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evie-sturns · 5 months

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you want to? - matt sturniolo

summary: when you ask your classmate matt for a ride home after school, you find out hes a virgin, how could you not offer to change that?

contains: smut, semi-sub!matt, virgin!matt, swearing.

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the deafening bell rings throughout my math classroom, signalling the end of the day. i look down at my phone which reads 3:00pm, i instantly start to pack up my books more than ready to leave.

i watch the brunette boy to my left swing his bag over his shoulders, he doesn't say much but i'm pretty sure his names matt, i'm quite close with his brother nick but i've never got to know him personally.

i follow close behind him as he walks through the hallway.

we exit through the doors of the school, i decide to make my move now, needing a desperate ride home.

"uh- matt!" i call out walking up beside him, he looks over at me fixing the frame of his dark brown glasses.

"yeah?" he replies softly,

it shouldn't be wrong of me to ask for a ride, i've seen him briefly while i've been round at nicks house, and we got paired up for a group project in 9th grade where i spoke to him for a week.

"this is like- really random but do you mind giving me a ride home, i think my house is just down the street to yours and my car broke down this morning." i ramble

"oh- yeah, okay- thats fine." he says nervously "thank you so much" i let out a sigh of relief.

matt and i walk in silence to his car, his lips are red from where hes been biting them.

he opens the door for me, i jump in the passenger seat. the whole car is clean except for a camera battery and an empty mcdonald's cup.

he jumps in as well, "sorry if this is an inconvenience, i'll venmo you gas money and extra." i say.

"no- don't worry about it, it's fine." matt instantly replies.

i decide to start up a conversation, not wanting to sit in silence for the whole 20 minute ride.

"hows nick?" i ask, "hes okay, i think hes just weirded out about the whole audrey situation."

audrey is nick's best friend, who recently became hated at our school for sleeping with a whole friend group then lying to everyone and saying they made her do it.

"oh yeah!? she fucked that whole group of guys oh god." i exclaim, causing matt to tense up, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

"you okay? sorry- do you know audrey"

he shakes his head "i don't know her."

"oh you just went tense about the audrey fucking." i repeat, he laughs slightly, the tips of his ears go red.

"have you never had sex?" i ask, my head spinning round to look at him.

his cheeks go a deep red, he takes a hand off the wheel to rubs his eye under his glasses.

"i- yeah- no.. i dont know" he mutters, "you don't know if you've had sex?" i smile,

"i don't know- no" he says awkwardly with a grin.

"oh, thats fine!" i reply,

"you want to?" i continue, matt goes silent. i instantly regret my words, i didn't mean to make matt uncomfortable but it was just a genuine question.

"sorry." i instantly follow my words up, my tone less.. loud.

"yeah, i think i do" matt almost whispers as though he can't get any louder.

i nod my head understandingly , "you got anyone you want to loose it to, or not really?"

matt seems to grow a little more comfortable, his deathly grip on the wheel loosening

"i can't say" he laughs slightly "i mean i'm almost 18 and both my brothers won't stop yapping about their hook ups." he sighs

"do you want to.. with me?" i ask quietly, the words leaving my mouth before i can process

"but only if you want-" i instantly say after.

his head snaps round to look at me, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose slightly. "you- what" he smiles slightly, his eyebrows twisting as his cheeks flush

i stay silent, maintaining eye contact for a couple seconds.

"yeah, okay thank you" his says breathlessly, looking back to the road

"you can uh- come back to my house, nick and chris are at hockey and my parents are away for 2 weeks." matt says, trying to sound confident.

i nod, "yeah okay!"

3:42pm

matt pulls into his driveway, we've been having small talk for the past 5 minutes the rest of the way.

i open the door to his car, stepping out onto the concrete. i follow matt inside his house, i'm more than used to being in his house, execpt its usually with nick to hang out, not with his triplet brother to hook up.

i take his hand, he guides us upstairs into his bedroom. i lock the wooden door behind us.

"so uh, where do we start?" matt laughs nervously, reaching a hand up and scratching the side of his head.

i get on my tip-toes, grabbing his jaw and pulling him into a kiss. he hesitates for a second before kissing me back.

it quickly turns into a makeout, i push him back onto the bed before straddling him.

i grind against the fabric of his jeans, matt lets out a pathetic whimper against my lips clearly sensitive.

i pull away for a second to pull my shirt up over my head, revealing the pink lace of my bra. matt shamelessly stares at my tits, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

after a solid 25 seconds of staring he pulls his navy blue crewneck off over his head, his middle part flopping on his forehead.

his breathing picks up as i unclasp my bra, letting it fall down onto his chest. i instantly feel a bulge feel underneath me, his face growing red.

i fix his glasses on his face lingering my fingers on his skin for longer than needed, "oh my god" i hear him whisper under his breath, i shift off his lap onto the floor, matt sits on the edge of the bed.

i fidget with the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops of his jeans before unbuttoning the button of his jeans and shimmying the fabric down his thighs.

i don't waste time to yank down his boxers, his erection springs out. matt's tip is slightly more red than his lips, now begging to be touched.

"you ready sweetheart?" i ask him, dragging my nails up and down his thighs.

"yeah- yes please." he nods, i wrap my hand around his length and pumping slowly, i look up at him and his head falls back "fuck.." he groans as i wrap my lips around his tip.

i circle my tongue just around his tip teasingly but it seems to be enough for matt already.

i slowly take more of him in my mouth, taking most of his dick down my throat.

