sukuna lets out an appreciative whistle that makes you blush. “Do I still need to take control?” he teases with a smirk. “Or is this the behavior of a slut?”

The label makes your heart tremble, and your hands quickly find Sukuna’s neck to bring his addictive lips back to yours. He immediately returns your kiss and plays for a few seconds with the strap of your bra before finding his way to the clasp and undoing it. The bra falls to the floor, and Sukuna’s hands find the curves of your breasts. A whimper escapes your lips, and you close your eyes for a second to savor the new sensation.

A growl is blown from him after breaking away from your lips to snake a path to your collarbone, which he wastes no time in nibbling on. A small jolt shakes your belly, and you tilt your chin up to give him more access to your body. You almost desperately try to remain silent, but it’s difficult when Sukuna’s mouth suckles on a nipple anything but gently. The pressure makes you moan and grimace in pleasure.

“Sukuna—”

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, moving to your other nipple. He gently nibbles on the hardened, sensitive bud while his other hand keeps the other nipple occupied, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You hum and place your hands on your thighs to keep them from trembling — in vain. “The kid wasn’t wrong,” Sukuna murmurs. He wraps his arms around your waist and swiftly carries you to the couch. Your back sinks into the soft cushions as Sukuna’s skilled fingers find the hem of your shorts and remove them completely, with no regard for your embarrassment. His legs straddle the armrest of the couch, and he brutally spreads your thighs, remaining still, his eyes fixed on the large wet spot at the center of your panties. “Who was talking about respect for whom, again?” A dark, mocking smile questions you.

A tremor runs through your muscles, and you prepare to close your legs, but Sukuna anticipates the movement. He places his hands on the inside of your plush thighs to keep them wide open. “Is the dirty slut afraid?” He chuckles before sliding a finger along the side of your underwear, teasing and toying with your swollen core. “So wet f’me…” Your eyes take in the sight of Sukuna’s face: dilated pupils, slightly parted mouth, and almost ragged breathing. He’s practically drooling at the sight of your clothed intimate area.

Blood pounds in your temples when he easily removes your panties, leaving you naked beneath him. His forefinger and middle finger hover over your wet, dripping entrance. “Already worked up by a few kisses…” he comments, and you can only look at him pathetically.

“Sukuna, please…” you whimper as the sensation of his two fingers gliding from your sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves to your wet folds makes you want to moan even more.

“Please what?” he repeats, focused on your entrance that tightens and closes around nothing. “Already begging?” He bursts into a fit of laughter. “I can’t wait to fill you with my dick…”

“Need you,” you whine with a pout and pleading eyes. And God, he wants to take you rough and fast at that moment.

“Again.” He looks up at you. “Beg for it.” His brown eyes burn with desire — a desire so intense, it could destroy if he didn’t play it patiently.

“Please… Sukuna… I—” But you’re cut off by a yelp from your throat as Sukuna’s fingers plunge hard into you, and he hisses to contain himself.

You’re incredibly tight. Your gummy walls cling to his fingers as if afraid they might escape.

“Fuck… You’re so wet…” He growls, moving his fingers in and out, making you tighten even more. Uncontrolled moans escape from you, resonating in the room.

“Sukuna… hgnn— so good…” you moan pathetically, squirming under him like a trapped mouse in his snare. His pace doesn’t change, going in and out of you, reaching that spot deep inside you each time he goes deeper.

“That’s it… Moan my name,” he murmurs, accelerating his pace. You convulse on the couch and grip the edges of the seats as if your life depended on it.

And reaching the depths of your pussy, Sukuna grins and bursts into laughter at your body’s reaction. You almost scream his name, and your walls swallow his fingers. They curl deep inside your womb, and your trembling legs and ragged breath testify to your state approaching the edge of ecstasy. “Sukuna— Please… so close...”

“That’s it… Cum on my fingers… I want to see you fall apart in front of me…” he whispers in a husky voice. The speed of his fingers thrusting into you increases, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and almost scream his name.

“Cumming…!” you pant as your back arches and your walls spasm around his thick fingers. You squirt and sob his name pitifully.

Sukuna curls his lips into a sadistic smile and gradually slows the pace of his fingers inside you. He eventually withdraws them completely, admiring the shiny slickness coating his forefinger and middle finger.

“Hmm…” he hums, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste you. He growls in satisfaction and wastes no time removing his pants and underwear, leaving you barely a moment to take in the sight of his throbbing bulge finally being freed.

If you had bet on Yuji’s length size, you could have won much more money than you thought.

It was just like in your dreams, large, thick, aching, and slightly veiny. Your lips part, and you don’t take your eyes off its reddened, sensitive tip. Sukuna grips his length in his hand and brings it to your needy pussy. The tip meets your swollen clit and taps it.

Sukuna’s lenght twitches slightly in his hand, eager to fill you. The aching tip glides along your folds, spreading them to stop and position itself at your entrance.

“Uh… Can we go—” But you’re cut off. You scream in surprise as his thick member fills your hole in one go, reaching the bottom with almost no difficulty — except for your tightness revealing a side of Sukuna you never thought you’d see: him, teeth and jaw clenched, holding back everything except a low growl and dozens of curses to convey how good you feel wrapped around him. His member splits you in a delicious embrace. Eyes closed, he starts a slow in-and-out motion, forcing you to sob his name in pleasure.

But the only downside was that you weren’t quite used to him yet, your body writhing to try to slow the pace. His hips buck against yours more and more quickly. With each thrust, he hits your gummy spot, making you tighten around him and moan his name, the sound of which is like music to his ears.

Another growl escapes Sukuna as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, nibbling your shoulder. “Take it… Take it…” he keeps murmuring between loud breaths.

“F-Fuck… It’s too much…” you gasp, gripping his shoulders with your hands. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders, and every time his slams into you hit your g-spot, it’s like you’re about to cum any moment, fucking both your cunt and your brains out mercilessly.

“Take it, slut,” he growls in your ear, his lenght twitching in you, ready to fill you with every pound he makes. “I’m gonna fill you up… Fill you until you scream you can’t take it anymore…”

His hips relentlessly roll against you, and Sukuna revels in the cries of pleasure you express. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, on the verge of exploding. One final pound inside you and it bursts as you reach your climax around him, fucking you even through your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls at such a rapid pace it feels like you’re emerging from a near-drowning experience.

Your waning orgasm is quickly followed by Sukuna’s. “Sh-Shit… Fuuuuck…” he growls in your ear, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Without warning, his orgasm take over him and he finishes inside you with his hot, thick load into your tight hole.

Now, only rough groans and sighs are heard in the room. You let your head fall back onto one of the sofa seats and close your eyes, exhausted. Sukuna slowly withdraws from you and lies down by your side, one hand still around your hip in a possessive embrace.

“You know, brat, if you’re not Yuji’s type, at least you’re mine. Just sayin’.”

✶ a/n: this fic wasn’t planned MWAHAHAHA! i’m sorry tho 😭 it’s been 3 weeks or more than i’m promising to post my fashion designer! suguru fic and i didn’t finish it. i’ve got problems to solve and it’s making me more stressful than i thought 🫠 hope you enjoyed anyway (it’s my first smut tbh)

[tarjapearce]

Ok, ok, ok, hear me out….

Tarzan Miguel…

Ahh, nonny. Casually just saw this scrumptious fanart of him as Tarzan by @Miuworm in X 🫠. And yeah. (Kinda amazed at how you guys manifest these things 🤭)

Like Me

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

WARNINGS: nothing too bad. Depictions of violence, a bit of implicit gore and animal death. No proofread.

Summary: Your savior from a certain death is quite touchy-feely.

Another for Miguelverse ❤️✨

The furious waves of the sea clashed over your body, submerging it in the freezing and alive water.

Arms moved, swimming your way back up, gasping for a much needed gulp of air as soon as you reached the surface.

Peeking around you, trying to find something to get a hold of or climb on, exhaustion was crawling up to your limbs, like hypothermia.

Fuck

Mind cursed with every foul word you could've imagine. How did trip ended up like this? In what moment the clouds turned so grey they darkened the sky, announcing a downpour with a loud rumble? It all took minutes to go sour and south.

You were there to do a land recognition, and see if you could get home some new species. Sergei Kravinoff, or Kraven The Hunter, was the lead of your expedition, all financed by a man named Kingpin.

Your name was called, echoed in the distance.

"Over here!!" You flailed your arms in an attempt of being seen, and hopefully the debris wouldn't blear their sight to find you.

You swam in the direction of the voice, teeth clattered, tool belt heavy on your hips, but you knew if you lost them, any possible chance of getting another were impossible. Plus, Kraven hated it when you lost your equipment as they weren't cheap.

Every paddle of your arms felt heavier, like if your wrists had been tied up with iron pounds, dragging you down. Lips turned blue and trembled. Salty and cold water doused you, but you weren't to give up.

You had fought your way to get a spot in this expedition and a pathetic ending like drowning wasn't an option. You spotted a wooden board floating nearby.

C'mon!

Your hands stretched towards it anf finally managed to keep yourself afloat. Panting, groaning and shivering, letting the cold to finally sink in. Feet had started to numb out, ragged breaths turned laborious.

Once more someone called you, this time you recognised the voice. Peter, the other nerd according to Kraven. You two were the ones selected to be the scientist that would lead Kraven to a certain victory in Nueva York.

Ever since Norman Osborn and Otto Octavius had discovered new species of spiders and reptiles, everyone proclaimed them geniuses ahead of their time, leaving the hunting behind.

Kraven was set into getting either a new species or something alike to regain his forlorn glory. He refused to be forgotten.

But everything pointed that the island you were now had a mind of its own. As if preventing anyone to delve in further into it's secrets.

You were pulled out from the board by Peter that immediately covered you up in a raggedy blanket. Despite the fabric being old, it gave you enough warmth to avoid death taking a hold on you.

Kraven cursed in russian, but was hopeful y'all be found soon. The ship's black box was ruined, your luggage at least was minimal, and it was enough to be saved by ether Peter or anyone kind enough.

A powerful and enormous wave had turned the boat upside-down. Knocking everything loose out of the board. The guns and other tools were the only things that survived.

But, you hoped, the whole fiasco was just temporary. Fisk wasn't a careless man, he'd probably send help soon. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your bones to freeze.

----

You woke up nearby the makeshift fireplace, relishing the heat your body had lacked. Clothes were humid, but no longer soaked and freezing.

