#express yourself extra scene

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[luvjunie]

— matching nails

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary: you ask miles if the two of you can paint your nails a matching color. wc: 476

contains: fluff, slightly posessive!miles

word bank: “princesa” - princess

you’re seated sideways in your boyfriend’s lap with your legs hung over his, trying— and failing to convince him to participate in a cute couple’s idea you found on tiktok.

“hell no.” the rejection comes even faster than you’d expected, a glum frown turning the corners of your lips downwards. you pout up at miles disappointedly, who is somehow still unmoved by your used-to-be undefeated persuasion tactic.

“but-“ you start.

“nah, no way princesa.” he interjected firmly, his fingers warm where they rested, curled over the skin of your exposed waist just beneath the hem of your crop top. “trippin’.” his chuckle lacked a single shred of humor.

you huffed, arms crossing and eyes rolling. “it’s just nail polish, miles, it’s not that big of a deal. you don’t wanna match with me?”

“shit, we can match some jordan’s. just lemme know what pair you want.” he snorted, finding your little tantrum adorable.

he obviously wasn’t taking you or your idea seriously, so you simply shrugged your shoulders and sighed dramatically. “fine, i’ll just ask someone else to do it with me then.” you mumbled, moving to stand up as you reached towards the desk for your phone.

“who?” his brow quirked, the vagueness of your statement piquing his interest almost instantly.

“chris.” you stated casually, his hand dragging down your hip as you moved out of reach.

“chris?” he parroted, the sound of the name drawn out in disbelief as it expelled from his mouth. the drastic change in his expression paired with the incredulous tone of his voice was comical, and you had to restrain yourself from laughing at his reaction to the mention of your made-up-guy-friend. “who the hell is chris?” his two braids draped over his shoulders when he sat up, forearms perched on his basketball short-clad thighs as he suspiciously watched you unlock your phone without answering him.

he kissed his teeth and impatiently leaned forward, his pointer finger hooking onto the belt loop of your jean shorts to swiftly yank you back over to him. with a squeal you stumbled back into his lap, your phone snatched from you at the speed of light and tossed over onto your bed a few feet away, your mouth slightly agape and hands still in the shape of what they were previously holding.

“you play too damn much.” his voice was low, brooding as he stared daggers into your eyes. “so who’s your lil’ friend? chris, right? he go to your school? you never mentioned him to me before.” once the questions started coming and his head tilted to the side with that familiar glint in his eye, you knew better than to keep the gag going, even if it was fun to see him squirm.

you shifted in his lap as your legs swung back and forth, an attempt to distract him from the playful smirk that threatened to expose itself on your expression, but he saw it anyway as you quickly shook your head. “no, baby, i was just kidding.”

“aw yeah, that’s what i thought.” he huffed out what was meant to be a laugh, sizing you up with a brief warning glance. you could tell he was thinking it over, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek when he glanced away, and a smile slowly grew on your face as he exhaled a heavy sigh. you always got what you wanted.

“show me the color you want us to do, mama.”

— extra scene

a/n: nah cause just imagine miles leaving with his uncle for a job, and as he goes to slide his mechanical gauntlet on, Aaron catches a glimpse of his nails and is like ??? 😭 imagine getting your ass handed to you by the prowler and bro has hearts painted on his nails

“hold on, lemme see your hand.”

it’s not like he had a choice, seeing as his uncle was already reaching for his wrist. miles wanted to stop him, but he knew it was no use, his hand limp in his uncle’s hold as it was pulled forward and brought closer for inspection.

“the hell you got your nails painted for, man?your girl made you do this or sum?” with an eyebrow raised he studied his nephew’s camouflaged expression, laughter tumbling from his lips when the boy grumbled a quiet ‘chill’, snatched his arm back and let his mask close over his face to hide the subtle tint of embarrassment blossoming on his cheeks.

- please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works to other platforms.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

[miguelhugger2099]

Him and I (2/2)

Summary: Lyla, is it normal to be jealous of your variant? Prev A/N: shout out to the literal artist of the recent 2099 comics for drawing atsv miggy and comic miggy side by side, it inspired this fic in the first place. TheWarBlazer on twt :) Comic!Miguel x Reader x ATSV!Miguel, SMUT, little PWP, Word Count: 6, 355 Comic Miggy = Mig / ATSV Miggy = Miguel c:

By morning, you had woken up slowly, processing where you were and what you had done the night before. Your hair was a mess and you pulled the covers around you when it slipped off, feeling a bit chilly. You looked around you to find yourself to put on, ultimately finding your panties ripped apart from yesterday so you just settled on loose shorts and Miguel’s blue t-shirt lying to the side. You noticed he wasn’t beside you but there was a smell in the air that told you he was at least still home and making breakfast.

You got up from the bed, making sure your legs worked still before peeking out the door to see if you could spot him. You turned your head from side to side until you finally caught him, leaning against the stove slightly in a compression shirt with sweatpants.

Miguel was there cooking up a basic breakfast of eggs and toast, taking a few sips of what you believe to be his protein shake. He glanced behind his shoulder to see you and he gently smiled. “Hey.”

You smiled weakly back at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice your cheeks darkening. “Hey. Morning.” You waved awkwardly.

Miguel chuckled and pointed to a bag on the glass table. “I bought some empanadas from the panaderia I go to. I didn’t know which one you’d like so I got both chicken and beef.” He faced back to the pan to scramble his eggs. You made your way over to the bag, opening it up to see another smaller set of bags labeled messily with Miguel’s handwriting.

“Which one do you recommend?” You asked, taking one from the beef label.

“The chicken.” He responded. You chuckled to yourself since the other Miguel preferred beef.

You walked over next to him and watched him work as you took a bite into the empanada. He turned and gave you a small smile, satisfied that you liked what he brought you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, turning off the stove and taking two plates from the cupboard. You nod.

“Yeah. Just, uh, starting to wake up.” You blush softly, remembering the scenes from last night. Mig hides the prideful smile on his face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He places a decent amount on both of your plates and leads you to the dining table where you both begin eating and chatting.

He admires you as you speak, finding the beauty in this new you that he once knew.

After a while, you and Miguel felt the air shift, mugs and utensils starting to hover a bit in mid-air. You stiffened, knowing what this feeling was. Someone was opening a portal. Someone found you.

You quickly stand up and Miguel follows with a worried expression. “What’s wrong?” He asks, on edge and his talons extract subconsciously to the unknown he felt around him. You don’t answer and instead face the door of his bedroom where the warping was. Your spider senses went wild but calmed down the moment you realized that this was another spider person–they weren’t threats but you were just shocked.

You take a step back, closer in front of Miguel in case whatever spider person would ask questions. What you weren’t prepared for, was your boss opening the bedroom door to walk where you two were.

There was the leader of the Spider Society in all his glory, Miguel O’Hara–the original version you knew.

“Miguel…” You gasped breathlessly in shock, barely a whisper. Shit. “He-hey!” You laugh nervously. “You, uh, wow–haha.” You were speechless, knacking your brain to say something–anything to explain yourself. “You found me,” you chuckled nervously. “Y’know–I–I was lost for a bit but um–thankfully–I found another spider person and–wouldn’t you know it– it’s another you. So I was…extra…safe…” You trail off, noticing how Miguel had stared behind you to look at his other variant. You glance behind you to see the redhead tense up, standing up straighter to not be intimidated by this other version of himself.

“Yes. I was looking for you.” Miguel grunts, still as hardworking as ever. “The others were worried.”

Your gaze softened, thinking of your friends and feeling your heart swell at their concern. “Yeah. But I’m safe and look,” You showed your watch up to Miguel, his eyes ripping themselves off his variant to your watch. “He fixed it for me. You two really are alike.” You smile.

“I–I was gonna go back, but the watch was just fixed. No communications and the touch pad wasn’t working–” You tried to explain but your boss cuts you off.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great. Now we need you back.” He frowns down at you. Your smile drops and so does your heart.

“Well…well of course but–”

“But?” Miguel cocks an eyebrow up, his frown deepening. You purse your lips–even though you knew Miguel close enough, he was still your boss. You glance back at his counterpart apologetically and in turn he glances down at you.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper your apology to him and he doesn’t like it.

“You don’t have to go.” He whispers back to you, one hand resting on your arm and the other cupping your cheek. Neither of you notice your boss glare at the way he’s touching you. “You can go back whenever.” He insists.

“Actually she can’t,” The brunette's voice booms between you two. “She has a job to do as Spider-Woman–at the HQ.” He hisses out.

“But she wants to stay here. You can’t just make her.” The redhead retaliates. Miguel grows annoyed, kissing his teeth with a loud tsk.

“She isn’t yours.” MIguel grabbed your arm and tugged you towards his chest. The redhead grabbed onto your other arm and tried pulling you away from him, making you in the middle.

“She isn’t yours either.” He spat back. Both Miguel’s scowled at one another, your boss puffing up his chest to tower over both of you while his variant bared his fangs unwavering to his attempt to scare him off. “Did you even bother to ask what she wants?”

You look up at the redhead, even though he was facing off his counterpart–they could very well tear each other apart. “Miggy, just hold on–”

“Miggy?!” Your boss scrunches up his face, not even prepared to hear a nickname come out of your mouth for his variant. You blushed and opened your mouth in shock–the nickname had spilled out.

“Not–Not like that! It isn’t like that!”

“Not like that? What, so you just have sex with every variant? Give them pet names right after?” He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in a snarl.

You start babbling to defend yourself but Mig perks up.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. You and Miguel both turn to him–you still flustered while Miguel scowls at his counterpart.

“What are you talking about?”

“How did you know we had sex?” Mig crosses his arms and narrows his eyes up at Miguel on the other side. You blink for a moment and then it slowly processes in your brain.

He…He watched. But how?

The watch.

You snapped your neck back to your boss and you see him clench his jaw but his eyes don’t look at down at you–the tips of his ears grow increasingly red.

“You watched,” Mig laughs, shaking his head in disbelief and throwing his hands up. “You watched,” He repeats. “You sick-"

Stubbornly, Miguel tries not to falter. “She called.”

But his own self knows better than that. “And you stayed.”

“I was making sure she was safe.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Making sure she could safely cum? Yeah, I handled that.”

“Guys—” You interrupt with pure horror on your face. “Can we please not?” You turn to face Miguel’s general direction but you don’t meet his eyes. “We can just forget about everything in the last twenty four hours and what happened here so–”

“I want you back at HQ,” Miguel grumbles, turning his head away from you but still protecting his masculinity and pride with his arms tightened around him. “Away from here and back to work.”

His counterpart scoffs a humorless laugh. “Now I get it,” He walks up to Miguel and pulls you behind him “You’re jealous.”

Miguel squints his eyes down at him. “What?” He growls but the other’s smile only grows. He’s figured him out. They have the same mind after all.

“Jealous,” He repeats. “Did you have some feelings for her? Is that why you’re here all pissed? Just cause I got to her first?”

“Don’t piss me off.” Miguel’s face hardens, his frown growing deeper and showing his fangs off to threaten him.

“Or what?” Mig growls back, his talons extracting from his fingertips.

Feeling the growing tension, you try to speak up since one Miguel was dangerous enough–two of them would be catastrophic.

“Hey–can we not, maybe?” You interject, moving beside Mig and trying to catch your boss’ eye. Mig turns his head at you for a moment and then grinning to himself as he comes up with an idea.

The redhead hugs your back close to his chest, one hand on your hip and the other sliding up his shirt you’re wearing to reveal your stomach to the brunette. “Mig!” You gasp, blushing fiercely and holding onto his arms. You look away from your boss in embarrassment, opting to hide in his variant's neck, which he happily allows. You fail to notice your boss’s breath hitch at seeing your bare skin and his pupils being blown wide. The Miguel behind you smirks even wider.

“We could share.”

“I don’t share.” He growls.

“So you do want her. Just for yourself.” Miguel doesn’t respond, his eyes focused on the way you squirmed under his gaze alone.

“Mig–Mig, please.” You whine when you feel his porcelain hand disappear under your shirt to cup one tit in his hand and run his thumb over your nipple.

“Stop that.” Miguel’s jaw clenched when his eyes met his match. Bright red eyes narrowing at his scarlet ones.

“I’m not stupid. I’m you. I know what you want,” The redhead murmurs, grazing his teeth on your earlobe. “What she wants,” His mouth curls up when he sees you purse your lips to hide your moans but he can feel your heartbeat. “What we all want right now.”

Mig looks up at the other version of himself, realizing that this one might not be as confident as he is. A by the rules asshole who was all about work, work, work. He was the same but not to this extent. However, if this Spider-Man was anything like him, all he had to do was wave the candy in front of his face and he’d crack. No matter the universe, Miguel O’Hara always grabbed what he wanted if the right buttons were pressed.

Your soft mewl snaps them both out of their mental warfare, two pairs of eyes looking down at you between them to see you look bashful and hot with embarrassment. For a moment, both men stop, equally concerned with putting you in the middle. Your boss feels the most guilt but Mig on the other hand feels less so. With his hand right by your heart, he can feel the heat emanating from your body and pounding heartbeat against your ribs. He has felt the same need and craving when you were squealing last night.

“Isn’t that something you want?” Mig hums, his hand on your hip playing with the string of your shorts. Miguel takes a firm step forward to stop him but was stopped when you nodded your head. Your eyes still shut while you felt your cheeks burning. Mig’s touch was intoxicating especially with the feeling of him on you from last night still lingering on your body.

“I need words, sweetheart.” He hums and you purse your lips for a moment.

“Yes…” You choke out.

“Yes, what?” Mig asks you but looks at Miguel.

“Yes, I want it…” You groan, feeling humiliated but it was exhilarating at the same time. The redhead slides his hand under your shorts to feel the new wet patch growing between your legs. Mig smirks as he remembers slicing off your panties last night. He nudges your legs, a silent command to spread them apart and you give him that access with shaky steps. He lets you relax on his chest while his fingers spread your folds apart while you whimper. Miguel stares at the hand in your pants with a blush across his face, fighting his two emotions of wanting to stop this and wanting to make you whimper like that.

Your boss’ variant bunches up your shirt over your breasts and you writhe in his hold, trying to gain some sense of decency while the two men basically get off on just the sight of you.

“You want more, don’t you?” Mig behind you purrs, his fingers in your shorts gently rub circles against your clit while his other hand tweaks and pinches your nipple. “Want to feel nice and full?” He kisses along your neck and you try to grind against his fingers, wanting them to slip inside but he was just teasing you. You moan softly, focusing on the feeling of electricity jolting down to your core.

“Uh-huh, mhm–please,” You whined. Miguel’s breathing increases and his suit strains to accommodate for the bulge growing between himself. His hands clench and unclench beside him as he itches to grab your body to feel the soft skin you could provide him. His eyes lingered on your tits and he licked his lips subconsciously.

“Hear that? She wants more. Isn’t that convenient?” The redhead chuckles, slipping his hand out from your pants and showing up with his fingers covered from the juices your cunt provided him. “You just gonna leave her like this? Or are you gonna help out your precious little employee?” He taunts Miguel and Miguel swallows the lump in his throat.

Miguel takes another step forward just enough to be in front of you and to feel the heat coming off you and his variant. He hesitantly rests his hand on your hip and you flinch, not expecting to feel a third hand on your body. Miguel’s variant raises his slick soaked fingers to your mouth and smears a bit of it on your bottom lip. You open up slightly but Mig had already slid them inside your mouth making your tongue taste yourself. You whine as best you could with his fingers in your mouth and look up at Miguel with shame. You felt your cheeks burning hot but your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Miguel stared down at you, huffing softly as he watched you suck your slick off his own variants fingers.

“Fuck…” He groaned and his grip on your hip tightened. “Can I? Please.” He bent over slightly, his breath hitting your face. The redhead behind you watched and then flicked your nipple when you didn’t respond fast enough. You yelped around his digits and felt them slip out, a string of saliva coming out.

You nodded again, reaching one hand off Mig’s arm to hold onto Miguel’s shoulder.

Miguel slides your shorts down, pooling them underneath you and moans when he finds you without underwear, his cock twitching in anticipation. His hand on your hip slides down to lift your leg up and he moves closer to rub his crotch against your core. The blunt nudge sent a jolt of pleasure through your body and you nearly fell back if Mig wasn’t holding you from behind. Miguel’s other hand rises up to cup your other breast, squeezing and kneading the flesh between his fingers.

“Ah–Fuck…!” You gasp and roll your head back against his variant's shoulder, your eyes barely glancing down at the two toned hands cupping and grabbing your body. You feel Mig thrust softly behind you, poking your ass while Miguel continues to grind up against your pussy. Your mind went foggy as you felt both men surround you, the fantasy of being taken by both of them sent your brain short circuiting.

The shirt you had been wearing fumbles back down, covering yourself once more. Miguel grunts in annoyance, letting go of your breast to rip the fabric into shreds with his talons that made Mig tsk. Miguel went back to playing with your nipple until he leaned down to latch onto it, flicking the nub gently with his tongue. You twitched and gasped, arching your back off Mig and into Miguel’s mouth. “Miguel!” You mewl and he groans in response, biting it with his teeth and pulling before letting go and watching how erect it had gotten, wet with his spit.

You hear Mig grunt behind you, bucking his hips against your ass to feel some friction for his cock. His arm wrapped around your middle to pull you against him, his lips dragged along your neck in open mouthed kisses and his hand returned to twist your nipple between his index finger and thumb. Miguel pulled away from you a bit so glance down at the soaking mess you made on his suit, his cock throbbing for more. So, he rips his variant’s hand off your waist.

Miguel then hauled you over his shoulder, returning back to the bedroom and tossing your body on the mattress, giving you a strange sense of deja vu. Mig rolled his eyes and followed behind your two and saw you on his bed once more. You squeak and cover your eyes when Miguel phased out of his suit and Mig tossed his shirt up and over his head. Miguel crawls in bed with you, his frame basically covering everything in front of you. You peek through your fingers and close your legs which makes both men frown. Mig crawls beside you, pulling one leg apart while Miguel takes the other. Mig takes your hands away from your face and settles for kissing your cheeks and trailing down to your jaw and collarbone.

“Don’t be shy,” He murmurs, his hands cupping your tits in his large palms. “You’ve already had one of us. What’s another one, hm?” You moan out when he plays with one nipple in his hand and sucking the other. Miguel kisses down your stomach, finding himself fond of your thighs, squishing them in his hands and grazing them softly with his talons. Goosebumps rise to your skin as his tongue teases just outside your pussy.

Miguel’s plump lips take your clit and he gently sucks on it, his tongue licking up and down and swirling around it. You quickly grip both Miguel’s hair in one hand and pull them closer to you body. Your mind didn’t know who to focus on first, it was like they touched every nerve possible and turned you numb, only to feel pleasure and nothing else.

Miguel pulls away entirely, spreading your folds apart to see the increasing amount of slick you were producing and he groaned. He slips a finger inside you pushing through from how tight you surrounded yourself on his digit. “Coño…” Miguel mutters. You spread your legs further apart, Miguel kissing the inside of your thigh appreciatively. Your head rolls back as the two men assault every possible soft spot on your body.

Mig twists your nipple between his fingers at the same time his mouth suckled around your other nipple. You felt his teeth nibble the bud, his fangs grazing over you delicately. Miguel continues to ease his finger deeper inside you, preparing you for another finger. You moan loudly, writhing beneath them desperately and it’s no use–not when two grown men are keeping you still with their weight and hands. You try bucking your hips further down Miguel’s fingers, whimpering his name and gasping. Miguel curls his fingers inside you, hitting the soft spot you’ve been craving and so you squeal in pleasure. Mig quickly lets go of your abused nipple to kiss you and hinder your moaning.