"oh my god oh my god-" matt whimpers as i bob my head up and down,

my pace quickens everytime matt makes noise, only driving me to take more of him. i feel him twitch, meaning he's close already.

after matt bucks his hips up i pull off of him, edging him. "please" matt starts but i cut him off "don't want you to cum yet, don't wanna overstimulate you okay?"

he nods, i get up off the floor to straddle the top of his thighs again, his dick resting against my lower stomach.

"tell me what you want matt." i say, fixing his hair which rests against the glass of his glasses. "please?" matt whispers.

"please what." i tease, kneeling on either side of his legs and pulling down my shorts and panties in one tug. "ride me.." he says shyly. i smile before hovering myself above his tip, slowly sinking down onto his tip.

"oh my god" he groans, i let out a soft groan as i sink further down his length, i grab his wrists and place his ringed hands on my waist instead of him balling up the sheet.

"feels so good" he mumbles shakily, i start to bounce slowly up and down on his dick.

i let out strings of moans as his grip tightens on my waist "please please-" he whines, i start to pick up my pace.

"matt- you wanna try being on top?" i ask quickly, he hesitates before nodding his head eagerly.

he flips us over impressively easily, "grab my ankles" i tell him which he does, his two large hands grabbing my ankles and pushing them down by my ears, i nod.

he starts to thrust into me, matt's middle part flops on his head, his glasses shifting.

"fuck- 'm so close" he groans "you got it matt" i breathe out

matt pulls out, instantly releasing on my stomach as his glasses fall off, landing on my chest.

he flops down next to me on the bed panting, his arms laying across his forehead.

i scoot closer to matt's side, "you okay?" i ask, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him, a small smile forming on his face.

"you don't understand how long i've wanted that with you." he laughs slightly, "with me?" i reply, my eyes widening slightly

"yeah- i don't know." he sits up, rubbing his eyes. i sit up next to him, grabbing his glasses off my chest and holding them up

i slide the glasses onto his face, his cheeks still flushed

"we should do this again sometime" he suggests awkwardly,

"good idea matt" i smile, pressing a quick kiss to his red lips.

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radfemsiren · 2 months

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Internet culture is so fascinating because everything is out in the open, so concepts that feminists have been trying to make the general public understand are now in plain sight.

Do you remember the Bentellect situation? If his name does not ring a bell, that’s very expected. He was a low level TikToker that would make terrible react content of himself reading out normie humor tweets and laughing like it was the funniest thing ever written. The second he got followers he started exploiting that to pressure women into sleeping with him… and they released his sex pest DMs, making him a laughingstock.

With all these allegations coming out repeatedly of Cody Ko, Dr disrespect, James Charles, Kris Tyson, Neil gaiman, etc of men using the smallest amount of fame to immediately try to sexually exploit women and children … I’ve heard so many apolitical “normie” types say the phrase “Wow how come the second men get famous they immediately use it to try to fuck anything that moves?”

Like we’ve seen hints of this displayed out in the open with 2000s celebrity culture, and watching famous men switch out their wives to younger women immediately, or commit worse crimes… but they had enough power and influence to hide their misdeeds. It’s really not like that anymore.

Aesthetically and optically, it’s so extremely different. The words men would say to women in the dark are now on a bright screen, beemed to millions of people in the blink of an eye. Imagine being able to tell feminists that in the past. That there would be undeletable evidence that can be accessed by anyone in the world of the way men would abuse women in private.

My friends and I were walking to a dancing club last night, and were followed by a man in his car. We got our phones out and shouted we have his face and license plate and he immediately sped away scared.

Imagine telling women of the past that? Imagine telling them there are communities of women laughing and jeering at these imbeciles. From the safety of their own homes too! God imagine going the past and telling your ancestors that you spend your lunch breaks or quiet evenings relaxing and eating, while laughing at subreddits like r/menwritingwomen, what a luxury we don’t even realize we have! Of being able to mock and criticize men. Of taking them down from their flimsy pedestal.

The internet is making everything all out in the open, and while it can be scary when misinformation and propaganda spreads, it makes me have hope too that truth will also have so much more undeniable evidence to back it up constantly, instead of dissenting voices being quelled in the past. It’s difficult to see the hard evidence of female oppression constantly, but at least it’s being acknowledged, it’s being seen.

#queued

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har-rison-s · 9 months

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whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

talk to me about coryo here

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coryo masterlist main masterlist

word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days.

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being.

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely.

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process.

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood.

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper.

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees.

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all.

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that.

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips.

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words.

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing.

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten.

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him.

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again.

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.”

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going.

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her.

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering.

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise.

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him.

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade.

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?”

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate.

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in.

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough.

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled.

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her.

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over.

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now.

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face.

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release.

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially.

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once.

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination.

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her?

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him.

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n.

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took.

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there?

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them.

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment.

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood.

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled.

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words.

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further.

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him.

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @works-of-fanfiction @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @xoxobabydolls @corallyink @rottenstyx @allcheesemelts @dangelnleif

let me know if you want to be tagged in the future !!!

