#THIS IS SUCH A GOOD WAVE OF MESSAGES TO RECIEVE

[emowonz]

₊˚ෆ ⊹₊ ⋆ that boy is mine P.SH ₊˚ෆ ⊹₊ ⋆

⊹₊ ⋆ IN WHICH - being in a secret relationship with your superstar boyfriend can be super hard to keep him to yourself! especially when he has thousands of fangirls drooling over him, so once he's finally off tour he shows you he's yours, your boy.

⊹₊ ⋆ PAIRING - boyfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader

⊹₊ ⋆ CONTAINS - unprotected sex (no), softdom!sunghoon, jealous! reader, afab reader, hoon calls reader (princess, baby, etc), fingering, profanity, breeding kink, and pussy eating.

₊˚ෆ ⊹₊ ⋆word count- 2k

⊹₊ ⋆ 🏷️ - @totaladolecense @heeseungsbm @twinsanz (lmk if you would like to be added!)

⊹₊ ⋆ a/n; was listening to ari and thought this was the perfect song for hoonie! hope you all enjoy ᰔ

June 15th, friday afternoon.

you laid in you and your boyfriends shared bedroom , that he hardly even slept in due to the overwhelming fate tour. You haven't seen your boyfriend since may 20th, sure having a famous boyfriend is fun. you feel mysterious perhaps like romeo and juilet a forbidden love until you have to sneak around to avoid paparazzi, barely even go on dates, you can't even be seen out in public sadly due to dispatch not minding their damn business.but do you regret dating sunghoon? of course not, you love that man til pieces and he loves you to the moon and back.

sometimes you would find yourself scrolling through TikTok suddenly searching "sunghoon edits" to even remember how your boyfriend looks. you tried your best to avoid opening up the comments because they always seemed to piss you off even though you are his and he is yours right? as you stalked the hashtag you ran across a video a fan interaction oh? you thought to yourself. you always skip the interactions they always seemed to be nice and just friendly compliments but this one was different.

it was a really pretty girl, which most of his groups fanbase are that didn't rub you wrong until now. you knew your boyfriend was attractive anyone can tell you that, exactly why you needed him to yourself. the video showed clips of her recording hoon and he seemed to keep looking her up and down strike one, taking her phone from her and recording himself with it strike two, and lastly during sendoff he blew her air kisses waving goodbye strike fucking three.

you were frustrated, who does he think he is? you thought as you looked down to the caption, "might sign a NDA tonight🤭" the caption read. your eyes almost fell out of your head how shocked you were. scrolling through the comments searching for any hate which you wished she received more. everyone agreed with her saying things like.

"omg he needs you soo bad im sick💔"

"i fear that nda was being handed to you after he even looked at you!"

"you guys would be such a power couple!"

this cant be true you shooked your head before mindlessly typing in the comment section "youre nothing bye" before coming to a halt erasing your message. it isnt the girls fault, if a famous idol was fliritng with you, you would react the same way. its sunghoons fault for even acting like this knowing he has a girlfriend at home. just as you were about to power off your phone and call it a night you recieved a call from no one other than hoon. you rolled your eyes before answering the video call, sure your upset with him but he did look really good in that video.

you answering as the camera revealed hoon, sitting in his dressing room with his camera propped up, his messy curls laying on his forehead as he pushed up his black glasses. he was in a black shirt with a black leather jacket on top, his honey glazed skin shining in the dim light almost set you off. "hey sugarbutt" he spoke in a raspy soft voice smiling at the camera looking into the camera to see your face but couldnt due to your camera being shut off. you were beyond irritated at Hoon for his behavior today.

his face scrunched up due to your camera being off, "hey princess can you turn your camera on, I miss your pretty face I cant wait to see you tomorrow" he chuckled as he rambled almost making you blush you and Hoon have been texting about him coming back home every since he went back to korea. you try your best not to melt at the tone of his voice. being you, you decided you wanted to be petty. "oh really I thought you missed hoonslover" you read out the girls username outlaid as you turned your camera on showing your pissed off expression.

sunghoon furrowed his eyebrows at your words as silence filled the call on both ends. "oh im guessing cat got your tongue mhm?" you question the man who seems like he's spaced out. "your tits look really cute in that tank top baby" he crossed his arms burning a hole through your chest with his eyes. heat run to your cheeks as you rolled your eyes placing your blanket over your chest. "oh so you think this is a joke? our whole relationship?" you jumped to conclusions.

"baby I don't even know what youre talking about, but whatever it is it isn't serious you know you're my number one" he stated as his tongue began to pop his cheeks and he cracked his red knuckles. "well it doesn't feel like it sunghoon, its not even your fans its you! I get it, its for business but for Gods sake Hoon you looked at the girl like you wanted to pull her on stage and fuck her" you rambled taking a big sigh after you let out your frustration, once again silence filled the call.

you rubbed your eyes feeling them began to get teary, "its whatever hoon, im just gonna go to bed ill see you tomorrow" you sighed. "wait princess let me-" just as he was about to finish you hung up before it turned into a even bigger issue. hopefully in the morning it will be resolved.

June 16th, saturday afternoon

you’ve been bed rotting almost all day, after the one sided argument with hoon you couldn’t even bare to even open up your messages while having your phone on dnd and ringer off. once you ran out of snacks you decided to get out of bed and go make some cereal just for you to plop back in bed. you sighed as you put your pink bunny slippers on the same exact ones you and hoon got to match, yours pink, his blue great timing.

as you walked into your kitchen grabbing a bowl from the cabinet you began to hear someone fiddle with their pockets reaching for a key maybe it’s just the people down the hall. until you heard a familiar whistle as the sound got closer and you seen the door knob jiggle.

oh shit you thought as you inhaled and decided you were gonna ignore him so he would feel bad and give you an apology right? your brain clouded with thoughts until he opened the door revealing sunghoon. he had on a simple black zip up with gray sweatpants, hair curly and over his forehead and once more with thoses damn glasses. you pretended you didn’t see the tall figure working his way up behind you due to you being “so busy with the food” once hoon reached behind you he wrapped his cold hands around your waist causing you to shiver.

“y/n” he spoke in a low stern but sorta comforting voice as he placed his head amongst your neck, feeling his warm breath hit your neck as your breath began to hitch. “sunghoon” you spoke trying to match his vibe as you heard him scoffed at you. “why were you ignoring my calls baby? still upset from last night mhm?” he asked as he began to leave soft pepper kisses down your neck, you let out a soft moan before snapping back into reality gently pushing him off your neck. all that time in korea he could be doing the same thing with another woman you shook your head at your overwhelming thoughts.

“Can I make it up to you princess? i’ve missed you sooo much” you could feel his smirk as he rubbed his bulge on your ass. You let out a soft moan due to the friction, your hormones began to overwhelm you making you decide you don't even care anymore. Fuck it you thought as you turned now facing the taller man as you pulled him down to your level making the man slightly crotch down as you grabbed his face shoving your lips desperately into his. Sunghoon immediately accepted the offer by grabbing your ass, picking you up and placing you on the cold marble counter.

Everything felt like it wasnt real, sorta like a movie. You snapped back into reality once hoon slipped his tongue into your mouth turning his head slightly getting a better angle.the two of you guys tongue fought for dominance. Hoon giving your ass a hard squeeze made you gasp allowing him to win as he started sucking on your tongue, now tasting the cranberry juice you drunk lingering on your tongue. As you grew more needy you moved your hand down to hoons pants rock hard you felt. You began to stroke his covered dick almost making his knees buckle as he moaned in your mouth. 

"jump baby, seems like I have to remind you im yours" he smirked pulling away from your lips out of breath. you obeyed his request doing a soft hop as Hoon caught you, his big hands grabbing your plump thighs. he leaned in kissing you again as you guys made way to the bedroom. he gently laid you on the bed now making contact with your neck man how you've missed this. he left soft bite marks as he returned back to your mouth like an animal.

he began to remove your oversized sweater that hid your figure. "no bra? fuck baby you're perfect" he groaned diving into your chest sucking your tit like his life depended on it, he pinched your nipple at he wasn't sucking on switching back to back on each breast. you moaned as the cold air hit your chest causing your nipples to harden.

"fuck I can't wait anymore, need to taste you princess" he grunted pulling your short shorts down along with your pink lacy panties off revealing your soaked cunt as he got onto his knees infront of you what an beautiful view. cold air making contact with your wet pussy making you shut your legs as Hoon forced them back open. "so pretty, such a pretty fucking pussy, my pretty pussy yea?" he questioned looking up at you. you covered your face in embarrassment due to you being the only person fully naked but Sunghoon didn't seem to care. "yes hoon, all yours" you mumbled. Hoon tapped your thigh making you look at him, "hey sugarbutt don't cover that pretty face, I got you" he stated in such a low teasing tone.

you couldn't take another second of the teasing, "please hoonie, please touch me" you whimper in anticipation unknowingly buckling your hips up as hoon chuckled at you. “patience baby, let me play with you yea?” he looked up at you with that damn smirk. you shook your head yea as your eyebrows furrowed.

sunghoon kept eye contact with you as he lowered his head down to your warm cunt before slowly licking your bud causing your body to relax and shudder slightly. he spread your lips open slowly shoving his tongue in and out your womanhood. "fuck I cant believe you would ever think I could even touch another woman after tasting you y/n" he spoke against your cunt lapping all your juices up with his tongue as you felt vibrates once he spoke.

you squirmed around as his words went straight to your heat, "h-hoonie I don't think im gonna last any longer" you stutter as you slowly felt your high creep up on you. "its okay baby let it all go, let it go for me" he spoke as his actions grew faster sucking your clit like now tomorrow then adding his index finger into your throbbing hole almost setting you off. "oh my goodness hoon, im gonna fuck im gonna!" you shouted squeezing your legs around his head almost suffocating him as you rode your high out on his tongue.

gasping for air as hoon slurped up your mess. "princess you did so good for me, I think you need an reward" he smirked wiping his juicy mouth off looking at your fucked out expression, little tears stains on your cheeks. so beautiful he mumbled before taking off his baggy sweats, as hoon removed his pants you anazlyed his beautiful features, his long eyelashes, his boyish eyebrows, and his little moles that you've counted many times.

"take a picture it'll last longer" he teased looking up at you snapping back into reality making you flustered. he chuckled looking at your shy expression, "you're so pretty baby, all I need is you" he spoke pulling off his black boxers revealing his member. did it get better in 3 weeks geez you thought almost drooling looking at it. "all I need is you too hoon" you whispered making eye contact with the man hovering over you. the two of you leaned in and kissed but this time it was full of love, geniune love to be exact.

getting eager you began to stroke his shaft making him groan, "fuck are you ready baby?" he questioned you. you nodded your head yes super fast. "words baby, say it with your chest" he spoke making your face heat up. "yes, im ready hoonie" you said as he gave you a slight smirk before teasing your hole slapping his cock onto your cunt making pornographic slap sounds as you moaned outloud. "put it in please" you begged as hoon slipped himself in you.

the both of you moaned in unison as hoon finally bottomed out. "fuck baby youre so tight, no other woman can ever make me feel like this" he rambled beginning to thrust in and out of you at an amazing speed as you bit your bottom lip containing your moans. "you're so pretty like this, im so fucking in love with you baby" he whined as he thrusted in and out of you. you moaned at his words, almost making you want to cry out in pleasure and in sadness.

"I love you more hoonie, you make me feel so so good!" you drag your words crying out as tears ran down your cheeks. hoon wiped them away before leaving down mouth capturing your lips. this position had him hitting your g spot like crazy. you began to ramble and moan so loud it could wake the neighbors up. "you're so tight baby I don't think im gonna last much longer" he moans against your neck as his pace thickened now massaging your clit with his thumb.

your eyes rolled as you felt your high hit you like a train wreck, "oh my gosh hoon im cumming, I want you to cum in me please" you shouted as you creamed onto his dick causing your body to shake. hearing your pornographic scream set sunghoon off. "fuck princess, im gonna cum, gonna cum in your tight pussy" he whined in your neck as you felt his load shoot up your body.

the two of you stayed there, hoon still on top of you lifting his head up. "I love you so much baby, and im so sorry that I ever made you feel like a second option" he stared into your eyes. the little twinkle in his brown eyes almost made you burst into tears. " I love you so much more hoon, and im sorry for not taking your word and trusting you"you said tracing your nails on his bicep."promise we'll talk about it before jumping to conclusions?" he raised his pinky up at you. "promise" you smiled locking thumbs with the man. you sighed preparing yourself for the next tour hoping you don't try to rip your loving boyfriends head off.

"you know you're really hot jealous babe?" he smirked at you flashing his fangs at you."shut up" you mumbled rubbing your face in embarrassment before speaking, "come on and take me to cvs unless you wanna be a idol father" you joked as sunghoon laughed picking you up out of bed and leading you to the shower to wash up.

maybe being jealous isn't a bad thing if it makes you end up in situations like this.

[chrisdr3]

Let's just sleep ~ DR3

Fluff

Summary: Y/N somehow manages to sleep literally anywhere and no one can stop her, even if it's Daniel's home race.

Everyone knowing you knows that you can sleep everywhere. Literally. You can sleep anywhere that's comfy enough for you and noise doesn't affect you at all. And the best part is that Daniel doesn't mind. He always finds you sleeping in weird "comfy" positions and covers you with his jackets and hoodies or takes you to comfier places, but in all of the cases, he lets you sleep. Even in his races.

It was his home race and you went with him, you managed to take the whole week off to be with him and support him. It meant so much to Daniel that you could be there to cheer for him. So much that he was on cloud 9 all the week and his lap times and records increased rapidly, just because of you.

The day of the race, you walked in the paddock holding hands, smiling and giggling to journalists and cameras. Daniel was in a very good mood, his signature smile not leaving his face. He was so excited that he stayed an hour straight signing autographs and merch, taking photos with fans and recieving their gifts.

You finally got in the garage and Daniel changed in his race suit and you were given a headset to listen to the team radio to and from Daniel whilst in the race. You sat on the side, watching Daniel chat with some mechanics and his race engineer, then you watched him do his warm-up and prepare to get in the car.

When they moved the car in the starting line, he kissed you and went with the car. You went in his driver's room, sat in a chair and started watching the race from a TV monitor on the wall. You were listening to the radio messages he was sending, as you were connected to his radio channel.

He was leading the race, blocking Max from overtaking him with everything he's got, his voice filled with happiness as he was talking to the team. He pushed the car nearly to the limit, managing to get 5 seconds ahead of Max.

As he was determined and happy to lead his home race, he started humming a random song. Meanwhile, back in his driver's room, sleep got the best of you. Your eyes started to feel heavy and you gave up. You laid on his massage bed, using his hoodie as a blanket. You drifted off to sleep quickly, his voice a lullaby to your ears.

You were still asleep when the checkered flag was waved, making Daniel the winner of his home race. He got out and hugged his team engineers, friends and family, getting a bit worried as he didn't saw you with them, supposing you were curled up in a weird position in a corner of the garage, sleeping.

He got his trophy, celebrated in the podiums , did the post race interviews quickly, then changed into teamwear and started searching all over the garage for you. After a bit of searching he found you in his driver's room, laying in his massage bed, the headset still in your ears, his hoodie wrapped around you and the TV still open, playing the remaining post race interviews.

He closed the TV, removed the headset and the hoodie form your sleeping figure and took you in his arms, laying down in the couch with you and cuddling your warm body, whilst completely ignoring his team calls and post race duties, drifting off to sleep, exhausted from pushing himself to the edge.

[delilahsturniolo]

bad idea right? - c.s

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in which: y/n and chris have been broken up for 1 year. however, a house party that they were both coincidentally invited to makes them cross paths.

this story contains: smuttt, oral sex, (fem!recieving) fingering, dom!chris, kissing, slight angst, more

written by: @delilahsturniolo

“seeing you tonight? it’s a bad idea right? seeing you tonight?”

“fuck it it’s fine.”

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I swirled my fork around in my plate, not taking any bites. I blocked out my best friend, Chloe as she chatted incessantly about her boy drama, I was barely even listening.

We were both at a nice restaurant together for lunch, but I was thinking about something else.

Today marked one year of me and Chris breaking up. Our breakup use to make me emotional, but now..I felt nothing. It was weird. Deep down, I still cared, but I wish I didn’t.

“Y/n! Are you even listening to what anything I’m saying?” Chloe waved her hand in front of my face, bringing me back to reality.

“Oh, you said something about…” I trailed off. “Uh, yeah I wasn’t listening.” I laughed awkwardly.

Chloe took a ginormous sip of her drink, before speaking again. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Chloe asked me, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

My lips sealed into a line, I sighed. “I was thinking about…what are we gonna do later? I don’t really wanna go home and do nothing.” I shrugged.

Chloe looked at me, an eager smile forming on her face as she squealed in excitement, completely forgetting that we were in public.

“Well, you’re in luck.” She pulled out her phone, typing on it quickly before turning it around to show me the screen, it was a text message.

“Tara texted me and told me she was throwing a huge party and wants us to come.” Chloe grinned, searching my eyes for some sort of response. I wasn’t surprised she knew Tara. I mean, somehow she was friends with everyone in LA.

“A party? I’m not really into parties.” I shrugged, Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. It’ll be fun.”

I considered for a little bit, I realized that I needed to loosen up and get out of my comfort zone. Plus, knowing Chloe she wouldn’t accept no for an answer.

“Alright, fine.” I gave in, Chloe gasped.

“Yes! I LOVE you!” She exclaimed, I giggled as she expressed her excitement.

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It was a few hours later, Chloe’s hand rested on my shoulder as she gently blended in the blush on my cheeks. I wore a tight black dress, while Chloe wore a hot pink one.

“Okay.” Chloe stepped back, looking in the mirror and setting down the makeup brush.

“We look hot as fuck.” Chloe commented, I put my hands on my hips, analyzing my outfit. She was right, we looked good, and I felt confident.

“Okay, we should go.” I told her, Chloe nodded, grabbing her purse and following me out the room.

Eventually, we arrived. Chloe parked on the side of the road. We got out of the car, I adjusted my purse that sat on my shoulder and looked ahead.

There were people on the balcony drinking and smoking, and the beaming music was muffled from outside the house.

Chloe locked the car and came up next to me.

“Come on, we’ve got nothing to lose.” She winked, grabbing my hand and practically dragging me inside from how excited she was.

We walked into the house, music blasting through many speakers and colorful flashing lights surrounding us.

Chloe shouted over the loud music. “I’m gonna go get a drink!”

I barely even registered what she said, but nodded anyway. Chloe walked away, leaving me by myself.

I sighed heavily, crossing my arms. Drunk teens stumbled around, while others danced to the music. Not even a few moments later I noticed Chloe dancing with a random man, her drink in her hands.

Rolling my eyes, I decided to go get a drink. I pushed through the large crowd of people, making my way over to the drinks area.

As I walked, my head slammed into a firm chest. I stumbled back, placing my hand on my head and rubbing it.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you oka-“ I cut myself off, looking up at this mysterious person. Familiar blue eyes looked into mine. I gasped.

Chris.

The absolute last person I wanted to see.

I froze completely, not knowing what to do.

“Y/n?” Chris narrowed his eyes. My lips sealed into a line.

“Chris..” I spoke. “Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked, awkwardly looking around.

“I’m friends with Tara. I was invited here.” Chris said firmly, I crossed my arms. The way he was looking at me, the way his brunette hair cascaded over his eyes. I remembered it all too well.

Everything felt so awkward, it’d been a year since i’d last seen Chris. I decided to attempt getting out of the conversation.

I shrugged. “You know what? I should lea-“ I turned around to walk away, but Chris firmly grabbed my arm, practically dragging me away. He ignored all my protests as he walked us upstairs, into a random bedroom.

Chris let go of me and shut the door behind him, locking it.

“Chris! What the hell!” I shouted, he simply rolled his eyes.

I gasped as he grabbed me by my waist, bringing me up against the wall. I bit my lip as his tall frame towered over me.

“Look at you, dressing up all slutty.” Chris laughed darkly, his hands traveling up my thighs, and resting on the waistband of my dress.

“It’s not for you.” I stated boldly, only making Chris grin.

“Yeah?” Chris yanked my dress up, smacking my clothed pussy. “Then who’s it for?” He taunted.

I didn’t answer, my panties only dampening at his words. I whimpered as his hand palmed my clothed core, rubbing it through my underwear.

“That’s what I thought.” He mumbled, his head dipping down to kiss me. I moaned into the kiss, my hands tangling through his hair as we fought for dominance.

Chris groaned as I bit down on his bottom lip, he continued messily making out with me.

Chris placed his hands on my waist, leading me to the bed, our lips not once breaking contact as he laid me down on the bed, he hovered on top of me.

He rolled my dress up, exposing my soaked underwear. “Wet before I even took off your panties.” Chris scoffed. I whined as his thumb circled my clothed clit. “P-please..”

Chris pulled down my panties, tossing it to the side as his hands gripped my thighs, spreading my legs open.

“God..missed this pussy s’much..” Chris slurred as his head moved between my thighs. He hummed against my folds, making my breath hitch from the vibrations.

I let out a soft moan as Chris’s tongue swirled around my clit. It felt amazing, I felt a wave of nostalgia crash over me.

“Taste s’good baby…could do this all day.” Chris groaned as I tugged on his hair, sending him over the edge.

I squealed as Chris’s lips latched onto my clit, his movements growing faster as his tongue hit every sweet spot. My back arched against the bed in pleasure.

My wetness leaked down my thighs as my legs began shaking. Chris pulled back slightly, bringing his hand over to my core.

My moans filled the air as one of his fingers slipped inside of me, pumping in and out.

“O-oh my g-god Chris..” I stuttered, his finger coated with my wetness.

“You think you can take more? Hm?” Chris taunted, pulling his finger out of me and running it across my soaked folds. I nodded in desperation.

“I need to hear you say it, love.”

“Please! P-please..I need more Chris..” I panted, Chris nodded, slipping another finger inside of me. I felt a knot in my stomach, ready to burst.

“Need to c-cum..” I cried out. Chris shushed me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, kissing and biting the skin softly.

“Not yet, baby.” Chris whispered, the thrusts of his fingers increasing.

A few seconds later, Chris spoke up. “Cum for me sweetheart.” He mumbled. With one last cry of his name I released the knot in my stomach, immediately feeling relief.

Chris pulled his fingers out, licking them clean before gently leaning into my face, his lips connecting with mine. His hand rested on the side of my neck as his lips moved slow and lovingly.

He pulled away, looking into my eyes. “I love you.” He whispered, still on top of me.

I smiled, running my hands through his messy hair. “I love you too.” I replied, as Chris slowly pulled my dress back down.

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[discotitsposts]

but daddy, i hate you

when spencer recieves a birthday card from his estranged father you help him deal with his feelings

gets a little steamy at the end so 18+ recommended

this is how i deal w my own feelings lol

a little background: set in season 13-14. right before spencer’s birthday. you’re spencer’s wife, you’ve been together around 7 years. You work at the bookstore that you and spencer own. (he helps you run it and is co owner, you run it together) also, Spencer and you live in the apartment above the store.

It’s a beautiful Saturday morning and you’ve been going through boxes of new books for your store before you open for the day. It’s Spencer’s day off and he’s at the counter adding up the figures and making sure everything is in order for your busiest day of the week.

You hear a knock at the front door. “I’ll get it!” You yell to Spencer. You unlock the door and the mailman hands you your mail. “Thanks Jim, how’s Martha?” You ask him.