Miguel growls and glares at the redhead. “I want to hear her.”

“Mmm, too bad.” Mig chuckles against your lips and slips his tongue in your mouth. You could barely focus, face contorted in pleasure as Miguel takes it as a challenge. He dives back into your cunt, pumping his fingers while his tongue flicks up and down to lap up your juices. Your moans are muffled by Mig’s mouth but your hips buck wildly to meet your boss’ wet muscle licking you up. He pins your hips down so he can focus on eating you out properly and you whimper, your body completely hindered and at their command. His nose nudges against your clit and you claw into their hair. One hand in straight ginger locks while the other hand yanks on wavy brown strands.

Mig pulls away from your lips to take a deep breath, both your tongues and lips are wet from swapping spit. You’re breathless from the kiss so you stick to small whines and mewling as you hump yourself on Miguel’s fingers and mouth. He feels you convulsing around his fingers and he eases a third finger, scissoring you to stretch you out just a little more. “Miguel! Miguel! So close, I'm so close–please!” You beg, trying to fight against his hands holding you down.

But Miguel pulls away all of a sudden. The pressure inside your abdomen disappears and you groan in frustration. “No!”

“Tranquilo. You’ll get what you want.” Miguel mutters under his breath. He looks over at his variant, a silent conversation going on that only a Miguel would ever understand. Mig settles by your head, his cock strained against his sweatpants. You look over lazily at it and try to reach for his waistband but he stops you with a gentle smile.

“Not yet, princess.” He kisses your knuckles before dropping it back to your side. You’re confused for just a moment but you’re pulled out of it when you feel Miguel lift your legs over his shoulders. He lines his cock up with your entrance, his angry red tip dribbling an insane amount of precum. He glides himself in between your folds to lube himself up and your pussy throbs feeling how hard he is. Miguel huffs, his cheeks flushed as the lust clouds his judgment and mind.

Being as gentle as he possibly could, Miguel pushes his tip inside you. You gasp and arch your back, Miguel being just a bit bigger than you’ve taken before. Mig jumps into action, playing with your nipples while he runs kisses along your neck. “Hold onto me, mama. I’ve got you.” He murmurs. Your hand grips into his hair again while the other grips the sheets.

“Mig, Mig…” You whine while Miguel pushes further inside. Miguel rubs your thighs to ease you into some comfort and trying to stop himself from splitting you apart. Both men whisper sweet nothings to you, praising you for how well you’re doing and how good it’ll feel. Miguel rubs your clit in small circles while he reaches the hilt.

“S’good…” Miguel murmurs. “You’re doing so good.” He slowly pulls out, watching your pussy soak his cock. He strokes himself inside you softly as to not hurt you but, damn, was it hard. Mig tries to relieve your stress by bringing your nipple in his mouth again, his hands holding you and rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

You moan and arch your back, your hips lifting up to meet one of Miguel’s soft thrusting. That feeling you had last night of needing something more was slowly being quenched. Having multiple hands, multiple options of pleasure was just what you needed and it seemed like they thought the same. Miguel held your legs up while he picked up his pace, his balls smacking against the curve of your ass. You felt him stretch you out with every thrust, your pussy coating his cock with wet slapping and sticky echoes. Mig murmurs into your ear.

“Can you feel it? You take cock so well, look at you. You look so pretty getting fucked, hm? Oh, you poor thing.” Mig taunts you, his hands squeezing your breasts in his palms, your nipples and mounds having bite marks all over them. You wail and thrust your hips to meet Miguel's pounding, your cunt squeezing him tightly as you felt the same pressure of your orgasm coming up.

Miguel groans, panting and huffing to keep himself steady while he fucks you. His hand presses down on the bulge in your stomach, feeling his tip slide in and out and poke through your stomach.

For some reason, that was the final push you needed to cum–your pussy clenching and unclenching as you cream and cry around Miguel’s thick girth. Your legs shook in his hands while he rammed into you to prolong your orgasm. He pulled out before he could cum with his teeth clenched tightly while Mig let go of your tits and stood up from the bed. Miguel takes a few deep breaths as he watches you barely recover from your high. His cock was still painfully hard and now glistening with your cum. Your body was bruised– hickeys around your chest from Mig and tiny scratches on your legs and thighs from Miguel’s talons.

Miguel tugs you up and lies you on your stomach so you’re facing the foot of the bed. You feel him tap your thigh. “Knees. C’mon.” He mumbles and you weakly try to lift yourself up but Miguel grows impatient, settling for just picking up your bottom half himself. His calloused hands grip into your plush hips, carrying most of your weight. You see Mig approach where you are and you look up. He smirks down at you and narrows his eyes downward and you follow. You gulp and grab the sheets into your fists when you’re met with the sight of him stroking his cock softly. Your mouth drops open in surprise and you feel your mouth water. His tip was already red and leaking and you’re entranced with the way he rubs his thumb across the head to smear his precum as lube.

His other hand lifts your gaze back up at him with his thumb forcing your lips apart to open them. You blink up at him and his heart skips a beat at how pretty you’ll look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. The redhead looks at his counterpart from behind you, giving him a small nod and he returns one back.

“Be a good girl and open up.” Mig hums and taps his cock to your lips–he’s been waiting for this. You open up and stick your tongue out for him to slide onto. His tip feels heavy as he nudges himself deeper in your warm mouth, his breathing already increasing rapidly. Your lips wrap around his thick cock, nearly hitting his base but enough for the red hair of his pubes to graze your nose. He groans above you, struggling to force you deeper down himself and instead reaches for your hair to grab onto.

You feel Miguel behind you slide his cock back inside you, pushing himself to the hilt where his balls smack your sensitive folds and bumping your forward, making you choke on Mig’s dick. The redhead hisses and grunts, yanking you back. “Be shocking careful.” He growls at Miguel but he ignores him. Miguel’s mind is somewhere else entirely, his eyes haven’t left your ass. He grips each cheek in his hand and bites his bottom lip, his fang piercing the skin for a second.

“Que bonita eres,” Miguel praises, tugging you back against his pelvis and making his cockhead arch up into your sweet spot. You shook and rolled your eyes back, nearly falling apart if it weren’t Mig holding you up. You clamp down on his cock instinctively which makes your boss choke on his gasp.

“Shit–she’s still tight.” Miguel moans, rocking his hips against your ass. “Relájate, mi amor–así, así.”

Your body moves after every push of Miguel’s thrusts–pushing you back and forth on the cock in your cunt and the cock in your mouth simultaneously. Mig moans in turn, the vibration from your own whimpering runs down his length for stimulation. His hand keeps a tight grip in your hair to make sure your head stays up and sucking. You feel your neck strain to look up while both men use your body for their own pleasure.

Sounds of slurping, squelching, and moaning surround the room. You could hear the quiet grunt of Mig while Miguel was a little louder, groaning and muttering things under his breath. You thought for a split second that Miguel was little more rough on you than his counterpart–or maybe it could’ve just been because it’s his first time fucking you. You didn’t care honestly.

You tried to focus on the Miguel in front of you, his dick filling your mouth and his tip occasionally poking the back of your throat and making you tear up. Your tongue swirls around him, gagging a bit and leaving copious amounts of spit on him. You glide your tongue under a throbbing vein of his and he hisses above you, his hand pulling your head forward to take him deeper and slapping his balls on your chin. “Fuck, I should’ve made you do this earlier–” He moans. “Should’ve known those pretty lips would do some good sucking me off.” He thrusts a bit faster and you can practically feel him swell up at the thought.

You moan around him, spit dribbling out your mouth and down your chin. You could taste the new flavor of his salty precum on your taste buds and the natural musk of his cock. Your jaw began to feel sore from being stretched open to accommodate his girth. Mig’s hand tried to shakily push back the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face. “That’s it, gorgeous. You’re doing so good for me. You like that? Feeling full, hm?” He teased, knowing you couldn’t even answer if you tried.

More saliva accumulated inside your mouth and you moaned around him pathetically as your response. You pussy clenched from his teasing which made the brunette behind you groan and pump himself faster inside you. He held your hips tightly going fast and short strokes which increased the sound of skin slapping on skin. You focused your eyes up at the redhead until your eyes widened feeling a hard smack to your ass.

You whined around Mig’s cock, feeling the tears prick in your eyes from pain and pleasure while Miguel behind you left a few more slaps to your ass before squeezing it in his large hand. Mig looked over at his counterpart fucking you from behind, kneading the plump flesh while he bucked wildly like an primal animal. Miguel’s eyes were clouded with raw lust, focusing on the way your ass jiggled and rippled with every pound and slap, how you mewled around his variant’s cock and how your previous orgasm made it so much easier to slip in and out of you.

God, you were perfect, Miguel thought to himself. So desperate and so willing to have not just one of him but two. “So greedy,” He murmured between heavy breaths. “Just had to have two cocks, huh? Just one isn’t enough—couldn’t settle so you wanted me to fuck you, is that it? Needed your boss to cum inside this weeping cunt?” Miguel groaned and lolled his head slightly back while his hips began to speed up. His cock swelled inside you, his balls tightening for release but he held back–just a little longer, it feels too good.

Your eyes rolled back, unable to keep sucking the redhead dick anymore with how their teasing and talking sent you in overdrive. Drool leaked out of you and you felt your pussy gush more juices on him and down your thighs. Mig pats your cheek to wake you up out of your cock-drunk haze.

“Head up, princess. Keep sucking, I’m so close.” He moans, grabbing the back of your head and shoving you up and down on his length.

You were made for this, both Miguel’s decided. You knew just how to please them, your pussy was already carved in the shape of their cocks, your tongue knowing exactly how to suck. Now that they had you, they were never letting go. Maybe there are some things Miguel O’Hara can share.

You weakly went back to sucking Mig off, but he didn’t mind. Just the feeling of your wet warm and drooling mouth was enough to have his cock twitching down your throat.

“Haah, fuck–” The man above moans, gripping your hair tightly in his fists. “Shit, shit–I’m gonna cum.” He whines and tries to pull himself off you but you whimpered and reached out your hand to grab his thigh from moving away. He looks down to see your eyes pleading and begging him.

“You wanna swallow?” He asks between huffs, a smirk slowly curling up. “Alright. I’ll give you what you want, princess.” You closed your eyes, a silent thank you as you tried to properly help him reach his climax and cum in your mouth. Mig closes his eyes and thrusts in abandon, his tip rubbing against the back of your throat and swelling up before releasing in your mouth. You gag a bit, unexpecting so much to come out but you tried swallowing as much of him as you could.

You felt him softening on your tongue while you drank his thick cum, some of it being too much and dribbling down your lips and his length, Your tongue slipped around him to make sure he got his fill before he slid out your lips. A string of his cum and your saliva connecting from his tip to your wet lips. Mig stroked his cock a few more times, the beads of leftover cum spurting from his tip which you happily lapped up with the tip of your tongue.

“Oh, such a good girl.” Mig praises, his thumb cupping your chin to open your mouth to make sure you swallowed everything. You opened up softly, moaning and whimpering freely now that you aren’t hindered by dick down your throat. Mig, now exhausted from cumming, pulled away from you to sit on one of his plush chairs in his bedroom. His chest heaved up and down as he calmed down from his high. Meanwhile, your head fell to rest on the edge of the mattress while Miguel continued to hump you, his cock engorging every second with his own release. Especially with the way you moaned and squealed.

“Tan mojada, tan apretada–ay Dios–por favor, por favor–"Miguel moaned, slurring under his breath while he looked down to watch his dick disappear in your pussy and reappear with an unbelievable amount of wetness. His thrust went out of rhythm, now a desperate attempt to just finish inside you.

“I’m gonna cum inside, okay?” He groans. “Eso se suena bien, mami?” He leans over you to pound his cock in a different spot, his hand coming down to push your head in the mattress. Your cheek is smushed to the side and you can barely see Miguel fucking you from behind but you can feel his hand grab your entire head.

“Uh-huh!” You babble, mouth just being filled and drenched with cum. Miguel sees your eyes half-lidded and rolled back, jaw slack as you spill out moans and more drool with his variants cum drying on your chin and lips.

Miguel lets out a deep growl from his throat as he fastens his pace, his talons pricking your skin around your hip to keep you steady while he uses you. You scream his name, your vision going white and hot with pleasure as you finally reach your orgasm again. You came around him, the sound of wet plaps becoming more prominent as Miguel thrusts his last few times.

Seeing your body go limp and sensitive from just orgasming made his moan in response, his cock twitching wildly before stiffening and shooting his thick load inside you. He painted your insides white, the warmth of it slipping out between him and you from the sheer amount of cum he produced. Miguel continued to slowly pump himself dry, making sure your pussy squeezed every drop he could offer, shuddering when he pulled out of your wet walls to see himself drenched in both your fluids.

Miguel let you go, watching your spent body flop down without the help of him picking you up. It was now more quiet than usual, just the sounds of heavy breathing as you collected yourselves, sweat dripping down everyone’s skin.

Mig smirks lazily from his comfortable plush chair, his cock in his hand and semi-hard from watching you two finish. He glances at Miguel’s glistening cock, also semi-hard just by watching how you glow after cumming.

“I could go another round.” Mig huffs and Miguel turns to him with a tired look but with a speck of lust ignited in them.

You whimpered and shook from the aftershocks of your orgasm still flowing through you. “No…no more. I’m…It’s so sensitive…” You drooled on the sheets, trying to catch your breath and feel the nerves come back to your body.

Miguel looks down at you and nudges your legs apart to see the damage done to your pussy. Swollen and glistening with all types of fluids and cum. He uses his fingers to spread your folds and you twitch and whine weakly, Miguel’s cum oozing out of you. He jams the amount that had leaked out of your back inside with two of his fingers, making you moan. His other hand grabs your ass cheek apart and he grins.

Miguel looks up at his counterpart only to see him with the same toothy smirk. Great minds think alike.

“Well, there is… one hole we haven’t used yet.”

A/N: are u happy to be in paris? :3

To the lovelies that wanted to be tagged <3 🏷

@oscarissac2099 @huniedeux @mcmiracles @gltzpzy @ahano @the-pan-liquid @julian0800 @2099gf @jadeloverxd

feedback appreciated ! plz be nice _(:3」∠)_

[chososdiscordkitten]

...No Sex?

Synopsis: Mutual masturbation w Choso with a lil sum extra

Pairing: Choso x fem!reader Content: porn w/ sum feelings, established relationship, no penetrative sex bcs no protection, Choso isnt a virgin!!!! fingering, handjob, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, oral (F), overstim if you squint (F), Choso has a big cock, spit, cum eating, Choso munch propaganda, a sprinkle of dirty talk, Choso king of consent!!!

(a.n) finally I write something where it isnt raw intercourse, r u proud? it took everything in me to not write the end with a creampie👍🏽

MDNI

It was that uneasy step in a developing relationship, where you could spend day and night together but still be shy to instigate a deeper kiss. And when the topic of intimacy came up- both of you agreed to take things slow in that department.

It was supposed to just be a movie night- supposed to be sinless, just two people having a sleepover. But somewhere between the sex scene blaring on the tv and the discarded dialogue, you found yourself straddling Choso’s thighs. Your knees bent on the cushions of the couch as your hands held onto the sides of his face desperately. Teeth clashing against each other trying to find solace on the others lips.

His hands were massaging your hips, threatening to rise up the bottom of your t-shirt, your core pressing down on the forming bulge in his sweats with a low moan vibrating into your mouth. Choso trailed his hand to the side of your neck, pulling away from you and soaking in the neediness in your eyes. 

“I thought-” he murmured in a whisper, his lips pink from how desperate the kiss was. “I thought we were gonna wait.” he finished- his hand making note of how warm your cheek felt in his palm.

You sighed, rolling your hips lightly, feeling the mound of his cock brush against your aching core. You furrowed your eyebrows, scanning his expression. Though his eyebrows were pinched in worry, and his words were laced with a pained tone- his eyes contradicted them. Dark, full of need and lust that you had only seen glimmers of before now.  

You bit your lip softly, recalling the conversation Choso was referring to. “...No sex?” he reminded, causing your hips to press firmer onto his pained bulge in frustration. Being able to feel how hard he was- even through the layers of clothes. 

“We don't have to have sex,” you whispered, taking a hand from his neck and placing it to the one on your hip.

Guiding it to trail to the front of your torso, slowly leaning in closer with parted lips. “You can touch me.” you breathed, leading his hand to cup the underside of your breast. Choso unwillingly let out a breathy grunt, feeling your clothed breast fill his palm. Dragging your hips against the bulk in his bottoms as you looked into his eyes, your lips brushed against his as you left his hand on your tit, placing your own onto his thick bicep. 

Choso closed his eyes with a sigh before connecting his lips with yours again. Sloppy and unpatterned as your tongue wasted no time in slipping into his mouth again. Softly rolling your hips against his, Choso’s hand lightly squeezed the clothed curve of your breast, feeling your nipple harden beneath the fabric. Cursing you for not even thinking of wearing a bra.

He pulled away from you again, the blush on his cheeks darkening. Practically whined into the air between you as your hips refused to quicken their slow pace. 

Choso grazed his thumb over the little pebble formed beneath your t-shirt, “Is this okay?” he whispered with a light squeeze, earning a small whimper to escape your lips with a nod. His eyebrows slightly creased as the hand on your waist tightened its grip, following your small drags before guiding you to press down further. “And this?” he huffed, feeling the warmth of your cunt radiate onto his strained cock.

You leaned in to kiss him, admiration filled breaths at his need for permission and guidance. You felt the hand on your hip roam up the bottom of your shirt, his warm fingertips lightly grazing your back as you pulled away from him, taking your hands from his neck and going for the hem of your shirt. 

Desperation filled the movement of you taking off your oversized t-shirt, wasting no time in pressing your lips back onto Choso’s. His hands weren’t as confident as before, resting on the upper part of your hips, refusing to go back to the place they were held above the fabric. 

Your hand trailed from his shoulder down to the one on your hip- repeating the guidance from earlier and feeling his calloused hand graze your torso. Choso pulled away from you, lightly exhaling as he felt the warmth of your bare breast fill his palm. Eye to eye as his other hand pressed onto your side. 

Choso turned himself over with you on his lap, holding onto you as he eased you to lay on your back, your thighs on either side of his hips as he straightened his spine. Leaving Choso on top, his knees bent as he held his hands on your hips. Choso looked down at your bare chest with a gulp. Unknowing if he'd be able to keep up his end of the agreement. 

His hands traveled to the hem of his own shirt, pulling it off at an alarming speed before leaning down to kiss you again. Chest to chest as your hands snaked past his pale waist and onto his broad back, grazing your nails lightly against the skin causing him to shiver. His happy trail tickling your tummy.

Choso’s alarmingly hard cock pressed against the thin fabric of your own bottoms, his hips threatened- threatened to buck into you. 

You whined into his mouth from the lack of stimulation against the ache between your thighs. Causing you to push against his unmoving hips with a fussy whimper, noting how the lack of friction was excruciating. 

So much so, that when you pulled away from him, a line of spit was drawn between your lip and his as Choso looked into your bleary eyes- it was almost painful the way you whimpered, “Please touch me.” with a burning tone. 

Choso placed one firm wet kiss onto your lips before straightening his back again, looking down to your hands that all but snapped to the drawstring of your pants. Tugging on the thin string before going to pull the band down, Choso’s hands rested atop the thin pajama fabric before helping you pull them off as you swung your leg to meet with the other on one side of his thigh.