#har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo smut #coryo x reader #snow x reader #thg fic #thg fanfiction #coryo fanfiction #coryo fic #coriolanus fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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babyjakes · 10 months

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〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | sex shop

pairing | sex shop owner!andy barber x innocent!reader

warnings | age gap (reader sees andy as a total dilf.) reader is very innocent and also so scared to be there (understandably.) soft!andy, comforting vibes, he talks her through everything. humiliation kink is strong in this one. no real smut, just suggestive themes (sex shop, toys, talks of solo and guided masturbation.)

word count | 987

an | this little story is dedicated to andy's #1 girl, @worksby-d 🥺 dest i super hope you enjoy our favorite dilf here!! i tried to make him the big warm teddy bear we know and love, with a little hint of naughtiness shining through at the end hehe <3 happy holidays to you friend!!

imagine going to a sex shop for the very first time, aalllll by yourself, and meeting a very handsome dilf who helps you pick out your very first big girl toy 😏

parking as far away as possible (it’s at the end of a little strip mall in a tiny little town you’ve never been to before, you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone you knew!) spending like 10 minutes just sitting in your car hyping yourself up, you’re so nervous but you’ve wanted to do this for so long 🥺

eventually you build up your courage and make your way up the parking lot, to the front door of the place. a little silvery bell rings as you enter. you’re surprised at how clean and neat the place is. you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is better than you had been hoping. it’s not too big, a single large room with a counter in the middle. at first glance, you're alone, no other customers or employees in sight

the store has different sections with hanging signs directing you where to go. you can feel heat rising in your cheeks as you pass the racks of lingerie and intimates. just as you make it over to the toys for her section, you hear something from across the little shop. looking over, you see someone has entered through a doorway in the back. a man, but you don’t get too long of a look. your eyes quickly drop to the ground as you feel your embarrassment worsening

please don’t come over here. please don’t come over here. please don’t-

your silent prayers are ignored as footsteps approach. you take a step back from the wall of products, forcing yourself to look up at the stranger. your jaw almost drops at the sight of him, oh god, you’re thinking to yourself, why is he hot 😭

there andy stands in all of his glory, the epitome of dilfy deliciousness with his worn navy t-shirt and scruffy beard. scratching his head a bit awkwardly, he greets you, “hey, sorry. didn’t meant to startle you. can i help you find anything?”

your heart’s pounding in your throat as you look around stupidly before your eyes return to the absolute unit of a man before you. you blink like a deer in the headlights. oh my god. he works here, you’re a little slow to put things together

andy sees your surprise, letting out a gentle chuckle. “i’m the owner,” he explains. “you okay, honey? you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

a part of you knows this is an extremely sketchy situation. you’re alone in a sex shop with a dude probably twice your age (who apparently owns the place), out in a town you can’t remember the name of, with nothing to defend yourself except your two bare hands (which are now shaking)

but there’s something about the man before you that you just find so… warm? disarming? (…attractive? 😳) the gentle smile on his face, the way he softens his voice when he senses your nervousness...

you’re a little ball of conflicting feelings, half nerves and half head-over-heels for this unknown man. again, you blink, unable to find your voice to respond

“you’re alright, just take it easy,” he tries to help you relax. “this your first time in a place like this?” all you can manage is a nod. he gives you an understanding smile, “that’s perfectly fine. i’m here to help. can you tell me what you’re looking for, sweetheart?”

your eyes glance quickly back at the wall of toys in front of you before returning to him. he must see the increasing humiliation on your face. “u-um…” you’re finally able to stutter, “i-i don’t… i’m not… i guess i'm…”

he’s so patient and attentive it’s only making the butterflies in your tummy worse 😭 “not sure where to start?” he finishes for you. when you nod, he hums thoughtfully, “that’s okay, honey. do you have anything already that you like? is this for you to use on your own?"

you grit your teeth, nodding through the waves of embarrassment. “d-don’t have anything, sir. looking for something to start out with”

“i see,” he nods, looking over the selection on the wall before the two of you. “a bullet is a great beginner toy. simple, quiet, different levels of intensity to fit your needs. do you like clitoral stimulation?”

you have to fight yourself to keep from rubbing your thighs together right then and there 😩 something about the way he’s talking you through everything is sooo 🥲🥲 a feeling of dread hits as you realize you’re already getting wet

you force out a nod. he looks at a few options before picking out a small, discreet box. offering it to you, he explains, “this one’s my favorite. it’s nice and smooth, hard to hurt yourself with. rechargeable, medical-grade silicon. six levels of intensity. and the pink matches your nails,” he says sweetly, nodding at the shiny polish on the tips of your fingers

you clumsily accept the box, looking it over briefly. “there are instructions on the inside. the internet can be helpful too,” he suggests. the burning in your tummy worsens as he sees right through you, sniffing your complete innocence and inexperience with ease

“o-okay. this looks good. thank you,” you agree

“of course,” he nods with a sheepish smile. “once you get comfortable with that, we can work you up to something more sophisticated” you never implied that you’d be returning to him, but now that he’s said it, you know you couldn’t refuse. “and if you have any trouble, you can always come see me. i got a room in the back, we can take some time and find what works for you”

i might have to write that follow-up visit someday this is making me 🫠🫠

#eun's writing #kinkmas 2023 #andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber headcanon #andy barber drabble #andy barber blurb #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

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rofell · 4 months

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Don't ever let anybody make you feel bad about what rings what your bell

Michael Sheen did this interview. Some Nye spoilers, but the last 2-3 minutes - oh dear god. What can I say. The way this man speaks up for fandoms and weirdos like us because he is one of us. The creativity and community I've found because of doing exactly what he says... Anyway, just listen, just read.

I've transcribed so I can read it over and over.