Sighing, you stirred awake, letting the tension leave your body with a groan.

"Hey, wake up." Peter approached, concern etched into his features as he helped you on your feet.

"Where's everyone?"

"I... We uh, got lost. One moment Kraven is here and the other he's not. Left us behind. Or, he also got lost."

"Kraven? Lost?" Peter could sense the deadpan in your voice and he sighed, exasperated.

"I'm just trying to light up the mood. He was pissed. So I assume that he just thought he'd do it himself." He shrugged and you sighed, rubbing your neck.

"Great! now we're lost, my luggage is nowhere to be found but at least we have tools, right?"

The faltering in Peter's face made yours to fall as he shook his head.

"God, I swear... Fuck him. If I'm discovering something, Ain't sharing with him!"

"Let's focus on surviving first. The soil is rich, meaning the jungle is nearby."

"And so is the wild life." You sighed and Peter groaned.

"Look, thinking negatively won't take us anywhere. I'm not saying either let's throw a party for being stuck in an unknown place. But we gotta move. It's about to get dark."

"Right... You're right" You rubbed your face, exhausted, at least you weren't freezing anymore. But being at Nature's mercy wasn't pretty either, yet again. You were selected by none other than Sergei. If he trusted your judgement to be valuable enough, why couldn't you?

With a new resolution in mind, you took the raggedy blanket and other little tools Peter managed to salvage and soon ventured yourselves in the thickness of the jungle.

-----

Sun had long disappeared in the sky leaving a faint trail of golden and orange in the clouds, and you were certain that it had been hours since you walked in the jungle. No signs of Kraven or the caravan of people.

No signs of society or at least his stupid russian jokes that you were sure people laughed at by sheer convenience.

The only advantage Kraven possessed in his favor, was him being an avid hunter. You only studied species, animals and flowers to be more precise, and had a little knowledge of mechanics. Enough to fix your own machines and trinkets. Peter was an expert in mechanics and soil. You followed him.

"I think I've seen that rock before" Peter sighed as he slouched against a tree.

"Don't say that, Parker." You wheezed as you followed him, resting your aching back against him. "I'm definitely finding some poison and put it on Kraven's drink."

"Relax. Without us he's going into unknown territory."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's a professional hunter. And I hate with passion skirts."

The distant rumble of a storm approaching echoed through the sky.

"A hunter, not a geologist. He acts like an animal to get animal bodies."

"Still, he knows his way around these places, Pete."

"Shooting things till they're dead isn't knowing about things"

Peter stood and offered his hand.

"Uh-uh I just sat down."

"We gotta at least go upwards. This area is prone to flooding."

With a vexed groan you took Peter's hand and he pulled you up. You were tired of walking, but if he said you needed to advance, you obeyed.

"Fuck..."

----

Despite the soaking rain pouring around you, Peter had found an amalgamation of trees and branches supported by a hollow tree.

Birds chirped and cawed, bugs joined the concert once the rain subsided, the distant flapping of the birds and the rustle of leafs prevented you from lowering your guard. The only comforting thing besides Peter's company was the petrichor smell, pungent in the air.

You'd spend hours inhaling the gift of nature, if it wasn't for your belly grumbling, and Peter had ran out of cashews.

Even crickets sounded tempting to eat. With the right spices, they tasted crunchy. But all you could do was to imagine their taste as it was time to move again.

"Knowing Kraven, he'd go up to the mountains, probably they've sent a camp nearby a river. So let's look for one."

"Yeah, even better so I can drown that fucker in. He better pay us good for this stupid prank."

Peter chuckled and looked around for a minute, his blue eyes narrowed upon setting his sight in a tree trunk. Broken in half, but what truly made his... whatever this unpleasant feeling to rise within was the vicious marks indented on the tree bark.

Powerful scratches filled with bloody chum and crimson liquid, paw like marks painted in the trunk. The source of such gruesome spectacle laid in whatever pieces was left a couple of inches away.  He could make out a tail, and small hind legs. A baby monkey, or rather half of it.

"Uh... We better hurry."

Peter swallowed, and the urgency in his tone only made your worry to shoot heavenwards.

You both walked, speeding up the step. Unaware of the keen eyes, hidden in the bushes that followed your every moves like a hawk. A low growl filled in the space he occupied.

---

You were certainly to die.

Undeniably, and it didn't matter how fast you managed to run, the jaguar quick paced trotting had you pushing your limits. Tears blurred your sight, as a garbled sob escaped your lips.

Scratches adorned your arms, decorating your flesh with fresh oozing wounds, dirt and leafs stuck to your marred flesh.

Chest heaved with deep and ragged pants, wobbly legs menaced to give in under the pressure at any second

You were going to die.

Even though life had been incredibly dull and the only comfort was your investigation, you didn't want it to end so soon. Not whenyou were about to accomplish a promise to yourself.

Peter had gone lost and separated once the chase began. One minute he was before you, and the other, your friend was gone, out of sight and reach. But the relentless giant feline behind you preferred you. An easy prey.

Your wails and cries for help fell upon deaf ears, who would listen to you in the middle of the jungle? For once you wished to have Kraven's gun expertise.

You didn't care if hypocrite defined you right now. You took a thick branch, swinging it with difficulty and pain at the euphoric beast, like a demotivated baseball player. But the jaguar's claws swatted the useless weapon away from your hands, and making you stumble on the ground.

This was it.

Oh God, oh my god, no, no no

The animal pounced and by instinct, you shielded your body with your shaky limbs. But no harm came.

You could feel the beast's warm and bloodthirsty breath on your head, snapping it's maws at you, desperately trying to reach for a bite of your supple flesh.

Eyes wide in horror, and disbelief. The jaguar was held by his tail, earning whoever that was holding it back from devouring you a couple of swings with it's sharp claws. But the animal was set into getting to you. It pounced on your boots, claws sinking on the back of hour ankles, earning a sobbing and painful wail.

A gruesome crack and a roar echoed behind you, and only then you were able to see your savior.

The tallest man you've ever seen, even taller than Kraven, strong and well built physique, a rich tanned skin full of scratches and long healed wounds. Hair long, reaching a bit past his shoulders, muscles that heaved and rippled in every breathing you did. Body hair etched beautifully in his skin.

Covered in nothing but a loincloth.

If it wasn't for you being at the death's gates, you'd take your time to study him.

You gasped as he held the oversized cat with his hands and slammed it on the ground. They circled eachother, shifting between the roles of hunter and prey.

The feline hissed, and the man returned the threat, a cold sweat ran down your spine upon watching two overgrown canines, on his mouth. Fangs. He had fangs. Brown eyes stared at the four legged monster, defying it.

And soon the jaguar took his invitation. The two majestic creatures fought, enraged, proving their prowess to eachother, disputing the role of Alpha within the jungle's hierarchy. They rolled on the ground, biting and clawing at eachother.

With a lurid snap the man cracked the beast's neck, earning an agonizing wail from the mean cat. He staggered before slamming his fist on the animal, forcing the last breaths out of the beast.

His nose flared, proudly, while his hands slammed his chest.

Terror was still taking a hold of you, and there was nothing you could use as a weapon. Your hands braced your shoulder as you tried to carefully stand, but your clumsy feet stepped in a branch, snapping it in half, like the jaguar's neck. Brown eyes were immediately on you.

You swallowed hard.

He approached, hunched and prowling over, his knuckles and toes supported his hulking frame.

"S-Stop!"

He quirked an eyebrow, curious and within seconds he was before you.

Breath hitched on your throat, face so close to yours, he could feel your breath blowing on his chin.

You hissed as he took a hold of your arm, examining the damage. There wasn't rage in his features but nothing more than untampered curiosity.

His hands reached for your hair, sniffing the strands, you couldn't help but giggle when his nose hovered over your head, sniffing you, a bad moment to be ticklish, really.

Breath caught again as his nose nuzzled your neck.

"W-Wai-" His fingers prodded at your lips, rubbing the calloused thumbs on your soft mouth. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his firm and hairy chest

He toyed with your face, examining it with child like wonder. He turned, prodded and licked your cheeks, reminiscing in your taste with a confused look.

"U-uh, sir-"

What is he doing? oh god.

He hunched even closer to rest his ear on your chest. Heart pumping violently inside your ribcage, eyes darted towards the covered mounds, he sank his face in between them, taking a deep inhale. A low growl came from within and your cheeks flared in a deep flush.

Oh shit, shit

His hands cupped your mounds, sending a shiver through your body, but you slapped his hand away. He looked taken aback before baring his teeth to you.

"No!" You covered your chest and backed away, but his nose flared to then grab your head and placed it on his chest a tad forcefully. Warm and plush skin met yours. You gulped again.

Powerful echoes boomed through his chest.

The natural musk of him tickled your senses, his hands roamed your lower back and your alarms flared.

"H-hey, hey!"

He pulled your feet up, sending you tumbling backward, skirt rolling down your thighs, exposing your legs to him.

You tried to cover your skin by gathering your skirt up. His nose again sniffled as your wriggled underneath him. Hands prodding and picking at your toes, earning a clumsy giggle

His touch was like molten lava, it sent a shudder down your spine.

His fingers were having a good feel of your flesh, as if confirming you were real.

With each discovery his interest only grew. He then cupped your face again, smooshing your cheeks together, giving a deliberate lick on your lips.

"T-The polite thing to do is to take me out before that happens!" You mumbled nervously while trying to get yourself free.

His eyes narrowed once more as he lifted up your skirt completely, revealing your panties.

It gave you little to no time to prepare you for his next move. He sunk his face in between your thighs taking a good whiff of your scent, another pleasant growl came from him, by reflex, your hand slapped him. And this made him look at you, confused but clearly upset while holding his cheek.

"No! Stop it!" You warned while gathering your skirt underneath your knees and pointing at him. Cheeks impossibly red

He seemed to understand as he crouched before you. Muscular thighs flexing as he sat, mimicking your actions.

"Uh, uh. No. Don't do that"

"Uh Uh, No. Don't do that"

He repeated with the same authoritarian tone. Voice surprisingly rich and alluring. Your eyes went wide.

"You can speak!"

He repeated like a parrot.

"Can... Can you understand me?"

His brows furrowed then quirked. He was about to come up with a reply when the rustling and your name being called echoed behind the foliage.

"Over here!!!" You shouted, this alarmed the man as he stood, backing up from you with a mistrustful glare.

