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oukabarsburgblr · 4 months ago

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come a little closer so you can fuck me better

It was the third quarter of a semester. Where college students crammed their heads in trying to understand 200+ slides of lecture before their test the next morning. Assignments deadlines approaching and quizzes seemed never ending. That was the case for almost all students and one of the courses taking the heavy hitters was engineering.

(m/n) (l/n) had been away from his friends, closer to his groupmates, scrambling to finish their lab reports before the submission link was closed. He unfortunately had to give half-assed replies to most of his associates, especially his two love interests.

They had something, affectionate and it ran deep but the (h/c) never made a choice between the sun and the moon.

He didn't expect any visitors when a knock echoed on his wooden door to his room. (m/n), lax in shorts and a plain t-shirt opened it to find Daisuke smiling at him, a box of food in his hand.

"Figured you haven't had dinner yet." His dimples carved into his cheeks as he smiled, his dark-hued eyes gleaming down at his beloved.

(m/n) smiled at him, bags forming under his own (e/c) eyes as he hugged the ravenette. "Already ate some leftovers but that's nice of you." "Really? Then just keep these in your pantry." He meant the shared pantry of his house, a section of his block on the same floor, which (m/n) did not prefer using since housemates always stole his shit.

"I'll just stuff it in Haru's freezer." "Where is he?" (m/n) invited Daisuke in, the ravenette tugging off his shoes, taking off his leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner of the shared room.

(m/n) slid back onto the chair, facing his desk as he picked up his tablet pen, continuing to write numbers and equations on the surface of his gadget. "He went home. Said he had a concert to catch." "In exam season?" "Dude's crazy."

Haru was (m/n)'s roommate, a tall quiet blonde who was with the (h/c) way back since preschool. He always disliked (m/n) bringing his so-called lovers into his room, especially Sousuke." A racket from his doorknow followed by annoying and fast knocks on his door.

(m/n) was about to stand once again but Daisuke beat him to it, pulling the door open with a frown on his face.

Sousuke, whose half of his face was covered with a green checkered scarf, glared immediately at the equally annoyed ravenette. A plastic bag bunched up in his clenced fist. "Whatchu' got there?" Hazel eyes perked up at the sight of (m/n) behind Daisuke and he pushed the latter aside to enter the room, throwing his coat on Haru's bed.

"You said your graph papers were out. Passed by and thought I could get some." (m/n) giddily reached out for the plastic bag, pulling out the almost scrunched green checkered papers. "Thanks. Almost went down to buy some."

Sousuke leaned to kiss (m/n)'s hair but was pushed by Daisuke. They both almost wrangled each other in the process but both were slapped by the (h/c) who forced the two to sit on his bed before he could entertain them.

"The submission is in four hours and there's zero progress on the abstract. I'm too busy organizing the others so either you shut up or get out." Immediately, the two sat up straight with their mouths closed. The two was easy for (m/n) to handle. They were almost alike, although the opposites of each other.

The (h/c) continued to grind his work, turning on his laptop. Ears stuffed with earbuds, some tunes blasting in his ear canal, drowning out the rare civil conversation Sousuke and Daisuke were having while relaxing on his single-sized bed.

Every now and then, there would a groan or a curse from the frustrated (h/c) who was suffering at the incompetency of his assigned groupmates. His leg bouncing up and down, his foot hitting the floor as he mashed the keyboards of his laptop, desperate to finish his work.

An hour passed and he stretched his arms, pulling off the charger to his laptop and took it with him as he slumped himself on the bed, his head in Daisuke's lap and his legs draped over Sousuke's torso. The redhead sat up as he pulled the (h/c) closer who slapped his hand away. "I'm not finished. Fucking hell, who passed these assholes?!"

He placed the laptop on his thighs, still typing away as Daisuke ran his fingers through his hair, occasionaly raking out a tangled strand or two. "I'm gonna die with the integrated project." (m/n) groaned, backspacing his teammate's work before proceeding to paraphrasing the previous sentences.

Sousuke and Daisuke continued to talk to one another, (m/n) chirping in while laying in between them, his bottom now in between Sousuke's thighs, he could feel the hardness of the redhead's jeans poking through but a boner isn't going to score his GPA.

"FINALLY!!" He yelled out, submitting his work as he slammed the laptop shut and carefully placing it on the floor. "You done?" Daisuke hummed, pushing back (m/n)'s baby hairs. The (h/c) nodded, his arm over his eyes as he could feel his body finally relaxing, sinking into the plush of his bed.

"I HATE....freeriders." "One's right in front of you." "I am not. I just so happen not liking to lead." In order of (m/n), Daisuke and Sousuke's voice. The two begin to banter once again. Daisuke bringing up his past experience working with Sousuke in a group project.

(m/n) pulled his arm away, staring at the popcorn ceiling of his dorm room, he had only noticed that it was already late. He wasn't even sure when Daisuke had entered his room. That's how much he had been holed up, finishing his homework.

He had been so tense the past few days, tension building up his shoulders, his tired eyes darkening for every missed hour of sleep. (m/n)'s whole body was so tired just from the past week and he could feel something burning up in the bottom of his stomach.

It was a fail attempt at secretly rubbing his ass onto Sousuke's crotch who immediately turned his attention onto the flustered (h/c). His mouth was agape as (m/n) stuttered to reason himself. "What?! Don't act so shocked...I'm just fucking frustrated."

He propped his elbows up, ready to leave before Daisuke pulled him down. "Frustrated? Frustrated what?" "College frustrated. Work frustrated, fuck. My damn pants are frustrated too."

Scarred fingers rubbed into the plush of his exposed thighs, reminding (m/n) that he had only adorned a thin and short outfit. Black eyes staring deeply into his, Daisuke's face was calculating, analysing his expression.

"You're not slick. Tryna' hump on me." Sousuke mumbled, dragging his tongue across (m/n)'s inner thigh earning a squeak. "As if. The both of you kept arguing like children. I might as well suck off a sex toy if that's all you're going to do."

"Sex toy?" Sousuke raised an eyebrow. A smirk on his lips. "Like you'd be satisfied with just that." He grumbled, smacking his thigh, a yelp from the (h/c) who felt something hardened as his head was still in Daisuke's lap.

"Quit it and just get on with it." (m/n) mumbled, turning to the side, his legs kicking at the redhead whose lust grew a thousand times more fervent as he pulled the (h/c)'s waist, ass smacking right on his crotch as he teased (m/n) who smothered his face into Daisuke's thigh.

(m/n) was now on his stomach, refusing to acknowledge Sousuke who was coercing him to continue. It was a rare dynamic. Sousuke would be quiet during their intimate encounters but his mouth becomes oddly chatter-ish around Daisuke who was the opposite.

"Just a little push. You did it five minutes ago, you can do it now." Sousuke was persuading (m/n) to rub himself on the redhead's crotch, his jeans stretching holding his length and (m/n) peeked behind him to see a grinning horny idiot.

"You're a cunt..." He mumbled again before moving. Rubbing his butt covered with shorts on Sousuke's groin, dragging his mound, pushing down on his erection. He could feel the friction on his balls as hos shorts was tugged down lightly just so his tip was peeking from his waistband.

(m/n) looked up to see Daisuke as the culprit, who was still silent, watching him with a blank expression but behind his eyes spoke otherwise. Their lust was burning and so was his.

Sousuke moaned, his hands rubbing up (m/n)'s sides as he pushed up his shirt, fingers travelling and locking onto his nipples, pinching them. The (h/c) mewled, having his chest groped as he desperately humped himself on the redhead's covered cock, slamming short bounces against Sousuke.

"I need it. I need the real thing." He whined desperately, his pitch tuning high as he dipped his head into Daisuke's crotch. His tongue flat against the ravenette's slacks and his teeth barely grazing on the covered hard cock.