"Don't ever let anybody make you feel bad about what rings what your bell, you know, what tickles your fancy, about what gets your creative imagination going.

What you're into: you're into! Don't ever feel embarrassed about it, don't ever let anyone take that away from you because it's only by holding on to that that you will get to where you need to go.

If you give up on that or apologize for it or feel embarrassed or hide it...

It's only by digging into those things that you will find exactly where you need to be ultimately that's what will get you there and so don't ever ever..

I mean, first of all, find out what you're into, right, like, explore the world. Explore the inner world of your mind. What is it that makes you excited and really gets your mind going.

You know, Joseph Campbell, writer Joseph Campbell, talked about follow your bliss and don't ever feel like YOUR bliss is not good enough compared to somebody else's or people that 'I feel a bit embarrassed' or 'It's a guilty pleasure' - all that stuff, forget that. If it does it for you then that's your path, follow that path 'cause that's the path that will take you where you need to go."

#michael sheen #michaelsheendaily #good omens #aziraphale

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #As almost always ao3 saw it first and the second chapter is already posted there!!!!#If you don't want to wait for it to be posted here!#not a request just a thought i had #Miguel’s pastels #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios

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neonovember · 1 year

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hiiii

could you write carmy x reader where she’s a high school friend and carmy always had a crush on her (but he thought she had a crush on mikey) ???? like maybe richie brings her up, and that she’s still in town and SINGLE and carmy gets red like a tomato and ??? richie makes her visit the beef and candy almost has a heart attack?? idk give me some in love carmen !!

pretty pleaseee and thank u

so I got this request and I immediately thought of swim by chase atlantic, and specifically the line that goes;

“I’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in”

And holy shit if that isn’t Carmen in his denial-in-love with a long time friend era, I don't know what is. Carmen tries too hard to forget you, but you've marked permanently, you've ruined him for anyone else so can you blame him for waiting for you all this time?

Seriously though this request was so good! I got a bit carried away and turned into a 2 part series that may or may not have drabbles added to the universe…I really hope this isn't just a load of word vomit you don't want to read lmao. I just love their dynamic so much, and also FRIDAY DINNERS AT THE BEEF IS CANON OKAY.

Golden Boy

part one of 2

warnings: miscommunication (i know i'm sorry), friends to lovers, carmen and the reader have horrible communication skills and don't know how to call, angst, anxiety

a/n: part two will be up hopefully tomorrow so look out! it may or may not include a smut scene 😈

p.s, listen to swim whilst reading this you'll thank me later

You sat hunched in the tight enclosure of the classroom desk chairs, the once loud conversations fluttering across the huddled groups of classmates and friends that stood against tables and chairs now coming to a standstill.

The air of anxious trepidation falls across the atmosphere of the damp classroom, the windows that had been opened to let the air in felt thin as you and the rest of the students you had known for half a decade waited for that familiar ring of the bell.

The bell that would solidify your last day in this classroom, in these run down halls, in the school you had first stumbled into anxious and oblivious at thirteen.

Your heart ached at the nostalgia of it, and you can't bear to cast your gaze to your friends who had begun to sniffle, like they were holding back tears, the grandfather clock your geography teacher insisted on keeping ticked on as it always did, and whilst you had spent years burning holes through the glass, willing for it to go faster, your one dying wish is for the seconds to tick by in minutes.

You weren’t ready, it ran straight through you, all this time leading up, from when you had first learnt your desire to pursue architecture till the moment you finished that last sentence on your final exams, you felt you would be filled with joy at the sound of your true departure into adulthood and college.

And yet, you felt like a kid again, learning how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels, trying to reach the fifth monkey bar, falling headfirst into the dirt ground of the field when you had thought you were more flexible then you truly were.

You didn’t want to leave, you didn't want to leave this place, this place of memories and friends and people you knew and loved. And it was as if God was listening, cause the resounding echo of the school bell rang through the halls and it was as if he said ‘fuck you anyway’.

You gather the haphazard books and papers laying across your desk, you had purposefully delayed packing in order to waste as much time in this memory as possible, before adulthood would take it away and make it something of the past. You hear your friends calling your name, and you tell them to go ahead as you make your way to your teachers desk.

“Hey Mr Jefferson” You say to your teacher has begun to bid goodbye to the leaving students

Your teacher looks up at you with a tight smile, sadness washes over the wrinkles and creases of her features, her auburn hair falling in short waves at her shoulder and her olive lipstick wearing down. You have to swallow to stop the tears from dropping. Your Geography teacher, whilst not teaching Art, had been the catapult to realizing your fascination with Architecture and design. She had even helped tell your parents, who had been set on the idea of you going into Law or Medicine or anything other than creative arts.

“You’ll do amazing, I believe it because I see how hard you try. Don’t look back at this place, leave with the door wide open and come back only when you want to design me a house” Your Teacher replies with a grin, and before you can reply shes shuffling through her drawers, before pulling out a sketchbook that has been aged and stained with use over the years.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the book in your hand, it was good quality, despite being old, it felt like an heirloom.

“It’s one of my sketchbooks I had during college, maybe some of my late night sketches fuelled by coffee and donuts might inspire you”

“I couldn't possible-”

“Yes you could, hell whatever you create will probably be 10 x greater than whatever is in there” Your teacher cuts you off with a chuckle, and you hug the notebook tight against your chest before hugging her goodbye.