“She’s great, she’s dropping by later with cookies!”

“Cool! See you tomorrow!” You wave bye and start going through the mail.

“Hey, hon, there’s something for you from…” You stop when you read the name. William Reid. Spencer hadn’t seen nor heard from his father in almost 10 years. He was still very much angry about anything to do with his father. As were you. You couldn’t believe he hadn’t reached out at all.

“From who?” He asks, not looking up from the financial log. He puts his pencil down and reaches his hand out for you to hand him the envelope. You hesitate but hand it to him anyway.

You watch his face drop when he reads the name and address. Oh, how you wished to take the envelope out of his hands and hold him and tell him to forget that silly piece of paper forever. He peels the envelope open, careful not to touch the seal. He feels the dread fill his heart when he sees the contents. A card that says ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front, and ‘to a very special boy’ on the inside.

“What does he think I am? A fucking child?” He shouts, making you jump. “Sorry.” He apologizes and sighs.

“It’s alright, I’ll leave you alone with that.” You start to back away.

“No, don’t. Stay, please.” He begs with his beautiful eyes.

You nod and move closer. He begins reading the handwritten message on the inside of the card.

“Dear Spencer, Hope you’re not too upset with me, I am proud of you. We haven’t talked in a while, you haven’t called. You have the number. Don’t hesitate to reach out. How is Diana? Miss you. Happiest of Birthdays. Love, your father.” He reads it off, mocking every word.

“What the fuck! He hasn’t sent a card in 9 fucking years! Why now?” He raises his voice.

“I don’t..”

He cuts you off, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s either finally feeling bad about everything or he wants something. Well I won’t call him. I fucking hate him.”

“It’s a dick move to blame you for not reaching out, but honestly? Maybe you should, find out what he wants. If he honestly just wants to talk, it might be the closure you need. If he just wants something from you, you can tell him to fuck off. Obviously you don’t have to but maybe you should consider it. I know he was an asshole to you the last time, but you know I regretted not telling my father everything I wanted to say.” You’re watching your words, his father was a touchy subject.

He thinks for a minute and then sits back down and covers his face with his hands. “Maybe you’re right. You alright to open by yourself today? I think I’ll give him a call.”

“Yeah, go ahead. Good luck.”

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss and runs upstairs. He looked like a little kid who had just been given their favorite candy.

Later, when you’re closing the store for lunch break, you hear a loud crash from upstairs. You run upstairs, afraid Spencer had fallen and hurt himself. Worse. He was on the floor crying his eyes out. He had knocked the bookshelf over and he was surrounded by collapsed books.

You carefully step over the books to get to him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, so as to not startle him. He keeps crying into his hands but removes one to take your hand into his.

“I called, told him I received the card and I was willing to talk with him. I- I tried to…” His voice starts to trail off because he’s crying so hard he can’t speak. You rub his back reassuringly. “It’s ok, take your time.”

“I wanted to tell him, I’m married, and my life is going great. I didn’t even get to say anything. He stopped me and asked what card I was talking about. Turns out his new wife felt he should speak with his son, wrote the card and sent it to me. I should have known it wasn’t his handwriting.” He’s so tired from crying he just lays his head in your lap and stares.

“I’m so sorry love.” You say while running your fingers through his hair. Anger coursing through your veins.

“He hung up on me too.” His voice breaks as he says this. It has you fuming mad even more so. How could he do that? You could practically hear Spencer’s heart snapping in two.

He’s crushing your legs, so you convince him to stand up and have him go lay in bed with you. You cover him with the blankets and just hold him until he falls asleep.

You wake up a few hours later and he’s still asleep. You slyly grab his phone and write down William’s number. You take the paper, and your jacket downstairs.

You go to the store phone and as you’re dialing the number your stomach turns. Was this a good idea? After all I’m doing this for Spencer. You think as the line rings.

“Hello? Who is this?” A woman’s voice answers.

“Hello, is William Reid there?” Your voice quivers. You hear shuffling and the woman calls “Will! Phone!” in the background.

More shuffling. Then a man’s voice. “Who is this?” He says sternly.

“Hello, you don’t know me but I-“

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I’m your son’s wife, and I think we need to have a talk.”

“Spencer’s married?” He asks almost longingly. He sounded interested. Good.

“What kind of father are you? You don’t let him know you even want to be in his life and now all of a sudden you do? When he does finally reach out you hang up on him?”

“Ok that was because I went to go talk to my wife about why she sent my son a card from me.”

This goes on for a while, you yelling at Mr. Reid for his rude behavior.

The next morning you wake up to Spencer speaking to someone on the phone. Still groggy, you’re confused and mouth, ‘who is it?’

He holds up a finger to say hold on. He’s smiling. Maybe Prentiss is letting him take the next few days off!

“Alright bye! Love you!” He says into the phone, almost giddy. He hangs up and you tilt your head confused. He has the biggest grin on his adorable face.

“It was my dad. He was calling when I woke up. I can’t believe he reached out and he apologized! Can you believe it? He’s never really apologized to me before! We had a long talk, it was nice. Really nice.” He sits on the bed smiling.

“Is that so? Talk about a change of heart.” You smile to yourself knowing what you had done.

“You know what else he said?”

“What else did he say?”

“He said the little talking-to you gave him worked.” Spencer chuckles knowingly.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“No, I’m not upset. I actually am glad you did it. He wants to come and visit us. He wants to meet you too.” He pulls you into a big hug. “I love you. Thank you.” He kisses your neck.

“You’re welcome. I love you too.” You pull back and hold his face in your hand.

“Since you did me a favor, I think I owe you one. Lay back.” He gently spreads your legs apart and repays the favor to you. All day long.

the end 💞

it hurt me so bad to write spencer crying

to anyone who read this hope you enjoy! please don’t hesitate to leave feedback if you like this!

[wonfilms]

7:30 PM : BANG CHAN

warnings- mentions of food, a few tears, chan overworking himself.

a/n- this is my first fic on this blog, so i’d appreciate it loads and loads if you can reblog this post or comment ! tysm for taking the time to read this!

chan is too selfless, you’ve come to realise. he’s always giving but he never recieves. he insists on making dinner even after a long day of training but when you offer to do the same he declines, he simply couldn’t do that to you. so why does he do it to himself? 

you know he’s exhausting himself, you’ve picked up on it more and more over the past few days and you’re worried. he’s overworking himself to a point in which he falls asleep as soon as his head hits his pillow, he gets up early and arrives home late, and you know it’s not good for him. he gets too in his head sometimes and he needs help to break the cycle before it breaks him. so that’s what you plan on doing.

he left you in bed as per usual in the morning, giving you a fleeting kiss on the cheek  while he mutters something under his breath. his dark circles were starting to show the effect the late nights were having on him. you took the day off and you’d planned on making a simple lunch for the two of you, he only had a half-day today and promised he’d come home and have lunch with you. you made sure to prepare his favourite. you’d had it for your first date at a nearby restaurant and he insisted that he preferred the way you’d make it. 

by the time you’d finished making the food it had already reached 12pm and you decided to shower quickly before you lay the table, you’d made sure to dress nicely for the small occasion. and afterwards you just waited. 

you waited for chan to come home for hours but he just didn’t come, every time you heard a small jostle at the door your face lit up in the hopes it was your boyfriend but he wasn’t there. you wilted a little reaching for your phone to call him when you saw an unread message from him , “hey, i’m so so sorry pretty i can’t make it to lunch today, could you keep it warm for me i’ll come home and eat it for dinner?″ .

you sigh, it wasn’t that you were disappointed . you were mostly just concerned, you’d thought this would be a chance to catch up and see if he’s alright, but you understood he was a little occupied , so you decided to keep yourself busy for the remainder of what was left of the afternoon, catching up on emails and reading some books that had been sat on your shelf for a while when you heard the keys turn in the front door.

and there he was in all his glory.

chan.

his hair a little tousled from the wind, his eyes droopy from staring at his laptop and a half- forced smile on his lips. 

your heart ached a little at the sight but it was undoubtedly him. 

you gave him a wave, “heya sweethe-”.  he cut you off as he made a quick beeline into your arms. your hands moved to stroke his hair tentatively as he buried his face in your neck. it didn’t take a genius to identify the fact he was crying, however hard he was trying to hide it.  it was best to not ask questions especially when people are in a fragile state, so you just held him. 

you wrapped your arms around his torso and let him sniffle softly into your shoulder. he looked up at you with wet cheeks and a  wobbly smile and you stroked his cheek affectionately. chan raised his head to kiss you and his voice cracked a little as he muttered a small thank you against your lips.  

you knew he would tell you how he’s feeling when he’s ready but for now, you didn’t need any explanations. 

you didn’t need to know why he missed lunch or why he stopped smiling lately, and you didn’t need to know what was really wrong.

all you needed was for him to know that you’ll be by his side until he wants to open up and let his feelings develop into words. you’ll be there until he can tell you how you can help him.

[vulpixisananimal]

(You gently close the door to Sifs room and lean back on the wall next to it. Change, what a morning.)

(You rub your temple. Alright, alright, analyse and compartmentalise, Siffrin, no, Loop, had told you a lot and you had to relay it to the others. Are they all going to take it well? You couldn't exactly keep it secret.)

(Oh boy. . .)

(You walked down to the where Nille and Odile were sitting for breakfast. Nille waved good morning.) "Hey big guy, how's Siffrin doing?"

"Oh, bad." (You sigh and sit down.) "Where do I even start."

"Never a good sign." (Odile comments from behind her book.)

"W-well, right now they're resting up. They have craft exhaustion and are pretty hungry. I was going to grab them some food."

"I got it!" (Nille stood up and scooped up some of breakfast.) "Not surprised, time crafts s'pposed to be impossible for a reason."

"Even one loop should kill them, really." (Odile adds.)

"Ah, well, about that." (You rub your neck.) "When everyone's back there's a lot to explain."

"Ah."

"Ominous, I'll be quick then." (Nille runs off with the food.)

(You pick at your own breakfast, quesadillas, just like Loop said. You took a bite, tasty!)

(You think while you eat; how many times had they eaten this breakfast? Well, if you had the same thing for breakfast over and over you might go crazy! And it's even made the exact same way every time.)

". . . Isabeau." (Odile starts.) "Did you get to ask?"

"Hrk-" (You choke a little, Crab!! You forgot!!) "N-no, I didn't. T-there was uh, something a bit more important going on."

"It sounded intense." (Back to her book.) "Argument?"

"Not really. . ." (You rub your shoulder.) "I-I'll, I'll ask them out another time! When things have calmed down."

(Nille returns to you and Odile chatting.) "They're out like a stone, don't think I've ever seen someone so sleepy."

"That sounds like Sif!"

"I doubt anything short of the King coming back would wake them up."

"Knock on wood." (Nille replies, nocking on the wood table as she sat down.)

". . . What?" (Odile looks up, confused.)

"Knock on wood! It's an old tradition to stop you from jinxing yourself. And I don't exactly want the King to come back."

"Ah I see." (Book down, researcher mode.) "Where does that tradition come from? Is it Vaugardian?"

"I don't think so," (She thought for a second.) "Actually, I got no idea where I got it from. Maybe I got it from someone in Bambouche."

"Could be one of those 'Sif things.'" (You comment.)

"Ah yes, the 'Sif things'" (Odile continues.) "I would not be surprised if this was another 'Siffrin thing', with how many little traditions seem to be tied to it."

"Like that thing they told Boniface to do? On their birthday?" (Nille asks.)

(Odile nods.) "Exactly so. Now let's pause this conversation before we get headaches, shall we?"

(You nod, right. It was always a pain to talk about 'Sif things' as you all had come to call it. Island talk. Wish craft. Rituals and- ow. Alright message recieved, back to casual non-island conversation.)

"Hmm. . . Is it tradition research?" (Nille asks after a second.)

"No, wrong." (Odile shakes her head, back to the book.)

"Awww."

"You'll get it sometime Nille!" (You say encouragingly.)

"How long did it take you again?"

"It took me a few months, and Sif figured it out durring the loops sooooo. ."

"I'll try and do it quicker then." (She rolls her eyes.)

(At long last Mirabelle and Bonnie joined in from doing their morning routine and took a seat. The casual chatter continued as you all finished breakfast.)

". . . Where's 'Frin?" (Bonnie asks.)

"He's resting up, I guess that loop yesterday really took it outta them." (Nille ruffles Bonbons hair.) "Was too busy saving our lil' scoundril."

"Ah, right, about that." (You clear your throat.) "Former saviors of Vaugarde I, Isabeau, am calling a very serious no jokes meeting into order!"

(Odile let out a half-laugh.) "Good start."

"Oh Madame! That's no way to act durring such a serious meeting!" (Mirabelle replies in a poshy accent.)

"Quite so! For we are only the most serious of serious!" (You continue, before breaking out into a laigh.)

"A real comedy duo you two are." (Nille says, leaning back.) "So, what's the deal big guy?"

"Right!" (Alright, here goes, gotta tell em everything. Now, just like Sif does. You breathe in, and out.) "Well, for one, Siffrin isn't Siffrin right now. Remember the conversation yesterday? Well they're Loop right now, not Sif. Just, as a start."

"Alright. . ?" (Odile responds as if prompting you to continue.)

"But! The, uh, the real issue is that." (Ohboy.) "They've aparently been looping through today, with this being the, 8th or 9th time."

"Again?!?!"

"Oh gems. . ."

"Well that explains the exhaustion."

"Yeah," (You rub your shoulder.) "Last loop was aparently really bad, and they had a whole breakdown- oh Change I forgot to ask for details."

"W-we can ask them later! Once they're up." (Mirabelle looked nervous.) "Did they tell you a-anything though?"

"Oh they did! Uh. . ." (You tap your chin.) "Right, so, an old friend of mine, Ramos, who used to go by a different name I think- A-anyway! They've aparently been using mind craft on people, strong mind craft. It got Mirabelle in trouble for kidnapping Bonnie, and they changed my memory."

"What?"

"I- I wouldn't do that!! Why would they-"

"THAT'S CRABBING STUPID!!!"

"Language!"

"I-I know! I know it sounds bad and uh. . ." (Oooooh boy.) "Aparently last loop they tried confronting Ramos, and they turned into a sadness and we had to fight. Nille got hurt pretty bad, but we won."

". . . But?"

"I, they didn't tell me, but, aparently something bad happened to Ramos."

". . ."

". . ."

". . . What in the world could have been bad enough to go back again?" (Odile muses.)

"I, I don't want to think about it." (You shudder. Oh Ramos. . . You remember them, you would hang out sometimes, train together, and you'd help them out sometimes with exams. They had some troubles, but they were alright! They were a good person!)

"So. . . So what do we do?" (Mira asks.)

"Well. . ." (You think for a moment. Loop seemed so. . . Distressed. Desperate. Sad. All of that. You'd seen it all before when Siffrin walked up to you at the Favor tree, they looked so distant then. . . You couldn't let that happen again.) "We should get training just like we used to!"

"Huh???"

"Ah."

"REALLY?!?"

"Not you Boniface." (Nille replies.) "You're still a kid."

". . . Pétronille, I mean no disrespect, but I'm fairly certain Boniface is a stronger fighter than you are at this point." (Odiele counters.)

"HEY!!! I'm PLENTY tough!!!"

"Haha!! 'Dile called me stronger!!"

"Oh I'll show YOU strong ya lil-"

"A-alright! M-maybe save that or another time since, since we still need to figure out everything a-and-" (Mirabelle tries breaking them up. Her look of worry doing the trick instantly.)

"Ok, ok. But if Boniface is gonna fight I better be there."

"As long as it's on the backlines as well." (You respond.) "Dive in when there's an opening just like we used to do."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I do wonder though, how much, well, how much will it matter?" (Mira was pondering.) "If this isn't the last Loop, then, we would have done all this for nothing, and, w-well."

"I had a theory on that." (Odile adjusted her glasses, oh you loved this part.) "Siffrin said they started each loop waking up from their nap. Yesterday, Siffrin also looped back to waking up from their sleep, and I'm assuming todays loop started with them waking up too." (She tapped her chin.) "There's a good chance taking a proper sleep is linked to making a "checkpoint" of sorts."

"But what about the clock tower? Sif said we always had a sleepover there before going to the house." (You ask.)

"Hmm, good point." (she thought it over, then snapped her fingers.) "Ah! Didn't you plan to tell Siffrin your grand confession durring the sleepover?"

"M-m'dame!" (You hold up your hands deffencievly.) "What does that have to do with this?"

"You chickened out, duh." (Bonnie chimes in, smugly.) "I can already see you trying to talk to 'frin when everyones trying to sleep. Then holding off till after the King."

"O-oh..." (You try to sink into the floor. That, that would be something you do, yeah.)

"As easy to see through as a plane glass window." (Nille shakes her head.)

"L-lets move on-"

"Yes yes, so, my theory is that when Siffrin wakes up it'll be a new point they'll loop back to." (Odile stands up and stretches her back.) "Which means that anything we do before they wake up will do wonders for future loops."

"Oh!!! That's great!!!" (Mirabelle jumps up too, a new spring in her step.) "I'll get my sword! Oh it'll probably be dull by now too, oh! And I need to brush up on my combative crafts!!"

"And don't forget the-"

"I don't think I could ever forget the carrot method."

"CRAB!!" (Bonnie jumps up in a panic.) "I've been using those spare tonics for cooking!!!"

"Language, but a good point. I'll help ya look for more." (Nille gets up too.)

(Phew.) "I'm glad we figured all that out." (You stood up, and strike a big heroic pose.) "Siffrin, Loop, they're gonna get out of today! And we're gonna help them do it!!"

[politemenacephd]

A Fortunate Mistake: Christmas Special

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader (+18)

Word count: 14,000 Fluff + Smut + Angst Smut Content: Dry humping, oral (reader recieving), marking bites, voyeruism, possessive language during sex, rough vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

You are a maintenance worker for the Spider Society, one who's been keeping your relationship with Miguel a secret for some time. The holidays are now just around the corner, and while everyone else is excited, Miguel seems to be struggling. You decide to try and help him out.

Note: this is based on my other fic, A Fortunate Mistake, and takes place between chap 8 - 9, but can be read as its own one-shot! There's just an established relationship here. Anyway enjoy hehe

‘Okay, hold- hold- HEY, hold it—!’

You strained your arms as your fellow maintenance workers called back, all straining in the exact same way.

You were currently hanging almost entirely vertically from a standard beam in the HQ lobby, a position that came very unnaturally to you as a human. However, you weren’t at liberty to think about that right now, as you were right in the middle of helping put up Christmas decorations.

This would usually be a relaxing activity, or at the very least a mildly inconvenient one, but for a society run by spiders the decorations had to be a little unorthodox. So instead of getting tangled in tinsel or vacuuming up pine needles, you were hoisting an entire tree up the side of the HQ wall to be stuck down at an angle.

You wiped your brow and tensed the rope one more time. ‘Alright! Pull up, up- that’s it!’

With a final grunt the tree slipped into the pre-bolted stand, and your co-worker rushed to solder it in. You loosened the rope at first just to be sure it was secure, and when the rope went slack but the tree stayed firm you threw it down entirely. Job done.

You dropped to the floor with a huff, leaning on your knees for support. The most you could manage in response to your co-workers’ cheers was a thumbs up.

‘Oh- god, fuck- okay! We did it! Good job guys, you—’

‘Hey! What are you lot up to?’

You glanced up to see Peter B. eagerly jogging towards your location, his eyes fixed on the tree. You offered him an awkward wave.

‘Hey! Peter, hi. We urgh- we’re just putting the decorations up. We’ve got like ten more trees to do but we’re halfway there, so, you know! Baby steps. Keep a- keep a positive spirit and all that.’

You expected to see Peter get excited over the decorations, but instead his smile faltered. 

‘Oh! I, uh- I thought, you guys would have got the memo!’

Your eye twitched as your own smile faltered. ‘The mem—the what? The memo about what?’

Peter physically winced. He knew already that he was going to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Aha, well… Sorry let me urgh, find it, just a- second- OH, HEY! How about you hold May while I get it out?’

As a last-ditch effort to keep you calm he grabbed his baby daughter from her carrier and thrust her body into your arms. You stumbled as May squealed and patted your cheeks.

‘Oof- Peter, uh- she’s lovely but—’

‘AH! Here it is!’

As you finally found your balance again Peter shoved a holographic message right into your face.

‘See? Uh- last minute change, elites said it was safer to do holographic decorations this year! So they’re just doing that. In fact, they should be about to—’

In the middle of speaking a low hum began to fill the HQ, drawing you both to glance upward. Just as he’d predicted the entire building was suddenly filled with bright, shining holographic Christmas decorations, ones that totally eclipsed the meager work you’d done.

Peter and May cooed with glee as the other spiders let out rapturous applause. You, however, looked utterly sour.

‘Oh my god… Well! Alright then. Guess I’m on lunch break early.’

You awkwardly handed Mayday back over to Peter and brushed down your clothes. He didn’t even seem to notice. You bid him goodbye and waved off the other workers, all of whom looked just as sour as you, before turning and heading for the cafeteria instead.

If you were off work early, you could at least make the most of the extra time. You could at least hope he was here.

You swung by the cafeteria and grabbed your usual to-go bag of empanadas. The girl you knew there tried to sell you on something new they were trying but you waved her off; you knew he didn’t like surprises, all he wanted was the same comfortable treat.

With lunch in hand you scaled the beams up towards the highest corridor accessible to the spiders. You ran down the corridor filled with anomaly cages, passed the go-home machine and down to the left. All the way through the eerie, empty space, back to the person you wanted to see the most.

Back to him. Back to Miguel.

You shoved his office door aside with dramatic flair.

‘Miguel?’

You called out into the empty space and listened to the words echo upward into nothing. You noted that his desk was hovering about halfway up, but you couldn’t see him on it. Drat, was he busy again?

You turned a full circle in his room, awkwardly bouncing the empanada box on your hip. Where was he? Surely your luck couldn’t be that bad, right?

‘Mig—’

‘Up here.’

You jumped and glanced upward again. Ah, wait, there he was: one of his hands was draped unceremoniously over the edge of the floating desk, hanging limply with his claws extended. It seemed that your boss was lying flat on his back on the office floor.

As you went to put the empanada box in your bag for safekeeping a long string of neon red webbing cascaded down to the floor. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but secretly you were glad. This was as open as he would be that he wanted to see you.

With your bag tight around your waist you grappled onto the web and began to crawl your way up.

‘Hey there beautiful man’ you whispered as you crawled over the edge. Miguel did not respond.

He was, as you’d expected, lying flat on his back on the cold metal of his office platform. His arms were spread out and his legs slightly parted, with his eyes closed and his brow knotted.

You scooted along the rim of the office until you were sat by his head. Gingerly, you brushed a lock of his hair aside.

‘Hey Mig’ you whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, filling your gaze with red light. You tried to offer him a smile.

‘Nena.’ It was all he said, and while it was said affectionately you could feel the strain in his voice. He sounded exhausted.

‘Yep, that’s me. I uh- I brought you lunch. Your favorite.’

You pulled out the empanada box and shook it, hoping it would cheer him up. Miguel slowly closed his eyes.

‘Mmm.’

His grunt didn’t sound impressed. You put the box down beside his hand and leaned in closer. ‘You okay bud? You seem even more dry than usual.’

Once again he opened one eye, though this time he wrinkled his nose and brows. ‘Did… did you just call me, bud?’