"Wait! No no! Don't go!" Your hands wriggled, but it was futile.

He left before anyone could see him. Climbing the trees like it was another playground game, until he disappeared out of sight.

None other than Kraven showed up, machete on hand, swinging it the weeds and plants that dared to cross his way.

A shit eating smirk plastered on his face.

"See? I told you, she'd be fine." Kraven patted Peter's shoulder as they kept moving to find a perfect spot for the camp.

Kraven crouched to where the jaguar's body laid and looked at you.

"What happened?"

"I... don't know. I-I panicked. Was running from a snake and I found that there."

Sergei just hummed, as he watched the body, eyes raking the feline's carcass before beckoning two of his men closer.

"Skin him. Don't have this type yet."

Kraven took a deep inhale. Death's stench sparking alive the hunter in him.

"Whatever killed it, needs to be in my personal collection of trophies."

Peter in the meantime cleansed your wounds with water, to then apply some clean bandages on them.

The whole group moved, upwards to the mountains.

"What the heck happened!?" he whispered aggressively

You made sure for Kraven to be within a reasonable distance to speak again.

"You won't believe me if I'd tell you."

Cause in truth, how would you explain a man, taller than Sergei, killed with his bare hands a wild animal and got way too touchy with you but is able to speak?

The road was long. You had time

Peter sensed your discomfort and pressed no further. However, the feeling of being watched never waned. It was the group, against the jungle's secrets.

----

Taglist:

@fayeofthenightingale

[blockedbykei]

𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬

🏐 — hinata shoyo x f!reader

— synopsis: he always had a lot of energy. the boy made out of literal sunshine. but he also knew how to made your knees weak and made butterflies flutter around your stomach

— warning: timeskip!hinata being SUCH A FLIRT (art not mine)

— a/n: now i know hinata would be such a dork when he's older when it comes to girls but lord this FANART i am like melting HNGH

hinata was a ray of sunshine; everyone knew that.

you felt like you'd burn if you get too close to him, your fingertips feeling that gratifying burn when you graze his soft, tan skin. he always managed to bring a smile on your always frowning face, always made you laugh when you felt like crying.

in your eyes, hinata was the kindest man you knew who always had an amicable energy in his veins. that serotonin in your veins, the adrenaline rush in your brain. the one that made your heart pound.

so seeing him tower over you, cheeks flushed, breath of sweet vodka, eyes drooping in some kind of flirtatious approach with his hand beside your head, pressing against the rough texture of a brick wall, you feel butterflies prodding at your knees to weaken them.

his eyes— usually full of exultation, are now heavy with amorous vigor. the corner of his lip is twitched upwards, his other hand using his thumb to graze the skin of your chin, tracing up to rub the moist skin of your bottom lip.

"you..." he murmurs, eyes glancing between your lips to your eyes. you can't help but keep your lips parted, head tilted upwards to look ay him. this feeling is foreign, this sight is bizarre. "do you know how beautiful you are?"

there's a shaky sigh that leaves your lips at that question, your head tilted upwards to look into his eyes. "thank you...?"

"you have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart," he chuckles, his eyelashes fluttering, his voice deep. hinata wasn't lightweight; a few sip of vodka felt like drinking water to him, but you're beginning to wonder what it is that gave him the courage to speak to you like this.

your hands wrap loosely around his wrist, the other on his chest. you feel the hard muscle tense beneath your fingertips. "what do you mean?" you ask, breathless.

"you drive me crazy," he smiles, his bottom lip catching between his lips. "you and your voice, your laugh, your smile, those gorgeous fucking eyes,"

his hand that was on your chin cups your face, his thumb on your cheek, tilting your head upwards so that your lips were directly parallel against his. there's a small sound emitting from the back of your throat that just made him a little smug.

"so, so beautiful," his eyes trace the features of your face, like mapping and placing a pushpin on the parts he loved the best (he loved your entire face). "so gorgeous. fucking stunning."

"shoyo,"

"i want you," he inches closer, nose nudging against yours. "you're everything that i need."

then his lips hover over yours dangerously, like he's tiptoing the edge of a cliff, experimenting the way the skin of his lips graze yours. you want to melt into him, get your fingers lost in his hair, get lost in him.

"can i kiss you?" he almost sounds taunting, like he knows you want him to kiss you. "pretty please, angel?"

"yes," you breathe out, the hand on his wrist coming up to grip his hair. "please."

his lips taste of alcohol, sweet alcohol and him— full of fervor, hunger, desire to take over you, sweet yearning. his tongue wastes no time to graze the bottom of your lip and slip it inside your mouth.

heavy breaths. his body inches closer to yours and locks his legs between yours, the hand against the wall wrapping around your waist to push you against his chest, his mouth moving against yours in harmony.

"shoyo," you murmur against his hot mouth. hinata smiles.

"yeah?"

"nothing," you laugh, rubbing your hand against his chest. "just wanted to say your name."

hinata moves the hand on your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly. "i love it when you say my name."

HNMGH reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

[wriothesleybear]

Based off of this magnificent fanart

~warnings: a lot of fluff and romance, a bit suggestive in Wrio’s part, fem!reader. Word count: 1.6k

~a/n: I couldn’t get over the fanart of Wrio and Diluc as firefighters and I just had to write about it. It’s my first time writing for Diluc so I hope it’s ok. This is also in honor of getting a body pillow of him. It’s so beautiful and I sleep much better with it.

Firefighter!Wrio who you met when he rescued your cat from a tree. You couldn’t help but swoon from the image of this large, buff, muscled man holding a little kitten in his arms. You thank him and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He was about to ask you for his number when he got called for another emergency. You meet him again when your cat gets stuck in a tree again. He feels slightly guilty for being thankful that your cat got stuck again so you two could meet again. After he hands you your cat back, he smiles down at you and asks you for your number. You blush and give it to him.

Firefighter!Wrio who is the type of boyfriend to tease and flirt with you. He has a playful and chill attitude outside of work compared to his focused and serious attitude at work. He likes to carry you a lot, either bridal style or throws you over his shoulder to get you into a giggling mood. It always cheers you up when you’re feeling down. Loves tickle fights. He will actually chase you around the house until he catches you, dragging you to the couch so you two can snuggle. Once he’s got you in a cuddle hold, there’s no getting up for a while.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves kisses and make out sessions. While you’re busy doing something, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses down your neck until you decide to drop what you’re doing and give him your full attention. He enjoys when your fingers slide down his body, nails lightly scratching his skin as you admire his build and muscles. He really likes it when you pepper kisses on his scars.

Firefighter!Wrio who is a mixture of a golden retriever boyfriend and scary dog boyfriend. The golden retriever portion is due to him doing anything for you and being needy for affection. He’s always touching you in some way and follows you around the house like a puppy. The scary dog boyfriend is due to him looking scary to those who don’t know him. The piercing, scars, and large build sort of intimidate other guys from approaching you or bothering you. Little do they know, he’s just a golden retriever boyfriend who wants affection and cuddles. He is very protective as well.

Firefighter!Wrio who is great with kids and animals. He lets kids decorate his items with stickers because he can’t say no to them. If it makes them happy and smile, then who is he to take that away from them, he’ll deal with the onslaught of stickers. He sometimes thinks about what it would be like if it was your kids that were covering his things with stickers.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves to lay on your chest while your fingers rake through his hair. It helps him sleep better after a long stressful day. He acts a bit off when he’s had a hard day. He doesn’t really like to talk about the bad work days because he doesn’t want to spread the negativity to you but you can tell when he’s had a bad one. You don’t try to push him to talk if he doesn’t want to so you just open your arms for him and hold him. He can feel the weight lift off his shoulders when you hold him. It lets him know that it’ll be okay and that you’re always there for him even when you don't verbally say it or not.

Firefighter!Wrio who exercises on his free time. You love watching him work out and he likes your attention on him. Your eyes focus on his muscles as they flex when he does pull ups. Droplets of sweat slide down his sweat slicked skin, causing his skin to glisten in the lighting. While lost in your daze, you’re snapped out of it when he leans down in front of you, a hand positioned on each side of you on the bench, and he makes a flirty comment like “Darling, you’re drooling a bit. Am I really that mesmerizing?” as he gives you his signature teasing smirk. He’ll then offer you to join him in the shower. It turns out to be a very long shower that involved more than just washing each other’s body.

Firefighter!Diluc who you met when he saved you from a small kitchen fire. You were trying to bake something and it didn’t work out, therefore, it ended up in a fire. You felt so bad and embarrassed but he just reassured you that these happen a lot so it’s no big deal. He looks at the burnt pastries and points out that you accidentally put the temp up too high for too long causing the fire to occur. He sees the shameful look on your face and gives you a gentle look and some reassuring words on not to give up on baking. You smile and thank him and he swears his heart skips a beat at your beautiful smile. He’s unable to think about it further as he’s called away for another emergency.

Firefighter!Diluc whose heart skips a beat again when you show up at his firehouse later that week, gifting him some pastries you made as a thank you. You joke and say that they should taste better than the burnt ones you made last time. He covers his face to hide the slight blush that begins to cover his cheeks as he accepts your gift. You two exchange numbers as friends until it develops into something more.

Firefighter!Diluc is the slowburn type. You two start off as friends first, hanging out and all that until romantic feelings begin to blossom between the two of you as you get to know each other more. When he's sure you feel the same, he gathers the courage to ask you out on a date. He gives a small smile when you say yes. His shoulders relax and his heart is racing a bit more when he finally hears that you feel the same.

Firefighter!Diluc who is the protective type of boyfriend that spoils his s/o. He loves spending time with you doing mundane things. Cooking, having movie night, reading together, shopping, etc. You two could be doing the most boring activity and he’d still enjoy it because all he cares about is being with you.

Firefighter!Diluc who is a great cook and enjoys cooking/baking with you. He gives cooking advice and hugs you from behind while you cook. He says it's easier for him to help and supervise what you’re doing this way, but in reality, he just wants to be close to you as much as he can. He’s more than happy to taste test your cooking creations. (Plus he helps to make sure you don’t accidentally start another fire again). He thinks your concentration face is adorable.

Firefighter!Diluc who gives you a passionate kiss before he leaves for work. Neither of you ever know what could happen so he wants to make sure that you know how he feels about you in case it’s the last time you see him. He keeps pictures of you and him together in his work locker. It comforts him when he misses you and gives him the courage and strength to make sure he comes back home to you.