Yanking the bottom off of you before you spread your legs once more, lifting your hips slightly so your bottom could rest on his lower thighs, giving him an unobstructed view of your clothed cunt. 

Choso’s lips parted in amazement, the mouth watering sight of your damp panties causing his cock to twitch beneath the two unavoidable layers of fabric in reaction. He flashed his eyes up at you- shining and pleading. Silently, ‘can I?’ he mouthed, earning your eyebrows to furrow at his request. 

His hands rested on your bare thighs, softly gripping and kneading the plush as he waited for your answer. 

You nodded your head, looking at his large hand against the thickness as he trailed it to your inner thigh. He gulped looking at the contour of your cunt against the thin fabric of your panties. The wetness that created a growing dark spot on them, accentuated the little mound where your clit was. 

It was almost obscene the way his mouth watered by just looking at your clothed cunt. Choso raised his hand from your inner thigh, trailing the other onto your hip and kneading it softly. His hand slowly closed the space between his fingers and your damp panties. 

You let out a small sigh feeling his thumb press against the covered source of the slick. Feeling him drag it up to where your clit peaked beneath the wet fabric, watching with burning eyes as he lightly circled his thumb onto your clit. Looking up at you before whispering, “You're so wet-” 

Sucking in his breath as he watched as your hips slightly twitch from the light circles. Choso was so sure he could cum untouched if he just touched you like this. 

Only your hand trailed up the side of his clothed thigh, urging him to undo his own pants. He didn't hesitate in removing his palm on your thigh and placing it to the band of his strained sweats, shoving it down with a gruff as the wet spot on his briefs hit the air. 

Your hips unwillingly pushed into his thumb from seeing the large bulge in more detail. Parting your lips from the sudden pressure, “Need more Cho-” you murmured, seeing his eyes bat up to look at you, the look of excitement was evident on his features- almost mortified from the ease in which you said that. 

Choso didn't know how he could give you more without it leading to sex. So to urge him, you traced your hand down your bare torso and meeting it to your damp panties.

He pulled his thumb away from your clothed clit and examined as you hooked your fingers to the side of your panties, pulling the crotch aside to reveal your cunt to him. 

Choso’s jaw fell ever so slightly with a dreamy sigh as his eyes engulfed the sight of your glistening cunt. Taking a few seconds to admire it as his cock throbbed in his briefs before you looked at him, raising your eyebrows to coax him to do the same. 

He hesitantly laid his fingers onto the band of his briefs, being able to feel your gaze on his bulge. Gently tugging down the band as his cock flung from the fabric. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and parted your lips as you scanned it. His reddening tip leaking small tears of pre, pale shaft with a pretty curve upwards, dark, trimmed pubes that blended into his happy trail. Choso watched you with his jaw clenched, trying to gauge what you were thinking as you looked at it. 

You knew he was on the bigger side- the times where he'd wear sweats with no underwear (slut), it would've been a crime not to look at the print. But looking at it now, unclothed and hard- he was so fucking hard. It had your cunt clenching around nothing, feeling a splash of bittersweetness knowing that actual intercourse wasn't on the docket. And god, how thick-

“You okay?” he spoke up in a murmur, his shoulders shifting from you gawking at his member. You flashed your eyes back up to him, “We can stop if you-” 

“I'm fine-” you sighed, nodding your head almost too eager as he breathed deeply, “I’m fine.” you recited. A small tear of clear pre oozing from his tip from your words. A deep blush on his cheeks with a clenched jaw adorning his face.

Choso could feel his blushed cheeks tingle from the words he thought of saying, “Can I-” he inhaled, feeling his tip twitch against the air at the question, “Can I touch you?” As though touching you through a barrier of clothing was one thing- but skin to skin. No, being able to feel you- feel your unmasked skin against his fingers, how soft you'd be. How wet you are- Choso could practically feel your slick against his fingers by just thinking about it. 

You let out a shuddered breath, a light whine in the shape of an ‘Mhm’ with a nod. Scanning his expression as he looked back down to your cunt. Bordering on frenzy as he pressed the tips of his middle and ring finger to the source of your slick. You sighed a quiet whimper, watching his eyes ogle your cunt in disbelief.

A low groan fell from his parted lips as he trailed his fingers up your cunt, gliding with ease as they reached your perched clit. You bit your lip with a whimper as he looked back at your face, keeping a light touch on your cunt as he rubbed gente circles on the tip of your clit. 

He didn't know much- but he knew where you needed to be touched from the porn he watched to ‘study’, fearing for the day to come and he not know what to do with you. Though he wasn't a virgin, a handful of drunken one night stands he barely remembered. But now, he was painfully sober, all too nervous of his actions and too concerned if he was doing everything correctly. 

You huffed a ragged breath as you watched his bottom lip quiver, trailing your sight down to his reddening tip- thinking it had to be painful right now. But Choso couldn't feel it- he was too distracted by the way your cunt pulsed from the light circles his fingers made against your clit. 

Choso wanted to feel you from the inside- stopping the light touches on your clit, trailing them down to your entrance that invited him in with every clench your cunt unwillingly made. He flashed his eyes back up at you, pressing the tips of his fingers to the source of your slick- being able to feel it pulse against his fingers. 

Almost asking permission, Choso circled the tips of his thick digits at your entrance- God you were practically sucking them in. You nodded your head- not wanting to even speak, scared it would come out needy and whiny. 

Choso looked back down to your sopping cunt, pushing in his middle finger and hearing you huff out. He furrowed his eyebrows feeling your walls surround his finger, pushing in slowly till his knuckle couldn't push any further. You observed his expression with a nibbled lip as you awaited him to take care of himself. Wanting to watch him stroke his cock. Needing to see it.

Full of pure delirium as he tried pulling his finger from your cunt- only to feel you sucking it back in with every flutter. “so pretty.” he mumbled, you only whined his name in response- embarrassed by the compliment. You reached your hands out to him, pulling him close as he curled his finger up. Connecting your lips to his again as you reached for his cock. 

Soft moans coming from Choso’s lips and rumbling onto yours as you grasped his shaft- his warmth filling your palm. Stroking him gradually as he slowly slid his finger out of you, pressing it to his ring finger and pushing in again, breaking the kiss with a gasp at the sudden change in thickness. 

Hands locked in his hair as you stared into his eyes. Softly moaning as he pushed his fingers into you, the loud sounds of the movie discarded as he slipped his fingers in- God. It was obscene the noises your cunt made. Even over the volume of the tv.

Your hand on his cock slowing its motion- unable to focus as he curled his fingers up trying to find that special spot-

A shuddering gasp left your lips with pinched eyebrows, his eyes widening at the sudden clench around his fingers. Unavoidable was the thought of how it would feel around his cock. 

Choso wanted to hear more- he wanted to see that expression on your face again. 

Almost greedily he nudged into the spongy spot inside of you- grasping even harder on his scalp in return as he slowly pumped into the spot your own fingers could barely reach.

As you held his cock in your hand, you sighed- wanting it inside so desperately. You pressed your lips against his, hoping those thoughts would leave you, knowing it was too soon. 

Even if your hand was waning its strokes, Choso found pleasure in your warm cunt- in the small inhaling moans you’d take as you pressed your tongue against his. 

You couldn't take it- the twitching of his cock in your hand, unable to shake away the words. You pulled away from his lips, looking into his eyes as you let out a small moan- his slow pumping fingers making it difficult to filter the plea- “Put it in, Choso-” you sighed, watching his eyebrows pinch at your request. 

It was tempting, but Choso couldn't find the gall to do it, “But you said-” he mumbled, keeping the slow pace of his fingers, ignoring your hand that lightly squeezed his shaft.

“I don’t care-” you whined, pressing a kiss against his lips feeling your thighs lightly quake beside his hips. “Please.” you whimpered, bucking your hips into his fingers and pouting your lip. As you did that, Choso felt the last reservation of being polite- leave him. 

“Okay-” he huffed, needing very little convincing before connecting his lips to yours almost feverishly and situating himself properly between your thighs, keeping his fingers inside of you as his cock rested daringly close to your cunt. 

You pulled away from him once more, “Do you have anything?” you muttered, small moans leaving your lips as his fingers pressed into your sweet spot gently, feeling your lips brush against his with every word.

Choso nodded his head ‘no’, “Do you?” he whispered, almost pained. You sighed against his lips, nodding your head ‘no’. He murmured “Are you on anything?” trying to find some kind of justification for actually fucking you raw. You almost let out a whimper as you nodded, clenching your cunt around Choso’s fingers in shame at the words you dared say. 

“Can you pull out in time?” you huffed, feeling his tip inch closer and closer to your slick. So desperate to just feel him - how you’d feel so full once he was inside. Choso exhaled feeling your cunt clench around his fingers, recalling the times he's tried to time his orgasms to see if he could rely on that method. 

It never worked. 

Knowing he wasn’t be able to time his orgasms by himself, let alone pull out of your welcoming cunt in time if he was actually fucking you.

Choso nodded his head ‘no’ with a disappointed sigh, if he couldn’t fuck you- he would make sure you were satisfied rather than leave you like this. So he pressed a kiss to your lips, trying to soothe the disappointment decorating your face as you thought if plan b’s were actually an efficient form of contraceptives. 

He straightened his back, determined to make his fingers be enough for you. You watched him place his hand onto your upper thigh- almost as though he was contemplating what he was about to do. 

You gave him soft moans as he kept up the slow pace- urging him to do as he pleased in that moment.

Choso raised his hand from your thigh, keeping a steady pace with his digits as he splayed four fingers atop your belly, you inhaled with a whimper as his thumb rested on your clit, watching your expression to gauge if this was okay. 

Only it was more than okay- it was fucking astronomically okay. Your back arched in the slightest, pressing your knuckles to your parted lips as he started rubbing small circles on your clit.

Being able to hear your cunt squelch around his fingers as you clenched, “Does-” he whispered, fully ignoring his cock that was screaming at him for attention- “Does it feel good?” He murmured, barely legible from the action scene on the tv. 

You moaned a curse, toes threatening to curl against the couch as you fluttered your eyes closed, his thumb dragging out the circles on your clit. Moaning softly before, “F-feels s’fucking good.” you slurred, feeling Choso’s hands pick up the pace at your assurement.

Since your cunt was plugged by his fingers, the slick gathered by your clit was waning- and not wanting it to hurt, Choso mindlessly gathered the spit that pooled in his mouth as he watched your cunt. Pulling his thumb from your clit and aiming. 

Your body jolted in response- unknowing where the sudden spurt of liquid that fell directly onto your clit came from.

You opened your eyes, seeing the expression on Choso’s face return back to the petrified one he wore earlier. His lips were parted, and that's when you realized he just spit onto your clit- Choso flashed his eyes back up to you, trying to see if you were okay with it, even if it was already done. 

You reached your hand down to the one on your tummy. Shakily reaching down to where he spit and started moving your fingers against your clit, mixing his saliva with your mess. “Touch yourself Choso- please.” you whimpered, being able to feel the ache his cock must've felt at that point from just looking at it. Watching his astounded eyes gawk at your face. Not understanding how you were able to voice what you wanted with such ease. 

And as you asked of him, Choso placed his hand onto his base, making sure not to falter the steady pumps with his right hand. Now that he was forced to acknowledge it, he could feel the ache on his purpling tip from how ignored it was. 

Your eyes followed his hand, watching as he slowly stroked his shaft- though he's jacked off before, this was the first time he did it with his non-dominant hand.

A sigh of satisfaction filled with ecstasy left your lips, watching him slowly stroke his pretty cock. It didn't take long for Choso to get to the same place you were- all he had to do was pretend his fingers that were pumping inside your twitching cunt were replaced by his cock. 

Your fingers on your clit fastened, chest heaving and going slack jawed. Choso gathered you were close and wanted to finish with you. Your cunt twitching around his hard working fingers in a way he would have never been able to picture before now. 

“Choso-” you called his name in a pant, trying to keep your eyes open as you watched his hand sloppily stroke himself. Your moans sounded like a hymn to Choso- even more so when you sprinkled his name between them.

With a few more nudges into that spot that forced your eyes closed, you gasped- back arching with a churned face. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as you halted the circles on your clit. Choso fisted himself quicker, groaning loudly and unashamed as his cum oozed from his cockhead. His teeth clenched as he stroked past his dribbling tip. 

Unwillingly his seed dripped on the damp fabric of your panties, and onto your cunt- coating your fingers and his own. Mixing with your own mess as he pulled his fingers from your cunt. 

As you tried catching your breath, you opened your eyes, looking down to see Choso staring at your messied cunt with prideful eyes. You bit your lip as he placed his index and middle finger onto your cunts lips, spreading them the tiniest bit and watching his cum trickle down your pulsing entrance. 

It was carnal the way his mouth watered at the sight. All it took was for you to clench absentmindedly, causing a quiet squelch to come from it, for Choso to shift off of the couch. His messy hands on your hips as he kneeled on the ground. Moving you with him as he did what was calling at him since you were in his lap. 

His hands pulled your dirty panties from you, wanting there to be nothing between you and him, even if they were pushed to the side.

And as he came face to face with your cunt, you furrowed your eyebrows, “Choso you don't ha-” you tried saying, only for his tongue to run up your sloppy cunt- his eyes closing with a light moan as he tasted his seed mixed with your slick. 

It wasn't enough time to fully come down from the first orgasm he pulled from you, not on purpose- but he was starting to over work you as he latched his lips onto your clit. 

Your hips tried to wiggle from his grasp, only for him to hold you in place with his strong arms. Greedily lapping up the mess you created with him. You thralled your head back into the cushions, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling lightly. ‘jesus f-fuck-’ you managed, unwillingly bucking your hips against his face. Which only caused starved groans to vibrate against you. 

In some odd way Choso was thinking up ways to justify what he was doing. Just trying to clean you up? Make sure you were satisfied? 

No, the only right answer was that from the moment he saw your drenched panties- he needed to taste you. Uncaring if his seed was lathered thick on your cunt, mixing with the silk seeping from your entrance. 

You snapped your hand down to his that held your thigh- his grip so tight he was creating indents with his fingertips. Choso stared up at you- eyes dark and fucking starved as he laced his fingers with yours. It didn't take long for him to push you into another orgasm, barely recuperated from the first one.

Feeling your grip tighten against his hand, Choso watched your face churned the way it did earlier- already memorizing it and knowing it meant you were close. 

Even if his cock was already hard again- even if every brain cell in his mind was telling him to pull away from you and relieve the ache between his legs, not caring if there wasn't any protection. Choso would stay between your thick thighs if it meant he got to see that expression on your face, over and over again. 

The moans that fell from your lips were guttural- gasping for air as your thighs pressed against the side of his face, back arching as he lapped at anything that came from your cunt. 

Your hips  started twitching as his mouth refused to part from you. Accidentally overstimulating you, eyes closed as though he was gaining pleasure from this, “Choso-” you panted with a whine, lightly pulling on his hair to pull him from you. 

He opened his eyes, releasing your clit from his mouth and looking at you to see what was wrong. His cheeks, his chin, and his lips glistening with your slick, “Did you-” he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from you. 

You sighed, almost in disbelief at how he could ask that. Furrowing your eyebrows and resting back onto the couch as he loosened his grip on your thighs. Trying to catch your breath as he placed one last kiss to your clit, earning your shoulders to jolt from the contact. Trailing kisses onto your inner thighs as he worked his way up your torso.

Moving your thighs back onto the couch before laying atop you, steadying your breath as he moved you to lay on your side, holding you close to his chest. “I literally almost died and you have to ask me if I came.” you scoffed, hearing a small laugh puff from his nose. 

You exhaled, closing your eyes and melting into his grasp. “Remind me to pick up condoms tomorrow.” You murmured against his chest, being able to feel it quicken against your temple at the request.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

though this was a lil more tame, still was fucking hot to write heheheheh

[macabre-mangled]

More To Grab

Astarion x Curvy/Thick!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, blood sucking, mostly fluff, talk about body insecurities

A/N: this doesn’t take place in a specific time in the game but you can assume it’s after that confession scene

gif not mine ^^^

You could feel his eyes on you. There was something undetectable in them. It was hard to place but it almost seemed as though it was admiration. But that couldn’t be! He never said anything about his feelings about you. Surely you think you’re imagining it. It felt strange. His eyes not being blown with lust. But instead blown with something akin to affection. His scarlet eyes were focused, he hasn’t noticed that you know he’s looking at you. You follow his gaze to the love handles and extra pudge at your hips that is exposed by your father racey top. Ahhh. So it was lust. At least that’s what you thought.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm? Oh! Hello darling! Don’t mind me, just staring at your lovely and full body.”

You could see the blush decorating his cheeks but his confidence never faltered. However the lingering looks from the closed minded villagers dimmed your own. Their judge mental stares were enough for you to feel yourself shrinking. The other party members took notice quickly. Shadowheart enters your vision and whisks you away before you could dwell on it longer. You were all sat by the fire. On the outskirts of the village. You were listening to Wyll tell a story, well you were half listening. You were still thinking about the events of earlier today and it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain companion of yours. His saccharine eyes were filled with concern as he stared. He knows that you’re going to continue thinking about it all night. And he knows you shouldn’t.

“Come Darling, let’s have a little chat.”

Astarion whispers in your ear and placed a hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you towards his tent. He leans forward to look you in the eyes. His own filled with that same look that you couldn’t decipher. As you look closer you can see that he has some blood left on his lips and teeth. Presumably from his last meal. He quickly noticed your gaze on his mouth and chuckles. It’s deep and throaty. Sending shivers through your body. Warming you from the inside. His eyes glowing in the moonlight. Reminding you of a cat’s or perhaps an owlbear. It looks predatory to those who don’t know how to read his expressions. But to you it’s simply one of interest and curiosity. Before you can think any further you feel his hands squeeze your stomach. Softly kneading as if you were dough. His face lights up at the feeling and he pulls you closer. His hands wander and squeeze throughout your entire body. Hands kneading anything he can reach.

“When I said I love your body love, I meant it. You’re like a deity to me.”

“Really? But I’m-

He cuts you off before you can finish that sentence.

“Chubby? Yes I know darling. But there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact I adore it. I love feeling your body against mine and I especially love the way it looks when you’re naked.”

You scoff at his words but he continues nonetheless.

“And I love it because it’s you. I’d love you no matter what body you have. But I do adore your body. There’s more to grab. And to hold at night.”

You felt his arms tighten around you as he pulls you closer. His hands rubbing circles against your back. Humming softly. You’d probably have the same fear again but you knew he’d squash it.

[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day. 

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it. 

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid. 

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked. 

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress. 

A fucking princess style, out of all. 

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband. 

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle. 

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph. 

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch. 

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows. 

True was his possessiveness. 

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket. 

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs. 

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion. 

“You look beautiful, Princess.” 

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment. 

It was also his pride in owning you. 

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises. 

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek. 

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did. 

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like. 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin. 

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass. 

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you. 

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out. 

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body. 

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous. 

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole. 

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him. 

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet. 

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger. 

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire. 

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it. 

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp. 

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission. 

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender. 

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head. 

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation. 

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue. 

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers. 

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool? 

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe. 

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear. 

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well. 

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you. 

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom. 

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion. 

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much. 

And you feared how you may react to it. 

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth? 

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned. 

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him. 

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way. 

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage. 

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way. 

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core. 

Shit! No! 

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet! 

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look. 

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches. 

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes. 

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized. 

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers. 

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement. 

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them. 

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.     

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared. 

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity. 

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper: 

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you. 

You were a prey fully ensnared. 

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments. 

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin. 

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back. 

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled. 