‘Uh… yeah. Sorry. Am I, not supposed to do that?’

The two of you stared at each other for a good minute, lingering in that painfully awkward silence. You worried for a second he might get legitimately mad.

But, instead, the corners of Miguel’s mouth slowly began to twitch upward. His confusion turned to mild amusement, and a short huff of a laugh escaped his lips.

‘Ay, nena. I’ve missed you.’

You felt relieved. You glanced once at the edge of the office to make sure you were alone before pressing a tentative kiss to his forehead. ‘Sorry. I just feel bad, only calling you by your name all the time. I don’t have a cool nickname for you like you do for me’ you whispered.

You tried to pull away then, but Miguel caught you first. He used his claws to tilt your head down, pulling all the way until his lips hit yours. Your whole body went warm as he took one sweet and lingering kiss.

‘I missed you’ he repeated after pulling away. Your eyelids drooped.

‘I missed you too, Miguel.’

With a grunt your beloved pseudo-partner finally forced himself to sit up. He stretched a little as he struggled upward, and as always you were awe-struck by the sight of him. It never failed to surprise you just how large he was.

‘Mierda… Ah, you uh- did you say, you brought lunch?’ Miguel asked between rubbing his temple. You eagerly nodded.

‘Of course! Got your favorite this time.’

‘Really?’

Miguel tilted his head to glance inside the bag you’d brought, noting the labelling on the side. You had, indeed, managed to get his favorite flavor for once.

‘Good girl, nena’ he praised, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘Thank you.’

You loosened up at his stoic praise, your grin widened until your cheeks hurt. Without another word you handed over his half of the food.

You settled into your familiar routine, swinging your legs over the edge of the platform as you divided up your share of empanadas in the box. You tore the container in half to make two little plates you could eat off of to save him the cleaning, and with your plate on your lap you sat shoulder to shoulder in that empty abyss.

Miguel grunted as he checked his.

‘You didn’t get these ones as well?’ he asked, gesturing to your plate. You’d stuck with the beef empanadas, the most common ones they had, over the cheese ones you both preferred. You just shrugged.

‘Ah, yeah, but it’s fine! I’m all good.’

‘You changed your appetite?’ he asked, probing further as he took a tentative bite of his own to check the temperature. You shrugged again.

‘Um- no, just, they only had two of the cheese ones left. That’s all.’

Miguel paused mid-bite, his eyes rolling over to stare you down. You gave him a lopsided smile.

‘You—’ Miguel stammered and swallowed hard to finish speaking. ‘You gave up your lunch for me?’

‘What? no! I mean I’m still eating, so… I didn’t, give anything up’ you replied in an oddly defensive tone. Miguel didn’t buy it though. He let out a soft sigh, his claws coming up to gently scratch at your scalp.

‘You soft thing’ he murmured. ‘At least someone cares about what I want today.’

You glanced up from relishing the intoxicating sensation of his thick, calloused fingers scratching your head, and noted the dour, bitter look in his eyes.

‘Ohhh, oh okay. What’s happened? Is it the elites again?’ you asked, whispering the last part as if one of them would hear. Miguel pinched the spot between his brows.

‘Ay por Dios- ah, yes. Yes, of course, it’s them. They’re insisting that they host a workplace, festive holiday party, even though I keep insisting we are NOT a workplace, we are an organization who need to be on the offensive at all times, and THEN they want to- do this, thing, where we all exchange gifts in secret—’

‘Oh! Secret santa?'

‘Yes, that. Have you done it?' 

‘Mhm!’ You hurriedly swallowed in order to explain properly, all while Miguel stared you down. ‘Yeah you uh- you get given a random colleague and you buy them a gift, so its fair, everyone gets one.’

‘Yes, it is- a fine tradition, for literally anywhere else’ Miguel scoffed. ‘If I’m too busy for you I’m definitely too busy for anyone else. And I don’t know what they want! How do I find out?’

‘Don’t you have access to like, everything and everyone on those monitors?’ you noted, waving a piece of empanada at his desk. Miguel shot you a disapproving look.

‘I use that to keep the multiverse safe. Not to- spy on my fellow spiders so I can find them an appropriate gift.’

‘Yeah, but… you’re not saying you CAN’T use it for that’ you insisted. Miguel’s eye twitched at your playful naivety.

‘You’re a menace’ he grunted.

‘A HELPFUL menace, with good ideas!’ you cheered.

He couldn’t help it; a small half-smile broke onto his face at the sight of your gormless joy, but it didn’t last long. The anxiety of his situation crept up on him mere moments later.

Miguel pushed his now empty box aside and sighed. While you were mid-way through your final bite he shuffled backward until he was slumped against his desk, his eyes once again closed to hide from the world.

‘I don’t want to go’ he said bluntly.

Oh boy, you thought. He was in a really bad mood this time. You hurriedly swallowed the last of your lunch, manically licking flakes of pastry from your fingers so they didn’t get grease on his suit, before crawling over the floor to his side.

He didn’t open his eyes for you but his hands did reach out to grope for your body. You squeaked as he dragged you in against his side, squeezing your upper torso against his. You were smooshed directly into his pec.

‘I don’t, want, to go’ he repeated with a hiss. You patted his chest.

‘I know big guy.’

For a while you just lay in his arms, taking in the brief respite of each other’s touch while you could. You didn’t exactly get a lot of time together. The occasional outing or the occasional night visit to his apartment was the best you could get, along with these lunch breaks whenever he wasn’t on a mission, so the chance to just touch him was one you couldn’t pass up.

He was so warm. You squished into his pec and felt his chest move as he breathed, his heartbeat thudding on your cheek. Your fingers idly fiddled with his suit while his claws scratched at your work pants.

That brief, fleeting moment of domestic bliss was intoxicating. You squeezed him lightly, and he squeezed you back.

‘Nena?’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you come with me?’

Miguel’s interruption caught you very much off guard. You gabbed a little as his eyes rolled open once more, now peering at you in earnest. He was pleading with them.

‘Please’ he said softly.

‘Ah… I mean, won’t it look suspicious? I’m not a spider.’

‘You’re my friend aren’t you?’

Your face went warm. ‘I… am technically your friend, yes. I suppose.’

‘So it’s not suspicious. You had time off work, I passed you in the hall and offered for you to come. As a friend.’

You smiled, your fingers now tracing down his chest. You thought about how good he felt under the suit. That rough skin, scarred and warm, covered in thick hair you loved to run your fingers through when it was late and you were cuddling.

You knew from his sad expression he was thinking of the same. The way his hand squeezed you over your clothes, it was clear he was fantasizing about the soft, thick flesh beneath, and how warm it was when he gripped it.

‘Friend’ he repeated, his voice a little husky. You felt him bury his nose into your hair, breathing in deep.

‘Y-Yeah. Friend’ you repeated back. In that moment you both felt the same familiar spark: that unquenchable, physical magnetism, that carnal yearning you couldn’t seem to stop. Miguel squeezed you tight.

‘You’re- such, a good friend’ he whispered. Oh boy, his voice was definitely husky now. You felt him moving, bending, slowly forcing you down to the floor. His lips went from your hair to your neck.

‘M-Mig, we’re at wor- a-ah—’

You squeaked as he began to suck on your neck.

‘Mm… Mm...’

His moans were muffled against your skin. You knew he was fantasizing about biting you. You were deeply flushed, torn between your physical desire and your anxiety over being caught, but as his hands began to fumble your shirt aside you felt desire take over.

You helped him open your shirt at the top, allowing his hand to slip beneath the thin fabric. He began eagerly squeezing your breasts as he sucked and kissed your neck.

‘Ah- Mig.’ You whispered his name intensely, only barely managing to bite down a much louder moan. His fingers were so rough on your chest, and he couldn’t stop himself gently teasing your nipples to try and get another whimper out of you. You had to bite your lip to keep them down.

‘Mig- please, careful—’

‘Mm.’

He groaned into your skin and shuffled, his enormous body shifting until he was directly on top of you. You had to breathe in deep as his chest crushed your ribs.

‘Mig- M-Mig—’

‘Mmm…’

With a soft, satisfied moan Miguel began to dry-hump you over your work clothes. You could feel his clothed bulge desperately kneading between your thighs, eagerly pushing your legs apart so he could grind on your clothed cunt.

‘Mmm...’

You lay back and struggled to keep quiet as he rubbed himself out. You could hear the distant laughs and shouts of spiders somewhere beyond his office, and there was a real fear in you that they could come in at any time.

But, you didn’t tell him to stop. Why would you? After all, you were a filthy pervert for the man, and part of you kind of wanted to get caught. Part of you wanted to be his.

You moaned softly as he ground his hefty bulge just close enough to stimulate your clit. You could feel your slick soaking your panties, and you knew he was probably staining the inside of his suit with pre-cum. You clung tight to his back as his weight crushed you into the cold floor.

You were only drawn apart by one particularly loud shout. It wasn’t calling for Miguel, but it was enough to make him release you and jerk his head up. ‘Fuck… fuck.’

You could see the disappointment in his eyes as he cursed. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gingerly wiped his spit from your neck.

‘Sorry, nena.’

‘I-It’s okay, it’s fine.’

With a soft moan Miguel buried his face into your hair once more. You felt his claws squeezing your waist.

‘I’d love to bite you’ he whined.

‘I know’ you panted.

‘I’d love… to bite you, and suck, and have you walk around so everyone knows you’re mine.’

You felt him give one final, needy grind between your legs before sighing and withdrawing, giving you the chance to shuffle onto your elbows.

‘What have you done to me?’ he whispered with a slight chuckle. You hurried to smooth out your clothes. ‘What have I done- why is this on me? I just brought you lunch!’

Miguel bashfully brushed his hair back as you sat up. He couldn’t help himself from looking, especially at where your pants had come down in your frantic dry humping to reveal just a little part of your panties. He was disappointed when you pulled them back up.

‘Mhm. Exactly.’ He reached out and took your chin in his hand, pausing your manic attempt to dress. ‘No one else who brings me lunch makes me want to act like this. So, clearly, there’s something about you.’

‘Ahuh. Very poetic, sir’ you teased. His eyes were so soft in contrast to his otherwise stern expression.

‘Come with me. Please.’

You finally finished sorting your clothes and shuffled into a cross legged position, facing Miguel head on. He leant his head on his upturned fist.

‘What do I get out of it?’

He snorted a laugh at your answer. ‘Ay, nena… How about, best friend status?’ he replied. He was trying to be sarcastic but you jumped at the idea.

‘Oh- oh shit, really? For real? Alright. Done. I’ll see you there, bestie!’

Miguel scowled as he watched you jump to your feet. ‘Do not call me bestie.’

You looked over your shoulder as you scavenged your things, clearly displeased by his curtness. ‘What, not even in private?’

Miguel sighed, his hand flying to his face. ‘Ay por Dios- ah, fine. In private is fine, but not in public.’

‘Aww, Mig, are you embarrassed of me?’

Miguel’s teasing seemed to fall off almost immediately at that. He looked distraught. ‘I- no, nena, of course not. No. I just- look if you start calling me that, Peter will think it’s okay! I can’t have that happening!’

You couldn’t help but giggle at Miguel’s genuine horror. You had to force yourself to stop as you gave him a sympathetic kiss on the chest.

‘Okay. I will come to your work thing. I’ll uh- distract Peter by asking about his thoughts on baby car seats, or Jess on motorcycle maintenance. You can sulk in the corner until it’s over.’

Miguel’s smile was genuine as he gazed down at you. For just a moment, things seemed like they might be alright.

‘Thank you, nena. You’re an angel.’

….

It was roughly 1pm, and you were anxiously pacing about two corridors down from where you knew the Christmas get together was happening. You were here waiting for Miguel to show up and make your appearance seem organic.

You were still in your work clothes, which felt a little odd, but you knew it would look even more odd if you weren’t in them in the middle of the day. You also couldn’t be too close to the party or it’d look stranger still.

You sighed to yourself as your back hit the nearest wall. Here, alone, beneath the cold fluorescents, you pondered this weird situationship you’d gotten into.

You loved Miguel dearly, you really did, both genuinely as a friend and as something more complicated. You just wished you could be more open about it. It was hard to lie, hard to constantly be on the lookout for ways to be inconspicuous. It was exhausting.

You didn’t even entirely know why you couldn’t be open about it. All you knew is you trusted him, or at least, you wanted to, so what he said went.

Your mind drifted to his lips on your neck, and you absently brushed where he’d kissed you. You thought about his words, about how he’d whined over not being able to mark you with a bite. Your cheeks glowed in the cold light.

You wished it too, you thought. You wished for nothing more.

‘Nena?’

You turned to find Miguel watching you from the corner of the hall. He was in full suit, even wearing his mask, which you found a little odd. You smiled as he approached.

‘Hey, big guy.’

Miguel glanced about the hall twice to ensure you were alone before placing a single, cautious kiss to your forehead.

‘You ready?’

You could hear the annoyance in his voice. He was already in a foul mood. With both hands you reached up and gently tapped his cheeks, urging him to remove his mask. He reluctantly obeyed.

‘There he is. Beautiful man.’ You cooed softly as you stroked his jaw, and you watched as he closed his eyes in response. You clung to that moment together, that sweet single moment alone, until you were forced apart by the sound of another spider’s footsteps.

Together you walked into the open lobby.

It was packed with spiders from ceiling to floor, with people standing or sitting at every angle possible. Those holographic decorations were extra bright here, filling the white room with a bright arrangement of rainbow lights. It was excessively cheery.

The moment you walked in you were hit with the low buzz of spiders chatting and calling over each other. Someone somewhere was singing, a gaggle of Peter’s were trying to get the radio to play music, but someone seemed to have already dropped eggnog on the thing and now all you could hear was the occasional static.

You also noticed very quickly that everyone else was wearing some horrible Christmas sweater. That is, everyone but Miguel.

‘Miguel! Hey! There you are!’

You jumped as Peter B. dropped from the ceiling in front of you, his arms flying to Miguel’s waist before the man could even respond. Miguel opted to just stand stock still in his usual, stoic posture, while Peter squeezed his ribs to dust.

‘Oh, I’m so glad! Hey, I told you it was festive sweater attire—’

‘I don’t- own one of those.’

Peter huffed at Miguel’s curtness. While Peter tried to put on his most disapproving, disappointed dad face, Miguel just curled his lip.

‘I brought you one! For this EXACT event!’

‘I lost it.’

‘You lo- how?! You live and work in the HQ!’

‘I lost it’ Miguel repeated. You could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth.

‘I swear you are unbelievable sometim—oh! Hey, you! It’s you!’

Peter finally noticed you standing awkwardly at Miguel’s back. You were easy to miss, as your body barely came up to his pecs and his shadow was currently hiding much of your body, but Peter’s senses were keen. He turned his accusatory finger from Miguel to you instead.

‘Hey! Oh, it’s good to see you, how are you doing?’

‘Hey, Peter. I’m- good, I’m good.’ You forced a smile to hide your anxiety over being here. You knew you weren’t doing anything wrong but you felt so out of place in these big gatherings. You weren’t a spider, you barely knew most of these people, and of course you were harboring the guilt of your secret affair with their boss.

As if sensing the strain in your voice Miguel allowed his hand to brush your elbow. It was a small, barely discernible action, but it meant the world to you. It was all the comfort you needed.

‘I didn’t know you were invited though’ Peter mused aloud. ‘I thought it was just a spider thing.’

‘Oh, I was—’

‘I saw her walking by and she mentioned she was on break, I thought- she might enjoy this’ Miguel said, quickly dropping your alibi in the most monotone way possible. You just nodded along with his explanation.

‘Oh’ Peter noted, his finger slowly retracting. ‘So, you two do know each other?’

Miguel grunted, his brows knotting into that familiar look of mild annoyance. ‘Do we know- yes, of course we know each other. She cleans my office three times a week. I told you before, we’re friends.’

Peter nodded along slowly. He wasn’t saying anything, but of course his senses had peaked. He was curious in a way that was making Miguel squirm.

‘So you—’

The three of you turned in unison as a sharp cry filled the lobby. It was a baby’s cry, a sharp squeak of joy, one that all three of you instantly recognized.

‘May! May, no, you can’t be up there!’

The red-headed baby had found her way onto one of the beams and was eagerly crawling towards the fake holographic tinsel, trying to grasp it with her little baby hand.

‘NO! NO, honey, you can’t- you can’t touch that- I’m so sorry, I gotta go!’

Thankfully Peter abandoned your conversation to climb the wall in pursuit of his baby daughter. You sighed with relief, your hand brushing Miguel’s arm, but when you touched him you found he was unbelievably tense. You glanced up to find his eyes glued to the ceiling.

‘Mig?’ you whispered. He was grinding his jaw with his lips pursed, his eyes unmoving.

‘This is why I didn’t want to come’ he hissed. Before you could speak he’d pulled away to the craft table.

‘Ah- Mig, hey!’ You hurried after him, awkwardly sidestepping the other spiders to reach him. ‘Mig? Miguel? What’s up?’

You finally caught him as he tried to hide at the end of the craft table, shoving himself into the corner. You bit down any jokes you instinctively wanted to make about this enormous, gorgeous man trying to hide anywhere.

‘Mig, it’s okay. Talk to me.’

You sidled up beside him and glanced about the room, making sure no one else was coming over. You could physically hear Miguel grinding his teeth at this point.

‘I knew this is what it would be’ Miguel murmured. ‘I get invited out of pity. Everyone’s here with their friends, and their family, because that’s what its about, and they know—’

Miguel choked on the last word. You noticed his eyes were swimming ever so slightly.

In the corner Peter was bouncing May in his arms while trying to coax Mary to go beneath the holographic mistletoe. Jess was laughing as she held up a hologram, on which you could see the laughing face of her husband as he admired her stomach.

You suddenly noticed how many Peters, how many Marys, how many Gwens were spread out here. Everyone seemed so comfortable with each other, and many more were talking about visiting their aunts or parents.

When you looked up at Miguel again, he looked strained.

‘I- I’m gonna take a break’ Miguel grumbled.

‘Oh, already? Hey that’s okay. Do you want me to come?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I just- I need a minute. Alone.’

Without another word he turned and fled, rushing immediately to the nearest bathroom stall. He locked it hard.

Suddenly, you were alone too. You immediately felt your heart speed up.

Oh god, did you know anyone else here? You sort of knew Peter B. but he was busy with his family, and you sort of knew Jess but not well enough to just chat. Everyone else here was a passing acquaintance. You began to wander aimlessly from spot to spot as if to imply you knew what you were doing.

You stared at the food but didn’t partake in anything but a half-filled cup of eggnog which you sipped on for support. You passed by the secret santa board listing everyone intending to participate, just so you looked like you were pondering it with purpose. You noticed Miguel’s picture had been pinned up there, his sullen face lost amide a sea of smiles. You spotted at the top a big sign declaring that Peter B. was this year’s organizer. Ah, of course, it was Peter orchestrating all of this. You quickly walked away.

Eventually you just found a corner to skulk in while you waited for Miguel to return.

It was quiet at least. Peaceful. Calm. You could watch everyone else stand around and sing and watch May admire all the Christmas lights.

You smiled too as you watched her. It was hard not to. It was inevitable, though, that your mind would drift back to Miguel again.

You knew about Miguel’s past at this point. You knew about Gabi, about his loss, about his isolation. You knew it was hard for him seeing every other spider suffer but still ultimately have a family to go home to.

Had he ever experienced a Christmas with Gabi? Did he even get enough time for that?

You knew, deep down, the real reason he didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t the casual socializing or the fact they weren’t technically a workplace. Maybe those things played a small part in his disdain, but really it was clear that he couldn’t bear to be reminded of what he didn’t have.

You glanced to where Miguel had gone to hide, praying for the door to open. It didn’t. You sadly sank back into yourself.

‘Hey, what uh- what an interesting spot you picked.’

You jumped as an unfamiliar voice called to you from the right. It was one of the nebulous Peter Parker’s, a slightly older one it seemed, who’d come to stand beside you on the edge of the lobby. You forced a smile.

‘Hi! Ah… what- Can I help you?’

This new Peter grinned in a way that made you extremely uncomfortable.

‘Well, I mean if you’re asking. This is the right spot for that after all.’

Now you were sweating. Your eyes darting as he started to chuckle. Why was he laughing at you? Who was this?

You realized his friends, a group of other Peter’s, were in the corner giving him a thumbs up. Immediately your stomach dropped, and with bulging eyes you slowly looked upward.

There it was. Mistletoe. Your idiot self had wandered right under it without thinking.

‘Oh! Oh, oh my god, I am- I’m so sorry, no, I didn’t—’

‘God you’re adorably shy, especially for someone waiting underneath it’ this new Peter chortled. You felt your heart hammering. Oh god, where was Miguel? Where was he? You tried to lean and look for him in the crowd, but the new Peter suddenly leaned in front of you.

‘So, you were standing here for no reason?’ he teased. You stammered on your words.

‘No, I’m- I didn’t know it was there, I swear, I didn’t mean to be here—’

He reached up to grab the holographic sprig, taunting you with it as he waved it back and forth.

‘Hey, come on, you gotta follow the rules’ he chuckled. He must have thought he was being playful, just indulging in some banter, but you were horrified. You tried to step away.

‘No, no I’m not- playing around I’m serious—’

‘HEY!’

Your whole body jolted as you were suddenly thrust away from the older Peter. A giant, muscular, red and blue clad arm had swung itself between the two of you and embedded itself into the wall.

Miguel stared down at the man before him, his eyes burning red. His face had contorted with rage, and his claws had turned the concrete wall into dust where he’d struck it.

‘W-Woah, woah, you—’ The man tried to speak but Miguel snapped at him before he could give any kind of excuse. ‘What do you think you’re doing? She said no!’ he barked.

‘I thought- I mean she was under the—’

‘She said. No.’ Miguel was hissing so hard that spittle flew from between his clenched fangs. The man took a step back.

‘Boss, hey, come on—’

‘No. I won’t, come on. There is nothing else to say. She said no. I do not allow people, in my organization, who don’t listen to NO. Especially when it’s her—’

‘Hey, man I was just joking—’

‘Is anyone laughing?!’

Miguel’s sneer had turned into a disdainful smile at this point, a deeply sarcastic grin which bore no joy. Peter had raised his hands into a defensive stance at this point. He knew he’d messed up.

‘I do everything for you ungrateful people’ he seethed. ‘Everything. I give up- everything. And you’re trying to take the ONE THING I HAVE—’

Miguel paused his onslaught abruptly when a hand hit his shoulder, gently drawing him back from his rage. He turned, following the hand to its owner’s face, only to find Peter B. staring back at him with mortified eyes.

‘Mig’ he whispered. Miguel slowly darted his eyes towards the rest of the room.

Everyone had frozen in place to stare at the little mess you’d made. You cowered against the wall with your hands clutched to your chest, while Miguel just stared with his mouth agape. He was panting, his chest heaving as his anger began to slowly dissipate.

‘Buddy?’ Peter B. whispered. At this point the other Peter had used the distraction to flee back to his friends.

‘You okay, buddy?’

Miguel’s face began to warp. It went from rage, to embarrassment, to guilt, right back to rage again. He cast you a quick glance that you couldn’t discern before shoving his way through the crowd.

‘Hey! Hey, Miguel!’

Peter B. gave chase, and after a moment of being frozen you also followed suit. You both managed to follow him to the lobby door before losing track, as he used his claws to drag his body up into the endless sea of beams going up through the HQ.