Firefighter!Diluc is the type to not discuss his work at home as well. He wouldn’t want to burden you with stress and worries. When he’s had a bad day, he’s pretty good at hiding it, but you’ve learned to read his cues that show he’s not doing too well mentally. You immediately drop everything and guide him over to the couch where you let him bury his head in your neck as you hold each other close. His hold is tight around you, but not constricting. You give him words of comfort while rubbing his back and playing with his long, beautiful red hair. He basks in your affection and comforting touches, inhaling your scent which helps calm him down as he nuzzles into your neck.

Firefighter!Diluc who lets you play with his hair. You have a blast trying multiple different hairstyles on him while he relishes in the feeling of your gentle touch on his hair. After a long day, when you two take a relaxing bath, he appreciates it when you take the time to wash his hair. It’s a rewarding massage that helps him relax and feel sleepy. He swears you have magical hands by the effect you have on him. All you have to do is touch a part of his body and he melts into your touch.

Firefighter!Diluc who loves holding hands with you. The feel of his warm, calloused hands compared to your gentle, soft ones. Your touch is like heaven to him. He prefers leaving kisses on your hands the most. Please cup his face. He’ll absolutely melt right then and there and give you anything you want. He also likes resting your foreheads together. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you close as you cup his cheeks, leaning your forehead against one another and gaze into each other’s eyes. He thinks it’s the most intimate and romantic thing you two do.

[cursingtoji]

inspired by this gorgeous fanart

“mm good morning” you smile greeting choso, even before you open your eyes.

his long hair tickles your chest as he leaves sweet kisses on your neck. you extend your arms to hug his shoulders to which he hisses.

“sorry, angel, but your acrylics were particularly sharp last night” he apologizes by giving your cheek a long wet kiss as you move his hair to the side and try to look over his shoulder to see the damage you caused on his back.

“cho~” you whine sadly, not realizing how deep you went until you saw the dark red marks on his pale skin, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“i liked it” he whispers, “but it’ll sting for a little while.”

“how can i make it up to you?” you wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer.

“by joining me in the shower” he pecks your lips, chocolate eyes lovely gazing at you with some black eyeliner smeared underneath.

“let’s go then” you kiss him back taking your time to lightly suck his bottom lip.

“actually” he sits up with you on his lap, “gotta make yuuji breakfast first, so… afterwards?” he asks insecure if you’re willing to stay that long.

and how can you say no when he looks at you like that?

choso gives you a clean boxer and one of his black worn out band shirts before you use his bathroom to remove the remaining of your makeup and brush your teeth.

when you go down stairs choso is scrambling some eggs with nothing but grey sweats on, you shouldn’t tease yourself by approaching him… but he looks so sexy by the stove like that, messy hair down from the usual buns, scratch marks on his back and clearly no underwear.

choso says your name in a warning tone when you kiss the space between his shoulder blades, a sneaky hand goes to his front, feeling his abdomen contract under your palm.

“i know…” you retract your hand before things escalate and yuuji catches you in a compromising situation… again.

last time yuuji wasn’t even supposed to be home, so you two took the liberty of fucking on the couch and almost breaking a limb when the pink haired boy arrived from the party that ended up sooner than expected covering his eyes and shouting apologies while choso cussed him and you tried to calm him down and cover your chest at the same time.

well at least it was a funny story to tell your friends the next day.

choso calls for yuuji before turning off the stove and adjusting his pants. you put some coffee for the two of you then take a seat at the table.

he’s still looking for something inside the fridge when yuuji arrives, slapping a hand on his brother’s bare back.

“oh hey, good morning” he greets you with a smile while choso softly curses in the back.

“morning yuuji” you smile back, rubbing a hand on choso’s arm as he sits down slowly next to you trying to not touch his now very sore back on the chair.

“so…” yuuji takes his plate of eggs and juice then joins you at the table, “who’s paying for my noise cancelling headphones?”

[artist-issues]

-have some Sam and Five doodles I drew while running Season 5 missions and forgot to finish-

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 2

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Spotify Previous Part

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring” words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi

[sunshinescribes]

The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

(edit: realized the original artwork was fanart and I couldn't find the artist's @ to credit them, so I changed it)

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.  

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable. 

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.  

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

“S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—CHAPTER TEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: ANGST

Warnings: swearing and just angst.

Notes: Yayy! An update after being gone for a month or so lmao XD but anywho, heaven and back would be updated next week, I'm still finishing the chapter up lol.

Second notes: incase if you haven't seen the Azrael fanart my friend did for me, here's the link~! And also, did you know we have a discord server? Here's the link to it:3 come and join, everyone is friendly<3 and if you're already part of the server, come and say hi too:D

Word count: 4.6k

PART ONE I PART NINE | PART ELEVEN | NAVIGATION

Michael lets out a deep exhale once he finally hears the door to [Y/n]'s room clicked as he closes it. He was beyond worried when he heard the news of what happened to her. He blamed himself for being the cause of her passing out, if only he didn't send her down there then she would've been fine.

Michael leans against [Y/n]'s door, running a hand through his soft blond locks, eyes closed as he sighs.

Unaware of the approaching dark haired taller male.

Azrael's eyebrow raised as he noticed the blond man scrunched against [Y/n]'s door, seemingly in deep thought.

Azrael heard what happened and he immediately rushed back to heaven after his work, he was worried sick for the woman.

He sighs, although he didn't show it. His charming and mischievous face remains unchanged as he approaches the door.

“Michael, didn't expect to see you today.” Azrael says, his usual teasing and sultry voice catching Michael's attention.

Michael's head raised up—previously hung low—to look at the source of the voice, only to see Azrael in his deathly glory.

“I heard what happened so I immediately came here to check up on her, especially knowing she went down there and possibly saw him.” Michael explained and Azrael fought back the urge to roll his eyes at the man.

“Still wondering why you chose her to go down there, I was willing to take the load off her shoulders.”

Michael sighs, running a hand through his light blond hair, he doesn't get paid enough for this.

“I know and I suggested it to her right? To do the rock-paper-scissors game again after she lost but she was determined to take the case and I needed to respect that, she was fully prepared to go down there.” Michael explained, exhaustion evident on his voice. He was confused too, worried even. He can only believe God's words, the man sees everything—the past, present, and future.

He can only trust his judgement despite how it pains him to see [Y/n] suffer.

Azrael sighs, stuffing both of his hands in the pocket of his pants. Decided not to further question the man and possibly aggravate both of them.

Fights between Virtues are close to non-existent, but never zero. Arguments can be dangerous for powerful heavenly beings such as themselves.

“I shall not question you further, I'll hand you my reports later this evening so for now, excuse me.” Azrael says with a sigh, walking past Michael as he knocked on [Y/n]'s door before entering.

The door closed with a click. Michael was alone in that hallway after, with a sigh and finally drooping his heavy shoulders, he walked away.

For someone to be God's right hand man, he doesn't know anything. He has no choice but to place his trust in their heavenly father.

Who is currently away to a place they don't know.

‘What a mess,’ Michael thought to himself, the worried expression on his face disappearing as it was replaced with his usual cold and aloof facial expression that he is known for, shoulders straightening up, his footsteps fading as he disappeared from the hallway.

[Y/n] was blankly staring at the ceiling as she was lying down on her bed, seemingly lost in thought.

Azrael sighs, heels clicking as he walks towards her bed, [Y/n] shifted her head to look at the sound of the noise just to see Azrael, sitting on the empty spot of the side of her bed.

She gave him a weak and tired smile.

“Are you alright? I heard what happened,” Azrael muttered, a worried look on his face, “What did I tell you about pushing yourself to the limit?”

“The audacity to say that to me with your nonexistent sleep schedule—” [Y/n] says with a teasing tone but got playfully smacked by a pillow by none other than Azrael.

“I am death, I do not need sleep.”

Azrael says with a small pout, returning back the pillow to where he got it from, crossing his arms and crossing his long and slender legs.

[Y/n] chuckled softly, moving her position to sit on the bed instead of lying down.

“I mean... You looked like death.” She says, Azrael raises his eyebrow at her.

“I don't know why but I feel offended by that statement—”

[Y/n] stares at him, almost a deadpan looking the man up and down, “Come on... You know what I mean.”

“It's the bags underneath my eyes isn't it?” he asked, deadpanning at her, “Michael has it worse, stop attacking me.”

Azrael sighs, sometimes he forgets how difficult she is.

‘Dear father, give me the strength not to end her myself. I'm just kidding, I didn't mean to say that—’

He thought to himself, letting out a long exhale as he saw the teasing grin on the girl's face.

“You're trying to distract me.” he says, eyes narrowing into a deadpan, his lips still in a pout.

“Is it working?” [Y/n] asked with a playful tone, eyebrow raised teasingly at the male.

“Unfortunately.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, long and slender fingers weaving through the dark black locks in slight frustration.

Whenever he's with her, he sighs a lot. That's something he noticed a long time ago.

The heart palpitations he gets whenever she's near might've not been because of attraction, it's probably because of stress.

She stresses him out.

Okay, just a little bit.

Azrael sighs once more, [Y/n] resisting herself to burst out into laughter, “That's the sixth time you've sighed.” She points out, Azrael deadpans at her.

“Thank you for keeping count, I really appreciate it.” He says, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“You're welcome, death.” She says, it was enough for both of them to burst into chuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock was heard from her door, catching both of them off guard.

The door opens. A long dark blue haired woman can be seen standing by the door. Her hair tied into a ponytail yet her hair still reaches her waist. A serious look on her face.

Gabriel is here.

‘Oh shit.’ Azrael thought to himself, a shiver running down his back.

The room suddenly felt colder with the woman's presence. Something that often happens whenever Gabriel is in the room.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Gabriel, known as God's messenger; she handles reports that are needed to be passed around between realms.

It is natural that the news of Raphael collapsing would immediately reach her.

She can never understand what [Y/n] sees in Lucifer, sure she can see the vision but after what happened and what he did to [Y/n].

She gets the ick.

When the meeting about Sera and Adam's actions were held and the meeting also included about this 'Hazbin Hotel proposed by none other than Lucifer's daughter.

Someone needs to oversee it.

Unfortunately, [Y/n] lost the game that decides that.

The other members thought it was a bad idea but [Y/n] insists, saying that it's fair.

She doesn't want them to baby her. She wants to prove to them that she's okay.

Gabriel was beyond worried, [Y/n] is like a little sister to her despite their ages being so close to each other.