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning. 

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.” 

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted. 

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you. 

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs. 

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit. 

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need. 

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing. 

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife. 

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency. 

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to. 

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves. 

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage. 

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers. 

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked. 

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring. 

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily. 

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it. 

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive. 

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it. 

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties. 

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged. 

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick. 

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction. 

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.” 

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds. 

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery. 

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well. 

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses. 

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit. 

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it. 

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee. 

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it. 

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you. 

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry. 

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound. 

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-” 

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes. 

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower. 

It almost touched your clit. 

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.” 

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure. 

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief. 

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it. 

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered. 

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you. 

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel. 

“Good girl,” he praised. 

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets. 

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that. 

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you. 

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made. 

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.” 

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran. 

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back. 

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan. 

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.” 

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you. 

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it. 

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery. 

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth. 

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation. 

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch. 

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you. 

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body. 

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist. 

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way. 

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.” 

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock. 

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke. 

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back. 

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you. 

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again. 

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen. 

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream. 

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good. 

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples. 

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl. 

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped. 

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching. 

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care. 

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue. 

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more. 

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass. 

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body. 

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.    

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal. 

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth. 

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?” 

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too. 

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress. 

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head. 

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you. 

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching. 

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did. 

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release. 

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him. 

“Fuck, Princess.”  He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.” 

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend. 

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth. 

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either. 

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him. 

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment. 

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.” 

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you. 

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out. 

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

[quokkawritesarchive]

what do I have to do to convince you to write a Hyunjin version of your recent LK fic where reader makes subby Hyunjin cum in his pants🤲🏻

EXAM — HYUNJIN.

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader genre: smut, NSFW warnings: sub!hyunjin, gn!reader, established relationship, in public, cumming in pants a/n: totally did not write that in student lounge on campus

the class was silent. only a ticking of clock signalized that the time hadn’t stopped. from time to time you could hear some talk in the auditorium, the rustle of papers and… your boyfriend’s whimpers that he was trying to hide.

were you palming your boyfriend though his pants during an exam? yes, you certainly were.

you were positive hyunjin didn’t mind. even more so, he was currently enjoying it, judging by the pleased look on his face. normally he would get mad at you, ask you to stop, but not today. you knew you could continue toying with him without any fear of being yelled at or fear of failing because you and hyunjin hadn’t studied anyway, busy fucking each other every day.

you could feel his dick perfectly, the outline of it was so vivid. he was leaking and twitching so much under your touch, it made your palm wet even though the fabric. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected by his reactions. your own breath would hitch every time hyunjin let a soft moan.

occasionally you stopped moving your hand to tease him. and he had no other choice but to do kept grinding into your palm. unable to increase the speed due to the possibility of being too loud, he could only keep pace slow, edging himself. and it only made him pant even louder.

all sounds disappeared for him. his focus was only on your hand and his twitching cock. he didn’t care if he was seen, if someone heard him moaning, if you two would get kicked out of the auditorium or even expelled…

a particularly loud whimper slipped off hyunjin’s lips, causing a few of your classmates to turn around at you.

“what’s going on over there?” professor got distracted from his activity - looking out the window - and started moving in your direction.

“nothing.” you answered, you hand not leaving hyunjin’s groin, only pressing on it harder. you heared him gasp and cover his face with his hands as you changed the position of your palm. “just stuck on a very difficult question, professor.”

with hands crossed, an old man approached you, scanning your workspace. to be fair, you even took a pen with you, knowing that you’d fail.

while you were making speeches, your hand was tightly gripping hyunjin's groin. he stirred slightly, but other than that did his best not to change his expression or make a single sound. his face was completely red, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. you were internally smiling to yourself, knowing that he was way too sensitive right now, so potentially any extra movement of your hand could made him cum in front of the professor.

“what’s there, y/n l/n?” professor pointed at your hand hiding under the table. “are you cheating?”

“no-no, how could you possible think that!” you were enjoying yourself, making a scene in front of the whole class. “see? there is nothing.”

professor sighed and gave you last warning look, leaving afterwards.

you looked at hyunjin, making it clear with one glare that if that happened one more time, he would have to save himself on his own.

he could only pout more, bringing your hand back to his crotch. you chuckled.

it was funny how before you two met, hyunjin was the best in class, never skipped on any extra work and was always ready for the exam. but you and your horniness affected him in a bad way.

“wanna go?” he playfully wiggled his eyebrows and shook his head in the direction of the door.

“we’re in the middle of exam.” you shushed. “there is only one solution.”

hyunjin gave you a questioning look. clueless baby.

you pointed your eyes at his groin, hinting what was the only solution.

“t-theree?!” he screamed in a whisper. “are you crazy?!”

“you are cumming like this or you’re not cumming.” you cut off, removing your hand away from his thigh. if he didn’t want to play by your rules - well… his loss.

hyunjin whimpered again, catching your hand mid-air, and returned it back to its previous place. oh, he was so whipped for you that the idea of cumming in a class full of people did not sound so crazy anymore.

he was whining now, softly, quietly, just for you to hear; while trying to rub against you. he was bucking his hips up as far as he could, shivering with sweat.

“aww, does my pretty boy want to cum?” you applied more pressure on his groin as he quickly shut his eyes and nodded.

you wish you could bite his lips or his neck, make him beg for your touch. if only you weren’t surrounded by so many people.

you quickly leaned over to him, just for a second, to whisper right in his ear. “then cum.”

and he was cumming. cumming hard with his eyes closed and mouth agape in silent scream. steams of cum were spurting out of his dick, staining everything - his underwear, his pants, your hand. seconds later, he came to his senses and finally covered his face. you couldn’t help, but keep the pressure on his now wet dick, overstimulating him a bit.

some of the moans were definitely loud because you saw many eyes on you again. well, you couldn’t care less when your boyfriend just came from your hand only.

when the exam has finished, you gave hyunjin your hoodie, so he could tie it on his hips. even if it looked funny for clueless people, it was better than walking him a huge stain of cum.

“y/n l/n, hwang hyunjin.” professor called you just as you two were about to leave the auditorium. “come here, please.”

you were going to ask when you could come for the retake, but you were interrupted by the professor handing you a paper.

“expelled from your class?!” you exclaimed in disbelief as you finished reading the signed document. “both of us?”

“have a nice rest of your day.” professor replied dryly and left the auditorium.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

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TAGLIST (OPEN): @hanjisung-enjoyer @fun-fanfics @soonie1010 @noellllslut @newhope8 @channiebahngswife @chanscappuccino @vivioluh @rockstrhanji @yoontaethings @katsukis1wife @caitlyn98s @yaorzu-blog @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @kpopsstuffs @ihrtlix

[athynathens]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ surprise, princess.

“If I were to flatten my tongue in this delicate pussy of yours, would you cry or mewl?”

PAIRING. Bakugo Katsuki x You/Reader

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. This oneshot covers the My Hero Academia AU. In this universe, Bakugo Katsuki is already a pro hero, but you/reader is a popular actress.

SYNOPSIS. As an actress, your job is to entertain and give content through acting. This also includes fanservice which you don’t mind. However, the only boundary you have is that you refuse to make any pornographic scenes with anyone in the movies or shows because you are only bound to your husband. But, some lunatic decided to disregard your boundary and forces you to film such a scene. Just how exactly will your husband react to this?

WARNING. minors dni, 18+ scenes, mature scenes ahead such as rough sex, cunnilingus, blowjobs, deepthroating, fingering, edging, humiliation, dirty talk, roleplay, knife play, dry humping, passionate kissing

AUTHOR’S NOTES. Idk yall, this scene just happened to popped out my head while rewatching bha lol. Besides, it sounds hot and has an intriguing plot too? So why not decide to make my imagination a reality….through writing lmao. Also please don’t attack me with my shitty smut…it’s been a while since I’ve honestly written one so go easy on me :)

You were beyond irritated, however, you stopped yourself from showing a foul expression in front of the director. This stupid son of a bitch wants you to film a sex scene for the TV series that they are currently filming. His stupid damn reason is fanservice — not that it’s a bad thing since it’s already a norm in this society, but you have boundaries when it comes to fanservices. Your only boundary is that you refuse to film pornographic scenes with anyone because your body is only for your dear husband, Bakugo Katsuki.

“With all due respect, Mr. Director, I already mentioned that I absolutely refused to film such a scene with someone else,” You reminded, praying and asking quietly for help to keep her sanity.

“Oh come on now! Your beauty is such a waste! You should share whatever you have underneath those clothes to everyone, you know?” The director grinned, looking at you up and down, analyzing you like some kind of meat.

Hold back. Hold back. Hold your fucking mouth back. “You flatter me too much. But, I still stand by my words. I refuse to film such a scene. I have my rights when it comes to choices like this,” You firmly said with a smile.

“Don’t give me that bullshit! You wanna talk about choices?! I make your choices! I make all of your choices! I don’t even know why I asked you! When I say you are filming the fucking scene, you are filming the goddamn scene! You understand, bitch?” He screamed, throwing his folder to the ground, causing everyone to flinch, but they resumed their tasks. This is a normal thing in sets so it isn’t anything special, but to think this yelling is about some narcissistic asshole who thinks the world revolves around him.

The director took a deep breath before continuing, “Your scene tomorrow will be about a gladiator from Rome who’s been in love with you so he decided that he wanted to taste you when you go back to your room in the palace. Is that clear?”

Go to hell, you stupid brainless motherfucking— “Crystal Clear.”

The director’s angry expression turned into a satisfying expression. He placed his hands on top of your shoulders. “I knew you were a good girl,” He said darkly, caressing your shoulders. “I’m sorry if I screamed. Although, I wouldn’t even be screaming if you just listened like the good little girl you are, hm?”

Die, you goddamn extra. “Yes, that was my mistake,” You smiled, trying your best to hold back a fucking punch.

The director gave her one last smile then left her to dismiss everyone on set. After that, the rest of the day just became worse for you. You spent the rest of the night just crying and sobbing at the corner of your hotel room while eating ice cream and throwing candy wrappers around. You wanted to call your husband, but you didn’t want to disturb him either since he is probably doing patrols in Japan.

“Stupid fucking director! If I only knew his attitude was like this then I should have never said yes to this fucking series!” You sniffled, getting a tissue to wipe away your tears and snots.

“AND! If only I wasn’t intrigued by the plot then, none of this would even happen! Here I thought, being away from my husband will be a pain! BUT NOOO!! Turns out! This stupid director is the real pain!” You cried out, throwing the tissue on the floor, and stomping your feet on the ground.

The TV series is called The Tyrant. It’s about the middle princess of the Roman Empire falling in love with a tyrant of a king in Greece. And since this is in the Roman/Greek setting, you can say there are a lot of sex scenes, but you’ve managed to get away from them. This is all because of the character you’re playing; your character is the sister of the Tyrant King who has the reputation of being hard on men. And, because she’s the tyrant’s sister, she’s basically untouchable.

The vibrations of your phone caused you to groan in frustration, standing up from the floor as you wobbled towards the bed to get your phone.

You only choked on your saliva to see the name. “WHAT? ITS MEH HUSBAND?!?!” You screamed in shock, losing your balance a bit and fell down to the floor.

You cursed at your stupidity, sitting back up as you fixed yourself and took a deep breath before answering the call.

“Hey, ‘Suki!! Why are you calling??” You asked, acting cheerful.

Katsuki only chuckled. “Am I not allowed to call my wife?”

Your cheeks flushed in redness. “Yes. I MEAN! No! You are allowed! Sorry! It’s just that…isn’t it late morning in Japan? During that time, you are doing patrols.”

For some reason, Katsuki’s husband's instincts activated. He can sense something is wrong with his wife. You may be a good actress, but you sure as hell can’t hide nor act away your true feelings from Katsuki.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry to break the mood, but are you alright?” Katsuki asked straightforwardly. If there is one thing he learned about relationships is when communicating, don’t beat around the fucking bush — explode your way right through it! Katuski’s words, not mine.

Your silence only confirmed Katsuki’s suspicion. “Baby, turn on your camera.”

“I-I don’t think it’s a good id—don’t make me repeat,” You shivered at this rough tone, gulping at the thought that you had to reveal your hideous self to your lover.

You hesitantly turned on the camera to see a sweaty Katsuki in his hero suit. Your cheeks flared a bit after seeing your husband’s hot state, but at the same time, you were relieved to see your husband again after 2 months apart. Katsuki fumed red to see his cute wife in this state. His veins popped out his forehead as his jaw flexed in anger — he needed to know who the hell messed with the wife of Dynamight.

“Who?” Katsuki growled angrily.

You shook your head. “Katsuki, it doesn’t even matter—everything that involves you fucking matters to me! So you better start telling me, who has hurt my wife?”

Your mouth left a sigh, refusing to even look into his intense gaze. It’s a bit funny because if she was actually in front of Katsuki, he wouldn’t have shifted your head to make you look at him. Thank the lord that he isn’t in front of you at the moment, right?

With that, you started to tell your husband everything — from the shitty director to the tantrums you made in your hotel room.

Yet, as you were explaining, Katsuki remembered the day you announced that you refused to make pornographic scenes with anyone, and this boosted his love for you even more. As the years progressed, you managed to become famous without making such a scene. You even became famous for acting in known movies of today such as Attack on Titan, Haikyuu, and others. Katuski was really proud that you made it to the top, proving to those worthless extras that you are more than just a pretty face. But as you grew more popular, the increase of demands to see you in an R-18 movie really got him possessive and jealous.

Everytime he would go on patrols, he would hear comments about his wife’s physical appearance. He heard many inappropriate and vulgar phrases that boiled his blood. But due to his hero reputation, he couldn’t just blast them off as he used to in highschool. Hence, he would often just glare down on them at such intensity. This was his only limit to tell those horny assholes off.

However, he fucking almost lost it when he heard from Izuku that the paparazzi are taking pictures of his own wife inappropriately. Of course he took action with this through court, but it wasn’t enough to soothe his frustration.

He gets super annoyed by the fact these extras think that they have a chance with you. He gets really pissed with men who ask him about his wife as if he wasn’t the husband. He gets so frustrated when girls clung up to him when they all know he’s fucking taken. He gets truly angry when people don’t know their fucking place.

“What should I do, ‘Suki?” Katuski’s train of thoughts were interrupted by your sweet voice.

The blond paused for a moment, analyzing his wife’s reactions, expressions, movements. With that, he came up with the only conclusion that will help his wife and satisfy his frustration with those pathetic extras going after his wife.

“Go to set tomorrow. I’ll deal with the problem myself,” Katsuki declared evidently, confusing you literally with what he's planning.

“Okay? Sure? But tell me what you are going to do!! So we can be on the same page!!” You asked, hoping he will answer your question.

“Just so what you always do, bunny,” Katsuki grinned.

“Act”

Your head tilted to the side, frowning in confusion as you tried to ask more questions on what’s his alibi. But he proceeded to say his goodnight and love yous before ending the call. Once again, you had the biggest “huh” plastered on your face, and the question only repeats in your head…

— what’s gonna happen tomorrow?

The next day came like a fucking flash, and you did exactly what your husband asked you to do. However, as soon as you got there, the staff just pushed you to the make-up room to prepare you. As the makeup is being done, you read the script, and you swear to Katsuki’s abs, you need to bleach your eyes with holy water. You wanted to choke in disgust with this unholy script. It’s kinda ironic given that she has done this before but only with her husband! Not with some random extra!

The staff now motioned you to dress up for the shoot. Right now, you’re really expecting that Katsuki will barge in the shooting scene and blast the director to bits. He used to do something as violent as that during your highschool days, but he stopped now that he’s a pro hero.

You stare at the mirror to see you are in your white long dress with a cape behind you, however, your back is seen by everyone. Your hair is styled with curls and has the golden leaf tiara on your head with some bangs on the front. You look beautiful, but to think you would show this beauty to someone who’s not your husband. Your eyes quivered, wanting to cry at that thought, but you held back.

You began to think, “I thought ‘Suki will do something?”

A knock on the door caught your attention, diverting your eyes to the door to see the staff asking you to take position on set. The staff also mentioned, to lift up your mood, that the director looks very pale for some reason. The staff joked that he probably met a monster or something. You giggled at the staff’s words, and it helped lift up your mood a bit.

After minutes of last minute touches with the settings and make up. Every actor went to their places as cameras began to start rolling in…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

ACTION!

“Oh by the Gods! That impudent brother of mine will never learn how to treat a lady right! Tell me Zeus! What did my brother do in his past life to bear such attitude?” You rubbed the temples of your nose as you walked through the corridors of this magnificent hall of the Roman Empire.

“Brother, I did not spend 6 months in this empire of unholiness for you to lose your lover in one sitting…” You muttered quietly, disappointed at how your dear brother treated the middle princess harshly.

“Your highness!” An attendant screamed.

You turned your head to see your personal secretary running to you with loads of papers. “What’s wrong? What has my absurd brother done again?”

The attendant let out a sweat. “You are right that it is your brother, my princess, but it’s more than that,” The latter hyperventilated. “It turns out that your mother threatens your brother to leave his lover at once or else Rome will face the consequences. I even heard that it was ordered by you.”

You let out a small growl, veins popping though your forehead. “This is what mother wants. A war between Greek and Rome for power and a war between siblings for the throne. She knows that I am the only one who is capable of stopping my brother, hence why she is using that advantage.”

“That foul ungrateful woman!” The attendant cursed.

“Indeed she is. Rest assured that I will work on a solution, but now I must return to my chambers to rest for today was tiring,” You said, gesturing to her room with her head.

“Of course, princess. Have a good rest.”

With that, you exited the scene to return to your resting chambers. Your room is an open area with the great columns surrounding the room. You were smart enough to choose a room with a great valley view and is not easily peaked through by anyone. In the middle of the room is a big circular sunken bathtub with rose petals. Your bed is found at the side with large tables filled with papers and books. You only sighed tiredly, walking to your table as you removed the tiara in your head.

That’s when you heard the doors opening.

“Perfect timing! Please tell the rest of the maids to prepare my bathing tools. I will be bathing myself today also so—” You gasped loudly when a pair of large but familiar hands grabbed your tits from behind.

Oh, you are so going to kill the actor for touching you vulgarly.

But before you can even react, those hands immediately pull your nipples, causing you to grit your teeth as you arch your back. A rough arm circled around your waist as the other hand squeezed your one tit with all his might. You gasped at this familiar sensation. This only caused you to think because this familiar sensation is only given to you by your husband…

…but there’s no way that Bakugo Katsuki is in Rome?

That’s when you heard a familiar dark chuckle. “My, oh my, princess.” Your eyes quivered at that familiar rough tone. His familiar hands grabbed both your tits once more, squeezing it but also spreading them apart, causing you to whimper.

“Who would have thought, hm?” You quivered violently as your head looked back to see a familiar blond hair. “That the great warrior princess of Greece would make such an erotic sound?”

You turned pale, freezing on the spot to see your one and only husband behind you — touching, staring, groping you.

“H-How are you he—” A large mouth held your jaw tightly, covering your mouth. Your body hair stood up at this sensation, as you stared at his intense and lustful gaze.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, princess. Don’t ask stupid questions. It’s better to worry about what's happening in front of you now.” You got caught off guard with what he said, realizing that he’s indirectly telling you to continue acting, and asking for questions is for later.

Shit! What was my line? BKBJWOWP!?! Damn you, Katsuki for being too hot! “You insolent peasant! How dare you touch someone superior to you!” You managed to speak out, despite the pleasure you are receiving from your husband.