You panted and stumbled to a stop beside Peter. You were both alone, standing in the corridor just outside the main lobby. You could still hear the gossipy whispers drifting out.

‘Shit… Shit, oh god- Mig’ you panted. ‘I’m so- sorry, shit—’

‘Hey, hey, don’t apologize’ Peter stammered. He was also out of breath. ‘Argh, god- I knew this would be a bad idea. I knew he’d get wound up.’

You panted once, twice, recouping your breath, before rounding on Peter yourself. ‘Then why did you do it?! Why’d you make Miguel get involved if you know he hates it?’ you hissed.

Peter held up both hands in defense. ‘Hey! I just- oh, god, I’m so out of shape- look, I’m not oblivious! I’m not tryna be mean, or rude, I don't even celebrate this stuff, but—I just don’t want him to be alone again.’

You paused your intended onslaught when you saw the sincerity in Peter’s eyes.

‘Alone, again?’ you repeated back. Peter nodded.

‘Yes! He doesn’t—he doesn’t have any family. Not here, not even in another universe, he’s… It’s a hard time of year when you’re alone, even for regular people, but, he’s—’

‘Anything but regular’ you murmured. Peter gave another grim nod.

You sighed, hard.

‘Look, Peter, we’re worried about the same thing’ you insisted. ‘But just- forcing him to spend time around other people who have what he doesn’t have, how does that help?’

Peter held up his hands in surrender. ‘Yeah, I- I know. I know. I just thought- Sometimes, when he looks at May or holds her, I catch him smiling to himself. I catch him making those soft little dad noises at her and, I just thought, maybe he wanted more of it?’

The mental image Peter was painting made your stomach knot. You could see it so clearly, Miguel’s old worn face lifting into a smile as May cooed at him, as she reminded him of those long dormant instincts. It made your heart hurt.

‘But then other times he- he looks so defeated, and I… Well, my good intentions don’t really matter, do they? Either way I screwed up. I should have just, locked you two in a room or something, eh?’

You blanched at his sudden curtness. ‘You- what? What, what are you- aha, what are you implying, Peter? There’s no—’

‘Shh, shh.’

You stiffened as Peter put one finger to your lips. ‘Don’t wear yourself out, little lady, I know what you and my dear friend Miguel are up to.’

You could feel your face getting warm, and you were sure he could tell. Peter’s stupid puppy dog smile crept back onto his face as he watched you squirm internally.

‘What I meant was, I should have just done what he wanted, not what I wanted. And I’m fairly sure all he wants is to sit in a dark room on a couch watching some stupid old soap opera film while you sit next to him and, I don’t know, gaze at him adoringly.’

Slowly your body began to loosen up. Peter was right, there was no point lying. You reached up to remove his finger from your mouth.

‘I’d have liked that too’ you murmured.

In that moment it didn’t feel like there was anywhere else to go. You’d hit a wall, and the two of you were forced to just pace in the corridor in thought. That was, until something Peter had said stuck out to you in retrospect.

‘Hey, um—’

You held up a hand, awkwardly gesturing for Peter to come closer. He obliged, his adorable puppy face tilting as you mulled over what you were about to do.

‘This secret santa thing, could… could you do me a favor?’

Peter’s eyes lit up. You hadn’t stated your intentions but he already knew where this was going. Yes, you and Miguel were meant to be a secret. Yes, Jess had stated very clearly that it wasn’t a good idea to indulge it. But god, Peter couldn’t help himself. He was a romantic at heart.

‘What kind of favor?’ he whispered.

You leaned in closer and whispered back. ‘You’re in charge of handing them out, right? I want you to shift the names around. I want you to give Miguel to me. Nobody has to know, cos... yanno, it’s secret, but… could you do that for me?’

Peter beamed. ‘I can do that one hundred percent, ma’am, without a single issue.’

You beamed back. ‘Perfect! Thanks Peter, ah- sorry for snapping at you earlier.’

‘Hey, it’s all water under the bridge.’

As Peter flapped his hands dismissively you gazed up at the beams above. You sighed again.

You were supposed to spend Christmas with your family this year like always. It’d been a while since you’d seen them after all, and it was always something you looked forward to when you got the chance.

But, you felt like there was someone who maybe needed you a little more this year.

…

It was Christmas eve and almost all of the spiders at the HQ had gone home. The place was eerily empty without the usual crowds. With heavy snow falling outside the place felt liminal, like a building outside of space and time.

It was in this sea of nothing that Miguel appeared. He was walking alone through the lobby at a speedy pace, dressed in just slacks and a t-shirt. He was trying his best not to linger. He didn’t like to think about how alone he was, nor did he like to dwell on the echo of his footsteps. The only man left, the only footsteps in the whole HQ.

The echo felt cruel to him. It was like laughter, reflecting back to him his own isolation. He felt so small.

He found his way to the elevator and rode it up to the tippy top of the HQ, and all the way up he mourned his situation.

He missed you. You hadn’t had time to speak properly after the party incident, and he missed you dearly. He was left to think about what you might be doing, somewhere far from here, relishing the holiday with family. What was your family like, he wondered? Mum, dad, both, neither? Did you have siblings to bond with, or nieces or nephews to gift presents too?

You were always so kind. So soft. He was sure you’d planned their gifts well in advance. He smiled at the thought of you panicking over gifts, or getting excited over whatever they’d gotten for you. He daydreamed about your gleeful, shining face beneath the glinting lights.

What a sweet, domestic image. He wanted more than anything to just cling to it for a little while longer, but fate was cruel. The elevator came to a stop and jolted him back to reality, as its doors peeled aside to reveal the empty corridor to his apartment.

His smile faded. He looked exhausted. With heavy steps he trudged his way to his front door.

‘I’m home’ he muttered as he pushed the door aside. It was a cruel routine he did every time he got back to his apartment, calling out to a family that didn’t exist. As expected, nobody replied. With a soft grunt he kicked off his shoes and began to fumble for the light.

‘Welcome back.’

Miguel jumped in his skin, his claws bursting out as his suit automatically covered his body. In a defensive position he slammed the light back on.

‘WHO’S THERE?!’

His narrowed eyes darted about the now lit apartment before falling on a single figure in the center of the room, a figure sitting perfectly cross legged on his messy couch.

His eyes widened. It was you.

‘You… nena?’

Miguel lowered his mask to reveal his utterly stupefied expression. You couldn’t help but smile.

‘Hey, aha- sorry for the uh, theatrics, but… I mean that was kind of the point, right?’

Your awkward laugh filled the apartment as Miguel tilted his head.

‘Why- why are you here? How did you get IN?’ he asked. As he phased away the rest of his suit you swung your legs over the edge of the couch, hands clasped in your lap. You were trying your best to look like you knew what you were doing.

‘Ah- you don’t lock your door, so- I just walked in.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You never lock your door’ you repeated gently. ‘You always forget, or you stay at work so late you never come back to lock it. You told me, last time I was here, remember?’

‘I… did, didn’t I’ he grunted. After a brief silent stare off Miguel turned and began silently taking off his shoes, leaving you sitting in the stillness.

You smiled to hide your anxiety. You couldn’t tell from his expression yet how he felt about your little jape, and you hadn’t even fully revealed your plan yet.

‘Nena, I am happy to see you, obviously, but…’

‘Obviously?’ you teased. He bashfully held up a hand.

‘Hey, come on, don’t start. You hid in my apartment without telling me, of course I’m going to be surprised, I would have jumped regardless of who it was.’

‘I know, I know, I’m kidding.’

Miguel shook his head. He looked exasperated but still mildly amused. ‘I am happy to see you, nena, really, but… as I was saying, why ARE you here?’

‘Well duh. I’m your secret santa.’

Miguel blinked. Now he looked even more confused.

‘You… Nena, you weren’t—’

‘On the ballot? No! I wasn’t. But SOMEHOW, I got on there! Call it uh- divine intervention, maybe—’

‘I’d call it Peter meddling’ Miguel grunted.

‘Ah, same thing! Don’t think about it!’

Miguel paused before properly responding to your shenanigans, opting instead to drop his stuff and slump onto the empty couch spot at your side. Your whole body bounced as he sat down.

‘Alright. I got it. So- Peter probably bribed you into spending Christmas with me, huh? Or did he blackmail you? Wait- nena, did he blackmail you?! I swear I will—’

‘What? No!’ You waved your hands and scoffed, quickly patting him back down from his brewing rage. ‘God you’re bad at this. I had a go at Peter for making you do holiday stuff when you were clearly unhappy, he said he only did it ‘cos he was trying to make you feel less lonely. So, I asked him myself to put me as your secret santa, and I planned this whole charade. Because I- also, want you to be happy, just, not by way of enforced socialization. I know you hate it.’

Miguel stared at you with his hand halfway down his jaw. He looked utterly stupefied.

‘You… I, will never understand you’ he said softly, the words barely a breath. You just kept your smile as wide as you could.

‘So- you’re—’

‘Happy secret santa!’

You interrupted Miguel’s attempted speech by dumping a huge wrapped present box on his lap. Miguel froze, his eyes locked on the box like it was a venomous snake, a perfect contrast to you as you eagerly slapped your thighs with excitement.

‘Go on! Open it!’

‘This- what is it?’ Miguel hissed. You reached out and incessantly patted his bicep.

‘It’s your- present! So open it! NOW!’

‘Okay! Okay! Ay Dios—’

With a soft grunt Miguel hurried to unwrap the box, shyly lifting the top flaps aside. He peered down into it while you clapped your hands beside him.

‘It’s…’

Miguel reached in and pulled out a handful of items.

‘It’s- so that’s that chocolate you mentioned months ago that you loved as a kid. The chilli one. I had to get it imported, I was SO worried it wouldn’t arrive but it did! Yay!’

Miguel slowly turned the wrapped candy over in his hand. ‘Nena, you—’

‘And that’s some new boxers. I hope you don’t mind, but I remember you said it’s the one thing you always run out of because you don’t wear anything else under the suit usually so you needed more— I made sure they were in your colors though!’

Miguel glanced down at the pack of boxers you’d brought him. They were, indeed, custom printed in red and blue. He just kept mumbling to himself, unable to form a real response.

‘And- I got you that copy of your favorite film, because I know you have everything digitized but you’re a sucker for just having things, it means Lyla can’t see ‘em, and… Oh, what’s that- OH! Yes, and I got you a voucher, for the canteen, I paid for like, a MONTHS worth of empanadas in advance so you or I can use those there for, like, maybe a week, knowing us.’

‘Nena, this is… really, thoughtful’ he murmured. You beamed.

‘At-at-at, it’s not over yet. And, finally, well… I thought, I could stay over, maybe. Keep you company. Spend Christmas here.’

Miguel’s mouth was agape.

‘Not like- I don’t want to um, make this more serious than it needs to be, like, this can be just a… friends with benefits, Christmas? I don’t know, what I’m saying is I just want to, you know, be here. With you. As a… whatever we are. For Christmas.’

Miguel, still stunned, slowly shook his head.

‘But, nena, your family—’

‘Ah, they’ll be fine! They’ve had me for every Christmas since I was BORN! That is like, an unfathomable amount of me to deal with’ you teased. Miguel’s solemn expression slowly tilted, his lips sliding into a half-smile.

‘Ah, so you’re offsetting their burden to me this year, huh?’

‘Mhm! You’re stuck with me.’

Bit by bit, Miguel’s heart melted. That cold exterior turned soft under your earnest smile. He slowly pushed the box of gifts aside so he could face you properly.

‘I- couldn’t think of a better gift, than being stuck with you’ he said. You felt a rush of warmth through your whole body, and instinctively tried to bat it away.

‘Aha, no, come on. Even the chocolate?’

‘It is, much, much better than that’ he said. His voice had gone unnervingly quiet, unnervingly gentle. You felt your heart flutter.

‘Well, I’m… glad. I’m, glad you’re happy I’m here. Now- do you wanna help me cook, maybe? I’m not sure what you’ve got but, we can make something work, right?’

Miguel nodded slowly. His eyes were utterly fixated on your face, on your little joyful dimples and wide eyes.

‘Sure. Sure, mi nena. I’d love that.’

You smiled so wide it hurt. ‘Mm. Good! Good. I’ll uh- get started then.’

Miguel watched as you scrambled to your feet and rushed to his tiny kitchenette. For just a moment, he decided to hang back. He was trying to hide his instinctual fear from you. He was happy, yes, deliriously so, but that scared him down to his core. He wasn’t supposed to be happy.

Had he let this go too far? He still wasn’t sure if any of this could get you hurt, if this somehow upset his canon. He was supposed to be alone after all, and yet, here you were.

With dilated eyes he glanced at the enormous glass wall overlooking the city. It was still snowing outside, heavy and hard, and Nueva was coated in a soft, dreamy blanket of white which glittered in the rainbow city lights.

It was beautiful. Serene. He bent and whispered into his watch.

‘Lyla?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ah- are there, any anomalies?’

‘No sir, none.’

Miguel’s eyes softened a little. Huh, he thought, no anomalies at all?

‘Are you sure?’ he whispered again. Lyla flashed a small red X at him over the watch.

‘None! None at all! I already said that!’

Part of him wanted to ask her a third time but he stopped himself. No, Lyla was trained to know this stuff, she had to be right. That meant this, at the very least, wasn’t breaking his canon. For now.

He stole a glance at you in the kitchen as you rummaged through his fridge. Even that small, mundane activity, watching you forage around and tut to yourself, made his heart a little less heavy. In fact, it made it light. The sight of your face smiling, the way you bit your tongue to concentrate as you separated food on the counter, it felt like bird wings fluttering in his chest.

‘Ay por Dios- I’m too old to be doing this’ Miguel mumbled to himself, but despite his gripes he was just too intoxicated to stop. It felt too good to be this content, this flushed and flighty and nervous. If this was safe, well, perhaps he could just stay here. Perhaps he could just stay with you, just the two of you, in this sweet heavenly limbo.

‘Okay. Ah- thank you, Lyla. That’s all’ he mumbled. Miguel went to close the receiver, but he paused at the last second. He decided to whisper one more thing.

‘Ah- merry Christmas, Lyla.’

‘You- what?’

Miguel grunted, already embarrassed, but he repeated it again. ‘I- I said, you know—’

‘Yeah I heard you, I’m just surprised’ Lyla crowed. ‘What’s got you all soft and mushy? Finally feeling the spirit of the season?’

Miguel refused to make eye contact as Lyla appeared in holographic form, her eyes roaming his dumpy apartment. It didn’t take long for her to notice you in the kitchen.

‘You- ooohhh. Oh. I got it.’

Lyla shot him a smug grin as she tilted her glasses. ‘Maybe not the spirit of the season, but you’re sure feelin’ something, huh boss?’

‘Get- out of here’ he hissed.

‘Merry Christmas boss. You two be safe now.’

Before Miguel could snap anything back Lyla phased herself away. She even made a point of switching his watch off for him, a subtle indicator that she knew he ought to be alone with you right now.

Miguel took her advice and gently slipped his watch off. It would be fine on the counter. Now fully certain that the two of you were alone, he rose to his feet and joined you in the kitchen. He had only one thing left on his mind.

You were busy sorting out leftovers when you felt his shadow at your back. The weight of his pecs pushed in against your head as his hips brushed your rear, very lightly pressing you against the counter.

‘Oof- oh, hey! There you are, you okay?’

You tilted your head back, a goofy smile spread across your face, only to have it immediately wiped.

Miguel wasn’t offering his same slightly stilted smile. He had an expression that you were now very familiar with, but it wasn’t one you were expecting to see right now. Those half-lidded eyes, that open smile, the way his breath condensed slightly as it huffed between his bared fangs. You felt the red light of his gaze gawking at you, admiring just how small you looked against his chest.

He pushed a little closer and you oomphed again.

‘Ah- h-hey, Miguel, you—’

‘I didn’t get you a present’ he said slowly. You watched as each of his clawed hands came down on the counter, trapping you in. Your body trembled with excitement.

‘You- you didn’t’ you stammered back. He seemed to be enjoying your little quivers.

‘I feel bad’ he murmured. ‘Mi nena went to, such lengths for me. So I want to give you something too.’

You tensed up with anticipation. Your whole body was on fire, and you couldn’t wait to—

Right in the middle of your fantasizing, Miguel pulled away. You watched as he withdrew and hurried off to the edge of his bed.

‘Ah… Mi- ahem, uh- Miguel?’

He didn’t reply. He was busy pulling out a draw and rummaging through its contents. You watched in a daze.

After a minute or so Miguel finally hurried back to your side, his hand now held behind his back. You tried to put on a grateful smile.

‘Aha, hey, so uh- what, what did you—’

Halfway through speaking he interrupted you again, this time by forcing some unseen object into your palm. It felt cold, whatever it was. Hard and cold. He closed your fist around it with both his hands.

‘For you, mi nena. Okay, now… look.’

Miguel slowly withdrew his hands, allowing you to unfurl your fist.

It was a key. Or, more specifically, a keycard, used to swipe open doors in the HQ. You had one yourself for cleaning people’s private offices, but you’d never seen one like this. You couldn’t help but frown.

‘What- wait, wait is this your— is, this your apartment key?’

Miguel’s affectionate smile was answer enough. You couldn’t hide the flood of excitement and surprise that overcame you.

‘OH! Oh, I- are you sure? Like, really- you’re sure, Mig? I don’t wanna pressure you, like—’

‘I’m sure, nena. I’m very sure.’

‘Oh my god- but, again I just- are you ABSOLUTELY sure?’

Miguel rolled his eyes a little. ‘Yes. Nena, I am sure.’

‘But you’re SURE you’re—MMF!’

In a spontaneous move Miguel bent down and roughly drew you up into a kiss. He was ravenous enough that you dropped his key to the floor, and passionate enough that all your thoughts turned to mush.

You melted into his grip as he pushed you against the counter, uttering the weakest moan you could as he parted your lips and began exploring your mouth with his tongue. The little nips of his fangs, the way his tongue bullied yours until you were drooling down the side of your mouth, it made your legs weak. Luckily his claws were there to hold you up.

‘Mmm- mm!’

Without words he hoisted you into his arms, letting your legs struggle to wrap around his waist. He was too big for you to fit but he was strong enough to hold you regardless, and indeed he relished in the chance to sneak a squeeze at your rear as he did so. Your hands gripped his muscular neck for dear life.

‘Nena—' he hissed between kisses, ‘mi nena- mi nena.’

Your back hit the wall as he pushed you up. He was getting rougher. His teeth kept hitting yours as the make-out grew messy, and his claws were digging small holes into your clothes. You gingerly bit his lip and he returned the favor.

When he pulled back you were panting for air.

‘Mig—f-fuck, Miguel—’

‘No talking’ he barked, pressing a firm kiss to your neck. You arched it back so he could access it more easily, and with an approving grunt he ran his tongue from collarbone to jaw.

‘Unless you’re screaming for me, no words’ he hissed in your ear. ‘I want to show mi nena, why you’re the best gift I could get.’

‘F-Fuck—’

As you tried to catch your breath he pressed his lips to your neck once more, gently kissing from spot to spot as if searching for something.

‘I want- to do something for you, nena. Something you said you wanted.’

‘You—what do you mean—’

He gave you no time to even respond before sinking his heavy fangs into your neck. All you could do was squeak.

It always surprised you just how big he was, how powerful. You felt his teeth moving beneath the skin as his lips sucked, a strange miasma of warmth, stinging pain and pleasure that lulled you into submission.

‘A-Ah- Mig—’

Your mouth fell open into a brainless gasp as he clamped his jaw on your frail skin.

‘Mm- mmm-‘

He let out a muffled moan as he started to slowly seep venom into your blood. The pleasure seemed to be too much for him as well, as he’d started to impatiently dry hump your body into the wall. Now penetrated on his teeth and crushed by his torso, you could do nothing but moan.

After god knows how long he retracted his teeth, carefully licking the wounds he’d left. You whined. You were lightheaded but not paralyzed this time, as it seemed he’d controlled the flow of venom. The rest was drooling down his chin and staining his shirt. He grunted and wiped it on the back of his hand, all while easily maintaining your weight with just one palm.

‘Good girl’ he groaned. ‘You okay?’

You gave a dreamy nod. ‘Y-Yeah… fuck yeah, just- you said, we couldn’t do that. I-It’s too noticeable.’

His self-satisfied grin made you even dizzier. ‘That’s my present to myself’ he purred, carefully admiring his work. Your neck was bruised and red from the hickey, with four clean marks showing his distinctive marking. He kissed each mark. ‘It’ll heal by the time everyone gets back, but, for tonight—’

You tensed as he leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. ‘You’re mine. And I will mark you as such.’

You whimpered at those words, something which stroked his ego to unimaginable degrees. He couldn’t contain his throbbing need any longer.

‘Now- let me give you your second gift’ he purred.

With your body suspended in his hands he began to teasingly rip each piece of clothing aside. He started slow, just using his fangs to gingerly unclasp each button of your blouse, but his cock was throbbing painfully in his pants at this point and the teasing was too much.

He resorted to just ripping it all to shreds, all while whispering that he’d buy you a new outfit.

Once you were fully naked in his palms he allowed his organic webs to stick you to the wall, with legs spread and arms pinned at your sides. He manipulated it to look like a shibari rope, perfectly highlighting each little part of you he loved. He whistled.

‘Gorgeous, nena. Mi nena hermosa.’

You were panting now, flushed and just a little shy to be no more than a display on his wall. You felt his clawed hands sink into your thighs as he patted them, enjoying the way the fat and muscle squeezed between his fingers.

‘Mine’ he whispered.

‘Ah- Mig—’

He crept closer and gently pressed his lips to your spread slit. His arm was hooked around your right leg, holding you close as he breathed you in. The feel of hot air hitting your clit made you squirm.

‘Mine.’

He repeated that word, once, with such vigor it scared you, before finally allowing himself to lick at your cunt. Your breathy moan filled his apartment.

‘Mig, f-fuck—!’

Your whole body shuddered as he began to messily make out with your spread sex, his lips and tongue ravenously moving between starving licks and hard sucking. You watched his head gently arch and bob back and forth with each movement.

Your clit was swollen at this point, with a desperate need to be touched, and each warm, wet, rough flick of his tongue was sending the most gratifying jolts of pleasure through your body.

‘Please, please, more’ you whined.

Miguel had tried to offset his own need by palming at his hard cock over his slacks, but he was just too aroused at this point. With a grunt he pulled back and manically ripped his pants down.

‘Fuck- you’re delicious.’

He jerked at his boxers until his cock sprung forth. You could see the little strings of precum already coating his lower belly and shirt, and internally whined that you didn’t get to lick them off yourself.

You watched as he started to stroke himself, his cock straining in his fist as he returned his tongue to your clit. You knew he was trying to make you jealous.

‘Eyes on me, nena’ he murmured, deliberately speaking close enough that you could feel his full lips moving over your spread sex. You squirmed in the bindings.

‘F-Fuck- you can’t show me that and- tell me not to look.’

He chuckled a little at your insistence. He couldn’t help but indulge. He was so used to despising his amalgamated body that seeing the way you foamed at the mouth for him was both arousing and comforting. He wanted to see you whine and strain, begging for his cock. He wanted to see you eye his muscled body like a starving animal.

‘My poor nena’ he cooed. ‘You want to look that badly?’

You nodded furiously. ‘Please- please, please—’

‘Okay. As you wish.’