(m/n) yelped again when his torso was forcibly turned, his face hot and Sousuke had a perverted grin. "How bad d'you want it?" "Bad. Really f-fucking bad." His words slipped as his hips stuttered.

A hand abruptly gripped his chin as Sousuke forcefully pulled his shirt off of him. Two fingers knocked into his palate as the redhead shoved his hand up (m/n)'s mouth. "You want it? You wanna fuck the two of us? Breed yourself like a horny rabbit?"

The tip of his cock was flicked and (m/n) gagged painfully, but his pleasure spiked and precum drooled onto his own stomach. Daisuke pulled away from (m/n)'s cock as he began to cup the (h/c)'s pecs, his hand squeezing the mound.

(m/n) nodded his head, when Sousuke's fingers began to press deeper in his mouth as he felt the redhead hump his ass. His tongue desperately lapping at the rough digits as he gasped when the redhead pulled his hand away.

"Prep yourself. It's time you get to work." Sousuke grinned.

This wasn't supposed to be their dynamic. (m/n) was used to having the redhead prep him, eat his ass out and fuck him swiftly like the pillow princess that he is. Daisuke was the same too, except more foreplay and less tongue but he had never needed to prepare himself, letting the two work their way into him because it was usually them getting riled up, not the other way around.

But (m/n) was desperate as he shimmied his shorts down, tugging off the bunched clothing from his ankle as he shakily reached down. Sousuke pulled his shoulder to lay him on his side and the (h/c) could see his jeans stretched out holding in his cock that he wanted to stuff himself with so badly.

He wanted to complain that he was dry but Daisuke had pulled his legs up, folded him in half and spat directly on his asshole before letting him fall back onto the bed. (m/n) was shocked and the ravenette was still quiet, urging him to continue.

A finger pushed in past the tight rim of his hole and he whimpered at the dry feeling, carving himself while struggling to hold his leg up but Sousuke had propped it up himself, pushing his hand to cup under his knee, letting him fully exposed to the redhead.

"Mmnn...it kinda hurts- annh mmf nggh anh-" He was corrected by his own body when he accidentally grazed his own prostate. His hole was still dry but the scratchy feeling managed to still bring pleasure to his leaking cock as he put another finger in and began to masturbate in front of the two men.

His hips were moving as he gripped his bedsheets, moaning and mewling. He was taken aback when Sousuke licked a stripe up his crack and balls. The redhead sucked on his base before focusing on his filled and twitching hole.

Daisuke used that moment of shock to pull his hair, forcibly pulling his head up as he shoved his tongue down (m/n)'s throat. The latter gagging at the sudden attack and he sucked on the ravenette's wet muscle.

Sousuke was too busy munching, pushing (m/n)'s finger apart to spread his hole as he stuck his tongue inside. Sucking and spitting at the rim.

Ugh i lost the inspo when i fell asleep. Tell me if you want a finished version and ill reblog it to tell u mofos. 🤞🏼 waka-chan out.

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin

#oukabarsburg #bottom male reader #sub male reader #male reader #x male reader #x bottom male reader #aito sousuke #oc x male reader #male reader smut #daisuke yuichi #oc x male reader smut #oc x reader smut #oc x reader #male oc

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monster-disaster · 9 months ago

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Hey, I love your writing so much! ♥️

Can I request a male orc x chubby fem reader? I was thinking about bondage and discipline. The plot is up to you but I wanted it to be something related to that. Like she's his timid and clumsly employee and he's a strict boss who gets amused by it because this is a reason to teach her some good manners while working for him.

I love the idea! I hope you will enjoy it! :)

boss!orc x curvy!reader Warnings: dom/sub, spanking, spice

His broad smile is covered by his hand as he leans on the wooden surface of his desk. It's well-organized and clean. His shoulders are wider than the backrest of his chair, but he fits in it perfectly. The screen of his laptop illuminates the depth of his brown eyes as he follows you with his gaze. The tinted glass walls of his office give a perfect view of your desk. Unlike his, your workspace is a mess of papers, coffee cups, and sticky notes. That's why you wander back and forth between your desk and his office door for the fourth time, always searching for something.

You are a mess. But damn. You are a cute one.

He shouldn't think about you this way. He shouldn't think about you at all. And especially not when he is at home with his hard dick in his hand. But what else can he do? Your whole being screams and begs for dominance and guidance. It seems like to him, you desperately need someone to make rules you can follow and punish you if you break those. You need control. And who else could give that to you other than him?

The white blouse on you is a cheap one. Probably that's why the orc can see through it when the yellow lights of the lamps reach you just the right way. You wear a matching bra, and he can barely tear his eyes away from the soft rolls of your sides when you turn. His attention wanders lower. A light snarl forms on his lips at the sight. Your dark jeans are tight and hug your round ass perfectly. Your thick thighs rub together as you walk, and he can't help but imagine them around his head as he eats you out, gripping onto your flesh.

He is already hard when you finally reach his office. A few soft knocks echo in the silence. The documents he asked for are hugged to your chest. "Come in," he says. His voice is loud and husky. You are flushed and out of breath. It looks pretty on you. He is sure he could do much more to make you lose your breath, though. "The papers you wanted," you tell him, lifting the stack in your arms. You are still at the door, lifting your weight from one leg onto the other. "I wanted them ten minutes ago." You stare at the floor so intensely that you don't notice the amusement dancing in his eyes despite his rough voice. "I'm sorry," you reply. Your voice is timid, and for a second, the orc feels sorry for you. You are still new and not used to the way everything works in his business. And you are a good employee despite your lack of organization skills and occasional clumsiness. You work hard and learn quickly with the right motivation, and you always stay after working hours without a complaint when he needs your help.

But still. You could do better. Your boss is sure of it.

"Why are you late again?" He asks, even though he knows your answer already. You gulp. Your arm around the documents tightens. "I didn't find them." He hums, leaning back on his chair. He radiates dominance and authority. The black fabric of his suit stretches around his arms as he links them together in front of his chest. "And why is that?" He asks you, letting his gaze wander to your desk. When you notice his attention turning away from you, your eyes widen. He saw you the whole time. "I'm sorry," you breathe out. "Close the door behind you, Y/N," he says. "And come closer." You do as he says, stepping into the office further after pulling the door shut behind you. "I said closer, Y/N," he says. "And put those down." You put down the documents on his desk, keeping your gaze down. "Look at me."

When you finally look him in the eye, he is reminded of why he chose you in the first place. You are beautiful, for sure, but it was your determination that he liked enough to hire you. After working in a factory for years, you wanted something else, and you were ready to fight for the change.

"What did I say about keeping your space clean?" He asks after a few seconds. There is a heavy, disapproving sigh in his voice that makes your lips curl downward with shame. "I did," you tell him. "It just… it got too much, and before I knew it…" "It happens because you let it," he says. "If you take care of your things immediately, they don't become a mess." "I know." "Come here," the orc says, pointing at the small space between his legs after he turns away from his desk.

You shouldn't. It's too close. It's too intimate.

But your legs move before you can say no.

Even though he is sitting, his eyes are at the same level as yours. "Good girl," he praises you. "See? You can do what I say." His words send shivers down your spine straight between your legs. "But you know I have to punish you, don't you?" Your eyes are wide as you look at him. Your lips feel dry as you try to say something, but nothing comes out. "It's important to do your job as quickly as you can. What if I needed the papers immediately? What if I needed them for a meeting? How would it look if I couldn't do my job because you can't find what I need?" Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him, afraid he is firing you. "Don't cry, sweet girl," he hums, grabbing your hands to squeeze them softly. He is so much bigger than you. "I still want you here because I know you can do much better. But I can't let it slide, can I?" You shake your head, but it's not enough for him. "Speak, Y/N." "No, you can't." "Good girls." His praises again. Your tights clench, and something flutters in your stomach. "I want you to pull down your jeans to your knees."