“Superior?” He lets out a laugh, bending you with his bulky chest. “I believe that it is, I..” He whispered to your ear, fondling your tits more.

“…am superior to you.” He growled inhumanly, pushing you towards your desk. You attempted to get up, but he pinned you harder to the desk. This only brought pain to your pelvic bone and breast. Bakugo looked down to lick his lips, witnessing your struggles.

He grabbed his dagger from his sandals, spinning it around before landing the tip in your back. You shuddered below him, feeling the sharp object traced your exposed back. “Fuck, princess. Did you have any idea how much this outfit of yours arouses me? Your fucking exposed skin is asking to be touched.”

“T-That wasn’t even my intention to do—” You gasped loudly when he traced the dagger lower, circling it as he placed a bit more pressure.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. Bet you’ve been wanting men to fuck you right there? Maybe that’s the reason why you’ve been wearing such clothes…” He grinned, putting the dagger down. You immediately shook your head to respond to his question, but he gripped your soft hips, pulling them closer to his hard bulge. Your eyes went wide to feel how hard and big he is.

You turned your head to the side with the support of your shaking arms to see the huge tip poking up your ass cheeks. “Yeah, that’s right. Fucking see how hard you made me,” Katsuki licked his lips with such tantalization.

He spread your asscheeks apart to make room for the rest of his cock. You tried to grip something — anything — for support, and you ended up gripping a book. Katsuki threw his head back, feeling his cock wrapped around your warm asscheeks. “Fuckkkk, princess. This is way better than my fantasies.”

You flinched violently under him, which Katsuki noticed. His expression turned into a twisted expression, grinning psychotically at your reaction. He bent down till his bare chest touched your exposed back, he traced your stomach to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it.

He brought his head closer to your ear and whispered, “Did you like the idea of me having fantasies about you, hm?”

You were about to respond when he spoke again. “I fantasize about you every night. My cock throbs for you, princess. I would relieve myself almost everyday, trying to imagine what your walls would feel around me. I often think of ways on how to ravish your body in different positions. My mouth yearns for the taste of your exquisite pussy. Tell me, princess. If I were to flatten my tongue in this delicate pussy of yours, would you cry or mewl?”

“I-I don’t know…” You muttered softly, gripping whatever you are holding tighter.

Katsuki’s eyes looked at the wall near your bed. He grinned sinfully, already having an idea. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

He lifted you up with ease, pushing your back towards the wall as he held you tight and high. He held you up so high that you could see your entire room. The blond did not waste the time to fumble across your dress, ripping the undergarments and immediately dived down. You didn’t even have time to react, but you felt a warm sensation against your pussy.

“EEK!” You gasped, throwing your head against the wall, back arching with your teeth gritted and eyes wide.

“W-Wait!” You pleaded, but he flattened his hot tongue on your pussy harshly, not wasting any juices coming out. He continued to drag his tongue all over your pussy, tasting every single corner. You pussy twitched violently when he bit your clitoris, stimulating more juices to come out. Then, he wrapped his arms around your thighs till his hands met your pussy. He used his hands to toy with your clitoris as he sucked harder.

Your eyes went wide as you immediately held his blond hair. You instinctively pushed his head closer to your pussy. He flicked, rubbed, pinched your clitoris, causing you to jump in euphoria, as you mewl louder and louder.

That’s when you felt something warm go inside you. You screamed violently, gripping his hair tighter. His tongue started to wiggle inside you, skilfully tasting you. Your head kept going side to side, not knowing what to even do. Soon, you shivered in ecstasy which caused you to lean your upper body forward. His tongue curled, hitting a specific spot which stimulated you to roll your eyes back.

“P-Please..! S-Something’s c-coming!” You whimpered, hoping for a release soon, but that’s when he pulled away. This made you sob literally.

“W-Why…” You asked, still holding his hair. “W-Why did you stop…?”

Katsuki looked up to only shiver at the state of his wife; messy hair, sweating body, dress crumbled, eyes dilated with tears, mouth dripping with saliva. Holy fuck, his cock couldn’t possibly get harder than before. It’s been 2 whole painful months since they’ve had sex. Katsuki missed this look on your fucking face, and he’s been wanting to see more.

“Now, now, now, sweetheart. It isn’t fair that you are the only one who gets all the fun. As the princess, don’t you think it’s your duty to tend to your subjects?” Katsuki asked with a small smirk, putting you down on the ground. Your only reaction to that is stumbling on your feet. You had to hold him for support.

“I-I don’t know how to s-suck your t-thing…” You confessed shyly.

He only chuckled. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you,” He cockily said with a wink. He then dragged you to the side of your bed, and he pushed down his clothing on his lower region. You only watched, while on your knees, how his muscles flexed at every movement he does. His veins would pop out, scaring you a bit that it might pop. And oh fuck his pecs, they are fucking big and hot.

“Careful sweetheart. I might be eaten alive by your eyes,” He teased, removing the last armor attached on his body. Then, he sat down on the bed with his legs wide open, revealing his humongous cock. Hot damn his cock slapped your face as he sat down on the bed. You licked your lips as you analyzed his cock; it was infact fucking huge and veiny. His tip was already leaking as it would twitch from time to time.

“Princess.” You flinched with his husky tone.

“I am not a patient person…” He reminded, rubbing his thumb across your lips.

He stared down at your mouth sensually “I want this…” His thumb traced your lips “…small mouth of yours filled with my cock.”

He used his thumb to open your mouth wider. “Go on, princess.” He brought his cock closer to your face.

“Wrap those pretty lips around my cock.”

You licked his shaft slowly, tracing your tongue up and down. Next, you wrapped your hands around his shaft, pumping it slowly as you continued to lick areas of his cock. Katsuki threw his head back, leaning backwards as he held his body weight with his arms. He lets out a small grumble when he feels his tip being engulfed by your warm mouth. His hips stuttered, feeling his tip being sucked on harder. He gripped the sheets as his feet curled in ecstasy.

Feeling a bit braver, you began to take his cock deeper in your mouth, causing Katsuki to growl, “Damn, baby girl. Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

The sudden praise ignited something within you, so you began to suck on his cock harder as you bobbed your head back and forth. Katuski screamed in bliss, holding onto your head tightly with one hand as he began snapping his hips into your mouth. Your eyes went wide at the sudden action, tears started to form once more in your eyes.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He grunted heavily, holding your head with both of his hands, tangling your hair with his fingertips as he thrusted violently inside your mouth. Your eyes rolled back at this new sensation, his cock hitting the back of your throat which made you gag a lot.

Katsuki laughed at the state you’re at. “Yeah. That’s right!” He thrust a bit harder. “Gag on my cock, sweetheart.”

His heavy balls slapped your chin violently, inhaling that muscular gladiator scent of his. Tears began to drop from your eyes as he continued to engulf your mouth.

“Shit! Where did all your pride go, princess? Was that all just an act to rile me up?” He laughed, clenching his jaw after feeling a familiar sensation riling up.

With all of his strength, he pulled away from your mouth as he shivered strongly at the lost sensation. Meanwhile, you cough violently as you sniffle through your nose. You tried to regain the breath you’d lost while sucking his dick. While doing so, you felt warm hands cupping your cheeks.

You looked up to see Katsuki’s eyes full of love and desire. He held you higher, signaling you to stand up from the ground. After you stood up, you two finally crashed into each other’s lips. He groaned loudly, feeling the wave of happiness surrounding him after feeling his wife’s lips again. His hands traveled down his wife’s back to her ass, giving it a tight squeeze. You moaned in his mouth as you continued to passionately engulf each other’s mouths.

Due to the aggressive kissing, the two of you walked back slowly towards the bed. Katsuki sat down first, not even separating his lips from you. His hands began to slide down the strap of your dress, attempting to feel more of your skin. You brought your dress up and sat down on his lap, purposely lining the folds of your pussy on the skin of cock. The blond shivered, feeling how wet you were so he gripped your waist to pull you closer and pressed you more down his cock.

Your hands trace up his muscular shoulders and then to the back of his hair, gripping it tightly. Subconsciously, you began to rock your hips against his hard cock. Katsuki pulled back to moan at the feeling. This immediately made you rock your hips in a steady phase while holding the back of his hair.

“I’ll admit, Gladiator,” You spoke, shocking Katsuki a bit. “You have the balls to even enter the room of the sister of the Tyrant King.”

You giggled, “That’s why I wanna be honest with you, lover boy,” You whispered in his ear.

“The d-day I entered the Colosseum! You were the only gladiator that caught my attention! E-Everytime I would go to the Colosseum, I would often l-look for y-you! I also f-fantasize a-about you!” You moaned, coating his cock with your juices.

“I w-would often p-play with m-myself, t-thinking about h-how your cock would s-shape my insides! I want—fuck!—that to happen!” You whimpered, tears forming on your eyes as you try to reach for your release, thus rocking your hips faster and faster.

Katsuki’s eyes turned animalistic, holding your hips in place. You whined that your husband stopped you once again. “W-Why—Are you sure?” He asked, gripping your hips tighter.

Despite being all messed up, you knew those eyes of his; he’s asking for confirmation if it’s alright to bury his cock inside you right now.

You nodded violently. “I-I want you…! P-Please give me e-everything!”

Katsuki snapped.

“ALRIGHT, EXTRAS! STOP THE CAMERAS! EVERYONE OUT!” He roared loudly, scaring the staff and making you remember that they were filming a scene.

“B-But, Mr. B-Bakugo—didn’t you hear a word I said, you dumbfuck?” He growled one more time, interrupting the director who almost fainted in fear.

“Y-You heard the pro hero! EVERYONE! SCATTER!” The director yelled, throwing his papers in the air and ran away. Every staff laughed at this, relieved that someone has finally put that narcissistic director in his place.

You genuinely forgot that you were filming for a show, and it embarrased you a bit to show this side of yours to the staff and your co-stars. You only placed your head on Katsuki’s shoulders which made him chuckle. The blond caressed your back, comforting you with sweet words and pet names. From time to time, you would lift your head up to see if they left, but you only saw your staff giggling in excitement as your co-stars gave you a teasing smile and thumbs up. After minutes of waiting, they are finally done. They didn’t hesitate to run away to give them the privacy they needed.

With that, Katsuki lets out a loud laughter which causes you to only hit his shoulder. “Damn it, Katsuki! Why did you show up like this? You couldn’t have told me!”

“Sorry, princess,” He grinned, adding a tone with the pet name. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You only sulked, hitting his shoulders again which made him laugh. After laughing, Katsuki brought his fingers closer to your face, removing the hair that covers your beauty. “I’ve missed you, [name],” He smiled, caressing your cheeks.

“I’ve missed you too” You shyly confirmed, leaning your head towards his hand.

“Wanna continue this roleplay, sweetheart?” He asked, completely destroying the romantic tension with his horniness.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You’re into roleplay, Katsuki?” You asked, rocking your hips slowly to tease.

Katsuki chuckled, slapping your ass playfully. “Didn’t consider it first, but now I might consider it because holy fuck, you look so damn hot acting.”

You blushed with his words. “Well, I thought the same. You look really hot acting as a gladiator,” You admitted, arching your back subconsciously.

Katsuki smirked, pulling the ends of your hair down which caused you to look up. “Is that a yes, princess?”

You returned the smirk. “Show me what you’ve got, Gladiator.”

Katsuki’s eyes quivered in lust, bringing his hands on his wife’s chest to rip out the cloth. The action made your breast bounce violently, making you yelp in surprise. Before you can even react, his mouth dove down to your tits as he sucked them with all his might. He used his other hand to press your nipple down to your breast, causing you to hiccup at the action.

“‘Suki… not too r-rough..!” You pleaded, attempting to pull his mouth away from your sensitive breast.

“Oi,” He growled, grabbing your jaw roughly and stared at you with intense eyes. This psychotic-like gaze made you pale in sweat. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, princess.”

“If I want to do something to you, you will fucking accept it,” The hand on your jaw traced down your breast.

“Meaning, if I want this…” He stopped his hand on your stomach. “Filled with my seed, then it will be filled with my fucking seed.”

Your eyes went wide, standing up from his lap as you attempted to run away from this mad man. Your heart dropped when you felt yourself being pushed roughly onto the bed. You fell by your side as you bounced a bit. Your teary eyes opened to see that the gladiator is on top of you.

“There’s no use of running away, princess,” He chuckled, getting the ends of your hair.

“And even if you run, I will find you, sweetheart,” His lips kissed the ends of your hair as he locked his lustful and intense gaze on your soul.

Katsuki licked his lips, seeing how you were displayed below him. Your eyes are dilated with tears with your cheeks red as lips are puffy. The dress is now torned apart, leaving only the lower skirt; this new look on you only emphasized how erotic you look. Your thighs locked together, staring at him with such a look. And fucking hell your breast, they were smuddered with his salvia and bites.

He wanted — no wait — he craved more.

With that, he grabbed his throbbing cock, giving it a few pumps. Then, he aligned it on your vagina area. That’s when you shot your head up, feeling his twitching tip at your entrance.

“W-Wait! G-Give me a momen—” You screamed when he rammed everything in. Your entire body was trembling violently with your back arched and eyes rolled back. Katsuki almost came when he felt the smooth walls of his wife again. He felt his hips twitching, almost releasing his seed inside of her.

You tried to grab something, anything, but your hands just kept thrashing around.

Katsuki licked his lips, combing his hair back. “You feel this, princess?” He asked, tracing to your abdominal, touching the place where he can feel the tip of his cock.

He bent down and whispered, “Your tight cunt managed to take all of me.”

He rolled his hips slowly and gently. “Ya feel that?” He smirked, pressing down your abdomen which stimulated something inside you.

You only replied with a loud whimper. “W-WAIT! D-Don’t do that!” You begged, attempting to remove his hands. Katsuki only scoffed, pressing his hand down further. This action made you come as eyes rolled back with back arched.

This made the blond left with utter shock. You came, and he hasn’t done anything to you just yet. Although he flinched as soon as he felt your walls tightening, and this made him laugh out loud. Your teary eyes only stared at him with shock, getting scared with what’s going to happen.

Katsuki then wrapped his hands around your neck, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’ll be damned, princess. You creamed my dick pretty damn good.”

A tear fell down from the side of your eye in embarrassment, attempting to hide your face. “D-Don’t say t-that…”

Katsuki’s eyebrow arched. “That what? The warrior princess creamed a mere gladiator’s cock?” He gave you one hard thrust.

“It’s too late to have regrets, sweetheart because tonight’s about ravishing my very own ambrosia,” He declared lustfully.

He pulled out his cock, leaving the tip only to only slam everything back inside you harshly. You choked a sob, your tears falling down your eyes at the feeling. He continued to rock his hips in a rough matter, only leaving his fat tip inside then slamming back inside you. Fucking hell, you can feel the bed creaking like crazy from the brutal force Katuski’s giving you.

Katuski indeed fucks you like you are his last ambrosia ever. His hips continued to abuse your pelvis with his brutal force, causing you to scream loudly at the pain and pleasure. His hands gripped both of your tits, holding it tightly as he threw his head back at this feeling. You can only hold his wrists, attempting to remove his hands away from your sensitive breasts.

“Shit, shit, shit…!” He gasped, shaking in pleasure as he pressed his finger down your nipples.

Your eyes rolled back, arching your back as you came again violently.

Katsuki laughed darkly. “Yeah, that’ fucking right. Cream on my cock, princess!”

You jolted when he actually pulled out, causing you to whine a bit at the lost feeling. But your eyes went wide when he flipped you over like a ragdoll. You are now on your knees with your back arched. His hands fumbled your lower skirt, ripping it to pieces, making your entire body presented to him. He did not waste time and shoved everything back inside harshly, causing your body to move forward.

Your pupils shrunk in shock, feeling his cock even more in this position. You can properly see how his cock harshly pushes inside you — holy fuck, you can feel his pre-cum too. He bent down, colliding his chest to your back as he traced his hand to your pussy while the other was wrapped around your neck.

You choked once again, feeling yourself being suffocated with his hands while shuddering at his fingers stimulating your abused pussy. He kept rubbing it harshly while assaulting your pussy with his cock. In impulse, you hold his hand that’s choking you as more tears flow down more.

“S-Slow down, p-please..!” You begged, feeling yourself too stimulated already.

“Go faster? You got it, sweetheart,” He grinned, inserting a finger inside your pussy as he rammed his cock inside you even faster and harder.

You screamed. Your tits violently moving up and down at the rough pace, your thighs shaking again as you can feel something building up again. You know it’s coming — you fucking know it. There’s no way in hell you can hold this back.

“Hold it! Hold it! Fucking hold it!” He slapped your ass, grabbing both of your arms, holding them together behind your back.

“Disobey, and watch me edge you over and over again,” He roughly grunted, pushing his hips forward brutally.

You can only whine in return, forcing yourself to hold it in, no matter how hard and painful that can be. To help you hold your orgasm, you hold the sheets till your knuckles turn white. Your toes curl till you can’t even feel them anymore.

Katsuki grumbled, “Fuck! Here it is!” He gripped your hips tighter, pounding faster and rougher. He can see how your skin bounces back and forth from every thrust he makes. He subconsciously licked his lips at this alluring sight. Katsuki continued to use your hips at a rapid speed, throwing his head back in ecstasy.

You felt his hips stutter, signaling you he was about to release. Katsuki chuckled, feeling your soft walls getting tighter, “You better cum with me, Princess.”

And you did.

You came in unison with your husband.

Tears fell down your eyes, pupils rolled back as your hips stuttered at the feeling of the hard orgasm from your husband. His thick and hot cum invaded your insides, causing you to shiver in delight. You gasped in shock, feeling your husband still hard. Your head shook in disbelief, knowing what’s going to happen next.

“‘Suki, a-are you gonna pull out?” You asked.

Katsuki chuckled, “You want me to pull out?” He grinned, pulling your ass cheeks apart, glimpsing your wet juices and mixed cum dripping from your pussy.

He rocked his hips slowly, “We ain’t even finished yet, princess.”

Oh, sweet mother of—

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩.

[pandorasprongs]

JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes

You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office. 

But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.

It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job. 

You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.

You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.

"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.

"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."

"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.

"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become. 

He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City. 

You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building. 

You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.

Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you. 

Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.

So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible. 

You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.

As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."

Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.

"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.

"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.

"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.

"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.

"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."

"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.

"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.

"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training. 

You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him. 

"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.

"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.

"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."

"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.

Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?" 

The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.

——

For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode. 

Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams. 

"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."

"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.

Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.

"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system." 

This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.

You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.

You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.

You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"

Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.

Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?

You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"

"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."

You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.

"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."

“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.

But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.

Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.

Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.

After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.

Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach. 

"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.

"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.

"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.

You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.

Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.

The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"

That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.

—

Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.

New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.

Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"

You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.

You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.

The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.

You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."

Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type." 

Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"

"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.

"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."

"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.

—

The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.

You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.

When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.

Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.

"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway." 

The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.

They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"

But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.

At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.

Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."

"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.

Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.

Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.

Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."

The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.

"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.

"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”

You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"

If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.

"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"

The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.

You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.

"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.

Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"

Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.

You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.

You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.

As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?" 

Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."

You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."

You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.

The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.

You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.

Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."

"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.

[tocomplainfriend]

SEE!? THEY DON'T CARE!

TW: Rape, SA, Homophobia, Misogyny, Misandry

The specific censored word with "-", it's for my own reasons and comfort. It's not censored up and in tags due to filtering! Sorry if I made mistakes like forgetting of filtering or similar, I haven't used tumblr much before!