With a smug final kiss to your inner thighs Miguel drew back from your body, instead bracing himself before you as he continued to stroke his cock.

You got a perfect view of his body like this, just like you wanted, but as punishment you were left wet and shaking with no stimulation.

‘M-Miguel, come on’ you whined. He shook his head.

‘No, nena, you get what you asked for.’

God, he did look good though. It was all you had to distract yourself from the aching throb of your clit as it begged for release.

You started by honing in on his face. That chiseled jaw, those full lips and narrowed, almond eyes, burning red in the dim light, it was a look that haunted your most perverse dreams nearly every night.

You swallowed hard and allowed your eyes to roam down. His body was just as enticing, after all.

His huge, sloped shoulders rippled as he rolled them, perfectly framing his fat, rounded pecs beneath his shirt. Your eyes drifted to the mounds of his abs, the way his waist and hips dipped in before sloping out to form his heavily muscled thighs.

You wanted to touch him so bad. You wanted your face in those pecs, you wanted your hands stroking the firm, sharp V cut of his pelvis leading down to what you wanted the most. His cock, now straining in his hand, thick and almost alarmingly girthy, its tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You strained in your web a second time.

‘Miggy- please, please, I’ll do anything!’

‘Muy preciosa’ he groaned. His own eyes were roaming now, eagerly gawking at your spread and naked body. You spied his cock throbbing as he looked at you and flushed, your skin glowing beneath the sweat now beading on your temples.

‘F-Fuck… this is so cruel—’

‘It’s what you wanted.’

‘I need you, please—’

‘Be patient, nena.’

He bit his lower lip as he started to peak, his own eyes glued to your spread legs, spying the little drips of slick sliding down from your desperate hole.

It was getting hard for him to hold back. He liked teasing you, yes, but it was almost painful to look and not touch like this. He wanted to bury himself in your hair as he rutted inside you, he wanted to bite your neck as he thrust your body into a mewling mess.

He wanted it. He wanted to penetrate you.

For just a second, in the heat and the passion and the peaking desperation, his mind lapsed. He indulged in that one perverse fantasy he tried his best to hide. He thought about cumming in you, and he thought about it sticking. He thought about cumming in you and knowing it would get you pregnant.

A low shudder ran up from his toes to his head, and he was forced to slow his fist to avoid coating the floor in his seed.

‘Fuck… fuck, okay. Okay. Teasing over.’

With a snap of his teeth he stormed back over and practically buried his face in your cunt. You jolted at the sudden intrusion.

‘M-Miguel—’

Your pleading turned to mewling whines as his full, flat tongue began bullying your clit, eagerly rubbing and stroking that sensitive nub while his hands got busy. With one hand still fisting his cock he allowed the other to slide up and inside you, filling you with two of his fingers.

‘F-Fuck--!’

‘Be good, nena.’

You bit your lip hard as he started to move his calloused fingers in and out. His skin was rough as it stroked your cunt, and he made sure that you felt it. He wanted to feel you, wanted to feel every tensing muscle and throbbing nerve, every wet little inch of that cunt he craved so badly to possess. He wanted to imprint himself on your insides.

As he began to fuck you with his fingers his lips buried themselves back into your folds, sucking ravenously at your clit. The double pressure was too much for you to take.

‘Miggy—fuck, ‘s so good—’

You could see Miguel’s eyes glazing over. It was his favorite thing, to put your pussy on his lips and taste you, to feel your wetness on your tongue. The taste, the sensation, it all made him feel drunk, but it was also so vulnerable of you to let this monster put you inside his mouth.

His soft nena, his sweet nena, letting him eat you out. Letting him coat you in his bodily fluids.

‘Cum for me’ he grunted. His fingers began to speed up. ‘Cum- for- me’ he begged, aggressively licking you between each word.

You had no escape; you obeyed. You climaxed on his mouth almost violently, straining and spasming with each throb of pleasure.

‘Miguel- f-fuck--!’

Miguel groaned as he felt you gush over his fingers. His eyes were hazy, his fangs bared. It was too much.

In a blur he used his claws to crawl up the wall, positioning himself so that his pelvis fell between your legs. He pushed down and began furiously grinding his bare cock against your clit, ridding out your orgasm with you.

‘F-Fuck, careful- c-careful, its- sensitive- m-mm—’

Your pleading went unheard over his panic panting and grunting. You lay back and let him grind out his frustration, his need, and allowed yourself instead to lull in the pleasure of his overstimulation.

‘So… fucking, good… soft little nena, fuck- you’re delicious.’

With a soft whine Miguel dropped back down, idly cutting you free as he went. He caught your body bridal style.

‘Ah- well, I-I think your present beat mine’ you panted. You were still lightheaded from cumming and had a dumb little dreamy smile on your face, and all you could think to do was tease him.

Miguel didn’t laugh. Without a word he carried your body across the apartment.

‘Ah- Miggy?’

Miguel gently put your body on the ground, allowing you to steady yourself before moving away.

‘Put this on.’

You jumped as he began manically pulling one of his shirts over your head, one so large on you that it looked like a dress. The moment your arms were through the holes he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder again.

‘M-Mig? What- what are we doing?’

You oomphed as he lowered you back to the floor and spun you around. Your eyes widened; you were pressed right against the open window wall of his apartment. He pressed you into it, hard enough that your breasts and belly were squished against the cool glass. Even with the t-shirt on it was cold.

‘I’m showing off my soft little thing’ Miguel purred. You realized, then, that he was stripping the last of his clothes off behind you.

‘Mig—’

‘Not completely, of course’ he whispered in your ear. ‘Only I get to look at you naked. But… I will happily demonstrate that you’re mine.’

With another low grunt he lifted you back up. He kept one arm braced around your waist and the other on your inner right thigh, spreading your legs apart as he lifted you to the exact right height. The perfect height, where his hips could slot in against your rear and his cock could brush up against your slit.

You let out a soft pant. You were horrified about being seen like this, but, were you? Was it not causing your post-orgasm body to throb with absolute delight? Was it not causing our insides to tense with desire?

After all, you wanted to be his, didn’t you? You wanted that mark on your neck. You liked the idea, secretly, of everyone knowing what he’d done to you. You started to tremble with excitement.

His breath stirred your hair as he adjusted his stance. You could feel his bulbous member nudging at your pussy, begging it to take him.

‘Miggy- fuck, please, please do it.’ Your hole was clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. Miguel chuckled.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want- I want you to fuck me.’

‘Who do you want to fuck you?’

‘F-Fuck- ah, M-Miguel, I want you to fuck me, please—’

The breath was knocked from your lungs as he forced his cock inside you. He had to push a few times to get deeper, gently but urgently coaxing your muscles to loosen up, but with a final sigh he pushed in and bottomed out. You winced, your fingers scraping on the glass.

‘Mm- good girl nena, that’s it. Just- stay still for me. You’ll adjust. Good girl. Good girl.’ He was already panting, his chest heaving like a drowning man taking that lifesaving breath.

You bit your lip until it bled. God, you could feel him sliding around inside you. His little explorative slips were creating the most toe-curling sounds; soft, wet squishing noises, mixed with the soft slap where he’d bottomed out and was hitting his pelvis against your rear.

‘You like that, nena?’

You manically nodded your head. ‘M-Mhm, mhm.’ 

Your legs were shaking. He was deep enough to hurt, deep enough that whenever you moved even an inch you could feel his cock pressing into those soft walls. He was stretching you hard; he’d filled all the space available and then forced you to make more. How did you keep forgetting how large he was?

‘Good, good.’ Miguel stretched his neck and settled himself into a more comfortable position. With both hands bracing your waist and hips, he angled himself to start thrusting. ‘Now, stay like that, and let’s give them a good show, eh?’

Before you could respond he’d started to fuck you, his hips bucking to get deeper. You moaned aloud.

He was rough from the start, eagerly rutting against your rear in a way that made the most erotic smacking sound. The glass was cold on your bare chest and belly as he pushed you up against it.

‘M-Miguel—’

‘Shh, you’re doing good nena. You- feel so, so good.’

His breath condensed against the glass with each hard pump he took. Each rhythmic thrust was perfectly timed with his hot, heavy panting.

‘Fuck… fuck, you’re- so big—’ Your attempt at praise was jolting into fragments, as each hard slip of his cock was enough to wind you completely. Miguel’s grip tightened as he pushed you harder against the glass.

‘You’re so small, nena’ he purred. ‘How do you take it so well?’

You mewled as he angled himself to kiss your cervix, a sensation that ached while still being unbearably pleasurable. Your body was like a limp doll in his hands, stretched and fitted to his massive girth.

‘You’re mine’ he groaned.

‘You’re mine. Mine- mine—’

He gave three hard thrusts to match each utterance of his claim over you, each once drawing another loud moan from you. The city lights blazed around your body as he held you up and rutted between your legs.

‘Mine—mine—’

Through the snow it was hard to tell if anyone could have seen you. Someone in one of the skyscrapers across the road could certainly get a view of your silhouette’s manically fucking against the window, and that was enough to make you clench.

You wanted to be his. You were his.

But then, right on the cusp of some utterly gratifying peak, Miguel pulled out of you. His cock sent a pool of slick dribbling down your thighs to the floor where it formed a small puddle, an embarrassing display of how much you’d been squirting.

Usually Miguel would have teased you for it, but he was manic right now.

‘Fuck it- I need to look at you.’

He pulled your body up bridal style and carried you back over to his unmade mattress, throwing you onto it with little delicacy or thought. He was too horny for that.

Now on your back he ripped his own shirt from your body and threw it aside. You didn’t even get a chance to speak. All you could do was moan as he split your legs apart and pushed in between them, easily slipping his girthy shaft back inside you with a guttural groan.

‘Fuck- fuck, you look so good.’

His eyes were fixed on you as he started to rut again, his hips bucking and smacking your pelvis until it was numb. Your hands flew up to his neck where you held on as hard as you could.

He wanted it all. He watched each part of you that bounced when he thrust into you. He watched your eyes roll and your coy little lip bites when your cunt squelched for him. He watched the way you winced and mewled when he kissed your cervix with his cock. His hands suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them down, forcing you to face him.

‘You like that, nena?’

‘Ye- f-fuck- yes, y-yes—’

You’d been fucked dumb at this point. You could barely get a word out. Miguel smirked.

‘Are you mine?’ he barked.

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

‘I-I’m yours, Miguel.’

His fangs flexed as he started to thrust harder. He pulled out all the way and then snapped his hips, penetrating your sopping pussy as deep as he could, until the overstimulation became too much for you and he resorted to just roughly humping with short, fast thrusts while halfway inside.

You were pathetic at this point. You’d drooled on his pillow and your slick was pooling on the unmade sheets. You’d cum a second time during his erratic thrusting, but you hadn’t even had the strength to tell him. All you could do was worship, meekly moaning his name with each thrust.

‘Miguel—Miguel—Miguel—’

Once again, on the verge of climax, Miguel indulged. He just couldn’t stop that intrusive fantasy.

He pictured himself somewhere else, anywhere but here, holding you down in his hands as he fucked to completion. You were his, all his, and he didn’t have to hide you or fear you. Perhaps you were his wife, or fiancé at the least. He could be your husband. He was yours, and you were all his, and now he was going to finish in you. He was going to breed your perfect little body. He was going to get you pregnant, because you wanted him, and you wanted to carry his babies.

He bent back to watch his cock as it penetrated. He was thrusting hard and thrusting fast, desperately pumping back and forth.

‘Mi nena’ he whined. ‘I’m going to cum in you now, okay?’

You felt every curve, every inch, every throb as he got closer to his own climax. You could tell he was close because he was getting erratic. His rhythmic pumps were becoming animalistic.

‘A-Ah- please, Miggy, fuck- please cum in me.’

Your hands scrabbled to hold onto anything as his groans got louder. Those words from you were too much for him to handle.

‘Gonna- cum in you- so hard—’

‘Miguel!’

With one extra loud groan he ejaculated, thrusting hard with each spurt to ensure it got as deep as possible. He wanted you to take it all, and you did. You were frozen in place, trapped, taking every inch of the larger man’s load. Those thick, white ropes filled every inch, all warm and wet and heavy.

Miguel whined as his thrusts slowed, until at last he rocked to a halt.

He’d done it again. He’d slipped back into the fantasy, imagining just briefly as his orgasm took over that he was breeding you. Now as he struggled to catch his breath, he felt that lingering guilt and shame.

Luckily, he had you here to wash away that guilt. He looked down and watched you pant beneath him, your lips parted and eyes utterly glazed over. Your muffled moans of satisfaction filled him with pride.

‘Good girl’ he whispered. He bent and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

‘N-No, no, it… mm…’

You tried to speak but quickly collapsed again into a mushy pile of pleasure and exhaustion, something Miguel found very privately amusing.

‘Alright, just- stay still, I’ll, get you a towel.’

Miguel slid out of you carefully. He watched his seed drip out as he pulled away, clinging to his shaft and pooling from your hole. He heard you give another muffled moan as he released you from the heavy weight of his cock.

God it made him dizzy. Even knowing that it couldn’t do what he wanted it to do, it still made him rabid. As he pulled out fully he couldn’t help himself; he used two fingers to sneakily push some of his cum back inside you. It felt wrong, yes, but it felt too good to not do. It sent shivers up his spine, and even post-orgasm his cock twitched as he watched himself stuffing you with it.

With that guilty indulgence out of the way he did then do what he’d promised, pulling on his boxers and rushing to find you a towel while you lay face down in his bed. When he returned after a few minutes of looking for a clean one, you were still in the same position.

‘Nena?’

You awkwardly waved your hand to show you were alive. Miguel chuckled again. He gently bent at the knee and helped clean the mess he’d made of your thighs, all while you moaned and shifted in the sheets. He quickly tossed the used towel onto the pile already filling his hamper before crawling back into bed with you.

‘Mi nena.’ He immediately shoved his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. You squirmed until you were pressed right against him.

‘Hey there, bestie.’

Miguel snorted a laugh. ‘Alright. Fine. I did say you could do it in private.’

‘Mhm.’

With a sigh Miguel rolled onto his back and puffed up the pillows at his back, allowing him to lie slightly propped up while you clung to his side. You nestled your cheek into his pec as your arm explored his belly.

You weren’t sure how long you dozed beside him. There was something especially comforting about lying side by side, completely naked and alone beneath a thin sheet, slowly warming yourselves off of each other’s body heat.

You were so cozy, for lack of a better word. You were safe, warm, wanted. And so was he.

As the sky turned dark and the snow gained a ghostly glow against the windowpane, Miguel gently shook you awake.

‘Hey, nena?’

You rolled your eyes up to his face.

‘Yeah?’

‘You awake?’

‘Well I am now.’

Miguel’s half-smile betrayed just how uncommon it was for him to smile anymore, but as he watched your grumpy little face nestle into his chest it became a little easier to do.

‘I… ah, okay. How do I say this…’

He smooshed his cheek as he gazed into the distance, his foot nervously tapping on the mattress edge. You tilted your head.

‘You okay?’

He shot you a glance as his hand came down to his jaw. There was a strange intensity to his eyes that took you off guard.

‘Mig?’

Slowly, bit by bit, that smile returned. It was strained, yes, but soft as well.

‘I like you’ he said. You blinked.

‘You… what?’

‘I like you’ Miguel repeated. He sounded a little more confident this time. ‘I… I like you a lot.’

You blinked again, unsure of how to respond. You defaulted to that same awkward, lopsided smile he’d given you earlier. ‘Aha, oh boy. Uh- I mean I like you too, but that’s a bit—’

‘No, no.’

Your eyes widened as he put a claw to your lips, smooshing them shut. As he smiled at you again he tilted his head, a move so adorable it made you squeak. It was so oddly vulnerable to see such a huge, chiseled man beaming with his head tilted like a curious dog.

‘No. I know what you’re thinking. That’s what someone says when they don’t want to admit they love someone. It’s a cop out, right?’

You shyly nodded and shrugged, trying to downplay how you’d felt, but he didn’t seem offput. His smile widened.

‘I don’t mean it like that, and I can prove it, but- first, just hear me out, okay?’

You nodded again, and watched as Miguel withdrew his claws from your mouth. He slid them down your lips to your chin, carefully resting that hooked, curved point on the soft fat beneath, and with the slightest of ease he tilted you to meet his gaze.

‘I like you’ he said softly. ‘I like you, just- as a person. And I don’t know the last time I’ve admitted that. I’ve met… thousands, millions of people, across a thousand universes, and in maybe 0.001% of cases I realize, I like this person.’

You felt your cheeks glowing under the intensity of his stare.

‘But I like you, and worse, I like you so much more than any of them. You’re so, kind, and carefree, and interesting and funny and... I used to think you were naïve, but you’re not. You’re worried, all the time, like me, but you try so hard to still be kind. I don’t get how you do it. Maybe I never will, but- I admire it. I adore it. And, I adore you. You’re just, so… so, ah- what’s the word…’

‘Soft?’ you mumbled. He actually let out a soft chuckle at that, and this one wasn’t sarcastic.

‘Yeah. You’re soft. My… soft, thing.’

You felt the heat growing in your face, and with it the glow increased. You pouted to try and offset how obvious it was that you were fawning over him.

‘I- I like you too, beautiful man’ you replied.

Miguel’s smile widened until you could see his fangs. For just a brief moment, you watched those soft smile lines erase all the hard, angry wrinkles in his face, revealing a strange vulnerability beneath.

‘I love you, nena’ he whispered.

You were mortified. Not from the words, but from your reaction. A high-pitched whine escaped your throat as your whole body tensed, your heart thundering in your chest, and as you tried to bite it all down at once you nearly made yourself sick. It must have shown because Miguel’s smile immediately dropped.

‘Ah, nena, are you—’

‘YEAH I’M GOOD! I’M—FUCK—I LOVE YOU TOO!’ you stammered in a manic cry.

Miguel looked a little offput at first, clearly confused, but it quickly dawned in him that you were panicking. He snorted back a laugh as you buried your face in your hands.

‘Oh my god I’m so sorry—’

‘No, nena, you didn’t do anything wrong’ Miguel soothed. He put a hand on your back and began to rub, all while you continued to make muffled apologies into your palms. ‘You’re all good.’

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—’

‘Why are you sorry, nena?’ he asked. You felt him put a sympathetic cheek against the crown of your head. ‘Do you have any idea how happy that made me?’

When you continued to whine Miguel opted to just grab you, pulling your whole body into a tight embrace. He forced your head between his pecs and your arms to his chest, while his muscular legs came around to encapsulate your own.

As the snow swirled outside he cradled you against him, warm and safe, totally cut off from the rest of the world. You felt your eyelids drooping.

‘I love you’ you whispered. Miguel fought the urge to cry.

‘I love you too.’

Somewhere a clock chimed, beeping to indicate that midnight had passed.

‘Merry Christmas, Mig’ you whispered into his chest. He squeezed you a little tighter.

‘Merry Christmas, nena.’

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @spencer-kicks

PART TWO......

Tyson hadn't heard back from his friend Alex in three weeks since he went on his all paid expense trip. It was supposed to be for a few days, and he would return back. He had yat to come home. He tried texting his number, but there weren't any replies back. He tried calling his number, but they all went straight to voicemail. He was starting to get worried about his best friend. Luckily, the last text he had recieved from him had instruction on how to find him if he didn't return as planned.

Tyson read the last received text from Alex. He was to contact a populer youtuber about his whereabouts. The text also mentioned that the youtuber had invited him to his place as the contested winner. He sent the guy a quck message. Several hour later, he got a reply back. The popular youtuber told him that his buddy Alex had been left his place. And that he didn't know where he was. Tyson at first was about to believe him, yet this youtuber was the last person to see him. Three weeks of no reply told him something was suspicious.

Tyson replied back that he would go to the police about his friend's disappearance and tell them that he was the last to see him. He turneed off his computer. Ten minute later he got an email alert. The popular youtuber told him he might suspect where he went and that he would come help him look. Tyson was pleased with that answer. He gave him the home address.

Two days later, Kevin pulled up at his house as he said he would. Tyson invited him in to talk. "I think I know where your friend might be." Kevin told him.

Tyson was curious since at first he didn't have a clue where his friend was, but now knows. "You sure? At first, you didn't have a clue." He questioned Kevin.

Kevin smiled as he knew exactly where Alex was. Alex was sitting on a shoe rack back at his house. "He is at my house right now. I wore him the three days ago, actually." He informed Tyson, to see a confused look on the guy's face.

"You aren't making any sense." Tyson quickly spoke to his strange words. He saw Kevin pull out a strange cell phone looking device from his pocket. He could hear him typing something in.

"You will join him in my collection. I found that living matter makes for some good shoes." Kevin spoke and flashed at Tyson. Tyson vanished, and in his place were a new pair of sneakers. He grabbed the sneakers and placed them in his traveling bag. He put on the lock for the door and shut it. He got into his car and drove back to his hotel for his filght back in the morning.

The next day, Kevin drove back to his house. He was wearing his new shoes. They felt just as good and comfortable as his other living pair of shoes. He treated the guy like normal shoes. He didn't speak to them, just wore them.

Tyson soon understood what Kevin meant when he was put on his feet prior to leaving for the airport. His face was crushed under his feet the entire time. He mentally pleaded for help, literally for anyone to rescue him. He could hear voices of those around, but being stuck as sneakers, he had no way to reach out for help. He was alone with his own thoughts. Each step was wave after wave after wave of pain. It felt unending. He was at least grateful that the pair of socks didn't smell too bad, even though there was a slight odor to them. Yet still having that odor directly on his face was bad enough. His only motion was decided by the feet of who wore him. This new existence was a nightmare. He now realized what happened to his best friend. The guy had done this to him.

Kevin took off his shoes once he got to his bedroom. He placed them next to his other pair of living shoes. He thought about talking to his new pair, but the guy needed to learn his place just like his best friend. They both were just shoes now. He would have to do video review of his new shoes, but for now he wanted to relax.

Before heading back to the den to watch TV, Kevin turned back to his new shoes. "You can join your best friend as part of my shoe collection. Alex and Tyson. But don't worry, I take good care of all my shoes. You two will be worn on my feet for a long time." He laughed as he left the room.

Alex could not reach out to Tyson, nor could Tyson reach out to Alex even though they were side by side. They were both voiceless shoes whose only purpose now was to be worn on Kevin's feet. Both mentally contemplated their permanent fate, mentally crying for some kind of release or even death. That was a better fate than being Kevin's shoes for the rest of their lives, they thought.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Internal Conflict (Part 2 of 3)

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Part 1 here | Part 3 here

Summary - Following the aftermath of your fight with the Dark Knight, you end up recieving a call from him asking you for help on one of his cases. Making you wonder, just what is he up to?

Warnings - Canon typical violence, brief mention of death, major character injury, blood. (If I somehow missed a TW, lmk!)

A/N - Since for October I'll be posting what I've written for Kinktober, Part 3 will be coming sometime during Novemeber simply so it isn't lost in the wave of fics! As always hope you enjoy! 💜

Taglist - At the end of the fic. Please message me if you would like to be added/removed.

Word Count - 5.1k

You sighed softly as you wrapped the towel around your body and walked out of the bathroom. The blinds were open, allowing the early morning sunlight to stream into your bedroom. Something that your cat was taking full advantage of as he was fully stretched out across your bed. You chuckled as you briefly stopped to ruffle his fur, earning you a small chirp as his eyes opened and he greeted you.