She trusts [Y/n], she can't trust Lucifer.

She couldn't trust the man who abandoned his wife for another woman.

Especially when she learned that Lilith left Lucifer.

It made Gabriel smile when she found out.

Qui totum vult totum perdit, as she always says.

Which translates to, ‘he who wants everything, loses everything.’

Michael usually refutes it with an, ‘Omnia causa fiunt.’

Which translates to, everything happens for a reason.

She doesn't understand Michael sometimes, despite knowing the man for many eons now.

She supposed Michael has some secrets to hide as the heavenly father's right hand man.

She couldn't imagine the burden he's carrying but then again, everyone in the seven virtues has something to hide.

She hums to herself, her mind returning what she was previously thinking.

What was she talking about again?

Oh, Lucifer.

Lucifer got greedy, he lost both of his wives in the process.

What differs him from the first man then?

Nothing.

After all, he is the embodiment of the sin of pride.

He is prideful, arrogant, and greedy.

Not much of a difference between him and Adam, except for how they show their arrogance.

Lucifer became blind when given the opportunity to act upon his God forsaken dreams.

Gabriel grimaced at the thought. The very dreams that doomed humanity.

With that blindness, he lost everything in the process.

As what he deserves.

Gabriel wonders why can't [Y/n] see that a man is willing to go on his knees to worship her?

Azrael, the angel of death.

The virtue of humility. Despite Azrael's slight narcissistic personality, the man knows how to be humble.

Despite the popular belief.

The man knows how to control himself. He knows the difference between being arrogant and being proud of one's achievement.

Unlike Lucifer.

Although, Azrael is borderline to it, she won't speak about it though. Nope, nuh uh.

How funny, Lucifer the sin of pride and Azrael the virtue of humility.

Gabriel almost chuckled at the thought, ‘I supposed there are two sides of the same coin.’

With a sigh, the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors came to a halt.

She stood in the hallway of the Caeles mansion, facing the door that leads to [Y/n]'s room.

She can hear [Y/n]'s muffled behind the door, along with a familiar voice of Azrael laughing. Though, muffled.

Gabriel tilts her body slightly to the side so she can gaze outside through the many windows that are in the hallway.

Dark evening blue skies are what she can see, the sun has set a few hours ago.

She's not sure, the concept of time doesn't matter to an immortal being such as her.

She turns to face the door once more, taking a deep breath as she composes herself.

Stand straight, chest up, shoulders back. Confidence.

She knocks and opens the door.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Azrael smiled nervously at [Y/n], patting the girl's head before getting up from where he was sitting—the edge or side of [Y/n]'s bed—his heels clicked on the tiled floor as he walked.

He passes by Gabriel, patting the woman on the shoulder before exiting the room.

The door clicked as it closed. [Y/n] nervously gulped.

Gabriel sighs, finally letting herself walk towards [Y/n]'s direction.

The sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor is what [Y/n] can only hear, she plays with her thumbs nervously. Her [e/c] eyes avoiding deep dark blue ones.

“We need to talk.” She says sternly as she sits on the edge of the bed, [Y/n] sighs and nodded.

This is going to be fun. [Y/n] thought to herself, sighing mentally.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, crossing her arms as she looked at the other female.

[Y/n] chuckled nervously, “I sorta got ambushed by evil...?”

Gabriel just stared blankly at her before deadpanning, “How—”

“It just happened okay?” [Y/n] just sighs and Gabriel just inhales and then exhales loudly.

“I don't want to continue asking about that,” Gabriel says flatly, clearly lost for words.

[Y/n] just nodded before looking away to avoid the other woman's eyes.

“Why do you insist on taking this job?” Gabriel asked, her dark blue eyes sternly looking at the [h/c] haired girl.

[Y/n] looked at the other woman in the eye, faltering slightly from the sharpness or Gabriel's dark blue ones.

“Because I just want to, what more reason do you want?” [Y/n] says nervously, avoiding Gabriel's stern and judgemental gaze.

Gabriel sighs then raises an eyebrow at her, “We know you just want to see him. It's been eons, [Y/n]. Why are you still hung up on the guy? You should move on and perhaps find someone new?” she asked her and [Y/n] avoided Gabriel's gaze and turned to look at the window near her bed, watching as the clouds passed by her window.

She sighs, “I can't, I still love him, Gabriel. After all these years my heart still yearns for him, aches, and beats for him.” she whispers softly, voice shaking and vulnerable.

Gabriel sighs, “You always let your emotions get in the way, that's the problem with you [Y/n] you don't think.” she says sternly and [Y/n] remained quiet, she knows Gabriel is right but she can't help it.

“He's just a man, [y/n].”

“A failure of an angel, he brings shame to the seraphims.”

“No, he's not.” [Y/n] refutes back yet her voice lacks resolve, it was barely a whisper.

“So what are you telling me? That this is all worth it because he's the love of your life and this was the man for you” Gabriel asked, a tinge of anger in her voice, her words sending knives to [Y/n]'s heart.

Gabriel is right and she refuses to listen.

“I don't know... He might've been.” [Y/n] answers weakly, a single tear running down her left cheek.

“This is ridiculous.” Gabriel says and [Y/n] just gave a pained laugh, “I know.” she says, she knows that.

“So there's no chance of changing your mind then?” Gabriel asked, a small scoff leaving her lips, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in slight annoyance at the thought of [Y/n] going down in hell once more.

[Y/n] nodded, Gabriel sighed and stood up from where she was sitting, “You're really an idiot, [Y/n].” Gabriel says with a small sigh, a strand of dark blue hair falling on her face. She uses her finger to tuck those strands behind her ear. Her dark blue eyes analyzing the other woman—helpless, weak, an utter fool for lowering herself for a man.

One might say the standards are in hell because of how low it is.

How ironic, amusing.

[Y/n] smiled weakly, she knows. She knows she's stupid for loving a man this much.

Yet, she can't help it. She's a fool. A fool in love with the devil, who was once an angel, who was once her loving husband.

You can never really know you love someone until they've hurt you and still think of them as the best person ever.

“Yeah, I know.” [Y/n] says with a pained smile, a bitter chuckle escaping from her plump pink lips.

Gabriel stood up from where she was sitting, walking to a nearby window that's near the edge of her bed, she stared outside the glass panel, her hands behind her back.

“Does that mean you'll be going down there again?” She asked, not bothering to look at [Y/n].

“Yeah.” [Y/n] nodded, her eyes downcast as she looked defeated. She hated herself for being like this.

“I am not stopping you, you're far too stubborn to listen anyways.” Gabriel says, voice monotone and tired.

“I know.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, a meek and powerless voice. Not wanting to agree with Gabriel but the woman is right and it hurts admitting it.

“Don't say I didn't tell you so.”

Not the first time someone told her that, and it didn't end well for her.

History repeats itself.

And as usual, it's her fault for not listening.

Azrael stood behind the door, ear pressed on the wooden door, eavesdropping.

He is aware that Gabriel can be harsh sometimes and he is also curious.

Can't say what he heard didn't break his heart.

He moves away from the door and leans against the wall, his face expressionless.

He has no reason to cry about it, he knows he had no chance.

A small smile was now on his face and a single tear slid down from his left eye, leaving a wet trail on to his pale cheek.

The door suddenly opens which prompted him to quickly wipe the tear away and composed himself.

He watches as Gabriel walks out of the door and closes the door behind her.

Dark blue eyes meeting dark black ones.

Gabriel's eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw Azrael standing and leaning on the wall near the door, “I thought you left.” she says, eyebrow raised at him.

Azrael chuckled softly, his voice smooth and sweet yet had a tinge of slight bitterness.

“I was curious what you girls were talking about, curiosity kills the cat indeed.” he says with a slight humor in his voice.

Gabriel's eyes softened slightly, “Are you okay?” she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azrael shakes his head, “No, but I will be eventually.” he says with a small sigh, “Perhaps I should start moving on, besides, I'm starting to get interested in a certain someone.” he murmured, a mischievous grin on his face as remembered a certain archangel who is the acting celestial scribe to the book of life.

“Is it Michael?” she asked and Azrael gave her a disgust and flabbergasted expression, a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me?” he says, dumbfounded, “I may swing both ways but he isn't my type.” he says flatly, Gabriel gave him a side eye.

“Really? I swear both of you have this weird tension. The younglings say they 'ship' you and you two are the perfect representation of old man yaoi whatever that means.”

Azrael almost choked on air, what the fuck? Where did those angels even learn those words—

“Gabriel, what the fuck?”

Gabriel chuckles, nudging the male's shoulder, “I am just kidding.” she says with a teasing tone before humming to herself, “Metatron was it? I barely interact with them nor see them often. They're like Michael but worse, they're usually near father at all times to help him write the book of life so we barely see them in public.” she deadpans before looking at Azrael, “Since you are the angel of death, I supposed you see them often. I can just imagine you annoying them every time you're with them.” she says flatly.

Azrael chuckles, “Indeed, they're rather interesting but for now, I'll resolve my personal issues before acting upon my interest in them.”

“Good. Go to therapy.” Gabriel says, her lips pressed in a thin line as she looked at Azrael with a deadpan expression.

Azrael pouted a little.

“But I no no wanna...” he whined dramatically with a small laugh as he began to follow Gabriel as they walked away from [Y/n]'s room, the click of their heels slowly faded away as they slowly disappeared from the room.

Meanwhile,

“Dad, are you okay?” Charlie asked softly, her father staring outside his bedroom window, a lost look on his face.

Charlie was outside the door during her father and her supposed half brother arguing.

She wanted to come inside the room and try to calm both men down, but when she heard Xavier's voice as he talked to their father.

Charlie could hear eons of rage and utter pain in the boy's voice.

It stopped her from intervening, a voice in her mind kept telling her, ‘Don't. He needs this.’

Even if their father was the receiver of those harsh words.

She might not fully know nor understand the pain and suffering Xavier went but when she looked at the boy's [e/c] eyes, she was able to see utter sadness despite the blank expression on his face.

Lucifer was just blankly staring outside the window, his eyes fixated on the outside world but his mind somewhere, lost and drowning in his own self hate.

He hated it. He was not prepared. He was not prepared to see an almost exact replica of himself to arrive at his daughter's doorstep.

He was not prepared to see an exact replica of him filled with anger and sadness.

Seeing Xavier with his own two eyes, he was able to understand a bit of what the boy went through.

And he was the cause of it.