For a long moment, you forget how to breathe. Your boss wants what?

The man watches your reaction like a hawk. Maybe it was a wrong idea. Maybe you will run out of his office to report him.

But damn, he can't make himself to save the situation and his reputation.

"You heard me, Y/N," he says with forced confidence. "You broke my rules, and you have to get punished." Your gaze snaps to the closed door, and his muscles tense to stop you, to do something before he loses his business.

But you surprise him again.

"What if somebody comes in?" You ask timidly. A slow smile appears on his face. His tusks dig into his upper lip. "Nobody will disturb us, sweetheart." After a deep breath, you nod and unbutton your pants. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and excitement. You can barely believe what is happening. And you are okay with everything.

Your boss is a handsome orc. You noticed his sharp jawline and wide nose from the moment you introduced yourself at your job interview. He was definitely not who you imagined with his thick, braided hair and broad body. Even the modern office and the expensive suit couldn't hide the primal dominance shimmering under his dark green skin.

"Good girl," he says with approval. His dark gaze follows the curve of your wide hips and the line of your panties between your legs. "Lean over the desk. Ass out." Your whole body trembles as you do as he says. His desk is cold and hard under your elbows and stomach. And you are sure your head is ready to explode when you register the fact that he has a perfect view of your ass. You want to reach back to pull down your blouse as much as you can, but you have a feeling he wouldn't be happy about it.

And you are right.

The orc's erection uncomfortably presses against the inside of his underwear at the sight of you like this. Your back is in a slight arch as you press your bottom out as he asked. Your white panties stretch across your ass, still leaving a handful of your cheeks bare. His palms burn with the need to touch you.

"Tell me why you get punished, Y/N," he breaks the silence when he finally finds his voice. The words almost come out as a low growl. "Because I was late," you tell him. Your voice is timid and quiet. He can see your muscles tense and relax as you wait for what he will do. "Why were you late?" "Because of the mess on my table." "That's right," he nods. "You are a smart girl, Y/N. And what did I tell you about keeping your space clean?" "That I shouldn't let my work pile up into a mess. I should put away everything as soon as I can." "Good girl," he hums. Your whole body jerks up when you feel his hand on your bottom. He is soft and careful, exploring your flesh while his other hand goes to the middle of your back to keep you in place. The green color of his hand fits perfectly to the shade of your skin. "I didn't say you can move," he says. "I'm sorry." "It's okay, Y/N," he hums, still caressing you. "I will tell you what I will do, okay?" You hum in agreement. "I want your words, Y/N," he says. "When I tell you something or ask something, I want you to answer with words." "Okay," you force the words out of your tightened throat. Your nerves are raw and tense as you lean on his desk, half-naked. Fear and anticipation stretch in your belly. "Good girl." The world starts to spin around you. "I want you to stay like this while I spank you, alright?"

ALRIGHT?!

"Okay." "I give you ten since I think this is your first time, am I right?" "Yes." "Good. I will give you the first five with your panties on, but I will take it off for the next five, okay?" You gulp. "Okay." "I would like you to add sir every time you speak to me, okay, love?" "Yes, sir." His hand on your ass is warm and almost comforting. He can't get enough of the feel of you. You are soft and much more than a handful. "And if you change your mind or it's too much, I want you to say red, okay?" "Okay." A light slap on your ass makes you jump and squeak with surprise. "Okay, what?" He asks. His voice is stern while he waits to correct yourself. "Okay, sir," you reply hurriedly. "Good. Now tell me, what did I say before?" "If I change my mind or if it gets too painful, I say red." "You are a smart girl, Y/N," he says. "And I'm proud of everything you did since you were here, but you have to take care of your messiness." "Yes, sir."

Even though it comes as no surprise, you still can't contain your reaction when his large hand lands on your ass again with much more strength than the first time. Your whole body tenses and bounces at the slap, breaking a high whine out of your chest. "Count, Y/N." "One, sir," you tell him tightly. "Good girl." You barely hear the end of his words because of the next smack on your cheek. Your panties do nothing to protect you from his hand. "Two," you breathe out. And three. And four. "Five, sir," you groan with tightly closed eyes. Every fiber of your body is buzzing with something unfamiliar. Your ass burns and tears gather in your eyes, but you still throb between your legs. With every small movement you make, your clit rubs against the white, soaked fabric of your underwear. "You are doing so good, Y/N," he says after the fifth slap. He goes back to caressing your bullied cheeks again while talking to you comfortingly. "Can you continue? Or do you want to stop?" You know this is the right time to get out of here, but you are too deep. Stopping now doesn't even occur in your mind. "I want to continue, sir." "My brave girl," he hums.

And he is really proud of you. You take everything he gives you like a champ. Your whimpers and moans drive him crazy, and the way your ass shakes after every slap is enough to make a man wild.

He feels like a kid in a candy store when his fingers slip under your panties to pull down the fabric to your jeans around your knees. His eyes barely have enough time to register the sight when you reach back with both hands to hide yourself.

"None of that," he grunts, grabbing your wrists to keep them between his thick fingers, pinned to your waist. The new position forces your back to arch some more, pushing your ass out in front of his hungry eyes. The fact that you can't even move anymore should make you afraid, but the only thing you feel is the hot, heavy arousal that burns through your body. "It's a punishment, no?" He asks, and your eyelids immediately fall shut because of the embarrassment that surges through your veins. You know what he is talking about. "Sir…" "But it seems like you enjoy it too much," he grins darkly. His free hand slips down from your ass between your legs. He barely touches your soaked slit, but it's enough to send a shock through your already tense body. "Sir," you beg. "Please! I-" "Are we done with your punishment?" He asks sternly. His rough fingertips are still sliding up on down over your pussy, rubbing your clit and almost reaching your empty hole. "No, sir," you moan, letting your head hit the desk under you. "Then be a good girl and stop begging for a reward you didn't earn." His words almost make you cry. You can feel your wetness making a mess on your inner thighs, and your pussy aches even more than your burning bottom. "Yes, sir," you croak.

The orc behind you have to force himself to leave your pussy and go back to your ass. He grabs a handful of your flesh, letting his blunt nails dig into your heated skin. He promises himself he will lick your stretchmarks later, but now…

"Six," you jump. Your breathing is heavy, and your lips taste salty because of the tears running down your cheeks. Seven. Eight. "Nine," you cry. "Please, sir. I-please!" He loves you like this. A mess of arousal and begging. Your musky scent fills his nostrils. His cock twitches with every deep breath he takes. "The last one, Y/N," he says. "One more, and you are done." Your bottom is on fire when his hand lands on your ass again. The smack is loud and clear, followed by the sound of your voice escaping your lips. "Ten, sir," you sob.

"Come here, baby," he coos softly, helping you up from the table and sitting you down on his lap. You hiss at the painful feeling when your sensitive skin meets with his pants. You want to stand up immediately, but he stops you. "It's part of your punishment," he says, holding onto your hips. He feels you up, enjoying your every curve. "How do you feel?" He speaks up again when you settle down on his thigh. "Why are you crying? Was it too much?" You shake your head, letting him swipe off your tears with his thumb. "I'm fine, sir." "But?" He asks. "I'm… I-" You can't say it. It's almost comical. Your boss spanked you barely a minute ago, and you can't make yourself admit the state of your pussy. "Are you horny?" He asks helpfully. You nod. "Show me." Your eyes widen at his request. Your arm is still around his neck to keep your balance. "Spread your legs, sweetheart," he says. Your first reaction is to close your legs even tighter, but after a moment, you open up your thighs, letting him see your wet heat as it makes a mess on his pants. "Oh," you gasp, wanting to stand up again, but he doesn't let you go this time either. "No," he says. "Did I tell you to move?" "No, sir," you breathe out.