THIS IS A R-PE JOKE! THAT'S WHAT I HAVE BEEN FUCKING SAYING! ONE OF MY BIGGEST PROBLEMS WITH EPISODE 4 IS THE FACT OF "we want to write an empowering story about men getting sexually assaulted. Men victim don't get that attentio-" BITCH, YOU MADE MANY R-PE AND SA JOKES ALL THE FUCKING WAY THROUGH HELLUVA AND KNOW HAZBIN! You are the one making fun of scenarios where your male characters get assaulted or r-ped.

HOW TF DO YOU PRETEND TO BE SOOO ABOVE PEOPLE (INCLUDING VICTIMS OF SA AND R-PE) THAT'S EXPRESSED HOW THEY FELT ON THE EXECUTIONS AND WHO WORKED IN EPISODE 4. WHEN YOU YOURSELF MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT????? For some context, Sir Pent is trying to get with Cherri, but always deflects first in case she rejects him. He offers her a drink, but immediately says it's because he'll buy a drink for everyone on the club. Then he asks Cherri if they can have sex- and deflects back (a repetition joke) "Because I'll have sex with everyone here". Then he gets dragged into a room by other people, yelling wait and no! And the door closes as you heard him scream.

Out of context in the screenshot, you might even think it might be a serious scene where something happens to Pentious. BUT NO! IT'S BRUSHED OVER REAL FAST AND PLAYED AS "HAHA SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN TO SIR PENTIOUS AGAIN LMAOO"- it's the punchline.

Then at the end of the episode he gets out asking "Where is Cherri" (who btw is having sex with a random guy).

And please don't say "Well, he asked for it"- you know how you sound. The whole point of the joke is that he is trying to get with Cherri and failing astronomically. The point here is that he really doesn't want to have sex with a bunch of random people, but he has to do it because he is getting dragged into a room. (Again, Pentious is like Moxxie Their joke it's getting trashed and bullied by the world or people around them).

You made a whole episode about dealing with a male character's sexual assault, abuse or r-pe. Saying how much you respect victims, and your episode, it's just perfect about the topic. BlaBlaBla- no, you don't. You made all this jokes since HB season 1. This new joke was episode 6 of HH. You never acknowledge power dynamics, or coercion. You never acknowledge anything bad in your show.

Remember, as much as this shows go for LGBTQ+ representation and Queer media. As a ""Female lead show"". This jokes link back (not only to making fun of SA and R-pe itself, but to) homophobia and Misogyny. A scenario of where a man gets SA'ed or r-ped by another man or woman- leads to a scenario where the character is made fun of for not being "masculine enough" for being a victim or for not being able to defend themselves. In a scenario where this happens by a man to man, "It's funny because the victim is viewed as gay. As less masculine = gay and that's bad cause gay = weak and feminine and the idea of feminine = weak".

(There are a few jokes here and there, like Blitzo touching Moxxie's dick after making fun of him for having a baby penis.)

If you didn't notice, Moxxie gets attacked by multiple succubus, and that's apparently funny. KEEP IN MIND is not basic physical violence-no he comes out with lipstick kisses marks, the sounds effects are (ugh)... and Blitz tells him "Don't let them access any of your holes". In other concepts, I want to point out that the times when Moxxie is viewed as a bottom or feminine- he is made fun of. When Millie pegs him, he is made fun of because he is the man of the relationship, being implied as the bottom. When he wears the outfit of unhappy campers, he is extra objectified or made fun of even more than in any other episodes. He is also forcefully put on a dress in his wedding.

He is made fun of for being SA'ed for being uncomfortable scenarios:

These aren't jokes made by characters that "are bad because they are from hell". These are scripted jokes written by a person searching for the audience to laugh.

AND the reason why many audiences accept this jokes or even find them funny is because of some of these views (internalized or not) above. You'll also notice how all these jokes are directed at men (if you find an R-pe or SA joke directed at a woman in this two show, say something about it! POINT IT OUT!). People accept and write these jokes more because they care less about the idea of a man being a victim of such situation. More often than not- in the present, a woman getting assaulted or anything similar in any media gets noticed and called out. THESE JOKES OR THE NORMALIZATION OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT, ASSAULT, COERCION, OR SIMILAR TOWARDS WOMAN STILL HAPPENS!!!! There is an idea that men just tend to just want sex all times at any time. -And that a man getting SA'ed or r-ped by a woman it's just sex, cause "Why wouldn't you like free pussy". When it's a gay perpetrator is viewed as funny cause "that makes you gay or a woman" and that's apparently hilarious. Men can be r-ped no matter what. Men can be targets of all of these acts.

Remember that all the scenes of sexual abuse, harassment and r-pe in Poison are directed by the R2. Who, once again, is into r-pe porn- and they themselves said they are not an SA victim either. So remember, not even a victim trying to cope with their own R-pe or SA. This person draws and ships "R-pe ships", and tags it as "naughty men uwu" bullshit. Also, a person so obsessed with the character of Angel that they changed their name to Tony (Angel's real human name), make themselves look like him, and become a sex worker like Angel. They themselves looked at a comic of Val threatening r-pe and abuse on Angel as "thank good you have balls to draw something mean with these too, I was so bored" ???? (this stuff is in:) and cosplay and take photos of your Val x Angel ship

Congrats if you as a victim yourself thought that the scene with Angel was good. If it helped you be and feel seen. But remember the rest of the show, the hypocritical writers, don't care enough to view it as a serious topic to not joke about. Both HB and HH written by the same people (as in Vivziepop), take their sweet time to turn these topics into jokes.

What pisses off more, it's the trying to make yourself be viewed as a sensitive person about such topic. Make it seem like you are a savior for writing about it in such "serious, powerful and not sugar coded" way. But then you drop that on the fucking ground to make a joke about it when you are tired of pretending you are so good. If you were so informed of SA and r-pe, you wouldn't be making these jokes. If you knew how much SA male victims struggle to get viewed as serious or their stories taken into account-you wouldn't be this shitty.

God, you are so proud of the joke too.

My poor snake guy... one of the few characters that I like-

[milksuu]

❀. │GIRL DINNER (O2)│. ❀

❥ prompt: You're hungry. You want food. You want a snack. You just want SOMETHING. You send your HEARTSTEEL boyfriend(s) on a food-run adventure. Let's see what each boy brings back. ❥ content/warnings: sexually suggestive themes, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel (sett, yone, k'sante) / f!reader

SETT

foot-long sub and gatorade

When it comes to feeding you, Sett isn’t willing to compromise. He goes big, or he goes home. And he’s not going home empty handed. 

He Facetime’s you when he’s at the Deli counter of the local grocer, where the sub-meat selection is divine, options are abundant, and the portions are unbeatable. 

When you say you want double amounts of meat, you’re getting it. When you tell him you want more toppings, it’s done. Oh, you want your bread extra toasted and slathered in condiments? Baby, it’s yours. No problem—he’s got you.

When he comes home, you get a running head start, and jump into his arms without warning. The man has no trouble catching you, ever. 

As he greets your neck with a kiss, you lean and whisper into his soft ears about wanting to ‘share some’ with him. Since Sett has an uncontrollably tendency to go over-board with anything portion related, he’s more than willing to help you out. He understands you can't finish most things by yourself. Especially if he's the one serving you.

You huff with an embarrassed whine, shaking your head. You weren't talking about the food! 

Sett finally catches on by the squeezing of your legs around him, the flush of your cheeks, and the hot puffs you tow against his twitching ears. He hums a low and warm grumble at the insinuation. That large hand cradling your bottom squeezes in all the right places. It's enough to elicit a satisfied cry from your lips.

Sett really didn’t come home empty handed. In more ways than one.

YONE

home cooked meal and water

Yone was an expert and perfectionist—especially in the kitchen. Why would he buy you anything processed and unhealthy when he could make anything you desired? He wasn’t going to tolerate you poisoning yourself. Not on his watch. 

Insisting on cooking for you, you watched at how meticulous he was in the kitchen. His expertise with a knife was incomparable. You never realized chopping vegetables could be a discipline and an art form.

When he finished garnishing the plate, he served you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think the dish came straight from a Michelin five-star restaurant!

Not allowing it cool, you burned your tongue on your first bite. Yone chastised you (one of his ways of showing affection) before taking the next helping, and blowing away the steam. He raised the fork to your lips.

Yone was always cool, calm, and collected—but would then do things that were heart-pounding, sweet and seductive. You felt silly with embarrassment. You shook your head, declining his help.

Unacceptable. Yone took your chin without a word, pressed his lips against yours, and slipped a tongue to open your mouth. When you gasped a moan, he abandoned your mouth, and placed the food inside. He encouraged you to chew thoroughly, but all you wanted to do was collapse.

Yone was definitely an expert and perfectionist—at driving you absolutely mad about him.

K'SANTE

take-out and bottle of wine

K’Sante was never about the ‘Netflix and chill’ thing. More like the ‘Netflix and serve my Queen’ scene. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

Knowing your favorite restaurant, he orders express delivery and pops the cork off of a pricey bottle of wine.

K’Sante has everything ready for the night. Lights dimmed, scented candles lit, and Netflix show ready to go at the press of a button. 

Like the Casanova he is, he serves you everything first. All the while showering you with compliments about how beautiful you are. K’Sante isn’t ashamed of expressing himself to what he likes—which is obviously you. 

After eating and having your fill of wine, you relax further into the couch with him. All the while, watching your shared guilty-pleasure reality TV-show; 'Too Hot To Handle'

The wine seems to get the better of you two. Spooning you from behind, you turn over a cheek expecting to see K’Sante watching the TV. Far from it—his lustrous gaze is on you. He graciously takes your mouth. Slow and passionate. And you can taste the spice of the wine. 

With eyes closed, you feel his trained hand slide across your waist, and slip between your thighs.

K’Sante wasn’t done serving his Queen. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

[messiahzzz]

i’m not here to claim that wyll doesn’t deserve more extra content or that larian’s perspective of him isn’t rooted in racism in any way whatsoever. however, i sincerely believe that it’s always important to list the facts first before misinformation continues to spread which only results in more needless outrage.

these are all of wyll’s scenes that exist in the game as of now:

meeting karlach, mizora, and his transformation, the tiefling party kiss, the dance scene, mizora visiting camp, another scene where mizora visits camp, and the proposal scene. additionally, mizora and uldred can join camp, if he is alive.

in strict comparison - this is the exact amount of scenes the other origin characters have:

Astarion has 9 scenes, 6 of which can possibly be romantic.

Lae’zel has 7 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Shadowheart has 6 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Gale has 6 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Karlach has 4 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Wyll has 5 non-standard dialogue scenes, 2 of which can possibly be romantic.

source: [x]

wyll is lacking one scene compared to characters like shadowheart and gale. lae’zel merely has another non-standard dialogue scene, while astarion has double the amount of possible romance scenes and 9 scenes in total.

here is a video of wyll’s entire story: [x] at a duration of 2:25:24 in total it’s very similar in length to the romances of the other companions the same channel uploaded. (minthara & halsin excluded)

i have also seen many people refer to the datamined voicelines as proof of how much content wyll lacks. this, however, doesn’t tell us much since those compilations include battle grunts, noises, and other repeated lines. if you want to check them out for yourself, here is chubblot’s playlist on youtube: [x]

wyll’s romance/approval-specific greetings also exist, they are merely bugged. although i have heard that some people have been able to trigger them. bugged content is something that also affects other companions – in fact, most of gale’s romance scenes and some integral dialogue have been bugged for months now with no fixes anywhere in sight. if you don’t want to look for wyll’s greetings in the files, i took the liberty of doing it for you:

alas, his general reactivity after act i remains the same as with the others. aka: he's barely responsive to his surroundings nor to any key decisions the player makes.

wyll also isn’t the only character who isn’t able to make his own choice on whether he agrees to sell his soul for his father’s life or not. in fact, the only characters who can decide their own fate are shadowheart and lae’zel. the latter option only now being added with patch 6.

so what exactly did wyll get after patch 6? the same amount of kisses like everyone else: 4 in total. as well as some new idle animations and polished facial expressions. the kiss where he invites tav for a quick twirl had already been added in an earlier update (patch 5, 30th november 2023). which means it’s understandable that certain characters who didn’t receive any new animations or other content before were now added with patch 6 as well.

wyll’s quest regarding ansur also didn’t get removed from the game. this is plain false. larian merely changed the subcategory in the journal (which larian had done previously with astarion’s gur-related quest as well)

if you have a gripe with this particular decision: that is valid. the quest, however, is still the exact same as it was before.

i see fandom heading in this really dangerous direction where people fully believe they have the right to attack others for pointing out the existence of false information. i understand that people are upset about wyll having less content than characters like astarion and i am in no way here to claim that you should refrain from calling out racism where it’s due. however, this hostile behavior directed at anyone who dares to disagree with you is creating a really toxic environment within online spaces, where people hesitate to engage with the wyll side of the fandom at all (out of fear of immediately receiving the racist card for merely correcting inconsistencies in logic). and in case it needs to be said again: it is never justified to harass real people or send death threats to others under any circumstances, much less if it concerns a fictional character.

i, much like everyone, really want wyll to receive more love from fandom and larian alike. but it is no one’s place to police other players on how they should engage with this specific character in their own game. if others simply couldn’t connect to wyll as much as you personally have – for whatever reason – that is on them. it's them who are missing out. this shouldn’t hinder your enjoyment of this character in any way or discourage you from creating more fan content.

TL;DR: it’s completely valid to request more wyll content, but please don’t resort to “demands” or public pressure directed at the devs. this is only doing more harm in the long run (to wyll’s, as well as his fanbase's reputation within the rest of the fandom instead of actually accomplishing much). don’t spread misinformation that he’s the only one of the companions who is continuously receiving the short end of the stick in terms of content, general reactivity, and bug fixes. if anything, the biggest difference is between him and astarion (again, much like every other companion).

🙏 please be respectful to each other 🙏

update, 19th february:

a user suggested providing an alternative to petitions on this post and linking directly to larian’s official feedback form, which you can find here: [x]

you’ll be able to add screenshots of the specific issue you’re reporting. keep in mind that you need to name your exact game version if you plan to send in a report. i’ve had larian ask me to send them the specific game files in the past, so it’s best to keep them on hand in advance.

larian also has a faq page on how to submit a general bug report [x]

here is an example of what to write:

(I’d like to address the disparity in content between Wyll and the other origin companions.) As of now, Wyll is lacking an entire scene compared to the rest of the characters, and his romance-specific greetings remain bugged as well. The lack of equal scenes makes Wyll’s story feel lackluster at times and undermines the pacing of his romance and overall character arc. It is very disheartening for POC players specifically to see racial biases reflected in his treatment and that Wyll didn’t receive the same amount of resources. Considering his narrative role as the Grand Duke's son he also deserves to be in the spotlight. When can we expect any fixes or additional content?

[morthra]

tensions | g.s

pairing : geto suguru x reader

warnings : fluff, snuggling, kissing, hugging, slightly uncanon, injured reader, geto liking reader, one bed trope

contents : reader is gender neutral. cocky geto. very subtle enemies to lovers.

you were paired with geto for a mission somewhere in tokyo. you find everything fine except for the fact that geto suguru is a complete jerk. everytime you both partner up, it always ended with some yelling and arguing, sometimes fighting if things get heated up enough.

this time though, it feels different from the usual mission. the higher ups had warned you both to be extra careful. you didn't mind it much until you and geto arrived at the scene, you were rethinking your decisions as you looked around the place.

the whole building was filled with cursed spirits. the eerie feeling made the hairs behind your neck rise. you glanced at geto, taking in his expression. he looks surprisingly calm? wait, is that a smirk?

a sound of someone clearing his throat made you stop what you're doing. you straightened up and took a step forward, "let's go?" you said, unsure.

geto walks ahead of you without saying anything, as if you were never there with him. you followed him inside the building and got to work.

thankfully, the mission went well. only a few scratches formed on your arm and neck, deep enough to draw blood. and there is geto, unscathed. not a single scratch or bruise were on his body. geto looks down at you, smirking to himself. "seems like someone had it rough" geto chuckled smugly.

you just scoffed, trying to balance yourself as you got up. you stumbled on something and was about to fall before geto caught you. geto clicks his tongue as he helped you stood up.

"you don't have to do that cheesy shit" you sneered. he gave you a look, "it'll be more work if you fell down, don't wanna carry you all the way back to the hotel" geto said. you gave him a playful eye roll and started to walk towards the hotel.

it was a long walk filled with silence. not even you or geto have said anything. geto was about to say something but stopping when you opened the door to your shared room.

a sigh was heard beside you "they can't afford for an extra bed?" geto said, a slight annoyed tone can be heard in his voice. you shrugged and walked into the room, accepting the fate. you placed your stuff on the floor.

after a quick shower, you head straight to the bed. "take the couch" you said lazily, getting comfortable on the bed. "don't wanna risk getting my neck sore. move" he said, flatly. you stayed there unfazed. geto mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch, but who cares anyway. geto took one of the pillows and decided to rest on the couch instead, the lights flicked off before he do so.

you woke up in the middle of the night, dreamed about the mission earlier. you remember geto being touchy and protective of you today, shielding you from the cursed spirits thinking you wouldn't notice but you did. sitting up slowly you laughed before stopping as you felt a hand wrapping itself on your waist, you looked down to see geto snuggled close to you.

geto moved slightly, pulling you closer to him. you sighed and decided to go back to sleep. he snuggled closer and nestled his face on your neck, his steady breath hitting your skin. you placed your hand on his back, caressing it slowly as you began to feel sleepy again. ignoring the warm feeling on your cheek, and the butterflies in your stomach.

"couldn't sleep?" a deep voice shot you awake. you see geto looking at you half sleep.

"just some dreams" you told him. "about me?" geto said, grinning slightly. you chuckled, ignoring the weird feeling in your stomach. "go back to sleep, suguru" you replied hastily when geto just laughed at you being embarrassed.

geto's hand wandered over your left arm, "still hurt?" he said as he caressed your arm gently. you looked over to the wound on your arm before looking back up at him, "a bit, yeah" you replied to him smiling a little. geto gets up just enough to reach your left arm and leans in closer to place a gentle kiss on it. he backed up and looked at you "tell me if you need anything, okay?" he said softly. you smiled and nodded, geto pulled you closer to him as he began to drift away to sleep.

you followed him soon after, resting your head on geto's chest as he caressed your back slowly. you may hate him for how he acted before, but right now feels perfect.

[thedevilspearl]

➛ out of office hours

a/n: been craving a ceo!luci for so long so i decided to write it myself and i’m in love with him >_< am also thinking about him falling in love with you and i just—! <333333

tags: 4.2k words, ceo!lucifer x secretary!reader, female reader, dom!lucifer, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, ass slapping, degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation. minors do not interact!

you always felt the need for professionalism in your role as a secretary. especially with a boss as hot as yours.

he was terrifying at first, you will admit that. but having the raven–haired man bare down at you with those unruly eyes was the most exciting thing about the job. from the beginning, he watched you closely, his gaze raking up and down your form, taking in the way you do things so perfectly.

your profession is simple enough; organising files, preparing his documents, reading and directing e–mails and scheduling all of lucifer’s appointments are the routine kind of things you do.

but every now and then, a splash of wild colour enters the monotonous life as a secretary, and you find yourself on your knees beneath your cold and grumpy boss.