“How about some breakfast?” He perked up at that, meowing as he got back up onto his paws and followed you from the bedroom to the kitchen.

Today was going to be a good day, you had decided. Not even Batman was going to get you down. Not that he had been doing much in the ways of talking, or arguing, with you anyway. Of course that was likely down to how good you had become at avoiding him or making sure you had left the room before anyone else. Now the only time he spoke to you was during briefing, the middle of a mission or debriefing.

The injury that you had sustained during Lex’s attack had not only kept you away from your usual superhero duties, but had left quite the scar. Some of your focus over the past few weeks had been on healing and slowly building your strength back up, following the advice that Black Canary had given you. Though you had no actual proof, you suspected that the advice had actually come from Batman. Why he hadn’t just given it to you direct, you didn’t understand. You might hate his guts, but he was still a teammate. And a teammate who was very knowledgeable when it came to the medical side of things. If he had any advice to give in regards to that, then you would listen.

The rest of your focus had been on your equipment and future suits. It was important, not only to be prepared, but to stay a few steps ahead of the bad guys.

Now that your leg was fully healed, you would be returning to the Watchtower today. Though had been talking to everyone, other than Batman, through the group chat that The Flash had set up, it wasn’t the same as seeing everyone in person. You had also missed kicking bad guys’ asses and doing your best to make the world a little bit better.

After you had gotten your cat his breakfast, you proceeded to make yourself something and sat down on your couch. It was rare that you were awake this early. Typically waking up either right before or right after midday. You were curious of what sort of trashy tv was on at this time in the morning. As you flipped through the channels, you came across a talkshow that had Bruce Wayne on as their guest star. You didn’t have a clue as to what had been said, but the host was laughing rather hard. With nothing else to watch, you decided to leave it on while you ate. Besides, he was very easy on the eyes. He was a man that you certainly wouldn’t throw out of your bed.

You scoffed and shook your head. Damn. Was this really what you were doing? Fantasising about a well known womanising billionaire? Dammit, you really needed to get out more. It was just a shame that the superhero lifestyle didn’t really allow for that. You switched the tv off and focused on finishing your breakfast. It wasn’t going to do you any good to dwell on things like that. The life that you had choses was a good one, even if it did get lonely at times.

Once you were finished with breakfast, and had finally gotten dressed, you walked over to your bookcase and pulled on rather inconspicuous book. There were several clicking noises and the bookcase slid back before sliding to the side, revealing a hidden elevator. You stepped inside and pressed one of two buttons. As the doors slid shut, the bookcase slid back into place.

The elevator trip was a long one. It had to be to get from your apartment all the way down to the hidden basement of this building. The money wasn’t yours. At least it hadn’t always been yours. The money, the company, the real estate. All of it had been your father’s, but after his untimely death everything he’d had landed into your lap. 

Your father’s death had been the catalyst to your new life as a crimefighter. That was a day that you didn’t like to dwell on for too long. Besides today was supposed to be a good day and it very well couldn’t be if you were wishing you could change the past.

The doors of the elevator dinged as they opened up into your base. It wasn’t the most hightech place, especially when compared to a place like the Watchtower, but it did everything you needed it do. And you weren’t looking to upgrade it right now.

A large black box sat on the centre table. The sight of it made you smile. You had forgotten that was down here. Your new suit. You hadn’t had a chance to try it on before Luthor had injured you. Well what better time to debut it than now?

Your smile was big as you checked yourself out in the mirror. Your friend had done well. Very well. From the colours to the new kevlar weave, it was a hell of a lot better than your last one. And it should hold up nicely against bald rich men and their overly large mechs. Mechs that were definitely compensating for something.

Once you had gone through your gear, making sure you had everything you needed, you left your base and headed for the nearest zeta tube.

The Watchtower was quiet when you arrived. Which wasn’t a surprise, with how early it was. You imagined people had either already gone home, after working all night, or were slowly waking up. Being mindful of that, you kept your steps light and made you way toward the breakroom. As you entered the room you were greeted with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Other than yourself the only other person in the breakroom was Black Canary.

In recent months you and her had become quite close. So close, in fact, that you knew each other’s secret identities. After all, you weren’t just coworkers or allies, you were friends. And it felt good to have friends that you could share the burdens of a superhero life with. As much as you trusted your friend that made your suits, at the same time you knew that there were lots of things that she couldn’t understand. 

“Welcome back,” Dinah greeted you as you entered the room. “There’s coffee, if you want any.”

“Thanks, it feels good to be back,” you replied. You made your way over to the coffee machine and poured yourself a cup before joining her at the table.

The two of you spent the morning catching up with each other. It felt good to finally catch up with each other in person. It really wasn’t the same using text on a screen. As you chatted, the door to the breakroom opened and in walked Batman. You took a long drink from your cup, keeping your focus on what Dinah was saying, pretending that he wasn’t there. He didn’t stay in the breakroom for long. Grabbing himself some coffee before leaving again.

She looked between you and the closed door. You thought she was going to ask you what was going on there, you knew the question had to be everyone’s minds. The two of you go from being at each other’s throats to not speaking whatsoever? She didn’t though.

“Me, Ollie and Hal are going to a bar later tonight, if you want to come along as well?” she offered.

It sounded good; a night out with your friends. It had been awhile since you had last been out. Maybe that was what you needed. To go out, get drunk and maybe end up waking up next to a stranger. Something that might help in you in forgetting how it had felt to have sex with him.

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great. I would love to. You know, as long as no supervillain tries world domination again.” 

Dinah chuckled at that.

The bar was far quieter than you had thought it was going to be. It didn’t look like you were going to be taking anyone back to your hotel room tonight. Which was fine. You were here to hang out with your friends after all. While Dinah, Oliver and Hal had ordered themselves some beers, you had opted for just a soda. The more you had thought about it, the more you hadn’t wanted to get drunk. You would rather to keep a clear and focused mind. Maybe next time.

Right now the four of you were laughing at Hal’s rather on point impression of Batman. You shook your head, smiling, and calming yourself down long enough to take a sip of your drink. After weeks of being cooped up, using the majority of your free time to focus on future equipment blueprints and potential future materiels to use, while your leg had healed, it felt good to be out with them.

Oliver raised his beer bottle to his lips, frowning when he found it empty. “I’m gonna go and get us another round,” he announced as he got up and turned to head toward the bar.

“I’ll help you,” Hal said very abruptly, going after him.

You frowned. That was… strange. What was going on with him? That was when you saw it, out of the corner of your eye, Dinah moving, leaning in close to you, so that no one would overhear. Now you understood.

“You and Batman. Spill.”

You looked at her like she had just grown horns. You scoffed. “What do you mean “spill”? You’ve seen the arguments. Everyone one has. What else is there to talk about?”

She raised an eyebrow at you. It was more than clear that she didn’t believe a word you were saying. “Right. That’s why you both disappeared for hours at a time afterward hmmm? Because there’s nothing else to talk about?”

Okay. It was clear to you that she definitely knew what happened between you and Batman, but how? Had she somehow overheard the two of you? Mentally, you shook your head. It didn’t matter how close you were with her, you would still rather forget what had happened between you and Batman and talking to her about it wouldn’t help. Before anything else could be said, Oliver and Hal returned to the table, drinks in hand.

“And what were you two talking about?” Oliver asked as he set down his and Dinah’s drinks, while Hal set down his and yours. You thanked him.

“Nothing, just some girl talk,” she replied. You nodded in agreement with her before taking a sip of your drink.

The rest of the night went by quickly. The situation between you and Batman wasn’t brought up again, but you didn’t believe that Oliver and Hal were oblivious to the situation. The timing of their leaving and Dinah’s questions were too much of a coincidence. It made you wonder how many more Leaguers were aware of it. 

As the night came to a close, they walked you back to the zeta tube. Since you weren’t having a one night stand tonight, you figured you may as well just go back to your apartment.

You were curled up on your couch, underneath a fleece with a bowl of popcorn on your lap. You were watching a movie you had been meaning to watch for a while now, but had just never got around to it. Until now. It had felt good to go out with your friend, but it had completely drained your social battery. You needed to recharge, so to speak. And this was the perfect way to do so.

You were about halfway through the movie when the phone you had specifically for League only business, started to ring. It was for emergencies, in case that you weren’t on the Watchtower ro away from home. You paused the movie and picked up the phone, growing when you saw who was calling you. Batman? There were plenty of other Leaguers available tonight, so why you?

You pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. He was a teammate and he needed help.

“Where are you?” you asked as soon as you had answered the phone. There wasn’t any time to waste if he was in trouble.

“There’s an old amusement park, just outside of Gotham.” He sounded winded. Something you were sure that you had only picked up on because of you… time together.

“I’m on my way.”

The sight of the amusement park had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It just seemed… wrong. A place that was supposed to be filled with people, lights and laughter was dark, devoid of life and decaying. It was unsettling. The fog drifting in certainly wasn’t helping with that.

You stayed down and kept your steps light as you stalked through the park, looking for Batman. You wouldn’t lie, it confused you a lot. Why he would call you, of all people, for help. Hell, the fact that he had called for help to begin with. You had heard the stories from the other Leaguers. How is stubbornness to handle things all by himself had nearly killed him more than once. Not to mention that he had made his feeling about you more than perfectly clear. So why had he asked you for help? Especially when there were other Leaguers that he not only liked more, but had more experience with this sort of thing than you did. There were plenty of them on standby. You knew because you had double checked, in case the two of you weren’t enough for whatever this threat was.

You thought about asking him why, once you found him, but you dismissed it almost as quickly as it had come to mind. He wouldn’t tell you even if you did. There was no point in wasting your breath.

The old rides groaned and creaked. Chains, whose purpose had been long forgotten rattled and banged against various makeshift poles and equally rusted poles. The cleaning noise echoing around you. The shadowy remains of the rollercoaster loomed high above you, like the unnatural skeleton of some giant creature. If you hadn’t been unsettled before, you certainly were now.

Voices ahead caught your attention. They were loud and distressed. Like they had been attacked. You had a good feeling you knew by who. Sticking to the shadows, you slowly began to creep toward them. Through the fog, two silhouettes started to take shape ahead of you, but before you could get closer, someone grabbed you. An arm wrapped around your waist white the other covered your mouth, pulling you to the side and keeping you secured against a muscular chest. Your instincts had kicked in and you attempted to fight against the person who had grabbed you, not stopping to think who it might actually be. You stopped when you heard his voice.

“It’s me.” His voice was deep and gravelly, sending goosebumps across your skin. You were thankful your suit didn’t show any skin.

Even as you stopped fighting, your body remained tense. You stayed still and silent. The two of you watched as the two figures, two henchmen dressed in black and red, rushed past. They were yelling at how Batman must have gone in the direction they were headed, completely unaware that in their hurry they had run past him and you. When they were gone, their footsteps fading, he released his grip on you. Now free, you spun around to face him.

You were so close together, lips centimetres apart. If either of you moved forward just a little bit they would meet…

You snapped out of it immediately and backed away from him, putting space between you both. What the hell where you thinking? This was not the time or place to be thinking with anything other than you brain. Especially with him, of all people.

“What’s going on?” you asked, making sure to keep your voice low.

He gestured with his head for you to follow him before he moved away from the wall, continuing down the makeshift alleyway. 

“I’ve been investigating the recent super villain attacks,” he started to explain as he led you through the park. “So many happening so close together is too much for it to be a coincidence.”

You stuck to the shadows and kept low. The henchmen were on high alert, from their run in with Batman. You were sure that their trigger fingers were itching, ready to fire at anything that looked just a little bit like a bat.

“They’re connected?” While you had found the attacks a little strange, you hadn’t found it so strange to have thought that they might be connected.

He nodded and looked over his shoulder at you. “Tonight should prove that.” Then he turned back and continued leading you.

Batman didn’t elaborate further. Not that that wasn’t unexpected. He had a thing for being cryptic. That was something you had learned quickly after joining the League. The amusement park was crawling with henchmen as well. Too much talking and you could definitely end up drawing some very much unwanted attention. Being silent for the time being would be best.

Still, it was gnawing at you. Why had he asked for your help? There was a part of you that really wanted to know. You remembered the night in Star City vividly. The words said, how he had snapped at you. Showing his true colours. Similar fights had broken out on the Watchtower, more often than not involving him and Hal. As far as you knew he had never called him for assistance. Especially when there were other Leaguers he preferred working with. Then it hit you. Was this his way of attempting to start over with you? 

The two of you soon came to a funhouse. Which, unlike the rest of the park, was seemingly devoid of life entirely. The quiet though. It didn’t feel natural.

Batman rose a hand as he stopped in his tracks, stopping you at the same time.

“Something’s wrong,” he stated, voice low.

“Definitely,” you agreed with him for once. “Could it be a trap?”

“Maybe. Stick close.”

You nodded and followed him into the funhouse.

Floorboards creaked beneath your feet. Some of them felt like they were about to break beneath your weight. So you kept your steps as light as possible, hoping to avoid that. You didn’t want to reinjure your leg. There was a strong stench of wood rot and mould, making you wrinkle your noise in disgust. The further into the funhouse that you got, the worse the smells started to get.

After walking through a couple of rooms that had clearly been gutted, you and Batman came to a hallway full of mirrors. The distorted mirrors coerced the walls and ceiling. They were either cracked or broken, glass littering the floor, cracking and crunching beneath your boots. He came to a stop before one of the broken mirrors, something catching his eye, and stepped through it. You followed after him, careful of the jagged pieces of glass that were still attached to the frame.

There was a short hallway behind the mirror, with a door at the end of it. Likely for employees back when this place was still operational. Batman had already dropped down onto one knee, lockpicking equipment in hand, working on the door’s lock. You kept watch, listening for anyone who might potentially be headed this way. A few minutes later, you heard the door creak open.

It hadn’t been open for even a few seconds before the smell hit you. It had you coughing hard and gagging, though nothing came up. You covered your nose with your arm, hoping to try and block out some of the smell. It felt like it was all over you, coating your hair, skin and the inside of your throat and nose. You had no idea if you were ever going to be able to get it off of you. It was a smell of rot, but not like what you had been breathing in throughout the funhouse so far. This was far, far worse. The only thing you could think was that this was what death must smell like. Which had your stomach churning.

Other than a few coughs when the door first opened, Batman didn’t seem to be overly effected by the smell. It made you wonder just how many times he had to have encountered the stench before for it to not effect him as much as it was effecting you. You were about to ask him to confirm that what you thought you were smelling was exactly that, when you were stopped by the sound of laughter.

“Are those—”

“Hyenas? Yes,” he cut you off. “Two of them, to be exact. Stay close.”

Hyenas? Who of Gotham’s criminals kept hyenas again? You racked your brain for the answer. It came to you as you followed him further in. Harley Quinn. She kept hyenas. You were only aware of that because everytime she did something it was big, televised and all over social media.

“Harley Quinn is here?” 

“Most likely, but even if she’s not here currently she would have left something behind,” he replied. “Either way we should stay on high alert. She’s become even more dangerous since Joker’s death.”

“Didn’t she kill him?” 

“Yes, in a slaughter house. There wasn’t much left of him.”

Though he didn’t go into detail, your mind unprovoked conjured up an image of what likely happened, making you cringe. 

“You saw?”

He was silent for a moment before finally answering you. “Yes. I arrived too late to stop her.”

As you continued deeper into the funhouse, the smell of rot grew stronger, making you gag again. The hyenas’ laughter had stopped by now, which made you even more anxious. At least before, when they were making noise, you could have pinpointed where they were.

After walking down a maze fo corridors that all looked the same as each other, the two of you soon came to a room where the smell was it’s strongest. It wasn’t hard to see why. You didn’t know what this room would have been when the funhouse was being used, but now it had a large cage in the centre of it. There were two hyenas with spiked collars with in the cage, surrounded by bones and fighting over a piece of meat. It looked fresh, meaning they had been fed recently. Harley was probably close by then.

The bigger of the two won the fight and ran of with its prize. While the smaller one now had its attention fixed on you and Batman. Its ears came forward as it sniffed the air intensely. You were grateful for the bars the stood between you and the hyenas.

There was a couple of desks shoved into the corner of the the room, piled with various papers and files and there was a map of Gotham attached to a corkboard, sitting just above the desks. While you had been focused on Harley’s pets, Batman had already made his way over to the desk and was going through the papers.

“She stole them from the zoo an hour afterwards,” he answered your unasked question, like he could read your mind.

You nodded and moved away from the cage, deciding to help him go through the papers to help him. Only for him to bat your hands way and glaring at you for getting in his way.

“Only trying to help!” you snapped.

“Then keep watch,” he grumbled, looking way from you and continuing to focus on the task at hand.

Folding your arms across your chest, your turned away from the desk to survey the rest of the room. If Harley was still around, after feeding the hyenas, she wasn’t going to be getting the drop on the two of you. As you kept watch, you listened to the way he was sutling through the papers.

Wondering what was taking so long, you briefly looked over your shoulder, watching how he shuffled through the papers and kept looking up at the map. Trying to match the information with the scribbles perhaps? Before you could think to ask, his head snapped up and you found yourself being thrown across the room.

You hit the floor, hard. Pain radiated through your arm and ribs at how awkward your landing was. Your arm, thankfully, hadn’t been broken in the fall, but with the way your ribs hurt from just shallow breaths you figured a couple of them had to be broken. As you pushed yourself up from the ground, hissing as your arm protested, you looked back over to where you had just been standing.

Batman laid on the floor, completely still, whilst Harley Quinn stood over him, an almost comically large mallet in her hands. How the hell was she carrying that thing, let alone managing to swing it?

She looked away from his body and over to you.

“Who are you? Batsy’s newest sidekick or just the stand in until Catwoman comes back?” she taunted, a smile on her face.

You pushed down the anger you could feel rising in you at her comment. You couldn’t let her get a rise out of you. Doing so could, and most likely would, get both you and Batman killed. If that initial hit from the mallet hadn’t already killed him. You really hoped that it hadn’t. One of your hands came up to your utility belt and pressed the SOS button there. Though you were sure you could take Harley on, Batman was still in need of serious and immediate medical attention and you seriously doubted you would be able to haul him out of here by yourself.

“The silent type like him huh? Ugh, how boring!” She rolled her eyes.

She charged for you, her mallet at the ready. You waited until the last second to jump out of the way. The resulting swing made Harley stumble and almost fall over. While she had the strength to lift and swing the mallet, her control over it seemed to depend whether or not she hit someone with it. You could work with that.

You kept light on your feet, dodging each of her swing. The aim right now was to try to tire her out, before you got tired yourself. Which would hopefully give you an opening to take her out.

“Stop moving!” she yelled as you dodged again. The time, instead of hitting air, the mallet smashed into the door of the cage. The door squeaked as it swung open and banged against the bars of the cage. She laughed manically and pointed at you. “Babies! Get her!”

The hyenas whooped and giggled as they ran out of their cage, baring their teeth as the headed straight for you. You didn’t want to hurt them, at the same time you really didn’t fancy getting ripped apart by them. You narrowly avoided the bigger on as it lunged for you and kicked out at the other one, trying to force it back. You went to reach for your belt, but a gunshot rang out, making you jump.

“Uh uh uh! My babies can’t use flash grenades so neither can you! The next bullet goes into your leg if I see you reaching for that pesky belt again!” Harley was now sat on one of the desks. Her mallet was propped up next to it and a gun in her hand. Batman was still laying on the ground, unmoving. God, you wished he would just spring back up and surprise her. But he wasn’t going to. This was all up to you.

The hyenas were well coordinated, doing their best to get you to jump back into either one of their jaws. Which you really didn’t want. You could smell the rotten meat stuck deep within their sharp teeth. You were sure that a single bite from either of them would likely be singing your death certificate. The longer this went on for the more chance they had to do that. You were going to be bitten if you didn’t find a way to either render them unconscious or scare them. 

As you did your best to avoid the hyenas, you were getting closer and closer to Harley. Who was getting more and more annoyed that her “babies” hadn’t ripped you apart yet. Taking both her and the hyenas by surprise, you darted forward and grabbed the mallet, doing your very best to swing it. It hit one of the hyenas, making it yelp as it slid across the floor. When it climbed back up onto its feet, it ran out of the room, the other one following close behind. You let go of the mallet and it hit the floor with a loud thump.

“How dare you!” she screamed, the gun she held was now pointed directly at you. Though you jumped out of the way as she pulled the trigger, pain flared through your side. Ignoring the pain in your side, you darted forward again. Disarming her with a kick and slamming her head down into the desk, successfully knocking her out cold.

Your hand went to your side and when you pulled it away again, it was covered in your blood.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pressing your hand back against your side. You really hoped that the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital.

After handcuffing her, you left Harley laying where she was and dropped down by Batman’s side. “You had better not be dead,” you told him. Using your non-bloodied hand, you slipped it beneath his cowl to get to his neck. You sighed in relief when you finally found his pulse. You removed your hand and slumped against the desk. Now all you had to do was wait for help to arrive and hope that her thugs or hyenas didn’t end up coming back beforehand.

So much for today being a good day.

*

Taglist - @the-last-twin-of-krypton @bakugous-bakahoe @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @little-rivers @callalily2000 @geminicinderella @warsaur @theclassicvinyldragon @aniya7 @bluebear19 @jdream55 @thedeadlythoughts

[boos-gh0st]

Okay I’m gonna start giving you guys name variants for my friends I can’t just keep saying “my friend” and then proceed to another story with a different so before I start my next one

Friend I played the game with: Butwhy (you already knew this)

Friend who did 36 Loops: qib (variant)

Other friends will be labeled in time

ANYWAY ONTO MY STORY

Butwhy and I have this funny thing we do ever since we played ISAT that when discord glitches and adds two reactions to a message in DMs rather than just the one (pics provided) we say hi to Loop. It’s goofy, and we do it because it’s like “lmao there’s two and one of us didn’t react to it, must be Loop”

Yesterday we were texting and it happened in a casual conversation, so I said hi to Loop.

This man comes back with a VOICE NOTE in his loop voice saying “oh hellooooo stahdust [cause his loop is British for whatever reason]! I just felt the need to add a little reaction emoji, because I thought your good friend Butwhy was sooo funny, so I just felt the need to updo that. And also to go through the funny air waves to do a funny voice message [airy laugh]”

So we spoke about loop being in my wifi

Which quickly turned to loop checking my search history! So we had recieved two voice notes from loop yesterday.

“Oh! Stahrdust, let me take a look at your search history euh- ……… [gets very close to the mic, lowers voice] stardust why do you have- st- stardust why do you have siffrin x isab-“

This sounds so unfunny in text GUYS PLEASE I PROMISE IT WAS A HILARIOUS CONVERSATION it made my day yesterday okay it’s silly

I would’ve added videos of the voice notes but I would need his permission to do so and I don’t feel like asking so you are just revieving images of our prior “hi loop”’s

The first one is yesterdays, needs no context as there is this entire post. In the second one the voice note he replies with is “hey stahdust, by yourself on a Friday night? PATHETIC.” WITH HIS ASS GIGGLING AND STIFLING A LAUGH THE ENTIRE TIME 😭😭😭

I’m sure there’s others but I can’t find them

[deafeningbasementcolor]

Mine at First Sight - Yandere! Feitan x Reader

Warnings: Yandere Feitan x Reader, F! Reader, Virginity, Forced Infantilism, Daddy Kink, Kidnapping, mention of collaring reader, mention of noncon/dubcom

Please respect my wishes and do not engage in my work unless you are over the age of eighteen.