For a second, you thought about arguing with him. You are too heavy, and you will ruin his clothes, but honestly? You have your own problems. Like the constant ache and throb between your legs as your blood sears through your system in a hurry. The orc under you is a big guy; you have no doubt about holding your weight easily, and if he wants you to make a mess on his pants? Well, it's his decision too.

When his free hand that doesn't hold your waist slips up on your thighs, your legs open automatically. A shiver runs through your pent-up body as his fingertips run through your folds, gathering your wetness before slipping it into his mouth. Your lips open breathlessly as you watch him taste you. The low rumble of his chest vibrates in your bones and nerves.

"Please," you gasp. Your arm around his neck tightens as if you could force him. "Sir-" "Do you want to cum?" The orc asks, and when you vehemently nod, a slow smirk pulls on his lips. The curve is crooked because of his tusks. "Do you think you earned it?" He teases. You nod again. You really hope so. His eyes wander to your desk on the other side of the glass wall. It's still messy with papers and cups. Your bag is dropped on the floor, and your coat is ready to fall off the back of the chair. His fingers are still on your heat, teasing and prodding but avoiding giving you the pleasure you crave so much. The muscles of your thighs shake as you force yourself to stay put. You want nothing more than to grind your burning pussy on his thick fingers. The feel of his erection pressing against your bare thigh gives you a good idea of what he hides under his pants.

"I tell you what," he breaks the silence after a few seconds. His dark eyes glint with amusement as he looks at you. "If at the end of the day, your desk will be clean, I will give you what you want." "What?" You gasp, panicked. No, you need it now. You can't go through the day with the ache between your legs that drives you insane. And you don't even have the energy to think about your still burning ass. He lifts one of his thick brows in question. "Do you have a problem with it, sweetheart?" You know his question means nothing. If you say the wrong thing, you will get nothing. "No, sir," you exhale. "Good," he hums, kissing the side of your head with a soft squeeze on your hips. "Are you ready to continue the day?" After another shaky breath, you nod. "Yes, sir." "Good girl."

#sweet asks #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster smut #orc romance #orc x reader #terat0philliac #orc boyfriend #orc smut

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axeoverblade · 1 year ago

Text

Classmate

PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE

Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader

Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldn’t understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasn’t for the mid-year seat change, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged your existence.

MASTERLIST

Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles

Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think that’s it enjoy!

word count: 5k

Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3

It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.

Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didn’t like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.

The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.

…

Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, “Amanda and John”. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. “ And Finally Y/n and Miles.”

You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.

You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.

There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.

What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasn’t much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.

There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.

You had seen it once, a girl you hadn’t really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.

She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.

You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. “Hi I’m y/n” you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. “I know.”

You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.

You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.

You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.

Mei: He so fine tho 😍 ask em if he needs a dog

You: Mei 💀

You: he’s so rude n for what? Like he could’ve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole “bad boy” thing goin but ain’t have to do allat

Mei: Ion know gl tho 💯

You: Ur no help 😭 Ima ask for a seat change

Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty 😩 I know I would be

Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know

You: 😐

You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.

You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. “Is your worksheet finished?” “I wouldn’t be raisin’ my hand if it wasn’t.” “Watch it Morales, wouldn’t want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?” He sighed before mockingly smiling “sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?” He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.

You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.

…

“Alright Mei I’ll see you on Monday” you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. “Bye baby mama” you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.

You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- “oh sorry baby girl, didn’t see you there.” You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. “Don’t call me that John.” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. “You know you like it” he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. “I really don’t, I already told you I want nothin’ to do with you.” You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. “Cmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.” You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, “I’m not playing hard to get, this is me playing I don’t want you” “so you admit you're playing about not wanting me?” He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. “For the final time John, I am not interested.” You walked again, this time he didn’t follow because his friends were walking up to him. “I’ll see you on Monday baby!” He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didn’t know when to quit. Also didn’t know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasn’t like that was his roommate Ganke.

He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.

Monday rolled around quicker than you could’ve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didn’t want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.

Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about “the prowler striking again” over the weekend. You swiped it away.

You didn’t hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.

The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.

“Stop tapping, its annoyin” a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadn’t realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, “my fault, ain need all that attitude though” you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. “Whatcha’ sketching?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. “Qué coño estás haciendo?” He said sternly, but you didn’t budge. “You didnt wanna respond” you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. “That ain’ answer my question” he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. “Answer me next time and I won’t have to do that” you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.

One word, Regret.

You really wish you hadn’t decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didn’t mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.

Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you should’ve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.

You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didn’t just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to “watch where you’re going mami”, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of “he pulled you into him”, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a él. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.

His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didn’t ask for your number, didn’t do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasn’t even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasn’t because of him.

Miles wasn’t going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldn’t get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasn’t out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, también pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, could’ve had him killed mid fight.

He didn’t actually care for you, at least that’s what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldn’t see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.

It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.

…

Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.

It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadn’t, a few months since you’ve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.

“If you would finish your work then we could be done already” you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadn’t even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, “do you ever just, I don’t know, close your mouth?”. You rolled your eyes “If you, I don’t know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.” He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you “don’t say anything else”. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. “Well if you just did that earlier” you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.

As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didn’t stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. “So the party is tonight, you can come-” he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. “And we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.” You blinked a few times, “yea no” was all you said before looking at your phone. You didn’t fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. “Cmon’ baby, promise I’ll show you a good time.” “Ain’ I tell you not to call me that?” You said, annoyed that John just couldn’t leave you alone. “You know we locked in, you keep playin.” “John-” “aight hear me out, you come to the party, if you don’t have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- I’ll leave you alone, how does that sound?” “You’ll leave me alone?” You said, intrigued by the offer. “If you come.” You sighed, “lemme ask my momma.” He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.

A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. “I need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?” He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.

Sure enough.

You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.

Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldn’t have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party

Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. “Hey there pretty lady” you heard, you couldn’t catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. “You ain’t hear us talkin to you?” Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it must’ve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.

“What’s a little momma like you doing out here all alone, don’t you know there’s bad guys out here?”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll keep you safe”, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldn’t alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you could’ve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. “Tonto puta, all you had to do was cooperate” the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.

Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.

You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.

The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordan’s they sported. You didn’t have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasn’t necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. “Please” you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.

As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a ‘thank you’. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.

Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldn’t blame them, not many people saw what had happened.

…

It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.

You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.

“Y/n please it was an accident-”

You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.

“Y/n please just listen I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing you gotta believe me” he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily “you think being drunk excuses anything?” Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, “No it doesn’t but you gotta see it from my perspective-” “what perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I won’t hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?” Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.

You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. “What happened at the party?” You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. “Nothin’.” You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. “You ain’ gettin’ it back til you tell me what happened.” “Why do you care so much?” “Your wrinkles n’ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.” “Could say the same for you” he looked at you blankly. You sighed, “John got a lil’ too handsy is all, don’t worry ‘bout it. Can I have my phone back-“ “mami, how handsy?” His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you could’ve sworn you’d seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, “he tried to take me upstairs n’ I wasn’t feelin’ it, so he tried to make me” you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. “Left before he could do anything” you finished, “can I get my phone back now?” You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.

…

The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed “FIGHT”. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldn’t hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.

John had to be sent to the hospital.

Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Miles’s mother sat next to him upset. “My child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?” John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of “watch your mouth before I watch it for you.” He just looked down at his hands in his lap.

Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldn’t get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.

Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened weren’t the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.

Sure enough.

He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.