You step into the familiar walls of your high school hallways, crowds of seniors running to find their friends and hug them for possibly the last time, test papers and report cards left trampled on the ground, it's chaos, but you love it and the sight almost pulls tears down your waterline.

You walk towards your locker, before you recognize the familiar wisps of blond curls catch your eyesight. Carmen. You considered him one of your closest friends, bonding together over a love of game** and your equal hatred of your Period 4 Calculus teacher.

Carmen didn't have much when I came to be friends, and after he met you, it didn't really get to him anymore, he had you now, and you were more than enough. Over the years you had gotten close to every part of Carmen's life, Mickey, Richie, Sugar, they were all people you regarded as family.

But there was something unsaid between the both of you, it was like there was something beyond friendship, but the embers had just gathered and had left unignited.

He’s gathering his things from his locker, shoving them into a bag in that messy way he is, and he slams the locker with a jolt.

You're standing stationary in the middle of the hallway, classmates and other seniors running by you in confusion, your friends calling your name annoyed, but it's all muffled, it all doesn't matter because it's Carm and god your heart aches so bad.

You see Carmen and he sees you, stopping a few meters away from you, and a moment of recognition washes over him as he gazes with those cerulean blues. There's grief in the way you look at each other, tears streaming down your cheek as you try to smile at him, realising this might be the last time you see him, forever, off to an Art school in New York, leaving him behind. You feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest and he shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching up as he steps closer so that he’s only a whisper from you.

He brings his hand up, brushing a strand and tucking in behind your ear, eyes strained as he wipes your tears away painfully. He moves closer, so that his breath is against your neck and whispers

“Thought you told me you'd punch me in the stomach if I cried on the last day” Carmen whispers into your eyes with a grin that breaks through the tears that cause his eyes to swirl in colour's of waves.

His words make you laugh and cry at the same time, and you shake your head as you reach for his arm, and playfully hit your stomach with it. Carmen rests it against your waist, looking up to you in a pained expression, his eyes shift to the notebook grasped tight in your hands

“New sketchbook? That..doesn't look new” Carmen says, turning his head to examine the old book more closely.

“One of Mrs Jefferson’s, her sketches are..their fucking amazing” You sigh, running your hand across the folded spine of the sketch book.

“Thought teachers weren't meant to have favourites” Carmen shoots out, a playful grin on his lips

“Hmm, well they aren't supposed to tell you exactly” You banter with a giggle, you flick through the pages of the book, half drawn sketches in grey lead and ballpoint, Carmen tracing his fingers gently across the ingrained lines and shades.

“God you're something, you know that?” Carmen says, all of a sudden, and when you look up you realise he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Bear..” You breathe out.

“I don't know how I'm going to-, I, it's all so much” You exhale, waving your arms around this place that has held so many memories, so much of your past kept in the creaks and cracks of plastered walls and lockers

“You're the only person in this goddamn place that's going to make something out of themselves, I bet my entire life on it Bug. You're going to do amazing, in that big city, you’re going to show em’' Carmen replies, grasping you against his touch tight. You look up at him, trying to memorise every dip and curve of his features, the curl of his hair that shone honey in the sun, those eyes that were always searching, and the small cut on his forehead where he fell off his skateboard that one summer evening.

“Don’t say goodbye”

“Okay” Your tongue feels like deadweight in your mouth. what if i never see you again?

“You say goodbye and it's the end. Just..don’t” I can't breathe carmy.

You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, pressing your nose into his shirt to smell the scent of patchouli and cigarettes he always carried, you want to tell him to come with you, to pack an overnight bag and run with you forever, but the words don’t taste right when you try to speak and you see yourself letting him go, and turning away with a shaky step.

Turn back Carmen whispers, so softly that only the gods above and the wind around him can hear it

You feel an urge to turn back, it speaks to you from within, and before you can stop yourself, your neck cranes, turning your body to get one last look at your golden boy before time would take him forever.

Time would age him into a memory forever.

Carmen feels this tension leave his shoulders at the same time his heart shatters, you will find each other again, even if it was in another universe, where you're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, going over groceries together with the afternoon light casting its glow across you. He will find you, he will find you and he won’t let go this time.

“Honestly Ma, it’s fine, I’ll get the movers to come in a little early”. You groan into the phone pressed to your ear, papers and unresolved bills are left scattered across your dining room table and you have this itch that's begun to turn chronic somewhere you can’t reach.

You take a moment to look around your apartment, now barren of furniture, and filled instead with boxes of badly organised stuff you've accumulated over the years. This place, albeit small, had been your home ever since you stepped out of the yellow cabbed taxi on your first day in New York, and whilst it wasn't pretty, you felt a pang of guilt leaving it all behind. These walls had seen you through it all, the late night study cram’s, the breakdowns, the accomplishments, the one night stands. You'd miss her, but maybe you were just a nostalgic person.

You’ve made a life in New York, but you felt misplaced, like pieces of yourselves were scattered across the states. Chicago kept a part of you, and it was only when you had gotten the chance to move back home, did it click. You missed your city. And you had cut your lease and emptied out the last of your savings without a second thought.

Now all that was left was tying up loose ends and making the trip down. It was funny, in a way. You had run to New York to pursue architecture, and it brought you back to the very same place you had left, there was a certain trepidation when you thought of Chicago, it held so much of your past, in its city streets and evergreen trees, and you don’t know if you were quite ready to face those memories again.