“that’s it,” lucifer sighs. “just like that.”

today was a world–wind of emotions for both you and lucifer. as the ceo, he is bound to have days filled with stress. and on those days, your bound to feel it tenfold as you are the one doing all of the work behind the scenes, supporting him as best you can.

through all the excessively long and draining meetings and the ruthlessly hectic business environment, you both managed to make it back in the office, despite it being late into the evening, long after business had closed for the day.

he finishes up some work on his computer, work you will need to catch up on later, and hums from the warmth of your mouth running up and down his cock. he relaxes into his chair, no longer paying attention to his screen and looks down at you tucked snugly under his desk.

squeezed in the space between his thighs, you forge eye contact with him as he brushes his hair back with slender fingers, revealing a slightly sweaty forehead and reddened cheeks.

you’re aware of how hard he tries to maintain the classic ceo persona — an emotionless robot who cares only for money and power — but when he’s with you, when he’s fucking you and using you and allowing you to use him how you please….it’s a marvel, to say the least.

his blush is enhanced with the ruby glimmers in his irises but the dark, lustful entity behind those eyes spur you on.

a mixture of whispery groans and praises escape him and you take it as your signal to suck in harder, then to tease him by pulling back and swirling your tongue around his cock, paying extra attention to his sensitive tip before taking him whole in your mouth again.

“mmh….fuck, keep doing it like that.” he orders and you obey.

you wonder if the pleasure you thrust upon him is what takes his moodiness away. seeing him slip into his relaxed self, his greedy and self–indulgent self while he gets off on your mouth is surely a sight no one else would see.

as far as you know, you’re the only one who does these things with him.

not that it’s an exclusive relationship, but lucifer has expressed he would only do such things with people he trusts and you happen to be one of them. conveniently, the only one he has regular access to.

and that’s how this situation began.

it’s rare, but every now and then when either of you need relief, you use each other. there are rules in place, of course. there always are with a man like lucifer.

the typical things like no strings attached and no kissing.

but your least favourite rule is no fucking.

feelings, kissing and fucking: all three of them would decimate the professional boundaries you have in place.

but that’s not to say you don’t have fun without all of that.

using your hands and mouths on each other is satisfying enough. and the opportunity to even look at lucifer’s cock, let alone suck him dry, is more akin to a blessing.

the feel of his cock in your mouth will never grow old. you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder and humming so the vibrations can send waves of pleasure up his cock and into his body. he twitches, rutting his hips into you, no longer restraining himself.

his hand plants itself into you scalp, using your head as he pleases until hot cum blasts into your mouth and his hips stutter between your lips. you watch with wide eyes as his face contorts in pleasure, and you feel your panties grow more soaked in your arousal.

you had already removed your shoes and blazer, but while you swallow the remnants of lucifer’s cum, you unbutton your shirt and kick off your skirt, leaving your bra and panties for him to remove. he steadily reaches behind you, not breaking eye contact, and unclasps your bra.

his dark orbs finally move away from yours, only to remain stuck on you breasts and perky nipples. you don’t miss the swipe of tongue across his lips; he’s hungry.

pulling him from his trance, you work on his own shirt, unbuttoning and pulling it from him with zeal. he meets your eagerness by pushing you down on his desk, tracing his fingers over your ankles and up your calves. he leaves kisses along the inside of your thighs, promising to go further.

and when he reaches the apex, he chuckles softly at the soaked stain leaking through your panties. you bare your wetness proudly, and his cock twitches knowing it’s all due to him. one chaste kiss over your panties causes you to quiver and a moment later, your panties are ripped from you.

your pussy glistens in the dimmed light of his office and your boss, who is a man with little time, wastes none when it comes to devouring you.

his hot mouth collides with your already burning pussy and you whine wantonly. he slobbers all over you, mixing your arousal with his own saliva before sucking it all back into his mouth. his tongue tickles between your folds, swiping up and down and swirling circles at the top where your most sensitive part hides.

and just when your clit is ready to explode with pleasure and send it adrift throughout your body, he smacks harsh, wet kisses on your lips, sucking and nibbling like his life depends on it.

“fuck! lucifer!” you squeal. “please make me cum!”

he buries his head deep between your thighs and you lock him in. you yearn for release and grind your hips into his face, to which he responds by licking and sucking your pussy with more vigour. and as you rock your pussy on his face, the pleasure builds up and explodes in an electrifying burst.

ripples of exultation flood your body, nourishing your flesh with the meaning of true bliss; a cause for you nerves to jubilate and rejoice. sparks dance along your skin and lucifer pulls away, gasping between your trembling thighs with his face glossed over from your pussy.

he kisses his way up slowly, leaving marks on your stomach and giving special attention to your breasts. he eyes you as he takes each nipple one after the other, and sucks. falling onto your elbows, you throw your head back and attempt to catch your breath, but lucifer makes that difficult as his lips snake up the skin of your neck and capture your lips in his own.

the sweet taste of your essence coats your tongue, but what surprises you more is how casual lucifer’s lips feel against yours. it’s the first kiss you’ve shared, yet it feels like you’ve kissed him a million times before, like he’s the only man you should ever kiss.

tiny cracks appear in the set of rules. he shouldn’t have kissed you, and you most certainly should not be kissing him back.

but you wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently telling him you are fine with this. more than fine, actually. you would rather die than move away from him now.

wrapped so closely together, embraced in each other’s lips and arms, it feels like it should be no other way.

his tongue reaches in and toys with yours in a playful fight for dominance and you hope this forbidden kiss could last forever, but you pull back slight when his cock rubs against your sensitive clit.

a single look to him to ask what he is doing earns a single look from him, signifying what he wants next.

you shouldn’t.

you absolutely should not do this.

but no matter how many times you remind yourself how wrong it is in these few short moments, your body speaks for itself and you nod. lucifer’s shoulders visibly relax, as if he was scared you would say no.

you can’t feel guilty about this, not when lucifer wants it as much as you. he strokes his cock, eyes furrowed from the battle waging in his mind. he’s as conflicted as you, but in times like this, he is hopeless in the fight against his lust.

“are you sure you want this?”

“yes,” you gasp. “are you?”

“i wouldn’t have gotten this far if i didn’t.”

you hesitate for a moment, but he assures you with his charming words, whether they speak the truth or otherwise.

“you needn’t worry about the repercussions. this is purely for stress relief.”

you’re sure the sinking feeling in your chest is a bad sign, knowing it hurts that all of this is just for the release of pent up stress. but still, your body is greedy enough to bury that bitter hesitance deep down and replace it with more lust.

“then stop talking and do it,” you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer so his cock prods your entrance. “don’t take your time with me, lucifer. i’m not a patient woman.”

his softness is gone instantaneously and like a flash of lightening, you are shocked by how quickly he can switch from his relaxed and vulnerable side to his authoritative and commanding façade.

“you ought to show more respect to your boss,” he leans down, close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “you’ve forgotten your manners.”

“i hardly think manners are necessary. with this, at least.”

“hm, well, you see,” he taunts. “i won’t give you anything unless you ask for it nicely. and you’re not a patient woman, so how long are you going to wait for it?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, hoping lucifer would hop straight into fucking you senseless. but you forgot how much of a control freak he is, and how everything happens his way or it doesn’t happen at all.

you hoped the lenience and generosity he has for you would work in your favour, but apparently not.

“i don’t need to ask again,” he warns. “tell me what you want and say please.”

you bite your lip, glaring at him daringly but a single stern look puts you in your place and speaking the words you both desperately need to hear.

“please, i want you to fuck me.”

he stares you dead in the eye as he utters another order.

“say it again.”

“please, lucifer,” you whine. “fuck me, please!”

in a moment’s turn, he flips you so your feet touch the ground and his large hand on your lower back pushes you into the edge of his desk, while the other lines his cock with your sopping entrance.

he slips in, teasing you and earning a moan as he slowly rocks his hips, entering you further with each roll of his hips.

you push your body against him, and his cock digs further into your pussy. you keep rocking, both in unison until his cock is deep enough for you to scream his name.

“lucifer—ah!”

your squeal is cut short when he ruts into you again, slamming his hips against your ass and groaning from the tight warmth of your pussy enveloping his aching cock.

both of you are so lost in the wonders of each other’s body that the abrupt, high–pitched chiming almost goes unnoticed.

shrill ringing of the telephone on lucifer’s desk threatens to dampen the mood. but lucifer’s cock has only just entered and you’re not far away from the best part of the night. to hell with the phone call, lest it disturb your secret pleasure time with your boss.

“what are you waiting for?” lucifer rubs your hips with a subtle but notable thrust of his own. “aren’t you going to answer it?”

“what—ah?!” you gasp, doing your utmost to stay upright on his desk while he pounds into you. but your elbows have turned feeble from your orgasm, trembling as you try to hold yourself up with them. “i can’t do that!”

“answer it.”

his curt order is enough to make you obey, as is the harsh grip on your ass cheek. you lean over the desk a little further, reaching for the phone. this is a terrible idea but you can’t seem to break free of the spell lucifer has cast on you — you’d obey every last one of his orders.

“h–hello?”

in the process of lucifer figuratively rearranging your guts, he seems to have also turned your brain to mush and you cannot comprehend the words coming from the speaker.

all you can feel is lucifer, and how he hovers lower and lower, leaning down on your body until you’re squished between him and his desk. he grinds his hips into you, leaving chaste kisses along your shoulder blade and when he is flush against your ear, he whispers.

“focus.”

but you’re incapable of doing anything, including focusing on the phone call.

you have a client in one ear, and your boss in the other ear. neither of which can hear the other, but what is certain is that they can both hear you muffling your moans with a hand clasped over your face, and your entire body shakes as lucifer refuses to cease fucking you brainless.

“hello? is anyone there? i can hear you breathing.”

within seconds, you move the phone away from your mouth, ready to hang up but lucifer’s reflexes are quick enough to grab your arm and bring the phone back to where it was moments ago.

“answer him,” lucifer whispers. you shake your head with tight lips, holding your breath as to not make a sound while lucifer holds the phone against your face. and into the ear he has claimed, he orders, “speak. now. or i won’t let you cum.”

you open your mouth, swallowing in air before finally speaking.

“this is mr. morningstar’s office. how can i help?”

“i wish to speak with lucifer himself. this is urgent.”

your mouth hangs open, silent moans causing your body to convulse as lucifer grinds slowly and deeply in your pussy. you’re hanging on by a thin thread, but lucifer brings your attention back from your oncoming orgasm.

“you want to cum, don’t you? be a good girl and do your fucking job.”

lucifer pushes himself up and switches up his pace from slow ruts to harsh and fast thrusts. each of them knock the air out of you as you try to speak.

“i must apologise, sir. you’re calling during his out of office hours so unfortunately i can’t let you speak to him at the moment.”

“why the hell not?!”

“this is his personal—ah!” you stifle a yelp to the best of your ability, praying lucifer would have some mercy and not humiliate you — or allow you to humiliate yourself. “this is his personal time but i can pass on a message.”

the man continues to speak and with shaky hands, you reach for pen and paper, turning your moans from lucifer’s cock dragging in and out of your pussy into hums of acknowledgement in heed of the man’s queries. you only hoped they’re disguised enough to not spark intrigue on the other end of the line, because that would be the end of all the professionalism you held.

you slam the telephone into its holder, ending the call as quickly as possible.

“what the hell was that?” you whine, clenching down on lucifer’s cock as you near the bliss you’ve been longing for. your complaints are disrupted with stutters caused by lucifer’s thrusts. “do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“you’re the one who answered,” he bites back, landing his hand down harshly on your ass once again. “not me.”

“you told me—ah! to answer!”

“and you could have refused.”

you lower your head, biting back a moan. you could have refused, but the outcome of tonight’s session would be a lot different if you didn’t answer. perhaps, lucifer might have stopped immediately, leaving you on the outskirts of blissful territory.

or alternatively, he may have begun to fuck you harsher, rougher, meaner; punishing you for not obeying his order. but you wouldn’t think of it as a punishment, as long as you get to cum.

“that’s right,” he continues. “you’re so desperate to cum, you don’t care if someone hears you getting fucked like a whore.”

an especially loud groan escapes you at the sound of the new nickname. you quite like the sound of it, but your body more so and lucifer can tell from the quivering walls of your pussy.

“you like that? you like being called a whore?”

“yes!”

“i fucking knew it.”

he thrusts impossibly harder and your body collapses, allowing him full control of your pleasure. and he gifts it to you on a golden platter.

“go on. you’ve been a good whore, so go ahead and cum,” he grunts. “cum for me. cum all over my cock like the desperate, pathetic bitch you are.”

“fuck! ah!” you can’t even warn him of your orgasm as you clench your walls, feeling his cock in greater detail as it rubs you in all the right places. “fuck, luci— feels so good!”

“that’s it, baby,” lucifer hums, emptying his own load in you. “good fucking girl.”

his words are dragged out, mellowed by the pure ecstasy he has found in your pussy. and your pussy, too, feels awestruck from the new sensations of him filling you up, not just with his cock but with his cum, too.

you’re taken over by bliss and warmth, limbs trembling from the sheer shock of it all. never had you imagined how one of your worst days would end with such astoundingly good sex. you ebb and flow with the pleasure, letting your body relax and the feelings to wither away slowly while you catch your breath.

but lucifer doesn’t give the feelings a chance to subdue and picks up the pace. with hands grounded in your hips, he pushes all of his might into one more round. the stickiness from your mixed arousals leaking out of your pussy allow him to fuck you with ease, and not minutes later, your screaming and thrashing with a new, heightened pleasure.

your tip–toes graze the floor, pressing into the ground as hard as you can to stabilise yourself. but lucifer fucks you ruthlessly and when he rips another orgasm from you, your legs fly up and outward and your hips rock against him and the desk in a most embarrassing manner.

your limbs flail and your body convulses and lucifer relishes, knowing he is the reason behind your wild pleasure. he wonders if anyone else could make you like this, to drive you insane with pleasure that you no longer have control over your body, even for the short–lived moment of him fucking you through your orgasm.

perhaps, that is why he keeps going. because he wants this moment to last forever.

having your tight pussy wrapped around him and your wildly beautiful moans filling his ears for eternity doesn’t sound bad at all.

but he, too, has limits and feels himself slow down. his thrusts become sloppy and gentle and his guttural groans are replaced with heavy breaths.

“fuck….” he gasps and he truly can find no other words. “fuck.”

collapsing into his chair, he watches your body twitching as you lay exhausted on his desk with you red ass on display and his cum dripping down your legs.

when you finally regain control over your limbs, you slowly rise, stretching to ease your muscle. but your whines and groans and the sight of your sullied body keep his cock hard for longer than he thought.

“are you alright?” he asks breathlessly. “rest longer if you need to.”

“no,” you state, looking at him over you shoulder before backing up. “we’re not done yet.”

lucifer is surprised. under the assumption that you would be as spent as he is, he does not expect you to find his cock and slip it inside of you again. but that’s exactly what you do.

“oh my god….” you moan, hypersensitive to any and all ministrations against your pussy. but still, you want more, you need more. “please, it’s so good!”

lucifer supposes he should let you continue bouncing on his cock given that he released all of his stress on you. the least he can do is allow you to use him until you’re satisfied. but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down. his fingers fit into your flesh like second nature.

his added strength makes it easier for you, and you focus more on finding your next orgasm.

the usually quiet office of morningstar corporation’s boss is now filled will all sorts of obscenities — from your desperate gasps and moans to the squeaking of lucifer’s chair, and the abrupt slaps cutting through the air to the scuffling of paper on his desk when you grab onto it for stability as rapture fills you for the last time, teaching you that the joy and delight you find in melding your bodies together is the most sinful of utopias.

pleasure turns to pain, and pain turns to pleasure as you are overwhelmed with the orgasms you have endured.

lucifer’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you back into him with one hand straying to fondle your breasts. breathing in your scent, he grounds himself in you and you lay limp in his arms as all the glee and elation filling your body slowly slips away.

regaining your stable mind and body, you realise you and your boss have a lot of discussing to do. and what follows can either make or break the relationship you have with him as your boss and you as his secretary. all professional boundaries have been broken, and the flimsy rules you had in place to ensure your situation would not advance to the level it did tonight are left far in hindsight.

there’s not a single directive you left untouched. but knowing you broke all the rules, and that lucifer instigated most of it, is worrying as much as it is electrifying because you know that extra care and attention from lucifer isn’t just for the sex.

he appreciates your abilities outside of the sexual encounters you share.

as you would both understand, your role is merely to serve him and his company. he receives corporate aide from his directors but still, he trusts your intuition. he listens to your gut feeling as if it were his own.

he has a habit of asking your opinion when it comes to high–risk decisions, or urging you to tell him your opinion on a new client he had a bad feeling about. although you’re in his presence for admin only, lucifer ensures you are there for more than that.

that you are there for him and not just your job.

in more ways than one.

and he proved that tonight when he kissed you. the first rule of your arrangement was no feelings and no kissing. but lucifer, a man who lives by rules, had thrown it out the window. it only made you more curious as to what would come from it.

surely, you would stick to the scope of your professionalism. at least, what’s left of it. but his lips against yours, the soft drag of them across your skin, the sweet whispers that meant something entirely different after he kissed you….is it really worth the cost of losing your livelihood?

“we should do this more often,” he breathes into your mouth, enveloping your lips between words. “i’m beginning to despise how rare of an occurrence this is.”

“we do this often enough,” you warn him, rising from your place on his lap.

but he doesn’t let you escape. he grabs your wrist and pulls you back into him. your butt is awkwardly positioned near his softened cock but you rest your shoulder on his chest with your arms tucked between your bodies.

“if you don’t wish to do this again, then just say the word. but for now, let’s stay like this a little while longer,” he speaks softly into your hair. “i had a long day.”

“i did, too.” you hum.

his big arms wrapping around you feels foreign. but still, it feels natural to slide your head onto his shoulder and rest in his embrace. you have been intimate with lucifer in more ways than one, but this….sitting in his lap, bare and vulnerable, and holding him back while he kisses and caresses the skin on your neck and shoulders….it’s a different type of intimate.

a type of intimacy you never imagined he would be capable of.

“i hope i made your day better, even in the slightest.”

“trust me, lucifer,” you smirk. “you turned a really shitty day into a really good one.”

the both of you relish in each other’s soft laughter, but taking notice of the darkened sky has you realising this moment will soon come to an end, and you will need to part ways and pretend none of this ever happened, even the new additions to your extra duties to your ceo.

your heart sinks, knowing you have grown fonder of these encounters, fonder of the man beneath you. and you don’t want it to end despite all the alarm systems in your body telling you otherwise.

you ignore them for now, relishing in the warmth from lucifer while he is still here with you.

with a smug smile, you think to yourself: enjoy it while you can.

“and me?” you ask playfully, nudging him to open his eyes. “did i make your day better?”

you hear the soft inhale he takes, discreetly breathing in the air you give and allowing it to settle his beating heart and erratic nerves. you will never know, but even in your no strings attached relationship with him, you turned him from a purely lustful man into a man capable of love.

“yes,” he chuckles, and he looks at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before. lucifer is so adoring in his gaze. “you always do.”

you smile giddily. to yourself, or to him, you’re not quite sure. perhaps it’s the after–effects of your multiple orgasms that have you grinning and kissing him again. or maybe it’s a new chapter unfolding between you.

either way, the future of your position with him and the company is a lot less daunting when lucifer is close to you like this.

“how’s that for stress relief?”

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: WE MADE IT TO CHAPTER FIVE!! EVERYBODY CLAP!! labour of love fr <3 but we're almost to the scene that sparked the whole freakin series and i. oh man im just yearning for that hurt/comfort

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

CHAPTER FIVE :: CONFIDANTS

You look younger in your sleep, Azriel thinks.

He doesn't think he's ever seen you like this before. The hard lines of your face are all smoothed out as you rest, so unlike your usual expression. There's something softer about you.