He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how “y/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-”. He paused in his tracks. Ain’ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensó que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about “how much you loved it”. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,“You ain’ needed here Miles-” John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didn’t stop though. Miles didn’t even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de él.

“What you won't even speak huh?” John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-” “You think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earth”Miles scoffed, cutting her off. “Cause he is, my kid wouldn’t hurt a fly and you-”“your oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappin’ bout’ how much she enjoyed it.” The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, “Uh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-” “well hold on,” Rio spoke for the first time, “My son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?” “Well Mrs.Morales we didn’t know that happened-” “so you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?” “Well he did start-” “uhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why aren’t they being scolded for this?”

The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.

Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. “So.. who’s the girl?” His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, “classmate.” She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldn’t damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.

“Ella tiene un nombre?” He sighed lightly, “Y/n.” Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. “At some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.” “I don’t even have her number, how is she supposed to know” Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,

“Encontrarás una manera”.

©axeoverblade

#42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #miles morales #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #prowler miles #prowler x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #miles 42 #42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles x y/n #miles x you #kyoutani x reader #miles morales x y/n #cute #drama

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irinaseverinka · 2 months ago

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Student corner

A set of furniture and decor for the design of the students corner.

BASE GAME - LOW POLY

Pt.I - three types of desks with shelves - desk chair - wall planer calendar - wall maps of the world - wall board with pockets and stationery - wall chalk board - wall pinboard.

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Pt.II - computer (decor) - textbooks (2 variants) - calculator - chancellery - copybooks - wooden eternal calendar - Bear organizer

DOWNLOAD

#ts4 #sims4 #sims4cc #ts4cc #ts4 download #ts4 furniture #severinka #ts4 objects #ts4 custom content #tsr #thesimsresource #ts4 simbrl #ts4 simblr

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ajaygiftkyade12 · 1 month ago

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Infinite calendar one of the best products from Gift Kya de, a special gift for friends or colleagues, also provides an elegant look to the décor for your home or office desk. This handcrafted masterpiece is a timeless wooden calendar that can be used for the next decade as well.

#Lifetime Calendar #Desk Organizer #Mobile Stand #Desk Calendar #wooden calendar

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fanaticsnail · 2 months ago

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Frills and Bundles

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,600+

Synopsis: Bound to your desk, you took to the task of testing out a new prototype of a dress Ivankov made for you. Not used to the frills and bundles, you become wrapped up in the feeling of it while your friend tries to halt his unhinged urges to do something about his pining.

Themes: Sabo x f!reader, 18+, NSFW, suggestive, Sabo is unhinged, Sabo is a little yandere, no smut - just fantasy, mutual pining, idiots in love, reader's birthday, fluff with an edge of spice beneath the surface.

Notes: Happy birthday @frillsinadress!! I hope you enjoy a small fic of Sabo longing and pining. May your day be glorious 🖤

Twin beady eyes gawked at you while sitting motionless atop your wooden desk. The shell on its back depicted the cross-hatched tattoo of your boss and leader of the revolutionary army. Your task for the day was to sit there and wait for the final report from Monkey D Dragon, and to organize a corresponding attack on the marines base with his direct orders as soon as he ordered them.

The full skirt attached to your hips gathered in heavy bunches in your lap, your chest rising and falling in strangled breaths beneath the constriction of the leathery corset Ivankov fashioned for you. Each element of the ruffled skirt weighed heavily on your hips regardless as to how you sat at your desk.

While the arrangement was beautiful, it was not at all practical while bound to the drawl of paperwork and snail-sitting. The reason you were dressed in this formal garb was specifically to train yourself how to act properly and daintily in order to infiltrate a gala, to gather intelligence for the revolutionary army in a reconnaissance mission within a small unit.

It was a bonus that you got to wear such a pretty arrangement on a day like today. Your birthday, to be exact.

While you never truly made a deal about yourself, never taking time off from your duties under Dragon to enjoy yourself, receiving the prototype from Ivankov did make you feel special in your own way. The extravagant array of frills and bundles waterfalling to the floor had the corners of your lips ticking up in a sweet smile.

Lost in your own world, you were yet to notice a presence leaning against the wooden post to your office door.

Head tilted, eyes examining, lips smiling, arms crossing, and foot tapping stood the flame emperor of the revolutionary army. Second in command under Dragon, your superior, who you answered to on occasion, and the man who recently became obsessed with you.

His obsession really seeped from the fact that you had only ever been kind and attentive to him: fetching his coat and hat when he left meetings, always dainty and poised regardless as to how well you were personally faring. From that brink came a spark within his chest that had him constantly feeling on edge. He was plagued with a lust that never seemed quenchable enough or satiated by his own pleasure while he fucked his fist to your fantasy.

Noticing your eyes left the two globes of the snail’s haunting and beady eyes to gawk down at your breasts hoisted in the corset, he felt morally obliged to do the same. As your hands traveled up to readjust them, you bunched the flesh in your hands and gave them a slight jiggle.

Sabo felt his mouth begin to water, salivating at the fantasy of picturing you palming them, while the other traveled beneath your skirts to give in to your need for release. Although all you were currently doing was toying and fussing with your seams, his mind had a way of running away with him when his eyes fell to you. Picturing all the thoughts he had of you pinching and fondling your naked breasts while he pistoned his cock, his mind for carried away as his gaze wandered lower.

His eyes stopped their mirage, hyper focussing on the fabrics bunched at your waist in an array of flowing frills. It was far too much material to get below the waist from the top. You would have to go from beneath to seek out that pretty pussy you've kept hidden from him.

Narrowing his gaze with a deep furrow of his brow, he concentrated on how much the material would prohibit such fun for you in an array of positions. The skirts almost seemed enough to hide another person beneath them.

Sabo could be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo wanted to be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo needed to dive beneath those skirts and consume your pleasure with his lips, tongue and teeth while his hands pried you apart and held you like that until you were clenching around him.

Shaking his head, he rid himself of those thoughts while gently coughing to alert you of his presence by the door.

“Sabo-!” you exclaimed, your hands frozen at their place fondling your breasts while shrouded in its corset. Face flushed, eyes wide, lips parting, and, in Sabo’s opinion, absolutely adorable: you had no idea how to react to being caught out squeezing at your breasts.

Gently smirking, he approached your station and removed his top-hat from his mop of tousled, blonde hair. Carding his digits through his locks, he sheepishly hung his head while his thighs brushed with your desk. Placing his hat down on your desk, he bit back his rising smirk and closed his eyes in humor.

“That-... Uh-...” He attempted to contain a chuckle from falling from his lips, “...New dress?” He continued to hold his eyes to the ground, peering at your fright through his peripherals.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, finally releasing your breasts from your hands.

“One of Ivankov’s?” He rose his eyes to meet your gaze. While he feigned an air of innocence about him, that unhinged side wanted nothing than to see how much more he could fluster you. “I like it on you. A lot, actually.” He leaned his hip up to sit on your desk, gently tilting the snail aside to avoid its awakened gaze.

“I-It is one of Iva’s, yes,” you stutter, blinking rapidly while he hovers ever closer to you. “Thank you for saying so.” You gave him a soft giggle to shrug off your nerves, returning to your usual posture with a grin, “Caught me at an odd moment, I won't lie to you. I'm not used to being so constricted by ruffles, frills and bundles. Anything for the cause, right?”

Sabo chuckled alongside you as you spoke, shaking his head lightly while he took you in.

“I don't blame you,” he shrugged, leaning forward and punching a portion of the fabric between his gloved fingers, “It's rather surreal, seeing you all dressed up like this.” Using a swift motion, he slowly dragged you towards him by the nape of your neck.