It still smelled the same. You itch your nose, sniffling against the blooming scent of cocoa and caramel from the Chicago roads, all this time, and all that you can tell is how it still smelt like maple leaves and chocolate. It was comforting, and it felt like the warm embrace of a childhood friend that had stayed sitting on the corner of your suburban street corner all this time.

“Thank you Mae, really, I got the call last minute in New York to come back here and if it weren't for you, I’d be moving back into my old bedroom at my parents” You reply, gratitude filling every word. It was true, your friend had swooped in the second you called, fixing you up with a lease and an apartment with her realtor links. She came in a clutch, and she had made you promise to never leave her again in exchange.

“Oh shush doll, of course. This is probably payment for all the times I’ve crashed at yours anyway” Mae winks, the bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other. She didn't look like a typical realtor, more like a bohemian solo-traveller with her filly skirts and auburn red hair.

“I’m not going to let a degree transform my entire wardrobe, my clothes are antiques, their heirlooms, they tell a story”

She had told you once, one late night on the rooftop of your New York apartment, sipping cheap wine and passing a blunt between you both. You wish you had known yourself as much as she did then.

She had visited you a couple times in New York, coming up for work and spending the time at yours instead of spending thousands on an Airbnb, but it had been a while since you've seen her, and all of a sudden you remember how much you missed her laugh.

“I’ve got some time to spend before it’s all hand on deck” You reply, placing the last of your boxes onto the empty wooden floor of the living room.

“Oh yeah? Can’t believe you’re gonna design a whole building on Michigan Av’, your a fucking inspiration Bug” Mae sighs in adoration, and you giggle, the feeling of embarrassment filling you at the mention of your reason back home.

You never got used to the praise and adoration you received over the years, despite your many accolades and awards, you still felt like that hopelessly broke architect student giving up lunch to pay rent. You didn’t remember when things started to change. When did things start to change?

“You know, if you’ve got time, you should check out the Farmers Market near River North” Mae replies, whilst flicking through her phone

“The one on Division Street?” You reply, you had a faint memory of the long strip of stalls filled with fresh produce, food and the rest of the little trinkets that were sold since you were born on the pleated table cloth of sheltered booths.

“That’s the one, this guy named Samson? Makes the best fucking bearclaw in the entire United States. Tell him you're a friend of mine and he'll hook you up…you know since you can't afford it” Mae replies playfully, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you hook up with him or something?” You poke back, Mae had the tendency to know everyone in Chicago, from the mailman to the old woman you’d see feeding the bids on a park bench.

“Yeah, actually I did. Not like you could relate, how long has it been, hm?” Mae replies, stepping forward to whisper down at your pants.

“I’m so sorry she hasn't been taking care of you. What are you, mummify her?” Mae looks up from her crouched position with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, you know I've been too busy to think about that. She’s gonna have to be patient” You reply, you don’t want to think about how long it has actually been, since you've had any type of release. But the tension has begun to weigh on your shoulders as time went on and you fear it might become something you can’t ignore.

You begin to move some boxes into your bedroom, thanks to your planning your large furniture such as your bed and coach, had been moved into the apartment before the rest of the things had got here, so at least you wouldn't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Changing into a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeve top, you loop an embroidered handbag onto your shoulder.

“So, you coming?” You call to Mae, who’s begun to fill your fridge with the groceries she's swung by with.

“Sure would Bug, but got a call to come in. I’ll come by again later this evening though?” Mae replies, with a grunt as she lifts the 2 litre bottle of milk onto one of the drive shelves.

“Yes please, I’m dying for a glass of wine”

“And a blunt” Mae replies, snickering at the way you roll your eyes at her.

Mae offers to drop you off, but you wave her off, telling her you wanted to see a little more of your hometown. You needed some fresh air that wasn't the coffee and smoke scent of the New York streets.

The walk to the Farmers market was a short one, but you felt like you were wading through a current. By the way the memories of your past began to resurface as you passed the streets and shops. Every corner holds a part of you, and you have to rush by your old school to stop the pang of pain that surprises you. You weren't an emotional person, but god it was almost as if you were hanging by a thread the second you touched down on Chicago.

What was causing this? You felt like you were holding your breath as you stepped through the fallen autumn leaves marking the sidewalk, the gentle sun on your back, what were you waiting for?

You tear yourself from your thoughts momentarily when you catch the looming buildings that had been built on ions ago, the infrastructure of Chicago still enamoured you, in a way that couldn't be beaten by even New York’s impossible skyscrapers.

There was a charm to it, each of the buildings felt like you were stepping into a different decade, they had been the stepping stones to a lot of the infrastructure and architecture that spread into other cities. You felt like you were at the start of it all every time your eyes trailed across the facade and arcades of the century old stone buildings.

Without realising, you had finally made it to the Farmers Market, the constant stream of people coming in and out with boxes of produce or hauling wooden antiques with very audible grunts. You can’t stop the smile stretching your face as you step through the embroidered banner at the front of the street.

Despite the many different stalls and food around you, you don't feel overstimulated. This was your home, you felt like you belonged, like a name scratched into wet cement, remaining ingrained for years no matter the seasons that came.

You go over the haphazard list of things you wanted to look for in your mind, but you're caught off guard by a stall that seemed to be huddled by patrons. You step towards it, and as people move aside you see the blooming flowers and carefully wrapped banquets in woven wooden baskets to the side of the stall. A short woman with light brown curls is standing at the front, taking down orders with a grin, whilst a rather tall man behind her makes quick work to wrap delicate orders into soft brown parchment paper tied with string.