The constant furrow between your brows is whisked away for once. He can still see the familiar line between your brows though, if he looks close enough.

If he can look past the bruises that mottle your face, that is.

The damage you've sustained from training within the camp is severe enough to curdle something sour in his stomach.

Azriel had held his reservations about his trip back to Velaris— a suspicion that proved to be well founded. His own memories of training at Windhaven provide plentiful ways for you to have ended up in this state.

You’re curled up instinctively in your sleep, wings tucked around yourself. It sews of thread of worry through Azriel's chest, a slight concern at the state of your wounds and how the position will agitate them. While you don't move much in your sleep, he knows from experience that it'll be hell when you finally do stretch back out.

But... he can’t bring himself to wake you. You need the sleep desperately.

Azriel is fairly certain that the huddled form you take is some subconscious way to protect yourself, even in your sleep. Your wings drape across yourself, keeping yourself covered, hidden.

And while that makes some part of Azriel's heart ache, he can't deny that you—it looks… sort of cute.

Azriel forces himself to avert his eyes, ducking his chin for extra measure. Those pesky thoughts were becoming more and more frequent — something that he's pointedly ignoring at this point.

Protect, his shadows whirl around his ears like tiny gusts of wind, whispering their suggestions. Protect, they whisper.

Protect. Both a thought and a feeling. A guiding intuition that seems to reverberate from his very bones.

The suggestion from his shadows isn't entirely left field either, as they always take inspiration from what he can see. From his wandering thoughts, from his prolonged gentle gaze that lays upon you whenever he can.

Azriel scowls lightly at himself. He had no claim to protect you and further more, most Illyrian males like yourself would take great amounts of offence to the mere insinuation. He knows that you are more than capable.

He steals another glance at your peaceful, sleeping figure and his shadows seem to quieten in response— at least about you. The whispers don't ever truly quieten.

Azriel's fairy certain where they're getting their ideas. It's what he wonders too as he takes in your battered face once more—whether it’s the truth or just his familiar brand of desperate hope.

Something that would explain the urge to protect beyond reason.

Something like... a bond forged in starlight.

The Mother's Kiss whistles quietly outside and Azriel shifts his gaze again and this time, it lays upon the Heartstriker.

Sitting atop the one table-top in your shelter, the blade stays sheathed away in the very same bejeweled case that Azriel had found it in. Same as on that very first day he laid his hands on it.

It had been a wretched mission. One of his very first. It was not performed with the eloquence he would come to learn in future years.

Heartstriker had not been the objective of the mission. Far from it, in truth. The objective was a simple stealth reconnaissance into the Court of Nightmares.

He was to delve beneath the rock of the mountain in a mission very similar to his current. Swirlings of rumours and whispers of rebellion, against the new Highlord. Azriel was there to learn who had the guts to pick up the knife and try.

Heartstriker was a ploy. A shiny trick that Azriel had not yet learned how to evade.

He was still a novice by his own standards, only a few hundred years old. Spying in this sense was still fresh, still new. The work he had done under Rhysand's father during the war had been far more reliant on his brute strength. He had strict instructions not to hesitate to draw his blade.

It had taken time to relearn the importance in a message sent with words.

To remember the power of mercy.

This mission had been the first and only time Azriel had underestimated the measures in place in the Court of Nightmares, meant to keep out the likes of him.

His hesitance to kill had given another Fae time to trip an alarm, to flood the room with warriors. So when he had been backed into a corner by the snarling miscreants that lived in the belly of the mountain, taken by surprise, he hadn't hesitated to snatch up any weapon he could reach.

And it had branded him, singeing him right to his core.

But when he tried to force his fingers apart, they wouldn't obey, even as they screamed with the pain of the invisible flames. It was as though his hand had become fused with the blade, each atom of his being completely joined with the bronze of the sword through a terrible, unstoppable and invisible force.

Every part of him shrieked in agony. An age-old fear reared up within him, his hands burning like they were set alight and he could feel the flames licking at his skin, at his hands, could smell the scent of burning flesh—

He had fought on and won, all the same, taking on two battles at once. Fighting foes by real and faux, all whilst burning up from within all the while. The sword was immeasurably heavy and yet too light, all at once.

And only once almost all his enemies were slain, their blood staining the marble floors, did the burning cease. The blade seem to hum in response to the battle— drawn to the final foe who was clawing for his breath through his blood-soaked throat.

The tip of the sword had urged Azriel forward, like pulled by an invisible string, and he let it lead him, plunging the blade through the chest and into the heart of the last enemy left.

Only after, had the humming stopped. The sword finally clattered from Azriel's strong grip, the fusion broken.

His hands were same as ever, mottled with their scars, but with no indication of the burning he knew he had felt.

On his return, Rhys had told him the history of the sword and it's duly fitting name: Heartstriker.

It hadn't been claimed in centuries and as such, naturally it had come to live amongst other cursed objects within the Court of Nightmares. Unable to be used, unless someone bested the pain it took to raise it.

But Azriel had, entirely by accident.

It is said that once mastered, it will always strike true. Rhys had said, violet eyes gleaming as he looked over the bronze sword with piqued interest. That it's more than a regular sword but a living thing you must work in tandem with.

If anyone tries to take it from you, they must suffer the same fate. It can be gifted freely but, He had paused, that smirk that held no warmth in it pulling at his lips. I'm sure you can guess how often that happens down there.

It hadn't been used within the Night Court either, condemned to another hundred years or so without sight of battle. Azriel had more than enough blades of his own. The Illyrian broadsword that he had earned all that time ago in the Blood Rite for a proper battle and his Truth-Teller for the finer details.

Heartstriker wasn't right for his stature. Too short, strange weighted.

He'd kept it all the same. Perhaps, he told himself, to keep some other Fae from suffering the same fate if they laid hands on it.

His hazel eyes drift back across to you, bundled within yourself. You make a noise in your sleep, a gentle snuffle, and Azriel finds himself smiling.

Or perhaps, he thinks, he knew to keep it for entirely other reasons.

—

The quick healing of Illyrian's is more often a blessing than it is a curse.

On today's quiet winter morning, it is somehow both.

When you wake, dragged from your slumber in the early hours, it's before the sun has begun to make an appearance on the horizon. The shelter is coated in a soft darkness of dawn. The trees sway outside, a thousand creatures still roaming amongst their branches, reliant on the dark before daylight breaks.

It's the pain that wakes you, ebbing in through your sleep til it shakes off your sleep. You wake with your teeth already gritted.

The only pleasant surprise is that fact you're not shuddering yourself awake out of a nightmare, especially considering yesterday's training session.

You have a feeling that it has something to do with the sleeping Illyrian, propped up beside the fireplace, keeping watch.

His shadows still move about, even in his sleep. His neck is tucked down, his forehead pressed against his knee. It hides away part his face but as your eyes adjust to the shadowy light, you can make out his closed eyes. His hair looks messier than you've ever seen it.

It can't be comfortable, sleeping the way he is— but you have a feeling that Azriel has slept in places far worse before.

Shifting about in the darkness, your hand comes down to press tenderly at your sides, assessing as quietly as you can. There's no immediate sting of sliced skin as your fingers tips poke and prod at the skin, which makes you sigh in relief. You press down again, at bit harder this time, and it forces a wince out your gritted teeth.

Extremely bruised. But at the very least, the skin has knitted itself together in the nighttime.

Your face still aches, too. It's not quite the same ringing that made both eyes throb painfully yesterday and with a slow wrinkle of your nose, you can assess that the worst of your broken nose has healed up too.

Your ears, however, poses a different problem. One of them, the right side, still rings lightly. It would be more concerning, you think, if the left one itself wasn't so muffled altogether.

Huffing out a breath, you drag yourself up to a sitting position, moving at a tentative pace. Pain ricochets around your body. You're doing the best you can to be quiet but it's futile it seems — there's one creak of the bed as your weight shifts and Azriel's wings twitch, giving him away. He’s awake.

He lifts his head slowly, letting it roll from one side to the next, stretching out his neck. It's the only indication he gives you of feeling sore from his cramped sleep all night, his attentive eyes already watching you closely. His shadows, you notice, seem to gain speed at his rousing— circling his shoulders and neck closely.

You clear your throat and focus your gaze forward, resuming the task at hand. Raising one hand, you snap your fingers beside your left ear, then your right.

Frustration bubbles up inside you as you repeat the motion, as if it’ll change the outcome.

It doesn’t.

At least beyond the ringing, your right ear can hear the snap clearly— a keen Fae sense that like any warrior, you rely heavily on. The left one…

All you can think is that they must have hit you pretty damn hard to leave it as dulled as it feels. It can still hear, thankfully, but the noise that filters through is muffled around the edges. Buzzy. It makes you feel off kilter and unbalanced.

You let your hand drop and try to remain stoic, so used to hiding your emotions away from your face. You don't realise your drooping, limp wings give you away anyways.

Azriel gets to his feet swiftly, the movement so smooth you would have never guessed he spent the night tucked up uncomfortably against the bricks of your fireplace. He regards you with those burning amber eyes and your heart seems to lurch forward in response. You avert your gaze.

"It would seem we have an opportunity to test out our efforts." He says. His voice is still coated in sleep, low and rumbley, and it sends a bright zing down your spine. You lift your gaze from your lap and raise your brows in question.

He waves a hand to the table, in gesture.

Your various ingredients for brewing the tonics stay tucked in one corner, some wrapped up and set beneath the table. There are several different bottles too, stoppered with corks and containing yours and Azriel's attempts at the healing tonics.

It takes another moment to understand what he means.

"No," You say sharply, climbing to your feet. A thousand parts of your ache and groan in protest and you channel your focus into not letting a single ounce of it show.

Rolling your tense shoulders back, you wander towards your armor in slow steady steps. "Those aren't for me. I've healed enough in the night."

"I see." Azriel replies. "Is that why your left ear isn't working right?"

Gaze snapping back to him, you curse his ever-so observant nature. Maybe that's on you for trying to keep a secret from a Shadowsinger.

You are keeping a secret from a shadowsinger, something whispers in you.

A cold flush fills your body, numbing out every nerve for a single moment. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your wings hike up, tuck in. It feels wrong.

For the first time in your life, it feels so so utterly wrong to be keeping this secret from someone. To be hiding who you truly are.

But Azriel... he was a stranger not too long ago, wasn't he? You're not sure if you can even call each other friends, even if you had begun to in your mind, without even realising.

You think back to last night, to when he could have easily lifted your shirt a few inches higher when trying to save your life and known.

Then you wonder if he did — and he hasn't said anything.

If he's waiting for you to trip up, to fess up, to explain to him why you've been lying to him from the moment you first met him.

Azriel seems to sense your internal battle, the same way he seems senses a thousand things from you as though he's known you his whole life. He clears his throat to get your attention. When you focus your vision back on him, you notice one of the bottles is in his scarred fingers.

"I will train you today," He says. "On the condition that you take it."

Your nose twitches. It's an ultimatum. He knows you want to train, to brush off yesterday and let the pain in your body fuel the determination of today but he won't let you do it so carelessly. Bastard.

Before you can blink, he tosses the bottle across to you. You react instinctively, cradling your hands to catch it quickly before you realise what you're doing. Your nose twitches again, a tiny flare of annoyance at his smugness.

No, not smugness. Surety. His expression, bordering on bored, tells you that he knows you don't have any other options— unless you want to climb back into bed and rot for the day.

You yank the cork off the bottle harshly. Then, just to show him how unpleased you are with this, you lob the cork at him with all your might. Your bruised side screams in response. Azriel snatches from the air easily, without so much as a blink.

He looks like he wants to smile but thinks the better of it, placing the cork gently onto the table. "I'll meet you outside." He eyes the uncorked bottle in your hand then back at you. "Drink it. Please."

—

The tonic, as you find out, is only mildly effective.

It's a gutting discovery. The mixture is nowhere near potent enough to fix the level of nerve damage that gets inflicted during clippings if it barely lightens the bruises on your side.

The mottled blue painted on your skin gives way to a light purple, the edges of them retracting to a tinged yellow. The skin glows hot as the tonic works as best as it can.

The taste of it is nearly as rancid as the failure feels.

You deal with it the only way you know how; chewing it up and spitting it back out as determination to do better. The drive to push yourself harder in training rears up, fiery and stubborn— harder than you logically know is any help to yourself.

What was already tedious and heinous training is made that much worse by your injuries.

You're moving sloppily today, offbeat. The dullness in your left ear helps to keep you off balance. Still, you manage to keep up with Azriel— not quite the one step ahead you're usually aiming for but, at the very least, you're still holding your own.

Your ribs ache and your heads throbs. The ringing in your right ear has disappeared with the help of the tonic, only to have started up in the left. A relief in one sense— it's good to be hearing more of anything. A fucking pain in another.

The only major upside, really, is the sword.

The Heartstriker, Azriel had called it

You had been half convinced it was a hallucination, the gift. Sure that it some desperate illusion born out of the delirium of the blood loss because, really, when was the last time you had ever gotten a gift?

When you'd limped your way out into the snow and saw it in his hands, you had blinked in disbelief.

But it's almost like Azriel had expected it, his scarred hands reaching out to gently curl around your wrist, murmuring its name as he had pressed it into your hand. It's yours, he had said.

He had let go of your wrist go immediately, stepping back but not far, still hovering close by. He let you have a moment to marvel at it before he urged you to follow to the usual neck of the woods you trained in. The sound of clashing steel had soon followed.

It's a perfect addition, you find.

The blade is like a mere extension of your own arm. It's light enough to carve through the air with ease but when you strike, it's buries deep. Compared the Illyrian broadsword used in training at camp, it suits your stature far better. You move more agilely, hit more frequently and harder when you do.

It's probably the best thing you've ever owned— ever held.

You're gazing at it where it rests on your lap, glinting in the light of the day, as you try to catch your breath. Azriel had given you a moment to recover, far earlier than normal, due to your injuries, no doubt. Normally, you'd grumble and snarl and push him to continue but today, you're quite happy to have another moment to stare at the first gift you've gotten.

Azriel breaks the silence with a question.

"Why haven't you competed in the Blood Rite?"

Something icy spikes in your blood and your back straightens instinctively, the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end. Whether he knows it or not, he is treading close to dangerous territory.

"Why do you ask?" You answer his question with another question.

Azriel regards you with a certain look, his dark eyes dragging down your body intensely and back up to your face. It's enough to make you fluster momentarily, to feel a faint stirring in your heart that doesn't entirely feel like your own. No one has ever looked at you like that before.

"You're strong. You hold your own. You're of age." He states carefully. "You remain attached to this camp with no rank until you pass it. Why not?"

You scowl at his frame of thinking, as if you haven't passed over those reasons a thousand times. Beyond the fact you can't ever ensure you wouldn't be burdened with your cycle during the Blood Rite, there's more than enough reason for you to remain a nobody.

You feel oddly disappointed that he would think only in that manner; glory and rank.

"What makes you think I want any rank in my camp?" You spit bitingly, watching as his wings sink down an inch at your tone. His misunderstanding of why you've chosen this way of life bothers you more than you expect.

"Because you did?" You ask. "Because three bastards fought their way through it and won and left their shitty pasts behind? I am not you, Azriel."

Azriel doesn't react, not even the raising of his brows. Only his shadows give himself away, whirling around slower than usual. He speaks in that same careful tone as before.

"I know you are not."

He makes you feel foolish for giving in to any lick of your anger, for so quickly snapping at your only friend. You turn your head away and stare down into the snow, taking a breath. Cauldron, you're tired. Lifting you arm, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, clearing the sweat that beads there.

"I could leave but for what reason? Ever since I—" You suck a sharp inhale, swallowing back words that dance too close to giving you away. You pray he doesn't notice your hesitation. "Ever since I was young, this has been my goal. This change must come from within, you know that."

You inhale again, feeling the breath rattle past every ache and pain in your chest.

"I can only do the things I do... the things I must achieve, by being unnoticeable."

You cast a glance up to him. "To them, I am some bastard who won't give up and die. I am not a proper threat. You, of all people, should understand that it's easiest to work when people are not paying proper attention."

And that's all you have known — how to become unnoticeable when needed and how to be noticed when wanted. Attention, you've learned, only means a target on your back.

Beyond that... you can't imagine someone who would want to notice you for anything more. You've had many, many years to make peace with that bitter fact.

I am.

Without warning, there's a sudden thrum from deep within you, like a echo of a drum, of a call. It's golden and threaded with softness. I am paying attention.

It startles you, one hand flying to your armored chest in surprise. As quick as it had appeared, the hum flees and leaves your bound chest twingeing only in its usual discomfort. One moment of brief serenity. You long for it, despite the unfamiliar nature.

You realise abruptly that you've trailed off and force yourself to move, body aching in the process. Heartstriker sinks into the snow and you use it to clamber to your feet, not nearly as graceful as you would like. Azriel doesn't say anything.

In fact, when you lift your gaze to meet his, he's staring at you more intensely than usual. His shadows seem more agitated. They flit about, circling his hands more than his shoulders, and you can barely see the scarred skin through their inky darkness.

There's a long moment. Around you both, the trees creek as they bend in the wind, a thousand leaves rustling around you in a chorus.

Azriel breaks the silence, casting his eyes to the ground and lifting his blade. "No more questions."

He says it like a promise, his lips pulling at the edges like he might be offering a smile.

"Just fighting."

—

By the time the moon rises, the ache in your body has dimmed to a more bearable pain.

While you'd be miffed at the idea of Azriel pulling his punches, you can't deny the sliver of gratitude you have for it now. As you reach over the cauldron of simmering stew, only a few of your ribs twinge enough to make your motions falter momentarily. The stew bubbles and brews, filling your shelter with a hearty smell.

It's been too long since you last cooked something to share.

You try to shelve the guilt away—you and Azriel have been running a very tight schedule, switching between training, tonics and rest. Taking time to cook, for yourself or others, hasn't even had time to cross your mind.

Your brief brush back with the reality during yesterday's training, however, had provided you with ample reminders. Your home camp and all its violent glory.

So, you cook. The logs crackle on the fire and above them, the stew simmers gently as you stir absentmindedly at it. Giving yourself this quiet moment, you let your thoughts drift as the tiredness of the day trickles into your body. Your thoughts turn to the quiet Shadowsinger.

He had taken his leave as soon as he had declared the end of your days training, needing another trip to Velaris.

I'll be back by morning, he had said, each of his seven cerulean siphons flaring brightly before he stepped between the fabric of the world and disappeared. Another hidden trick up his sleeve.

You'd allowed yourself only one moment of surprise before you closed your mouth— you really needed to stop underestimating him. As the stew before you begins to hiss and spit, you pull yourself from your thoughts and prepare yourself for the discomfort of meal times.

They never are as friendly as you might hope.

Despite your generosity, the different outcasts of Exordor remain cagey. Regard you with pensive and guarded looks, hands hovering on the butts of their swords. You can't blame them in the slightest.

But those that can brave the walk to your cabin, risking both themselves and your own safety against the other Illyrian brutes in the camp, are rewarded with a hot meal. Tonight, you feed 12 hungry mouths before your doorstep grows quiet.

You pack it all away in silence, with a quite yearning for company you've only just become used to having.

It's only as you're tucking in for the night, your wings wrapped around yourself tightly, does the first pain strike. Right to your core, the very insides of your gut feels as though it's being shredded. You gasp, your entire body curling up tighter to fight against the pain.

For only a moment, confusion clouds your mind at the attack that seems to come from nowhere, from an invisible enemy. Only one answer comes forward—the only thing that can threaten to reveal your secret without your permission, through mere scent alone.

A certain agony that only tortures you twice a year.