Rising to your feet with his motions, you allowed yourself to be tugged up by the flame emperor and drawn closer towards him. Your lips tingle with anticipation, never truly knowing the intention he was envisioning while you rose to stand before him. Sabo had always been a little unhinged with his conversation, and you would reciprocate indulgently with his unhinged commentary every now and again for your own, personal benefit.

Now fully standing in front of him, he rose to his feet and maintained contact with you by his gloved hand while walking around the desk. Reaching forward with his unoccupied hand, he claimed yours and gently indicated for you to spin slowly with him as your partner. To the betterment of your abilities, you allowed yourself to be spun in place, skirts bunching and swaying to a soundless melody.

“So pretty,” Sabo commented on your display alongside your garment, “Such a pretty dress, for such a pretty girl.” He halted your dance, placing both hands on your waist as he slowly moved himself closer. “Any wishes for your birthday? Anything I could do to help you out while you're bound in chains to the desk?”

You giggle at his comment, gently tapping his cravat with the backs of your hands in a playful shove. Shaking your head, you smoothed the sides of his navy jacket and fixed his collar. While you craved so desperately to give into your desires and ask him to satisfy the plague of lust branded into your mind of him beneath your skirts and satisfying you while you worked, you chose to behave.

“I have all I need here, sir,” you nodded towards your desk, “And I'll be here until Dragon tells me otherwise.”

“I could hide beneath your desk?” Sabo suggested, gently thumbing at your hips and bringing his lips up to your jaw before pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, “I have the whole day spare. I can be right here with you, and I won't make a peep.”

You shook your head at your friend, releasing his collar from your hands and gave him a playful shove.

“No distractions. I need to be at my desk until Dragon dismisses me for the day,” you nodded with a hint of melancholy to your tone, “The cause comes before all else, including pretty blondes hiding beneath my desk. Thank you for your suggestion, though. I do appreciate the offer.”

“Even on your birthday?” he suggested with a soft pout, “You're more dedicated than most of us here. I promise, as soon as you get off and away from your desk, as your friend: I will give you a birthday you won't easily forget.”

You shook your head, gently parting Sabo on the chest and returning to sit back at your desk.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you smile up at the man by your side, “You're a good friend. I'm looking forward to it.”

Giving you one last smile, he reached down and claimed your hand in his. Slowly dragging it up to his lips, he maintained eye contact while he pressed a kiss tentatively on the top of your knuckles. While the action in and of itself was sweet, the hidden promise dancing behind his eyes was raw and feral.

He knew exactly how he was going to make your day unforgettable. Each element of his date was meticulously planned and laid before him. The cuisine you favored, the sweets you preferred, a menu to sate your appetite for food, followed by the absolute cure to quench the thirst gathering in the thick, raw, primal tension rising between you.

For now, he would be satisfied by peering up at you though his blonde eyelashes, while he pictured all the ways he was going to carve your day into your memory. Confessing his love for you, expressing how devoted he was to you, and demonstrating that declaration by unraveling you in more ways you could ever perceive by every part of him he'd make available to you.

Sabo would confess.

All he hopes if that you would feel the same, and allow him to explore that with you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

#one piece #x reader #flame emperor sabo #revolutionary sabo #sabo #sabo x reader #x f!reader #one piece x reader #birthday fic #moots mooting

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laligraves · 5 months ago

Text

say you're sorry

priest!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2k summary: You ask Father Miller for forgiveness. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, mean!Joel, power imbalance (since Joel is a priest), some proofreading, reader has hair that Joel can grab, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, daddy kink, references to catholicism, oral (m! receiving), some gagging, spanking, lap sitting/riding, unprotected sex, creampie, some very light cum eating

a/n: this is a different priest joel and a different reader from my other priest fic :)

His office is big, airy, smelling of incense and cologne. Theology books and bibles in a few different languages are organized on the wooden shelves. A cross complete with a sorrowful looking Jesus hangs on the wall behind his desk.

“These figs are divine,” Father Miller groans, “your mother gave me some cuttins’ but I’ve never been able to grow a tree myself.”

He bites into the fruit and moans at the splash of sweet juice that soaks his tongue.

“Here, take a bite,” he offers.

His hands tighten in your hair and he pulls your mouth away from his spit-covered cock. You whimper at the loss but he shushes you with a stern bite, and you quickly comply.

“Reminds me of somethin’ else that’s sweet,” he whispers as he watches your throat move in a swallow.

“Please, daddy,” you moan, “I wasn’t done.”

Father Miller gives you a soft pat on your cheek, trailing his fingers down to tug at the rosary that hangs between your breasts, before pushing your head back onto his cock.

He spreads his knees wider in his desk chair.

“What a beautiful way to ask for forgiveness. Figs and your mouth on my cock.”

If his big dick wasn’t in your mouth, you’d cringe from embarrassment. Your own selfish and jealous actions led to his disappointment and your need to ask for forgiveness.

“Envy is a sin. You choose to have these emotions and these moments of insecurities,” Father Miller murmurs in that tone that makes you squeeze your thighs.

“When those thoughts begin, it’s your responsibility to come to confession. You have to talk to me so I can help.”

Father Miller does it again, yanking you back from his cock and tilting up your chin with his finger.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Ye–yes–”

“Repeat it to me,” he interrupts.

“I need to–to ask you for help when I’m feeling jealous,” you choke out.

His hand tightens in your hair and he pushes himself deeper into your mouth. You gag, tears pooling on your waterline from the burn in your throat.

“Good girl.”

You want to run your hands down his strong thighs and feel the clench of his muscles, but they’re bound behind your back with your soaked panties. Aside from the rosary, the panties around your wrists are the only clothes you wear.

You massage your tongue on the thick vein that spans underneath his cock. Spit dribbles down your chin as he begins to move your head up and down.

“Fuck, just like that, honey,” he groans. “Got such a perfect mouth.”

You moan at the praise. Honey, the name he’s reserved just for you. Even at bible study on Wednesdays and at Mass on Sundays, he’ll call you honey, no matter who's around.

“Those other women who come here, they seek advice. I can’t turn them away.”

You let the tears fall from your eyes, partly from the cock spearing down your throat and also from the fact that he’s right. It’s his responsibility to listen to his congregation.

Even if you know the women stare at him with dreamy eyes and fantasize about his broad shoulders, Father Miller must give them individual attention.

He clenches his teeth the moment your nose hits the curly hair at his base. You swallow and fight through the burn, sucking at the salty taste of his skin. You clench your thighs again, hoping for any type of stimulation.

“Aww,” he coos, “what does my poor little sinner need?”

You whimper on his cock, wanting to move your head away so you can tell him how much you want him, but his hand keeps you in place.

“Nothin’ to say?” he mocks, “You don’t want me to eat your little cunt, honey? Make you cum on my tongue? Just want to keep suckin’ daddy’s cock?”

Slick drips from your pussy. Mean, mean, mean, you chant in your head. You’re sure you look like a pathetic mess; shivering and crying hard enough to ruin your makeup.

Father Miller laughs and wipes the tears from your eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

You’re roughly pushed off, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick. You continue to sob as he yanks you up by your arms and bends you over his desk.

“I said enough,” he snaps, landing a hard spank to your ass. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Your shiver as your tits make contact with the cool surface of the desk. The rosary presses to your chest, indenting the soft skin.

“Such a beautiful cunt for a sinner,” he whispers.

His hands massage your ass and he pulls apart your cheeks to stare at the puffy mess between your thighs. You try to move out of his grasp, embarrassed at how he can see every delicate inch of you, but he spanks you again.

“Can’t seem to stay still,” he growls, “after everythin’ you’ve done, you still wanna disappoint me?”

“N–no, daddy. I’m sorry, I’ll–I’ll stay still.”

His leather shoe pushes on your ankle and you spread your thighs wide. He runs the tip of his length up your slit, ghosting over your sensitive button. You push your hips back and try to sink onto his cock, but he presses down on your lower back to keep you still.