And all of a sudden the need to buy pink tulips becomes your first priority. The woman at the front looks familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on where you've seen her, but as you walk up to the front her face morphs into familiar as she looks up at you in surprise.

“As I live and breathe” She says your name with a screech and it's her voice that pulls her name to your mouth. Adeline, a close friend from senior year who’d taught you how to crochet and pick a lock.

“Bug? How've you been? What brings you back to town?” Ade replies after telling the man behind her your order without you even saying a thing.

“Tulips, pink ones right?” Ade grins, and you have to let out a chuckle at how you haven't changed even a little.

“Got invited to join in designing a new building on Michigan Avenue, so I'll be back for a while-”

“Michigan Avenue? Holy shit Bug! You’re making moves, knew you always were special” Adeline replies with a gushing smile and you rush to reply with the same adoration

“Are you kidding, look at this line” You motion to the increasing line of people forming at Adeline's stall.

“People love their flowers” Adeline replies with a shrug before you shake your head vehemently

“No, they love your flowers, and for good reason, look at these” You gush, pressing your face into the bundle of tulips that had been handed to you.

“They only look that good because Henry's so good at wrapping them” Adeline replies with a laugh, her eyes flicking to the brown haired man dressed in corduroy behind her. A look passes between them that tells you there was more than love between them.

“Henry huh?” You reply with a grin, and the man is quick to introduce himself, and you don’t ignore the cold press of an encrusted band on his ring finger as he shakes your hand with a soft smile.

And it's as if Adeline reads your mind and she slips her left hand in yours, looking up at you with a teary grin.

“Yes, yes I know, I should've called, and I’m so sorry-”

You press yourself against her, leaning over the stall to wrap your arms around her. You whisper words of congratulation, shutting down any words that hinted at you being mad at her.

It wasn't her fault, it should be you she's mad at, you hadn’t really made that much of an effort to keep in contact with your friends back at home, and the reality of it weighed on you heavy now, you had missed so many milestones of your loved ones, all to chase your own dreams in New York.

You felt like you were constantly playing catch up, and you couldn't lie when a strange feeling crept up at the thought of your friends moving on with life. You were so incredibly happy for Adeline, and you were even more elated when she had told you of the Wedding in April that you had to come to.

But that didn't stop that same strange feeling of being behind everyone else, you had spent so long climbing the ladder to wear what you wear now, relationships and love weren't even a thought, you filled your nights with studying and drawing and the occasional fling, but nothing more. And now doubts had begun to creep in, had you missed out?

Watching everyone around you get married and have kids whilst you were still drawing buildings in that same sketchbook your teacher had given you 8 years ago. You’re not looking as you walk past the many stalls of the Farmers market, and it is your thoughts again that causes you to accidentally stumble into the hard muscle of a man back. You feel yourself falling, before arm's reach out, grabbing you quickly to stop you from ending flat on your face.

You breath out a sigh of relief, shaking a head at your clumsiness

“God, ‘m so sorry, I’ve just been in my head, I wasn’t looking where i was going-”

“Holy fuck” Your quick to spit an apologetic thanks, you haven't even looked up to see who you've dubbed into, and when the sound of surprise meets your ease you look up, only to be remain stone faced with your mouth left open.

“Richie?” You say, the shock of it is still in the air. You hadn't expected to see him in Chicago, or maybe you did and it was sooner than you thought.

“When did you get back? Holy shit, thought we wouldn't see you again” Richie replies with a smile

“Yeah uh, came down for some work for a little while. How, uh How are things” You reply with a squeak, you can’t bear to say what you're thinking and Richie nods, a look of acknowledgement in his face. Mickey’s death had shaken you, it had changed you in its own way, and you still grief him, it still hurts when Richie's face kinda falls and melts at the reminder of his best friend's death.

“After, uh, after Mickey, he had left the restaurant, you know, the Beef?” You nod in agreement, the hazy memory of the sandwich shop on the corner of Chicago's, busiest streets, you stomach rumbles at the thought of one of those sandwiches you'd down in less than a minute during your high school years.

“Yeah well, get this, he left it to Carmen. And honestly, I was hesitant at first, real hesitant, I love him, but god, he's a self centred ass coming in like he knew everything, spewing the bullshit CDC shit he learnt up in the big apple? He changed things, and you know how I feel about change, but he made it better, I can;t lie, and you better not tell him this, but the Beef actually..” Richie’s familiar rambles are muffled to your ears, the only thing you can hear is Carmen.

Everything zones out as you scrunch your eyebrows, wincing almost, at the pain and it shocks you, it shocks you how the very name of him still brings back those memories. You still hurt the same way you did the day you left him.

You must have looked out of it, as Richie shakes your shoulder, anchoring you back to the present, and you have to swallow back the bite of pain that bleeds through your chest.

“Did you hear what I said? The Beef’s holding a little family dinner tomorrow, shutting down the shop early, inviting only friends and family, it’ll be like a little reunion for you! You have to come” Richie replies, and you nod trying to seem present.

Carmen took over the Beef? He was in New York? What?

Your mind is scattered with the uproar of questions you have, the thought of Carmen, the memory of him is like a fresh wound. It un tethered and opens up a thread of thoughts and emotions you had thought you bottled up and threw deep into the ocean.

“You, you still talk to him right? Ya’ll were pretty close growing up, like fucking thieves attached to the hip if i can remember” Richie chuckles, fondly remembering the two of you.