He regretted the things he has done, especially on how he treated [Y/n].

He was young—no, he was stupid. Just stupid.

Nothing can excuse his actions. He was an idiot and a fool.

[Y/n] was there for him, she was his best friend and he treated her like that.

Like a doll he discarded once he got bored.

He was wrong on how he treated her.

He should've done that, he should've loved her properly, treated her properly.

He should've been Xavier's father, the father that the boy needed and the father that the boy could trust.

Not someone he looks at with so much anger.

Terrifying, Xavier's rage reminded him of his own when he fell from grace.

Though, the reasons are highly different.

He loves [Y/n], he still does.

He realized that he still does in fact love the woman when he was separated from her for many, many years.

He would often call out to her without thinking, then remembering ‘Oh, she's not here.’

Falling from grace was enough to slap some sense into him.

He treated an amazing woman like her like garbage.

He's really an asshole.

Lilith cannot compare to [Y/n], he can't remember how many times [Y/n]'s name slips from his lips whenever he argues with Lilith.

It created distance between them.

Lilith couldn't take it anymore and left him.

He was left alone to wallow in self pity. He was left alone to mourn for the woman he left to suffer in her heartbreak which he caused.

He mourned his first love, he mourned his first son.

Which he doesn't deserve to do, considering that it should be the opposite.

To Xavier, he's a dead man. To [Y/n], he's a nobody.

Charlie watches her father with an unreadable expression on her, her hand outstretched as if to reach him but it hesitated midway. Shaking and unsure.

“Dad...?” she softly calls out again, her voice echoing despite the ringing in Lucifer's ears. His daughter's voice sounds like it's echoing in the four corners of his hotel room.

Suffocating. It felt like he was trapped in his own mind. His mistakes echoed like a siren's call to him. Teasing him.

He felt cold. He felt numb.

Snap. Everything stopped. The ringing stopped.

Though, his heart is beating erratically against his ribcage, like a monster threatening to get out of its prison.

He felt utterly numb.

His eyes are scanning his room, gentle streaks of light filtering through the glass panel of his windows giving his room a reddish like hue.

With a deep shaky sigh, he turned around and faced his daughter, his hand gripping his cane clenched ever so slightly.

“Charlie, dear... I would like to be alone at the moment.” he says, hesitantly. Voice quivering in each syllable, each word filled with the regrets of his past and present. Weighing him down.

Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly before giving her father a small reassuring smile, “Oh! Of course... Excuse me...” she says giving him a small bow before turning around on her heels to walk towards the door. She paused, took a deep breath before looking at her father through her shoulder.

“If you need me, I'll be somewhere around the hotel. I'll always be here for you, dad.” she says with a small smile before turning around once more, twisting the doorknob open and walks out of the door.

The door clicked to a close when she was gone.

Lucifer's tensed shoulders loosened as it drops, a small frown on his beautiful face.

A single tear slips past his eye, the droplet sliding down on his left cheek, leaving a trail on his soft and pale yet rosy cheek.

“I know.” he whispered before a choked sob escaped his lips.

He can feel the stinging sensation around his eyes, vision blurring as tears mess up his sense of sight.

He can feel his legs buckling as if it struggled to carry the weight of his mistakes that he's carrying on his shoulders.

It gave out as he was now on the floor, small sobs could be heard from, his sobs bouncing on the walls of his room, mocking him.

“Why am I crying? I don't deserve to cry. I don't deserve to cry after what I had done.” he says choking on his words, shoulders shaking, trembling.

He hugged himself in an attempt to comfort himself, yet he was met with painful memories of when [Y/n] used to hold him when he was crying.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he repeated to himself, rocking back and forth on where he was kneeling like a sinner.

Begging for her forgiveness, yet his repentance can't be heard from her.

‘It's all my fault, it's all my fault.’ thinking these words were like a stab to the heart because it is true.

With his last bit of energy, he lies down on the cold tiled floor. His white suit a pop of color to the redness all around him, his cheeks pressed against the tiles as tears continue to slide down on his pale skin and on to the floor.

“Over, I can't believe it's over, I can't believe the love I lived, to show some other day...” he quietly sang, his voice raspy from all the crying he shifts to let his body face the ceiling, his eyes staring blankly at the chandeliers.

“Listen, I hope that you can hear me...” he sang, propping his elbows on the floor to lift himself up into a kneeling position, his hands trembling, voice cracking with emotions, “As I kneel down and pray with the love I meant to say...” he sang softly, his voice beautiful yet filled with unexplainable regret.

“Shadows, you took away the shadows...”

“Before my life was black and white, though tonight the room's gone gray.”

She was the light of his life, his life was monotone before she came, she was a splash of color to the black and white of his so-called life.

“Golden, all the love you gave was golden,” he sang softly, [Y/n]'s bright smiling face flashes into his mind, a smile that brought so much warmth and happiness into his life, “Golden, I would gladly pay, to show the love I meant to say...”

“Oh, music you made me hear, such music,”

“Silly Lucifer, don't take our elder's words to heart! Their ancient beliefs can't possibly understand your amazing ideas!” [Y/n]'s words echo in his mind, for a brief moment, he could see [Y/n] smiling and giggling at him, her long white dress fluttering against the wind.

His eyes widened when the figment of his imagination of [Y/n] slowly fades away, his eyes widened in fear as he attempted to lift himself up from the floor, his hands outstretched in hopes of reaching her.

Only to grip on to nothing.

“Without you here to guide me, I feel as though I'll fly away...” he muttered, his voice continuing to break as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

Droplets of his tears falling into the floor, his reflection mirrored into the small puddle of his pain.

“S-sorry,” his voice breaks even more, a simple word that is too late to say, too heavy to speak with his own lips. The very words he wants to say to her.

“Sorry, that's the word I want to sing to you,”

He took a deep shaky breath, his wine red like eyes tired and dull, eyes puffy and red after all the crying he had done, “The other word is stay, to hear the love I meant to say.” he softly sang, small hiccups can be heard.

He's really an idiot.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @zc000ter @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyreality @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Thomas Hewitt Headcanons

❝ I often ask myself, 'What makes a man a killer?' ❝

[ SFW + No Gendered Terms]

General Warnings: Mentions of Murder, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Hoyt being Hoyt

A/N: Congrats to Tommy for winning the last poll for headcanons :) I love this man sm. I scour the entire internet just for fanart of his body he's so soft and aaaaa !!!

🔪 Tommy is unfamiliar with romance entirely. The most he'd gotten to know of it were stories from Luda Mae during childhood but he never got to experience it himself.

🔪 And the mention of what a "man does to a woman" by Hoyt wasn't appealing to him in any way. Tommy just focused on providing for the family and ignoring what Hoyt said.

🔪Then, a new set of victims made the mistake of running into Hoyt and Tommy was to do his job. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't help but stare at you when he brought you down to the basement and rather than running, you clung to him instead to hide from Hoyt.

🔪 For once, he wanted to protect you while Hoyt yelled at him to just kill you. But, everything was different this time. Someone willingly approached him rather than screaming.

🔪 Tommy was firm in his decision, towering over Hoyt as his own silent threat to keep you around. And so he did. While he couldn't speak to you, he tried his best to care for you despite you now being a prisoner in a home of cannibals.

🔪 He'd carefully place a plate in front of you and then just sit and stare at you, waiting for a reaction or for you to eat. Telling him you don't trust the meat in the case that it's human has him confused because they taste fine to him? But since your stuff was taken from you, Luda will just buy other foods for you to eat with your money.

🔪 In truth, Tommy is just as scared of you as you are of him. He doesn't want to upset you in any way because for once, it seems like he has a friend. An attractive one too. He waits for you to be more comfortable around him.

🔪 Tommy is a light sleeper so he'd have you sleep in his room with him. If you were to try and sneak out, he'd be right there to stop you. But, it's not like you have much of a way to sneak out anyway since he is completely clung to you in his sleep without realizing it. It's as though you were his pillow or plushie to cuddle during the nighttime.

🔪 When Luda noticed the way Tommy treated you, she would whisper little things he could do to impress you or make you happy. She always wanted him to find someone, especially since Tommy had his struggles.

🔪 He gets nervous when trying to do some of what Luda suggested because it felt like he was a little boy again. A little lovesick boy. But he’s a mama’s boy and knows Luda is helping him. He'd approach you and hand a flower to you, just as she suggested, hoping that it works to make you happy.

🔪 Some days, you’ll wake up to find a little note in your dresser. It’s in poor handwriting but you can tell it’s from Tommy. He picked it up from what Luda used to do—Leave notes in his lunch each day.

🔪 The first note you got had some drawings on it. You could make out smiley faces and hearts. The only legible words on the note was “I LOVE YOU”.

🔪 Tommy is very careful around you since he's aware of his size. He tries to be like a gentle giant, although, he can default to being too gentle, treating you as though you were made of glass.

🔪 He's scared to hurt you. After all, that's the only thing Hoyt has him do. Gods forbid if he did hurt you in some way, he'd slink away into the basement to avoid being around you. He would need some coaxing to understand that you're okay.

🔪 Overall though, Tommy is an absolute sweetheart. He's very attentive and willing to do whatever to make you happy. And he's also very easy to please! He's been taught to be happy with the minimum so anything besides that immediately makes him overjoyed.

🔪 Tommy's favorite thing to do is hold hands with you. He's self-conscious over the fact that his hands are scarred and rough but he can't help but be an internal mess at the electric touch between you two.

🔪 Sometimes when he's upset with Hoyt's constant yelling and berating, he'll toss you over his shoulders like nothing and bring you outside with him so he can cool down with you.

🔪 He finds solace in you. You'll find how Tommy will just sometimes stare at you because he's admiring your appearance. He has a particular fascination with your eyes. He finds it hard to look at them directly but when you aren't looking at him, it's all he can focus on.

🔪 One thing about Tommy: As much as he can be sweet, he still is a brutish murderer. Any victims who even catch a glimpse of you are his first targets.

🔪 It can be almost unnerving how easily Tommy can switch like that. To be so gentle with you to becoming a murderous beast towards anyone else.

🔪 One quick way you’ve seen Tommy get upset is when he heard Hoyt talk explicitly about your body. Hoyt did it specifically to make you uncomfortable as that is what gets him off most.

🔪 But his grin was quickly wiped off by how Tommy turned around and stared down Hoyt. He didn’t have much restraint but decided to simply pick you up and leave to his room with you. His silent threats spoke for him.