“Little sinner,” Father Miller scolds, “instead of trusting me, you accuse me of sleeping with other women. After the oath I gave to this church?”

“I was wrong! I’m sorry,” you cry, hot tears rolling down and landing on the desk.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll help you repent. Count f’me.”

He moves slightly to the side and uses a large hand to spank you hard on your right cheek. You yelp, immediately choking out a one before feeling his hand massage your other.

You push up on your tiptoes, presenting your ass to him, hungry for his touch. He starts off soft, slow, squeezing the plump curve of your ass. His palm lands harsher and you welcome the sting of each slap, pushing back into him, heart beating faster with each number.

Once he gets to fifteen, he lands it right on your pussy. You push up on the desk in surprise and try to beg for more, daddy, please–I’m so close.

“No more, baby,” he coos, “did so well with your spankin’.”

“Please, daddy,” you whimper, “please give me your cock. Please fuck me.”

His hand tugs on your hair and he makes you stand to your full height.

“This is punishment, honey,” he whispers in your ear, “you’re gonna have to work for my forgiveness.”

You’re not sure what else he could possibly make you do but he spins you around and you watch as he sits down in his desk chair.

“C’mere,” he growls.

His hands wrap around your waist and you're pulled into his lap. You’re unbalanced, still unable to use your hands but he reaches around you to keep you steady.

With his other hand, he teases the fat tip to your entrance.

“You’re gonna ride me. Maybe after I��ll forgive ya’.”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, slowly sinking down on his cock.

His strong hands slide to grip your waist and his fingers dig into your soft skin. You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling with blurry eyes, your teeth digging into your bottom lip with each inch that’s stuffed inside of you.

“That’s it, honey,” he murmurs, “take my cock, take it.”

You can’t speak, can’t ask for more from your daddy. The angle is new, something you two have never tried before, a stretch that makes you dizzy and the air in your throat stutter.

He helps you with the last few inches, praising you for having such a perfect cunt, feel so good wrapped around me–made just for me, honey.

Father Miller gives you time to adjust, kissing your chin, nipping your neck, running his lips over the rosary that sways between your breasts.

His tongue lashes over your nipples and he sucks as much of your tit as he can get, into his mouth. He’s mean, leaving indents of his teeth on your skin. It’s exactly what you want–what you need.

He knows right when it’ll become too rough, too much for you, and he’ll kiss, swipe his tongue over the hurt, rain praises on your skin.

The both of you fit awkwardly on the big chair but you make it work, digging your knees into the leather and bracketing his thighs to grind slowly in his lap.

“Look so pretty on my cock, honey.”

He’s taken you from behind, bent over his desk with your hands clawing at the wood. He’s taken you in the tiny confessional, your body folded in half while he stares into your eyes as he finishes inside of you.

Not like this, though. Not with your hands behind your back and his on your waist, helping you bounce and grind on him.

You tremble in his hold, feel each kiss of his fat cockhead to the syrupy end of you.

“Ne–need to c–cum,” you choke out, remembering you can use more than just whines and whimpers to talk.

His cheeks are red, his hair is in disarray, and you notice sweat on his neck, peppering along his clerical collar. His thighs shift underneath you and he plants his feet more firmly on the ground.

“Wantcha’ to cum on my cock,” he demands.

Father Miller uses you like a toy, moving your body how he wants it, burning the memory of his cock into your pussy. His lips find yours in a sloppy kiss when you tilt forward, almost falling from how fast he’s using you.

He’s so big, buried deep in your pussy, splitting you open. Your clit brushes on the curly hair at his base with each rock of his hips and you're there–cumming on Father Miller’s cock, opening your mouth in a silent scream while you shake in his hold.

You soak his cock and the front of his dress pants with your slick. He’s groaning at each pulse and flutter of your pussy. Take it so well, honey he murmurs around your nipple. Milkin' my cock, baby.

He moves you up once, twice, and keeps you pressed to him, spilling his seed in your cunt. Without even trying it knocks another orgasm from you, just as you were coming down from the first.

Father Miller bites at your mouth, bringing up his hand to squeeze your neck and accept his kisses. His cock twitches slightly inside of you as he spills, marking you deep.

He yanks off your panties and you immediately move your hands into his hair, tugging through the strands and pressing your body even closer to his. Your breathless, shivering in his hold from the two orgasms that were shocked out of your body.

Just as quickly as it happens, he pushes you off of his lap. You land in a limp heap on the floor, eye level to his soaked cock. It’s covered in the both of you.

“Give it a kiss, and say you’re sorry.”

You happily follow his command, pressing a kiss to the tip, licking away the stickiness from your lips and give him a I’m so sorry, daddy.

He smiles at you before reaching to take the rosary off from your neck and placing it in your hands. You stare up in confusion and watch as he rises to his full height.

“Now, I want you to kneel here,” he says, grabbing you by your upper arm and dragging your naked body right in front of the cross, “and do two Hail Marys and three Our Fathers.”

Your thighs shake from the exertion but you do as he says and kneel in perfect form. You bow your head in prayer and begin, hearing him zip up his dress pants and walk out of his office. His cum slowly drips out of your swollen pussy and onto the hardwood floor.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller x reader #dark joel miller #dark fic

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moonsaver · 7 months ago

Text

I cant stop thinking about being a possible singer from the Iris Family?? Their family is usually responsible for the major "talent" productions that practically are responsible for the entertainment... also Siobhan as hints to what the Iris family would be like.

You were a singer.

Barely a singer, to be fair.

It was for the sake of your little compartment of a family. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you scraped out every last bit of your talents. The one which seems to be lasting the longest, seems to be singing.

You did what you had to. You sang until your throat was raw and hurt, practiced day and night until your ears were sick of your own voice, passed through every elimination tests that were conducted – all so you could have a stabilized, bolted place in the Iris Family, if it meant you and your parents and siblings weren't kicked out.

And, you weren't the best. And certainly not as good as Robin – the gem of the Oak Family. It was ironic, but it didn't matter. Not to you. As long as it kept your family secure, you endured. The comparisons, the hushed, barely pleased audience as they only took your performance as stalling time for the "real stars" of the show, the side-glances all of your other relatives threw your way. It was fine. You told yourself so. It was fine as long as you, your parents and your siblings were secured.

Risks weren't an option for you. Not when you had too much to lose.

Sunday has learned to appreciate frequency over output.

Times where schedules had to be rearranged last minute, performances strained and announcements elongated to squeeze out any extra amount of coverage for a missing show, routine dismantled and put together in real time as the neverending perfect show went on.

In all of those times, Sunday kept a usual eye on everyone. Their names, roles, status, popularity, preferences. And most importantly – their reliability.

You were an average performer. But your reliability was notable to Sunday. Oftentimes he found himself looking for you first and foremost for an improvised concert, whenever things even threatened to go awry. He knew perhaps you obliged out of self-interest or a simple fear of upsetting The Head of the Oak Family, but you were reliable in your own way. A simple glance your way and a nod was enough to signal you for advance preparation for improvisation, repeated song lyrics at the tip of your tongue.

If you were lucky, sometimes Sunday would repay you by scheduling you for an opening performance for a small-time event, or letting you in on the recent trends, the general public opinion towards your show, or even drop some personal hints for you to improve.

That was all you were. A reliable stand-in for when there were a disarray of clarity, disagreements upon disagreements, confusion stagnating the scheduling.

Until, you became so much more in a simple moment of disillusion.

A break is in order, Sunday believes. He clicks his pen continuously, the sound echoing in the vast space of the room, bouncing off of the sterile, empty walls.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

5 times.

Click.

6 times.