Look at you, poor little darling girl. Do you even know what you're getting into? He smiles at the sight of you from across the dining table, your flushed cheeks and shy expression as he grabs your hand when you wave it around for emphasis as you tell him some story. Precious. Absolutely adorable.

He wasn't a fan of dating apps. He also wasn't lonely, and before this had not had a single care about not having a warm body in his bed at night. He hadn't even been the one to message you. That had been Phinks, the other spider snorting at some message you sent him. Feitan had glanced over, accidentally seeing the message you sent in reply to a request for nudes. Oh, how innocently you gave up the information of your inexperience. Phinks wasn't the kind to be interested in slowly guiding virgins who wouldn't even send saucy pics. Feitan normally wasn't either.

He wasn't sure why you enticed him. If he needed a fuck, it was easy enough to procure one in a warm cunt of some whore trying to trade sex for her life. He had to admit he was grateful to Phinks got to ghosting you the second Feitan told him to. The other spider did have a few good laughs over Feitan being in love, but it was worth dealing with in order to not have the headache of fighting another troupe member for your hand.

"I'm done." He announced, halfway through the meal. You stop your giggly tale, face filled with humiliation.

"Oh, um, okay. No problem." He smiles again at your response. Such a delicate thing. He isn't used to finding someone so charming, especially someone so pathetic.

"Get up." He commands, and you look so confused. He doesn't give you time to argue, not wanting to have you recieve a punishment so soon. He instead walks to your side of the table and yanks you up, ignoring your startled gasp. He sat your date next to an exit on purpose, pulling you out the door before any attention is drawn to you.

"Good girl, not screaming," he praises, ignoring the whimper of fear that leaves you. "I hate this dress." You looked pretty, but he had already decided he would be in charge of everything now, including what you wore. And this whorish red dress? It was much too slutty for his princess. He produces a knife, gagging you by shoving fingers down your throat when you open your mouth to protest. You drool around them, as he slices off your dress. The cold air would make you tremble, if you weren't already squirming in fear. He can't resist fucking his fingers further down your throat, as he hauls you to the car.

Shalnark chuckles from the front seat. "Sick man," He calls Feitan with an amused and chipper tone. Feitan sits in the back with you, beginning to dress you in your new outfit as Shalnark begins to speed down the street. He forces you into a top announcing you were, 'Daddy's Princess,' and a soft pair of cotton shorts. You don't notice the words on the shirt yet as you whimper from his manhandling, drool drenching your chin when he finally yanks his fingers from your mouth. He watches in amusement when you realize, your eyes widening in terror.

"Why are you upset?" He asks, as if he doesn't know. He doesn't give you time to answer. "That's what you are now." He licks your drool from his fingers, moaning at the taste of your saliva. You're addicting. If he didn't think he would get grief for it from Shalnark, he would fuck you right now. "Speed up." He tells Shalnark.

"Calm down, she isn't going to disappear!" Shalnark laughs, but obliges him. Feitan holds you close, ignoring the look of horror on your face. When they reach the hideout, he plans on taking your virginity. He's got a pretty pink collar, just for you, and some toys sweet little girls like you like. Feitan knows training you to happily play dolls will take time, but he can't wait.

He can get a warm cunt anywhere, after all. He can cause pain whenever he want to. But his beautiful girl, with those big innocent eyes sparking up at her Daddy? His princess, whining about five more minutes to play with her toys until he shuts her up with his cock? That's something special, just between the two of you. He couldn't wait.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Messenger Bird  |  Oberyn Martell x afab!Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Your flight path finally brings you to the bedchamber of the Prince of Dorne

Tags: SMUT: oral (f recieving), unprotected PiV sex, mention of bondage; Ellaria is in bed with yous but I wouldn’t necessarily call this a threesome; reader vaguely describes themself as being less experienced than Oberyn but I don’t think that should exclude many people lol

Word count: 5,991

Note: This fic is inspired solely by a scene in @radiowallet‘s fabulous Oberyn fic, to which I responded "10/10 would be the person who ends up in bed with Oberyn because he answers the door with his dick out 🤷🏻‍♀️”

This is like, a roughly canon au where Oberyn and Ellaria are married and the regents of Dorne. It's also mostly PWP, so. enjoy lmao <3

Masterlist

“There are few good reasons to be disturbing a prince this early-”

The door opens-

“-but there is one reason I am generally inclined to forgive.”

-and the first thing you see is Prince Oberyn’s hand, wrapped around his cock.

You gape, stupefied. Though cast in bronze, not iron, the wholly naked body of the Prince of Dorne seizes your attention like a magnet. All of your good sense screams at you to avert your gaze, but how can you? 

His hand, and the length it grips, are both shiny, smudged with damp. Is it the same fluid beading at the tip of his cock? 

Or has it a different source? In the background you hear sheets rustling, and a familiar feminine voice drawling.

“Oberyn darling, you know what your advisors say about answering the door in your skin.”

The prince’s eyes had widened infinitesimally upon seeing you, surprise and delight flaring for a split second. That hand moved- up and down, ever so slightly. The faintest motion, just enough to convey that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Something secretive sparkled in Oberyn’s eyes, just barely curled the corners of his full mouth. “What my advisors say, and what our little raven’s face says are two very different things, my love.”

“Oh?”

You wrench your gaze back up to Oberyn’s face, eyes wide. Heat prickles and swarms over your skin. Your tongue has dried up in your mouth, leaving you quite unable to address Princess Ellaria even had you retained the wits to.

“What are you doing up so early, my little messenger bird? Surely there cannot be any urgent demands of me with the day barely dawned?” 

Emboldened, Oberyn leans more comfortably against the door frame, titling his head as he awaits your response. He continues to tug on his cock, an almost idle motion- except his pace is decidedly deliberate. His dark eyes gleam.

Oh, gods, what could you say? That you’d been driven mad by your own need? That there was an itch under your skin which nothing could satisfy, one that had only grown stronger since the bloom of summer and the carelessly revealing fashions Dorne and its prince preferred?

The truth was that you’d barely finished your tea this morn, anticipating that indeed, there should be no important messages for the prince this early, when the Maester’s bark had startled you to wakefulness. Now the small scroll he’d given you was all but crushed in your fist, and doubtless sweat-stained besides.

Mutely, you lift your hand. Small mercies- the tiny seal closing the parchment hadn’t cracked in your grip.

Oberyn measures you for another long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Scoffing, he takes the scroll from you, releasing his cock with clear displeasure.

A faint breeze blows past you through the open door. It carries the distant murmur of waves crashing, and the ever-present scents of salt and oleander. Silk hangings above the bed sway, glimmering in the rich, fiery colors of the Martell family, tassels fluttering.

Oberyn’s fingers are still wet. They leave fingerprint smudges where he adjusts his grip on the paper. His cock bobs with the faint shifting of his body, his eyes narrowing as he reads. Taking advantage of his distraction, you risk a longer look at the utterly bare body of Oberyn Martell.

Stripped of his usual flowing robes, the prince somehow appears taller. Every part of him is long and lean, rangy muscles stretched along his shapely frame. Despite his frequent act as the long-suffering hedonist forced to rule, there is a sharp intelligence about him- a calculating mind turning beneath hair often mussed by sleep, sex, or spearwork.

His cock is as long and sturdy as he is. As bronze, too. A trim thatch of hair curls neatly around the base, climbing up and stopping teasingly short of his navel. You wonder if the prince sunbathes nude, to achieve such uniformly sun-dipped skin. The moisture coating the hair and skin of his groin shimmers and winks, scattering your thoughts, and you swallow thickly.

You look up again, but you’d lingered too long- Oberyn is watching you already, his mouth curved up the slightest bit. 

He drops the parchment carelessly to the floor. “Tell me true, now, messenger bird. It is only unfortunate happenstance that has kept us from meeting in my bedchamber before now, yes?”

If before there was mischief in his eyes, now it is tempered by a clear, hard demand for truth. Of all the whispers throughout the palace of the prince’s exploits, one unquestionable feature was always present: Oberyn didn’t take unwilling lovers. One entered his bed out of desire, not obligation.

You allow your professional façade to thaw, shaking yourself free of the shock and focusing on the other feelings that the prince always inspired. Delight. Desire. Hunger.

“Yes, my prince.” You dip your head coyly, lashes fluttering.

Oberyn’s smile is that of one who has just learned his long-laid plans have come to fruition- and he intends to savor the results.

“Would you like to come in now? I hope you will not mind my wife’s presence- it is the princess’s bed too, you understand.”

Oberyn steps back in invitation, opening the door wider for you. That hardness has not completely left his eyes- there is flint to it, an almost-challenge sparking.

But your attention is no longer on the prince.

His movement has revealed the princess, still abed behind him. Ellaria has turned on her side toward the door, supported by a cushion pulled to her chest. The fact that it covers the delicate parts of her otherwise bare torso is plainly more by accident than design- the outer curve of her right breast is clearly visible, tan skin an obvious contrast against the orchid-purple silk of the pillow. Her slim frame is barely a ripple in the sheets of the enormous bed, yet her presence commands- no eye could resist her allure. Your lips part.

Ellaria smiles lazily, hooded eyes shimmering with laughter at the knowledge between you.

“I can think of little I would mind less, my lord.” Ellaria’s reaction warms you, inspires a bit more confidence, and you manage to stand a little straighter as you enter the room.

Oberyn glances between you and his wife. “Have I missed something?” he inquires. 

The door closes, and then you’re aware of Oberyn behind you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from all of his bare flesh.

Your mouth goes dry again. If Ellaria was the encouraging warmth of an arm around the shoulders, Oberyn was heat- mercurial as a desert wind. A temperature vacillating on the cusp of dangerous.

Thankfully, Ellaria seems immune to Oberyn’s effect. “I’m afraid our sweet messenger bird made a rather…special delivery to me last week, while you were otherwise occupied, my prince.”

“My heart! You did not tell me?” You can feel Oberyn puffing up behind you, his tone full of indignance.

The princess presses her lips together, clearly stifling amusement. “It was entirely too brief an affair, in honesty. Everything was busy during that period- it must have simply slipped my mind. Truly, I’m sorry, my love.” Her dark eyes shine, but the apology is sincere. Sweet and simple as sugared almonds.

“Hmmm.” Oberyn’s considering hum rumbles through you, like the purr of a great cat. “This morn is my turn, then. After that we will be even.”

You jump at the brush of his hands on your waist. The prince was out of sight behind your back, and his touch was a surprise that sent gooseflesh rippling over you.

“How does that sound, sweet bird? Will you let me ravish you like such a one as lovely as you deserves to be ravished? Will you share a morning of pleasure with your prince?” Oberyn lowers his voice to a deep rasp in your ear; he toys with the raven-black sash of your messenger’s uniform, but does not loosen it. 

Your body tightens and warms from top to toe. Ellaria has not taken her eyes off you; her gaze scorches like a fresh coal in a warming pan.

“I would be honored, my prince.” 

It would be a lie to say you weren’t nervous. There were rumors, of course, of the prince’s inclinations in the bedchamber. If nothing else, his experience far surpassed your own; he liked things to go his way, but this, at least, would suit you fine.

Finally, Oberyn pulls free the tie of your sash. He draws it off your shoulders, but then, still holding it, comes to stand in front of you. The gather of fabric is just enough to block your view of his sex.

“You must promise me one thing, Bird. You will tell me, if we veer too close to anything you do not want. Any activity, any place on that lovely body. I do not force things on my companions.

“I am a man of many desires, but among them will never be thus. I am your prince, not your master.” Oberyn holds your gaze.

A fragment of uncertainty still holding tight in your chest dissipates. “I understand. I promise, my prince.”

Those obsidian eyes soften slightly. “You may use my name.”

You hesitate. Even your fantasies had not dared to dream of such familiarities. “I promise…Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn smiles then, a wide, pleased expression. He tosses your sash to the side, revealing his cock still proud and alert. He moves closer, and you’re reminded of the great cats that stalk the mountains in the north of Dorne- all sleek, bunching muscles and a singular focus on the object of their hunt. In this moment, you suppose that would make you the prey. It’s a dizzying, thrilling  thought: that the prince of Dorne, the Viper himself, seeks you.

As his hands seek your jaw now, sliding along your skin with the slowness of one who knows well the effect his touch has. Oberyn cradles your face in his hands, lifting your chin, your mouth- a cup from which he intends to drink deep. His breath brushes your lips, syrupy with the taste of wine. 

Oberyn’s dark eyes bore into your face. “Sweet bird,” he murmurs. His rasp is the last thing you hear before his mouth touches yours, and then your head fills with wind. Blood rushing and roaring in your ears, blotting out all other sensation but Oberyn’s mouth, full and soft and confident, urging you to follow his motions, guiding you into his world of sensual wonder.

And you follow willingly. You part your lips to the prince’s tongue, and relish the confidence with which he slips inside, weaving layers of sensation into the kiss.

Oberyn still holds your face to his. His hands span the entire length of your jaw, and they are not idle: his fingertips stroke and massage in small motions, sending tingles down your neck, pleasure rippling through you like wind through tall grass. You become aware, suddenly, of Oberyn’s body- it’s easing gradually closer to your own, the entire burning mass of it sending heat through your clothes, like leaning against the chimney of a great hearthfire. You inhale sharply. 

The prince withdraws from your kiss. He studies your wide, dreamstruck eyes, your lips, now appropriately kiss-swollen. Smirking, he looks to Ellaria for approval. His wife’s gaze travels down your body.

“I didn’t get to see her last time.” The princess pouts. “Undress her for me, darling?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Oberyn returns his attention to you. “Yes?” His hands skate meaningfully down your back, to the laces of your dress.

“Yes,” you answer, and his hands are already working. “-to both.”

Oberyn laughs once, loud and bright with surprise. “Careful, sweet bird, or I will think you are here only to steal my wife from me.”

Ellaria’s eyes sparkle. “Sweet words from a sweet bird, indeed.” She shifts to lie more comfortably, relocating her long fall of curls with the sweep of a practiced hand. The cushion is carelessly adjusted, and then her right breast is fully visible, as pert and lovely as you only briefly glimpsed during your meeting. 

Ellaria faintly smirks at your expression, but a moment later you are both distracted. Your gown sags in the familiar shapelessness of undone laces, and Oberyn is quick to take advantage. He traces the exposed skin up your spine, and you arch at his touch, your lungs filling. You move to help him remove the gown, but he stops you.

“Slowly, now,” Oberyn whispers in your ear. “Give the princess something to long for.”

He draws your dress slowly down your shoulders, and you mark the speed. As slow and languorous as a drizzle of honey pools on a cake. Your heart beats fast. You have never made a performance of undressing for a lover- surely the lovemaking itself ought to be the show?

But as you grip the bodice of your dress, lowering it with exaggerated slowness, pulling the fabric tight to emphasize your breasts about to spill free- you think you understand. Ellaria’s gaze rivets to your chest, growing hungrier the longer you and Oberyn take to bare you. What is a main act, after all, without the opening scenes?

Your own hunger rises as you witness Ellaria’s. You finally lower the gown to bare your breasts entirely, but Oberyn’s hands immediately cover them. You gasp. His movement was unexpected…and very distracting. A small sound of pleasure breaks from you as the prince’s callused hands massage the tender flesh in a way that feels entirely deliberate. Knowledgeable. Like he knows exactly what this will do- this squeeze, this twist of your nipple, this-

“Keep going,” Oberyn purrs.

-this command, given in his sensual rasp.

Between the prince at your back and the princess to your front, you have nowhere to hide. No way to. Everywhere you are confronted with something that stokes the flame of desire steadily growing within you.

Oberyn had told you to keep going. One by one, you free your arms from their sleeves, letting the morning sun play on your skin, the sea breeze raise the fine hairs. The prince’s hands continue to massage your breasts, exploring every dip and curve of your torso as your gown drops further. Finally it’s at your hips, and without any extra encouragement you push it down to pool around your feet.

Wearing nothing but the morning light, you stand before the regents of Dorne. 

Or you try to- Oberyn has molded himself to your back, mouthing at your neck, and suddenly your knees struggle to hold you upright.

Any self-consciousness you thought you’d feel fades away as you turn in Oberyn’s arms to kiss him, and are welcomed eagerly. The prince rewards your initiative with an approving groan, hauling you to him, encouraging you to get as close as you wish. Every inch of him is firm with muscle, standing sturdy against your desperate grasping. You can’t decide what to reach for first- you want to touch all of him.

Especially the burning length trapped between your hips. You reach for it, and Oberyn lets out another low sound of pleasure, breaking your kiss as you tip your head down to watch yourself touch him.

Oberyn wraps his hand around yours, stilling your motions. “Patience, Bird.” His eyes dance, warm and amused. “We have plenty of time. I think the princess is getting lonely, yes?”

He herds you gently toward the bed, where Ellaria is indeed waiting, with something like envy on her face.

What could she possibly have to be envious of? The princess had no reason to suffer such an emotion. She could end this, remove you from her husband’s arms, with but a word.

What you don’t see, as Oberyn's handful of your rear interferes with your tentative climb into the bed, is that Ellaria’s gaze is not on the prince, but on you.

Your elbows buckle and you squeak. 

“Hurry up, or I will assume you wish to be kept in this position,” Oberyn growls from behind you- from over you. He has clambered over your back, draping himself over you and planting his hands on your wrists.

His tone is light with jest, but you have no doubt he means it. This is a common theme in many of the oft-whispered stories- if the prince and princess like someone enough, they might keep them a whole day, or night, or any length of time, really. For their use and pleasure alone. Even restrained, if the guest wishes- and from what you’ve heard, enough have wished it to make you wonder.

The thought makes you shiver. As does Oberyn’s grip, dragging your hands gently upward, forcing your face and chest flat against the silk sheets. Your breathing quickens. Oberyn’s hips press into your rear, his cock rubbing between your cheeks, and with your knees spread the way they are, you can feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared cool against your inner thighs. 

Heat flares in your cheeks. Is Oberyn going to fuck you already?

“Mmm,” he rumbles into your neck. “That is very tempting, but I shall take my own advice, I think. Patience.”

And Oberyn demonstrates a great store of patience, indeed. You lie, belly down in slippery silk, for an immeasurable length of time as the prince drags his mouth along every inch of your skin. You squirm and pant and moan under the delicious assault, fresh slick welling when he lingers where your thighs meet. His weight lifts off you as Oberyn finally descends, imprinting new damp patches down your left leg.

You take the opportunity to shift, half turning on your side toward Ellaria. She’s watching you, eyes slumberous and knowing. Her fingers trace light paths across your arms and chest- the first time she’s touched so much of your bare skin.

“Will you bring us songs as well as messages in the future, sweet bird? You sound so lovely when you sing.”

“If the prince and princess wish it,” you answer honestly.

You yelp as Oberyn switches legs, nipping your right ankle. Your flinch draws Ellaria’s attention to your chest. Her hand moves lower, boldly caressing the supple, sensitive flesh, all the while watching your face. She thumbs your nipple experimentally, and you bite your lip. She pinches it, and you gasp, the touch zinging straight to your core. 

This time your motion twitches your thigh away from Oberyn’s mouth. With a growl, he crawls back up the bed, shoving himself unceremoniously between you and Ellaria. 

“You have already had your fun, my love.” The prince falls atop his wife, his teeth at her neck. “Do not make me restrain you this morn.” 

He swallows the princess’s giggles with a shamelessly wanton, thorough kiss. 

“That would be a terrible torture, indeed.” Ellaria is finally able to agree, teasingly, breathlessly. “Very well, my love. I shall not interrupt your designs.”

Oberyn kisses her again, quick and soft. Resting his forehead against hers, he turns his head to you. “Perhaps after I am through with her, you can give me a reenactment of your meeting.”

His eyes gleam wickedly as he looks at you while addressing his wife.

They are both impossibly beautiful. Inky hair and rich coloring- the very sun yearns to embrace them, its golden arms reaching across the bed. They appear all the more unearthly when gilded with its light; untouchable as muses, models which sculptors might strive their whole lives to do justice.

But they are as physical as you. The illusion is broken when Oberyn again slides his body across yours, pleasure striking like sparks over your skin.

“Come, sweet one. I wish for my messenger bird to perch upon my face.”

Oberyn wants you to…sit on his face? Why? 

The prince stretches out on your other side. You sit up, wanting to oblige him but unsure of his intent. You don’t understand until Oberyn reaches for your sex, stroking lightly in a beckoning gesture. He growls in satisfaction at the slickness that readily coats his fingers.

Oberyn reads the hesitation in your face. “You have not done this before.”

“No, my prince. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. It is an honor to teach new pleasures to the subjects in my care.”

The sheets rustle as Ellaria strokes your thigh comfortingly. “Oberyn had much to teach me, as well, when I first came to his bed. You will like this,” she assures you.

Oberyn makes no objection to his wife’s touch this time. “What is going to happen is you, lovely bird, are going to sit that shapely bottom here-” he pats his chest “-which will allow me to taste your sweetness directly from the source.” He dips the tips of those beckoning fingers into your cunt, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

You are stunned all over again. Although this time some of your bemusement is surely due to the way the prince’s thumb joins his fingers, pressing at the bud of your sex even while his fingers continue to rub at something divine inside you.

You arch and whimper. “Prince Oberyn-!”

He chuckles, a pleased, approving sound. “That’s right, sweet bird. Come, take your perch and sing.”

The prince tugs and maneuvers you just so, arranging you above his mouth. His fingers are wet on your thigh.

His mouth is wetter. You moan, high and long and helpless, when Oberyn’s mouth engulfs your sex. Past lovers have done this for you (albeit in more traditional positions), but Oberyn has clearly received a prince’s education even in the carnal arts. Slippery heat and suction, concentrated pressure and indiscriminate lapping- somehow he knows precisely what to do and where, and when, and for how long-

“Ah~!” you cry out again as pleasure rushes up all too suddenly, pressure about to burst like a geyser. You squirm and try to lift away from Oberyn, but his arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place. Surely it would be rude to climax before the prince?

Ellaria’s grip above your knee has tightened. In your parted lips, your heaving chest, she reads the signs.

“Take your pleasure, sweet bird.” Her eyes are now wide, rather than sleepy. “You needn’t wait to reach your peak.”

Her intent gaze is all the permission you need- as is Oberyn’s tongue, twisting relentlessly at your clit. Your uncertainty snaps at his wordless demand. Pleasure floods your system, climax shuddering through every muscle, everything pulling abruptly tight before releasing

The onslaught of bliss gradually recedes. Accompanying the very last of it is a long, deep sigh- a confirmation of relief if there ever was one. Your thighs tremble suddenly, after holding tense for so long. Your hands fall to Oberyn’s head to support yourself, fingers instinctively stroking through the short, bristly strands of his hair.

The prince tips his head back into your caress, revealing his mouth and chin shiny with your release. His eyes glint with satisfaction. 

“Was that as sweet for you as it was for me, Songbird?” 

“I daresay it was, my prince.” You are breathless and overcome with the sudden urge to giggle.

You begin to ease off of Oberyn, your limbs clumsy as if affected by the same buzzing that fills your head. It’s a giddy, bubbling sensation; it reminds you of a party the palace hosted, not long ago. You don’t remember the reason, now. Only that the prince had used it as an excuse to share a marvelous new kind of wine he’d discovered on his travels- a sweet, white vintage which fizzed, in which bubbles rose endlessly, seemingly without source or cause. It sparkled in mouths and in spirits all night long. He’d invited all the palace staff to the celebration, to try this magical wine, and had caught your eye that night. Your spirit lifted by the bubbles, you’d smiled at Oberyn.