🔪 He also has a tendency to be paranoid about you staying. He makes sure you understand that this is your home now. He is your family. You wouldn't leave him alone again, right?

🔪 Tommy isn’t that hesitant to never take off his mask but he is around you because of his insecurities. He knows what generally attractive people look like considering the victims he’s caught before and knows he doesn’t look like that.

🔪 He grows more accustomed to having his mask off when you aren’t afraid to kiss and caress his face. You couldn’t be lying about that when your touch was so sweet and gentle with him.

🔪 Tommy’s main Love Languages to give are: Acts of Service and Quality Time. He loves to receive in return Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.

🔪 Tommy likes to go out of his way to do things for you because he likes to feel useful to you. Anything he can do to help you out and he’s rushing to help.

🔪 Any errand around the house he immediately takes up so he can hear you praise him for it.

🔪 If he sees you working, he’s made it a habit to get you tea or lemonade. In the mornings, he’s used to waking up early so he’ll let you sleep in and surprise you with breakfast. Before bed, he has a whole ritual for you before going to bed.

🔪 Pulling back the covers, making sure the pillows are cold and plumped up. And once you walk in, he’s planting kisses across your face, picking you up and tucking you in while he gets in beside you and holding you close.

🔪 One of his favorites to do is when you ask him to pick something up for you if it’s too heavy. When you compliment him for being strong, he’s barely letting you pick anything up anymore because he wants to hear you praise him more.

🔪 Tommy also just generally loves to spend alone time with you. Constantly being around his family in the home can leave him feeling slightly stir crazy.

🔪 He loves to just sit under a tree, under the shade and away from the harsh sun, beside you and just enjoy your presence.

🔪 Tommy was a little hesitant at the suggestion of a spa day with face masks and other things, considering he’d have to take off his mask but seeing you in the same face mask as him in the mirror and he was silently asking each week to do it again and again.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[mysumeow]

. . . ꒰ POST-MATCH

Warnings: afab body and breasts, reader is mentioned to wear panties, PIV unprotected sex, pwp (the plot is that leona breeds you 🙄 is that not enough plot? /j), against the wall, semi-public sex?

Word count: 800

A/N: This was fueled by this fanart and the club wear card of course. My humble offering to the fandom🛐

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . MASTERLIST

There are a few things in life that drive Leona out of his typical indolent demeanor. Amongst those things was spelldrive. In hand with this sport was the high after a successful match, the rush thrumming through his veins not calming down yet.

You don’t know when Leona noticed you were amongst the crowd cheering for his team, but after rubbing in the opposing team face's the win, his eyes found yours.

And next thing you knew, Leona sneaked you into a locker room, cornered you to the most hidden wall, pushed you against it, and the famished lion feasted upon you.

The high from the tournament’s success was far from over, given the hungry way Leona fucked you. With an intensity and vitality that you would never imagine the lethargic lionkin capable of.

Yes, the Leona you often discovered sleeping in the botanical garden, the one who would sneak a nap during classes, the so-called lazy housewarden of Savanaclaw...One should get the gist.

Straightforward—that was more like Leona’s style. There was no shortage of words, as you understood his desires from the beginning. Besides, acting like seeing his skin glow from the sweat running down his neck and cheeks didn’t affect you in any way would be a blatant lie on your part.

“Didn’t expect you to be this eager,” Leona’s hot breath tickled your ear, restless fingers having no mercy whatsoever as he rubbed your clit. “All I did was touch you a bit, and you managed to swallow all this in one go.” He pulled away in a languid pace to make sure you felt the hefty drag of his dick inside of you before he snapped his lower half into you with a loud smack.

You’d try to refute him; the mere thought of him smiling smugly provoked you. To your dismay, however, he occupied his other hand with stuffing your mouth with his fingers to keep your tongue in place as you moaned around them.

Despite his confident exterior, the lion man himself believed to be intoxicated by you. He can’t recall a moment he has ever felt this amount of pleasure before, the snug and wet feeling of your pussy around him. His eyebrows knit together, canine teeth teasing your shoulder and threatening to bite down from the hazy delight.

Leona's ear flicked at the distant sound of footsteps approaching.

“You hear that? Someone’s outside. Do your best to not moan too loud, unless you want them to hear?” He taunted you, the idea of stopping to wait for them to leave not even crossing his mind.

Thanks to Leona’s lion-like attributes, he was able to pick up on the sound of footsteps before you did. They came from the outside, and thus, he didn’t deem it necessary to stop. However, whoever was on the other side of the wall would hear everything if you moaned louder.

Regardless of the slow movement of his thrusts, his fingers toyed with your nub in a near cruel manner. In fact, it was lecherous how drenched you were, his digits coated in your arousal and easy to stroke them against it. When Leona dragged you in here, there was a lusty daze clouding his mind, where he barely bothered to pull your panties down, left forgotten halfway in its path down your legs. The poor fabric stretched to its limits, digging into your skin.

You didn’t realize it then, but you’d found his urgency to have you right there and in that moment undeniably hot. 

You gasped his name (albeit with not much success because his fingers were still in your mouth) the moment he sped up without warning, your body close to collapsing if not for his firm grip and the wall you leaned against.

The people who were outside were talking about the spelldrive match, complaining that the team that won played dirty and that was the reason for their success. When your gasp slipped without you meaning to, they fell in silence for a good second before picking up the conversation where they left off.

You reached behind you to pat Leona on his side in an attempt to send him the message to slow down, your resolve to stay quiet near to its end. You felt his chest, which was pressed against your back, move with a chuckle—he found your predicament amusing. He didn’t slow down, but his fingers left your mouth, and now you could bite your lip to quiet yourself. You looked down; your sight drifted to where his sex sloppily met yours, the above vulgar display of your juices mingled with his.

After what felt like forever, it sounded like those people outside were walking away.

You whined under your breath; your climax approached with little hindrance. 

Leona manhandled your torso into an upright position again, hand squeezing your chest as he held you in place. At last, that desired orgasm along with his came, dick shoved in and out of your battered cunt.

After a while of his movements slowing down until he was still, Leona groaned when he slipped out of you. Some of his cum dripped down...

“Not bad, herbivore,” His hand smacked your ass, further embarrassing you. “I’m looking forward to seeing you around more when I play.”

You were about to ask him to help you dress again, but he beat to it by crouching down to grab your underwear and helped you by pulling it up again. He released the fabric once it was in its place so the elastic would snap against your hip.

“Hurry up before your friends notice your absence…If they haven’t by now, at least.”

[satoruhour]

nanami and geto=pulling hair

AHDJSKFMDKXJXUXU PLEASE I NEED THEM SO BAD IT HURTS

a/n: i dont write brat!reader often and i hate this but uhm .. :”) got inspiration for geto’s part from this fanart :3 also nanami’s inspiration here and here / tagging @jabamin @screampied @marimogf @redskyvenus @kizoken @osaemu @satorena @suguella @t4kio

wc: about 1.5k for each

warnings: hair pulling for both, fem!reader, brat!reader, geto is a lil rough, oral (m! receiving), deep-throating, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’ (geto), tension, semi-public sex, a lil ooc nanami ig, use of ‘slut’, unprotected p -> v sex, squirting, breeding / creampie kink (nanami), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GETO

geto’s grip around your waist only tightens when you press up more against him in the crowded business convention, purposefully grinding your ass into his front that’s already sporting a hard-on that looks like it hurts.

but suguru is a master at keeping his feelings in, like how this business partner of him is boring the shit out of him and how much he wants to push you to your knees in front of everyone and shove his cock in your mouth.

“don’t you wanna just do away with all this pretentious shit? spread me open and give a show to everyone in this boring ass convention?” you whisper against his skin with your head craned up just to see how his jaw tenses and he almost drops his flute of champagne, “hm? don’t you want everyone to know how good you make me feel?”

“behave, sweetheart.”

“no,” you giggle, and geto rolls his eyes with a small smile on his face. you know it’s all fun and games; he loves taming the brat in you, but the brat in you is just begging to be punished, “you know you love me.”

“that, i can vouch for, but making me hard in public? i’ll need you to tone it down, baby.”

“but i want you, don’t you want me?” you’re pulling out all the stops, now, tits in full view from how he was behind you just scouring the many businessmen and women walking about and making small talk. even now, your hips torture him in the best way, rolling slowly and bit by bit.

“you’re riding a thin line here.” he warns with a peck to your hair.

“i’d rather be riding your dick, sugu . .” it’s whispered so tenderly, so softly, your hands skilled when they close over his that rest comfortably on your waist. “in our hotel room, or on the balcony, please . .?”

all geto manages is a strained, polite smile to the approaching mr. mamato who seems a little puzzled at the rejection, but with reassurance from the former, all is well. your lover has no qualms about keeping a tight clasp around your intertwined fingers, champagne flutes abandoned and heels clacking quickly against the floor to the lift lobby.

and you cast your spell again, getting back on your brat shit once the elevator doors close since it was quite a ride to the floor of the hotel. geto sighs quietly when you trail your hand along his belt and down the zip where there was a noticeable bulge and you squeeze, relishing in the silent gasp he lets out. you both know that once he looks at you, you two would have to be pried from the elevator so he settles for deep breaths.

but it’s all sloppy, wet kisses once he’s got you pushed against your suite’s door, multitasking hands zipping open your dress and pulling your bra past your tits and revelling in your perk, erect nipples. a small jump is muttered from his lips and you follow easily, propped up so perfectly where his mouth fits just around your nipple and that draws a loud moan, hips grinding against his torso for any kind of friction.

geto is strong, with one hand holding you, the other lands a spank on your ass and he releases your tits with a pop!

“what makes you think you deserve that?” you’re on the balcony by now, the breathtaking view of the many other touristy attractions right next to the hotel but geto would rather look at your defeated expression, doe eyes, pout and all.

“i’ve been goo—”

your lover’s hand from behind goes up to pull hard on your hair, forcing you to look up at him and he smiles when he spots your thighs rubbing together.

“don’t lie to my face, baby,” he lowers you to your knees and each breath feels like it could kill you. you love every second of it — geto commanding you, the dark of his eyes and the parting of his lips, “we both know you’ve been trying to toy with me since the start of the convention.”

“i didn’t say when—” you grin.