Sunday's restless mind comes to a small halt when he inhales sharply, constraining his fingers. His shaking hand gently places the pen onto the flat, neatly organized desk, back where it belongs. He rests his chin on his hands. Thinking and listing everything on his agenda for the day.

A tandem of knocks resound from the smooth wooden surface of the door.

"Mr. Sunday?"

Ah. It's you.

He supposes his asisstants and servants don't realize he's noticed the recent pattern as of late. Whenever something changes in the schedule that could possibly threaten to dampen his mood or displease him, they send you in as some sort of collateral. He's gotten used to your presence enough to not mind it.

"Come in."

Short, quick clicks of your heels accompany the entering of your figure into the room. Your front is warmly illuminated by the yellow lighting of the room.

"Changes have been decided within the schedule again."

"As expected."

He gets up from the leather chair with a subtle creak, the steps of his shoes muffled by the carpet. He walks around his table, fingers trailing across the ridges of the masterfully crafted desk.

"Can I ask a favor of you, as always?"

"Of course."

His wings slightly flutter, pleased at the response. You can tell, despite his back facing you.

His fingers trail and come to a slow halt at the edge of the desk. His index finger taps on the surface.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

5 times.

Ah, you think. He's anxious.

"Mr. Sunday?"

"Hm?"

His finger stops, you note.

"I've heard guests have taken more to berry-flavored items as of late."

He chuckles a bit, softly.

"There's an uprising trend. Berry-flavored items have been on the rise, and as such, food follows."

Sunday half theorizes it could be due to the recent intreview Robin had. Strawberry flavored lipgloss was something she mentioned in particular.

"Ah. I see. So I suppose those colors may also influence the recent fashion trends?"

Sunday hums, in thought.

The moment is interrupted by an abrupt knock at the door.

"Mr. Sunday, there's a few tasks that need your approval to go ahead."

The male asisstant's voice resounds confidently through the previously quiet room. Sunday looks over at you and nods. You turn to take your leave. You can only hope it was enough of a reprieve for him.

"It seems fashion trends are inspired, aswell."

Sunday mentions, standing beside you. His eyes are watchful, analyzing the current performance from behind the curtains.

"I see."

You respond. Making conversation was not your strongsuit. Sunday smiles slightly at your awkwardness.

He continued the conversation after a few moments, talking about color palettes, scents, and general observable trends. Your usual,basic gowns and dresses will now see a noticeable change, due to Sunday's suggestions.

He admits, even at times, he looks forward to them. Sometimes, as foolish as it sounds, he slips in a mix of his own personal opinion, thinly disguised as the "general preference", which manages to then take presidence over your usual pick of gowns. He won't admit it, but he secretly does enjoy sometimes "picking out" your outfits. It's never harmed anyone in the long run, and Sunday's personal theories of whichever color would look good on you are confirmed.

"May I ask.. what this is..?"

The artificial, blue light of the Dreamscape softly highlights Sunday's face, as he stands before you with a pleased look. The same, usual smile on his face.

"I believe incorporating a few gold accents into your palette may help."

You look at the black, velvet bag; the ends of it scrunched into a closure. Your fingers gently pry it open and meddle around a bit, before they pull out a single, gold earring. It glimmers wonderfully under the soft, blue light. There's a flower at the very top with an encrusted diamond, from which a long, elegant thread of gold dangles, ending into a small golden stalk.

You curiously examine it, slightly dangling it to inspect the weight and movement of the accessory.

Sunday walks toward you with a few, short strides, and holds out his hand.

You look at his open, gloved palm, then him.

You inhale deeply, before taking off your current earrings and placing them onto his hand, and gently replacing their former stations with the new earrings. Sunday places your previous earrings into the velvet bag, and glances at your ears, then you.

"Consider it a.. company gift."

How fanciful.

"Thank you for your generosity."

Sunday's eyes linger on your ears, then trail down to the junction of your jaw. His eyes close as his smiles widens slightly.

To be fair, he wanted more.

‐

Sunday has been getting closer to you as of late.

Because you wouldn't imagine ever being this close in proximity to Robin of all people.

Her lips are glossy with a strawberry tint, and her eyes are a beautiful lake green, you note. You also take note of the fact she's much more warmer and approachable than she is appeared to be on digital surfaces.

Both of you engage in polite conversation, her taking the lead, noticing your awkwardness. She's sweet, and understanding. She discusses general things regarding singing and songwriting. You take her for a very warm individual. It's no wonder she's a well-liked popstar. Talent alone can take you so far.

What you also wouldn't imagine is her managing to entangle you within her daily affairs. She leads you to private rooms, asks for advice on outfits, practice, and all sorts of things, despite the contrast of your styles almost bizzare, you oblige anyway.

And it's almost brazenly obvious she's trying to get you and Sunday to spend more time alone outside of work.

It's of no coincidence that she suddenly has to leave and take care of a few things or shuffle around a bit outside whenever Sunday manages to pop in and check up on you two. It wouldn't have been so uncomfortable if for the fact, Sunday's eyes are always lingering on your ears.

Once, he'd taken note that you'd been wearing them more often to your performances and shows. It can't be helped – you've gained more popularity and as a result, keener eyes inspect your choice of practically everything. Including your earrings. Your fans aren't hesitant to point out how exquisite and specific the craftsmanship of your earrings are, and it's not long before your fans have understood it was gifted to you. By who, became the newest sensation regarding you. Petty rumors were incriminating, but you suppose if it brought you more fans, it was enough.

Sunday chuckles softly when you briefly touch on the subject.

It wasn't long before he'd gotten you another pair as a result.

You only worry about paying him back, more and more.

‐

There are a plethora of thorns on Sunday's side. Many, of which the public, and many members of the Oak Family aren't privy to.

One of them was currently busy darkening his doorstep;

The IPC.

Or rather specifically – Aventurine.

What he wasn't expecting, was for you to be an exclusive invitee to his mischief.

You were rather in an unlucky spot. You had always considered your luck to be rusty, having struggled so much just for average recognition and a barely tangible career that's keeping your family afloat.

On top of that, you were being heavily persuaded by Aventurine, who was persistent in his offer to you. His desperation was more than obvious, like a nervous dog waiting for the bone toss, holding you in place with a firm grip on your arm. It didn't help that he'd forced his way into your hotel room aswell.

And Sunday just witnessed the pinnacle of this forsaken deal.

...

"Aventurine."

"Mr. Sunday."

After a beat of silence, you pathetically try to step in,

"This–"

"I see you've taken to familiarizing with my employees."

Sunday's smile remains well plastered on his face. Aventurine only smiles back.

"I was actually in the middle of striking a deal. There's always opportunities in the best of places, right?" Aventurine side-eyes you. You shrink back a bit.

"My employees are unfortunately off-limits to contracts from unauthorized branches. I look for your understanding in this.. complicated form of approach."

You watch Aventurine's smile strain. Sunday continues.

"Perhaps, if you are in need of a singer, I may direct you to an appropriate employee from the Iris Family to search for someone."

"That won't be necessary. I wasn't looking for a singer. You don't think that's all they're talented at, do you?"

Sunday's eyes slightly sharpen at him. Aventurine's smile becomes more genuine.

"Oh, you've positively ruined the mood. I guess it's just not my lucky day, and it looks like I'm not getting a deal with you anytime soon."

Aventurine's eyes hone in on you. You stand stiffly, your arm tense from the uncertainty your body feels physically.

His grip loosens, languidly. You'd think he was doing it slowly on purpose if not to tick off Sunday more.

"I'll take my leave, then."

Aventurine breezes past Sunday, rounding the corner of the door. He casts one last glance to you as the turns.

His footsteps echo down the hallway. As soon as they fade, Sunday's smile drops slightly.

"Are you perhaps.. unhappy with your current circumstances?"

‐

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