Nothing came of it that night, of course. But now, with your body loose as if that wine were still fizzing in your veins…you cannot find it in you to feel disappointed. 

Oberyn takes a second to ensure that you are again lying snugly between him and Ellaria. Then he leans over you entirely, his mouth still shiny, and Ellaria sits up slightly to meet him. She moans at the taste of you in his kiss.

Oberyn’s manhood presses into your thigh. It is insistently hard, a ruddy flush to it now, and leaking freely. The fluid smears onto your skin. Eyes wide, you are entranced by the prince and princess all over again.

The ends of Ellaria’s raven curls brush your arm, soft and sweet-smelling. Following them upward, your eye catches on a necklace encircling her throat. A slender gold chain rests atop her collarbone. From it dangles small stones, their polished surfaces catching the light in shades suggesting a sunrise: pink, lavender, topaz. It seems to glimmer with a light all its own, the chain links shifting and tinkling as Ellaria moves.

“Perhaps you will have to try our topsy-turvy position with her as well, my love.” Oberyn murmurs against Ellaria’s lips, and you’d swear her cheeks colored the slightest tinge.

Turning his head, the prince notices what has caught your attention.

“Do you like her necklace, sweet bird?”

Oberyn shifts his body over yours as he speaks. Distracted by his words, you almost don’t notice the prince’s body sinking between your legs- until you feel a cool brush of air where there hadn’t been, and something rigid, long, and hot settle at the seam of your cunt. You draw a startled breath.

“I like how it sparkles and chimes when I fuck her, “ Oberyn croons in your ear. His tongue flickers at your neck, every inch the viper; the sensation crackles down your spine like a whip-strike of fresh pleasure. “Shall we find one for you?”

Your mouth hangs open, but no air or sound passes in either direction. Perhaps there are too many sounds you could make, and not enough air in the room; all you can do is stare.

Taking your shock as assent, Oberyn directs Ellaria to pick something for you. “We keep a jewelry box by the bed for this very purpose.” The prince smirks.

Ellaria stretches toward the nightstand at Oberyn’s bid, the sheets slithering down her back. She could be a sea-nymph, reaching out from a pool of gold, the silk glimmering like water around her. It is a mesmerizing sight: Ellaria’s long back, a slim braid of muscles flickering as she rummages in a drawer. Her arm arcs upward suddenly, triumphant, and when she turns back the silk slips lower still, and you glimpse what you had only felt between her legs that day…

Ellaria dangles her prize before your face. A short chain of gold like hers, but from which hang smaller stones like clusters of grapes, winking in the light. You can’t imagine wearing something so fine- but then, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed into the prince and princess’s bed before this morning, either. Being adored and adorned by two such breathtaking individuals at once.

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s declaration is hushed and reverent. “This will shine like stars against your skin.” 

“Put it on,” he orders. Then he nearly whispers, “Let us get you ready for me, songbird.”

In his tone is a wicked desire that you realize had been banked, before now. But now- as he pins your legs open with his own body, with his own hand- you sense there is no stopping it.

Oberyn slips two fingers into you, the first rush of the flood he had thus far contained. You gasp, thighs spasming. But Oberyn had drawn from you a flood of your own earlier, and there was no pain, only sudden recognition of an ache- a hunger for more than just the prince’s fingers.

Ellaria drags the end of the necklace over your chest. The metal scrapes gently over your nipples, a startling but not unpleasant sensation, and you squirm at the onslaught of stimulation- Oberyn’s fingers filling you, Ellaria’s fingers brushing your throat- and finally, the close-fitting chain clasping snugly around your neck.

You swallow, and feel the resistance of the unyielding metal against the bob of your throat. Oberyn watches you intently, hungrily. His fingers still move inside you, experimenting with one motion, then another, tracking your reaction to each one. You hitch your thighs open wider as sensations compete for your attention. You tip your head back, exposing your now-bejeweled throat to Oberyn.

“Do I sparkle enough for you, my prince?”

One corner of his mouth curls up, but it’s an almost mocking effect combined with the glitter in his eyes. “Let us find out, little raven.”

Without further warning, Oberyn’s fingers withdraw from your cunt. Every muscle in you tightens, your awareness narrowing in anticipation. Oberyn strokes his cock through your sex, readying you. Your hips lift toward the sensation. Your eyes lock.

The prince of Dorne plunges his cock into you in a single, breathtaking stroke. Your head drops back; your eyes roll heavenward. Oberyn’s loud, satisfied moan fills the room. He relishes this moment as fully as he enjoys everything else he does, his hips grinding forward into yours like he cannot get enough of himself inside you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing short. Oberyn’s cock fills you like nothing you’ve ever felt, until there is no room for you to focus on anything but the thick, burning length of him.

“Look at me, Bird. Open your eyes.”

How can you do anything but obey? 

Oberyn’s gaze is fiercely alive, shining with joy and triumph at the pleasure connecting you.

You can hardly speak, but he sees it in your eyes; you have never been so thrilled to feel like a mouse in the cat’s claws. 

After that there is nothing more to be said. Oberyn ravishes you as he promised, raining praises like word of law, scandalous declarations that make you blush despite your position beneath him. Every stroke of his cock is a work of art. The prince draws out your pleasure from a seemingly endless spool, until you are unraveled, trembling, teetering on the knife’s edge of bliss.

The necklace around your throat did indeed glitter like a chain of stars. Oberyn thrusts into you hard, taking it as a challenge to make the stones chime louder than you sobbed each time. He thoroughly enjoys the way each thrust makes your curves ripple. He enjoys, too, the sight of his wife plastering herself to your shoulder, cooing encouragement even as she contributes to Oberyn’s treatment.

“You’re doing so well, sweet bird. My husband does have stamina, doesn’t he? And this after he had me earlier this morn…” Ellaria’s voice is lush and silky as flower petals- and as erotic dragging over your skin. “I had no idea you could sing so sweetly.”

Oberyn slows his pace. “I should not be the only one to have you today, my heart. I wish to hear what songs you make together.”

Oberyn grips your chin in his large hand and turns your face toward the princess. “What do you say, Songbird? Will you eat my wife’s cunt when I’m through with yours?”

You would have agreed to anything as long he brought you back to that dazzling edge, but this was a bargain you’d be happy to fulfill.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Gladly.”

A small smile tilts up Ellaria’s mouth. “I would be most intrigued to experience the talents of this lovely mouth,” she muses. “But perhaps I would rather eat yours, instead. You know how I like to taste you, my prince.”

She direct the last words to her husband, sultry mischief in her dark eyes. Her fingertips dance between your bodies, down, down, to where you are split around him. You jolt at the targeted pressure she places on your clit. 

Oberyn groans, his forehead lowering to your shoulder. “I fear you shall not have long to wait, my love. This cunt is truly divine- it may deserve further worship after all…”

His words trail away, praises only half-formed grunted into your neck. His thrusts speed up again. The two of them on either side of you, commanding your pleasure so sweetly, overwhelms your senses- as do Ellaria’s fingers, pressing precisely where you need.

Your mouth opens in a soundless cry as you tip over the precipice. Oberyn jerks his head up to see, and the gorgeous pleasure-pain contorting your features, your cunt fluttering in time with your body’s convulsions, yanks the prince after you. 

Ellaria watches raptly. Her husband’s long body, muscles rippling as he pistons into another, was a sight she never tired of. Neither was his near-snarl as he climaxed, his body seizing and shuddering in ecstasy.

The prince continues moving until your cries turn to whimpers, and your thighs clamp around his hips. A sinister thought briefly quirks his mouth- if he had not been additionally sated by Ellaria earlier, it would have taken much more effort indeed to slow him. Oberyn is rarely satisfied unless his lovers are all but unable to rise from his bed. 

A good thing then, that a familiar gleam has appeared in his wife’s eye.

As Oberyn lowers himself back down to your side, Ellaria takes his place, her body undulating atop yours like a serpent. The prince watches with lazy satisfaction. Despite both his recent releases, his blood maintains a low simmer at the sight of the two of you, the feminine swells of you squishing and spilling against one another. Like the overflow of cream from a bun, he thinks dreamily. Exactly how he likes his cream- overflowing. Perhaps he will be able to sleep now, and he can request some custard puffs from the kitchens later for a second reenactment…

You have barely caught your breath from Oberyn’s attention when Ellaria steals it again, her tongue slipping against yours in a familiar dance. Unencumbered by gowns this time, you are able to touch all of her, caressing down her spine and lower, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. She sits up slightly, and slickness that's not your own lets her rock easily against your sex.

“You sing too sweetly to release so soon, lovely bird. Have you any urgent appointments today?”

Your gaze falls to the black sash which Oberyn had so carelessly tossed aside. Before you can respond, another knock sounds at the door.

Oberyn lets out a half-hearted snarl. “By all the gods-”

Again fully nude, but appearing even more debauched than when you’d arrived, the prince stalks to the door and flings it open.

“Yes?”

It’s another messenger, although her reaction is very different from yours: she stares rigidly ahead, her voice quavering at the sight of Oberyn’s naked, recently exerted body. 

“My prince, the Maester sent me to look for…” she trails off when she spots you, her eyes flitting to you for a split second when Oberyn shifts impatiently. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lord.” She bows her head, her voice going squeaky.

“Tell him I have need of this raven for a special task today. I will answer his missive later.”

Oberyn is closing the door before he’s done speaking. When he turns back to the bed, he finds you with your head thrown back, writhing as Ellaria toys deliberately with your nipples. 

He chuckles. “And you tell me I am the incorrigible one, my love.”

Oberyn burrows languidly into the sheets again, stretching out comfortably by your side. You’re whimpering by now, a furrow in your brow rapidly taking the shape of disbelief. It’s a feeling he knows well. 

“Oh, sweet bird, my wife is a rare talent with her fingers, is she not? We have hardly begun all the things we would do to you…”

Thanks for reading 😘💗

Want more? Check out my Masterlist

[letterlitter]

Like fawns to the huntsmen

Lestappen

•Max needs to be careful, his relationship with Charles cannot get out.

•Tags: angst maybe??, a tiny bit of fluff

•word count: about 800

"Max? Max? Come back to earth please."

Max blinked himself to consciousness as the reporter-filled room burst into laughter from his zoning out. The question as far as Max could remember was about Ferrari so he tried to whip up an answer, "I think Ferrari is in a good place at the moment and we will have to see if they could keep it up. Charles and Carlos are old friends and it would be fun to race against them and see them eat a little bit more of the dust I have to blow."

Another wave of laughter filled the air and marked the end of the press conference for Max. Even with hating to be interviewed, he had been somewhat prepared for this. The reporters had been asking him questions about Charles over and over again in different ways and different context just to see how he would respond. Just to catch him off guard and make his tongue slip a secret or an unexpected opinion they could use to make them both look bad.

Formula one is a male dominated sport, most of whom are homophobic and racist and definitely not open to new things; so if Max's secret would be out, it would only be a matter of time until they both received countless death threats and even more hate messages telling them they will go to hell.

That was the last thing either of them wanted now that they were both at the peak of their careers. So they decided to hide what they have and tell everyone they're just good friends.

Charles was okay with this. He was good at hiding strong feelings of his, having been through so much in his life and continuing to do so. He could feel satisfied for the day with recieving small glances and smiles and Max's hand being wrapped around his waist to take a picture when they were both on the podium. It was the best he could ask for.

Max on the other hand was different. He liked to show people what he has done and what boy he has pulled. He liked people to know that they will go to the same hotel room after to celebrate their wins; to have their own little private party making everybody else in the world jealous of not knowing what will happen behind closed doors.

But not everything could go as the three times F1 world champion would want. Money could buy a lot, but not everything. This was one of them.

It was way too risky. Reporters would constantly ask him "how's Charles?" Or "any thought about Leclerc today?" Like they knew everything about what was going on between them. All the F1 ads and merch would put their pictures next to eachother on purpose. The camera flashes, like loaded guns, would go crazy everytime they even looked into each other's eyes.

Charles always thought if anyone would care enough to look closer, they would find out about them. He would nudge Max on the shoulder and whisper "don't be so obvious" when he kept staring at Charles's lips while waiting for his own post race interview.

Charles liked their dirty little secret. He liked it that no one could dare make their choices for them and they could keep denying it if anybody asked. Nice and easy and private.

Max loved Charles with every single vein in his body. He loved him so much he could barely breathe. He loved him so much his bones would ache. Charles was the only good thing Max still had from his childhood.

Charles's feeling had formed pretty early on. Ever since he didn't know what to call them. He just liked Max; he liked to tease him and make him mad by ignoring his concerns about the race. They were kids after all, who would care that much about a silly little karting mistake?

Charles liked to be around Max and it took him a while to realize why.

They kept eachother grounded, calm. They kept the noise down for eachother when things got way too overwhelming. They were each other's little miracle.

But things were sometimes harder as they were easy. Ferrari wasn't always the best team and Jos was never the best dad. Them going to eachother and having short meetings behind the garages would sometimes become unbearable. Why couldn't Max just kiss Charles right on that podium? Why would it make a scene if Charles hugged Max tight when he was down?

The sport reporters and photographers were everywhere. Any "wrong" move would make it right to the front page of every magazine and website, ruining their careers for the most part.

and there was nothing anyone could do. Only if they had been braver, only if they'd been less greedy. Only if the world wasn't so cruel...

[nayeluvr]

wc - 559

🎧 - Huh Yunjin

   There was always a girl on this bus. It was the bus you took every morning to get to and from college. She sat in the nearest seat to the back, large grey headphones always on her ears. If you looked close enough, which you did, you'd notice the stickers that decorated the ear coverings. 

   She never looked at anyone on the bus, only ever looking out the window at the passing scenery. You got on the bus after her, and off the bus before her, so you didn't know how long she rode on the bus each day. 

   You sat nearer to the middle of the bus, normally scrolling through your Twitter feed or your Tiktok "For You" page. Occasionally you would bring a book with you, normally when you knew it'd be a lazy day in class. 

   Today, when you got on the bus, you immediately sought out the lone figure sitting in the back, smiling to yourself at the familiar sight. This morning, you decided to not fall into the recesses of your introverted mind and sit somewhere else today, a mildly uncomfortable break in your routine.  

   The girl made no acknowledgment of your presence as you sat in the row opposite her. You found yourself staring at her side-profile, the gentle slope of her nose and the slight pout of her lips. Her long lashes brushed against her thick-rimmed glasses softly when she blinked. 

Sidling a little closer, you leaned forwards, choking words out,

"Listening to anything good?"

   She jumped a little in her seat at the sudden voice talking to her, her headphones falling slightly off her ears. She peered over at you, surprise and curiousity in her gaze. She removed her headphones completely after pressing a button on her phone screen,

"What?"

You swallowed, anxious about repeating yourself,

   "I asked if you were listening to anything good. You're always listening to music in the mornings," you explained your question, watching as her curiosity turned to happiness,

   "Depends. What genres do you like?" She responded, her sweet, melodious voice filling your ears. You unconsciously smiled at the sound of it, leaning forward more to hear her better of the soft chit-chat of the other bus passengers.

   You talked with her about your music tastes for the entirety of the bus ride. When the bus stopped in front of your college, you almost frowned at the interruption of the very pleasant conversation you'd been having. But instead, you just turned back to the girl, who you'd along the way learned was named Yunjin,

   "Could I have your number, so we can chat more?" You felt nervousness clog your throat as she paused for a moment. Yunjin grinned at you, her wavy black hair falling in her face as she quickly pulled her phone out, typing as you relayed your number to her. 

   Getting up from your seat, you waved goodbye before stepping off the bus, looking down at your phone as you recieved a ping from your messages,

Hi 🤍

   You turned around and waved at a smiling Yunjin who waved her phone before slipping her headphones back on and you recieved another ping,

Moonlight - Twice (Spotify link)

You grinned, walking to class with a stupid smile on your face the whole time. 

See you tomorrow morning, Yunjin 🖤

[equallyshaw]

no matter what - luke hughes

inspired by me watching umich vs my school in person last night lol

Part two.

warnings: none, just unedited

word count: 1.2k +

────────────

it sucked being in a long distance relationship with her boyfriend luke hughes of three years. the two got together their senior year of highschool and luke stayed in michigan while willow went 3 hours away to notre dame university. though she had applied and gotten into umich, luke pushed her to go away. she needed to get out of the state and out her parents home. she needed the distance, even if it meant they broke up at some point.

willow scrolled through her phone, recieving text messages from some of luke's roomates and bff, dylan duke. they wanted to see her after the game and maybe get into a party. though she knew, if umich beat her school- there would be no way they'd be able to get into a party. she joked about them treading lightly. tonight would be the first time in two months that the young couple would be seeing eachother since hockey understandably took up luke's time. willow on the other hand, was gunning to graduate in three years so she could follow luke and start a life together. but whatever happened, happened they always said.

the facetime notification came in as she was finishing getting ready, and then she would be out the door to pregame with her sorority sisters and then head to the game. she clicked accept, and went back to putting her eyeliner on. "Oh hell no willow! what are you wearing??" she heard ethan edwards holler, causing the girl to roll her eyes. she peered down at the screen before finishing her eyes. "what? surprised im wearng notre dame colors and not blue?" she mused, smirking a bit before fully switching her attention to luke. she saw the teensy weensy dissapointed faced mixed in with dissapointment written on his face. "luke..." she trailed off. "we had this discussion last week. you said i could wear whatever i want. and i am." she said picking up the phone and began to walk out of her room and out into the area where she'd be pregaming. "yeah, but i thought you would of worn michigan colors." he said a little hurt, the tone evident. "booooooo! i hope yall choke!" one of her sisters who had been pregaming a bit early, jokingly threw out. "oh my god." willow said covering her face, embarrsed. she heard some of the boys laugh, not taking offence to it. "as much as i want y'all to suceed and win...i kinda want my team to win too." she mused, accepting a drink form her roommate. "okay boys, time for her to pregame- we will see ya later." her roommate said waving before hanging up. "should i change?" willow asked second guessing her decision. her roommate and some sisters shook their heads, "no. he said to wear whichever team tonight." one of them reassured her and she nodded. she was hoping she'd make the right decision.

her sisters and some frat guys made there way down to the glass as they walked into the arena. they had luckily gotten here early enough to get such good seats. about 20 minutes later, she saw the michigan team come out and greeted with lots and lots of boos. she giggled into one of her roomemates who booed loudly in her ear- playfully. all in good spirit. she heard the chant begin for another player, "4's a bitch - 4's a bitch!" she laughed even more, and she grimaced a bit for gavin brindley. she looked over towards there end, trying to find luke and almost instantly seeing the tall curly brunette boy she loved. luke unknown to her, was still a bit hurt by her decision and so he didn't even dare to look over. if she knew, she'd call him a drama queen. because no matter what, she'd be there for him.

the team re entered the ice for the national anthem, and that's when the crowd began to get energized. as they were all introduced, the boo's were defiant and ear piercing. she took notice of all the boy's faces and to be honest, they loved it. it made them even more determined to win. she took in luke's face though, who was stone cold. she made a mental note to remind him to not be so grumpy. but luke was grumpy, no matter what anybody said.

luke went to the side towards the student section to take the opening face off, and that's when he saw her. she was there, dawning his freshman year umich jersey. she saw the twinkle in her eyes, as she beemed at him. no matter what, he thought.

you could see the visual differance in luke's demeanor, he was more free, more energetic and more willing to crack a joke on the bench. the wolverine crew ended up coming out on top, by one point in an ot winner. willow beamed as luke scored, before doing his bow 'celly' towards the student section. everybody and their mother (lol) knew he put on one heck of a show tonight. she playfully booed with the crowd, garnering laughs from some of luke's best friends. she screamed loudly with the crowd, throwing a thumbs down at the group.

willow and her group, walked out of the arena laughing and complaining about the game at the same time. willow joked along with them, before she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind and the next second, she was lifted up from behind. she shrieked, already knowing who's arms had her. "lukey!" she shrieked as he spund them around, earning laughs from those around. he set her down, and she turned around giving a frown as she playfully hit his arm. "youve made shorty upset." dylan threw out, coming up from behind the tall sophmore. "dukey!" she beamed throwing her arms around the smaller dude. "golden retriever!" willow said moving away, and hugging ethan. she turned around, keeping an arm around ethans' shoulders and looking around at the group. "i think...i think we can get ya in a party tonight..." she said playfully rolling her eyes, and the three and climbing hockey players cheered. "jonathan here, can hook you guys up." she said pointing at the 5'8 frat guy who nodded. "yeah, come to fiji around 11 will!" he said before they all made their way to there respective ubers and cars. "come on boys, ill give ya a lift." she said walking towards her car. willow decided to not drink that night even though she had planned too. the boys got into the unlocked car, but she held luke back for a second. "hey..wait a sec." she said grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the trunk of the car. he gave her a look of curiosity with a small smile peeking in. she crossed her arms, giving him a look and knew he was gonna get an earful. "listen luke hughes, i don't appreciate somebody getting butt hurt over a jersey. it's. a. jersey. not life or death." she reprimanded. he stood their listening to her before nodding. "im sorry, i know once you hung up i as over reacting. im sorry- will, i am." he said now casting a guilty, sad look on his face. she nodded, pulling him in for a hug. "besides, no matter what im wearing- it's you hughesy, no matter what." she smiled looking into his eyes. he grinned, pulling her in for a deep kiss. "god ive missed you." he whispered as they rested their foreheads against eachothers. "you too hun, but let's go have some fun." she said as she pulled away from his arms. "party time!" duke screamed as they drove off.

-

@willow22: s/out to the best roommate ever…and the only one who’d do this with me 🙅🏻‍♀️

Tag: roommate1

233 likes, 34 comments

@lhughes_6: love you hun, Thankyou for the support

^ @willow22: love u too

@fratguy1: ew boo

^ @dylanduke: bite me

^@roommate1: bahahahhaa

@roommate: love you girly!!!! Notre dame forever tho :)

^@ethanedwards: clown behavior

@jackhughes86: oh Thankgod, he was freaking out

@quinnhughes_: 🙌🏻🙌🏻

@brendanbrisson: love love

@thomasbordelaueu: icons

^ @willow22: 💙💙

-

@roommate1: had some superstars come party with us

156 likes, 15 comments

Tag: willow22, lhughes_6, dylanduke,roommate2, ethanedwards

-

i hope you guys enjoyed :)

[killermchann]

HELLO @monkeytrick tagged me. thank you my Friend............put your on repeat/favorites playlist on shuffle & post the first 10 songs u get except i am INDECISIVE & doing both.

💿:

melvins - boris

alice in chains - frogs

primus - my name is mud

meat puppets - lake of fire

primus again - harold of the rocks

ween - zoloft

WEEN AGAIN - waving my dick in the wind

black pus - 1000 years

at the drive in - one armed scissor

unwound - message recieved

on repeat:

the jesus lizard - nub

nine inch nails - the hand that feeds

unwound - dragnalus

brainiac - strung

kyuss - catamaran

the jesus lizard. Again - then comes dudley

brainiac again. - mr fingers

BRAINIAC AGAIN - fresh new eyes

slug - ex-chest

JESUD LIZARD AGAIN - good riddance

i tag @songsforthedeaf2002 @weirdness-is-good @hannahcheeks @failureinfourbrokenframes do it or dont lol