“and don’t play smart with me, little slut.” a small moan leaves your mouth at that, eyes flicking between his eyes and his other hand skillfully unbuckling his pants and you let out a little squeal when his cock’s removed from his underwear. he’s always so big and heavy that it slaps against your face and you grin, immediately sticking out your tongue and he feels his chest swell with pride just a little at your obedience.

and he releases your hair, reaching behind for his cigs and lighter. the air fills with the familiar odour of nicotine, “suck.”

you do, planting your hands onto his thighs and making a big show of whatever you wanted to do, but you’re only suckling on his tip, smiling through the pre-cum that slips past your mouth. he’s quite lenient, letting you tap his tip on your tongue and stroking him with both hands alongside small groans, but it’s not what he wants.

“do you want to suck me off or not?” geto whispers, almost like a threat. cigarette in mouth, he grabs your jaw and it squishes your cheeks, “hm?” he gives you one last chance when you nod so adorably, mouth messy with pre and your saliva that he just wants to bend you over and fuck you dumb.

but when you go back to teasing him — tugging on his balls, keeping to sucking harshly on his tip (even if it feels so damn good), looking up through your eyelashes like you’re not doing anything is when he’s getting a better hold on your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail and scoffs.

you’re really in for a treat, now. there’s no warning before he pulls on your hair and brings you in again, smiling when he hears you gag at how deep his cock had reached in your throat. he coos inwardly when he sees that there’s already tears forming, but all you have on your face is a little sick grin and so he continues his assault.

geto pushes and pulls, leaving you no choice but to bob your head along his veiny shaft with very little time to breathe. it’s too intoxicating each time you’re up to the hilt, pubes smelling like sweat and Louis V cologne as you moan continually against him, sending vibrations up his body. you know his body like the back of your hand that you know every twitch of his dick, every jerk of his hips into your warm, inviting mouth.

“f-fuck . . maybe she does know how to use her mouth properly,” he mumbles, eyes fixated on your smudging eyeliner while your mouth is stretched out to accommodate him.

“su— mmfgf—!” suguru leaves you no time to breathe, guiding you roughly with your hair while he continues to smoke without a care in the world, not caring that the sounds of you choking on his fat cock could probably be heard by the neighbouring suite rooms. in a feat of defiance, again, you come off of him with a giggle, saliva strings connecting you and his dick, but he’s having none of that.

with one forceful thrust, geto shoves his cock into you, enjoying the corners of your eyes welling up with tears as you gargle and sputter, breathing hard through your nose. “i told you, do it properly. need ya to learn your lesson.”

you look truly pathetic like this, on the balcony floor of the hotel you were just in the function room for, but now you’re stuffed full of your boyfriend’s length, hands periodically squeezing his thighs. he grunts out your name, mixed in with little groans and pants of just how much your mouth resembled your pussy, drunk on the way his tip feels at the back of his throat.

“mmm . .” you hum, more used to the feeling now when you’re feeling him twitch and pulse in your mouth and you make sure to swirl your tongue, keeping eye contact with him.

“just— just like that, shit . .” suguru’s grasp on your head loosens with each step closing to his orgasm, putting out his cig just so he could focus on you and you only, “take it, take my cock down your throat like a filthy slut.”

geto’s shivering, hunched over your figure while you take the chance to move your head a little, slurping up all the saliva with hands squeezing over and over, sending your lover’s senses into overdrive. it doesn’t take long until he’s cumming down your throat with your head held to the base of his pelvis, heart clenching when he feels your muffled moans and then sees his overflowing cum.

“let me see . .” he asks absentmindedly, feeling just a little bad at the way you’re breathing so hardly, but he knows you don’t mind when you wrap a hand around his cock again, milking him for what he’s worth and sloppily sucking the mingling of saliva and cum from your skin. you’re quick to get back to sucking again, desperate for dick, and geto knows he’s found his perfect half.

✶ NANAMI

“these curses really need to stop emerging,” you frown with a groan, stuck in a never-ending meeting with yaga and nanami. in front of you were books littered with information about curses from the edwardian era, noting a similarity in both appearance and powers in the increasingly threatening curse that spawned in okinawa. so far, research has been scarce, providing for anything but the information you were looking for.

all the while, nanami’s looking at you through goggles, hiding behind the translucency of it as the open page of his tattered book is left abandoned only because he was so distracted by you.

you were stuck in a weird place with nanami — always getting stuck in precarious situations, mingling breaths, beating hearts to the point where you’d wanna throw up. you both knew relationships were a farce in the world of jujutsu sorcery, but even so, to deny the way you were the first one he’d check up on whenever you finished missions . . you might be falling off the deep end sooner or later.

“perhaps it would be wise to take a break, for lunch at least,” yaga only sighs, rubbing at his temples from his similar conquest, but none of you were actually able to match the photos to the drawings drawn up by sorcerers of the past. he takes the chance to leave the room for some food at the pantry, leaving just both you and nanami and the tension goes up by a hundredfold.

you don’t exactly hate it, but it becomes exceptionally clear when the universe seems to be against you from the first hour of research. from dropping your pen right in front of nanami that allowed a peek of your chest, to your printed photos flying right to the chair beside him, reaching over his whole body to retrieve them.

nanami is dying to smell you, again.

it’s loads of reading, glad for the knock of the door as you answer the call of the first-year students right outside the office, closed to a small gap since yaga asked you two to keep it confidential, but with the way you’re sticking out your ass . . he swears he can feel himself harden. before long, he’s hearing you bid goodbye to the three of them before your bracelet comes loose and it falls, and the sound of metal against wood is so loud that he’s glad he’s heard it.

because nanami’s attention is once again drawn to your plump ass, and he’s sure you’re doing this all on purpose with the way not one part of your legs are bent, and he can just see the peep of your panties. his skin burns.

“they wanted to know if they could help in any way,” you laugh when you return, albeit a little awkwardly after that whole thing you pulled. you weren’t even sure if nanami would look — he was a man set on ending work at 6pm and would want to do as much work before then, for god’s sake, so when all he does is nod curtly, you’re swallowing your feelings, not wanting to risk everything again.

once the clock strikes 6, nanami’s the first to stand, excusing himself with a bow, but not before he’s passing you a piece of paper folded carefully. so meticulously that he wanted you to open it without yaga seeing, pleasantly surprised when you see his graceful hand write out see me in the library.

you think nothing of it, taking the books that were from the library and making up some excuse of going to continue in there to yaga who waves you off with a grateful thanks, a yelp drawn from your throat when you see nanami just hovering beside the door frame.

he looks like he’s about the throw up — one look at his trousers tells you otherwise, breaking that barrier when you step closer to him courageously. “i don’t think we should waste any more time, dear (y/n).” 

“what do you mean?” nanami has such a way with that voice of his, that you let him take the heavy books from your hand without any fight, without any resistance, gasping softly as he grabs your waist almost timidly. but you have been dancing around each other for too many months, and everything just felt right.

“you know what i mean, doll.”

every minute nanami spends with your body becomes more and more intense, first starting out with a soft and gentle question to rougher, sloppier kisses, and down to your body right to your cunt where he stroked himself whilst eating you out; and the way nanami fucks, god. he’d take his time but . .

“wanted this fuckin’ pussy for so long, f-fuck . .” nanami groans, body flush against yours while he pounds into you from behind. the library definitely is not soundproof, but after seeing your pretty panties and tasting your cunt, sinking his fat cock into your hole was just perfect and god forbid he held back on the first time.

“k—kento . . please—!” the tatami mats of the school’s library were looking like crap, no doubt from the lack of use of this place, but you use it to your heart’s content, soaking the mats with your mixed juices and sweat. but that meant you had no anchor to hang on to, grasping and scratching at the floor for anything when nanami angles his hips and sucks hickeys into your neck from behind. “love it, wan’ more, wan’ more—”

“yeah? pretty little slut wants more?” nanami’s head spins at the way your hips move back onto his as well, head turning and nodding just so you can look at the man who’s blowing your back out in his alma mater’s library, hair tousled and sweat lining his brow. “after teasing me these few months — s-shit — can i really give it to her?”

he speaks with a strain, hypnotising hands moving up and down your back and onto your ass, spreading it just so he could see the way you take him, pussy stretched and all. nanami lets out a shaky breath, not believing that whatever he’s always fantasised about is coming true, and right after this, he’s sure to get you a bouquet of flowers and a decent day out, not before a morning after pill though.

“you’re so mean . . teasin’ me, showin’ me your panties,” he gives your ass a smack, groaning out loud at the recoil, “what makes you think ’m gonna give it t’you?”

all you had to do was look up at him with doe eyes, using a weak, flailing arm to grab out for him but failing and he finds it so goddamn cute that he smiles to himself and succumbs anyway, chuckling as he runs his hands down your back. although, they don’t stop there — they find your hair and he twines your locks around his fingers and pulls, prompting a loud whine from you.

“ken—!” your pornographic moans are downright obscene, together with the messy mix of your cum and his pre all around your core, it was truly disgustingly filthy, “f-fuuckk . . yes, r-right there!”

nanami all but follows your sounds, triggering your arch with such a strong pull on your hair that the pain translates into pleasure. with his knees, he nudges your legs to open even more and you cry out his name at how deep his throbbing cock reaches in you, gummy walls sucking him in and clenching around his length so harshly.

“pussy’s just so good to me, god,” he moans, feeling so hot in his work outfit that wasn’t even fully stripped down. his blue work shirt is soaked, as with his trousers, full of your cum that’s starting to form a white ring around the base of his shaft. he purposefully pulls on your hair to meet your lips, murmuring onto your skin, “’m close, baby.”

nanami’s thrusts are accurate, precise, hitting all the sweet spots in you relentlessly until you’re saying incoherent sentences, thighs already starting to shake until he starts rubbing at your clit. the sensations overwhelm you; the still strong tug of your hair, the pap! pap! pap! of his hips against your ass, the circles on your clit that matches the thrusts — and you’re cumming and squirting with a lax jaw and eyes that roll to the back of your skull.

“c-cumming, kento— ’m cummi—!” you babble, hips grinding back onto his for more even when you’re spraying juices all over, whole body convulsing from the climax, “s’good, s’good—”

just seeing you fall apart from his cock has him reaching his high, hips stuttering into your warm pussy to pump you full of his cum and he makes sure you catch every last drop, the hand tangled in your hair pushing right down on your head into the tatami mats.

nanami catches the ghost of a smile on your face before your body moves against his, again, using your own hands to spread your cheeks just to make sure he sees the cum he’s planted in you.