You cough back, smiling up at him as you trying to reply coherently

“Yeah, uh sometimes you know” You lie

No. You haven't spoken to him since you left, and it feels like your tongue falls dead when you try to say his name again. You hadn't called and he hadn't picked up. Carmen told you not to say goodbye, but the truth was it had been the end of you even before you had both realised.

You had spent years pretending like Carmen not calling you, not making an effort to see you after everything didn’t burn, but the reality of it had marked you in a way that felt eternal.

“So you're coming, yeah? You and Carmen can finally catch up” Richie replies with a smile, and look of something passes through his eyes before it leaves, and you have to smile back with a nod, like you and Carmen were still close, like you don't feel that he might turn you away or scream at you the second he saw you, like you weren't both irrevocably in love with each other.

Bear. You missed him, you are shocked by how much you do, you thought bottling up your memories and emotions about him and stuffing them so far back into your mind you forgot would actually change anything. There had always been this lingering thought, at the recesses of your mind, the last thing you imagined before you fell asleep, the feeling that filled you the second you came back to Chicago, it was all Carmen, it was all your golden boy.

And now you would have to see him, in less than a day you would be in the same room as Carmen Berzatto, you don't want to say it, you don't want to speak it into acknowledgement but deep down, you wanted to see him again.

Beyond it all, you both were bonded in friendship, sharing something you didn't even have with Adeline or Mae, and you had felt like a part of yourself was missing each day that went passed without hearing from him. Had he forgotten you? Had it been as hard for him to go on with life? He had been in New York for christ sake, he didn't even think to visit you, that thought alone made you want to run back home and never come out.

You couldn't bare the possibility of exposing yourself to such heartache, to the chance of being rejected by the very person who you forever longed for. You were always searching for him, looking through crowds to see the familiar curl of his brown hair, or the scent he carried, ears always leaning in, trying to see if it would catch his syrupy baritone voice.

The two of you were forever connected, like the roots of trees spanning miles under the Earth. The kind of companionship that transcended time and space, and god did you want to feel the sharp edge of his jaw between your hands.

You couldn't stop it now, Richie had opened something you kept locked and sunk for a reason, and now it felt like you would break if you didn't see Carmen. Even if it would break you, even if it was the one thing in this world that would destroy you,

You had to see your golden boy.

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tastesousweet · 9 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#this took way too long #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #tattoo matt n yn

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sserpente · 2 months

Text

My Pleasure

Excerpt from Gortash's Private Memoirs, No. 48:

Quite recently, I have been able to observe an interesting phenomenon. The new tadpoles, as per my last visit to Moonrise Towers, are forming a protective layer, a membrane, around themselves, a process resembling that of a human or an elven embryo. These rather soft “eggs” filled with brine allow the tadpole to grow without any external influences which in turn improves its quality for later use.

In order to fully embrace this potential, I have a theory that once put into practice, will be exceeding the effectiveness of the brine pools, enabling the production of more tadpoles directly in Baldur’s Gate—as soon as I’ve had it relocated to the city. And all I will need is a woman.

A/N: Okay, hear me out. This is the most depraved, most vile, most perverted, and filthiest thing I have ever written. I actually pondered for a couple of days whether I should post it or not but you know what? Fuck it. The Emperor inspired me. Somehow I really enjoyed writing it and I bet there’ll be at least one person out there who will enjoy reading it and that’s good enough for me. Please, for the love of the gods, HEED THE WARNINGS before proceeding and if you realise this story isn’t for you…don’t keep on reading, don’t traumatise yourself. And if anyone who worked on BG3 one way or another comes across this Imagine and wants to read it…please just don’t? :D

Words: 4435

Warnings: dub-con & non-con smut, abduction & captivity, angst

Additional NSFW warnings: tentacles, ovipositor (yeah that’s a thing I had to google it), eggs, bondage, forced orgasms, edging, mechanical sex device, CMNF, sexual submission, scientific experiment

Gortash’s Private Memoirs, No. 48

The increased production of altered tadpoles is coming to fruition but I cannot help but ponder over how to guarantee success even quicker. Last night, I had a devilishly promising idea. The tadpoles thrive best in warm, dark, and wet environments, hence the brine pools in which they are birthed.

The idea is to insert the tadpole eggs into the vaginal canal of an elven, a human, or a tiefling woman (or any person with a uterus) where they will remain until they are fully grown. If my theory is correct, the eggs will allow the host to easily expel them once they are ready. From there, the eggs will be placed back in a single remaining brine pool where they can hatch, ready for insertion into a citizen.

Your journey, unfortunate as it was, began innocently enough. You came to Baldur’s Gate seeking refuge after the army of the Absolute laid waste to your home. You had nothing left. No gold, no possessions, and nothing more than the clothes you were wearing on your body when you fled.

Baldur’s Gate was your only hope—until it wasn’t. Perhaps the alarm bells should have started ringing when after the eerie assessment of a Steel Watcher—the new guards of the city, so you learned—you were let through past poor and terrified families with children, only to be escorted directly to Wyrm’s Rock by a Fist.

Oblivious still, you obliged, thinking they would need you to register, to record your name. But your journey led you further until you found yourself in the dungeons of the fortress.

And then—darkness, as if someone had taken your memory and left you with nothing but pictorial crumbs and aching limbs.

“Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?” Lord Enver Gortash stepped into view after a heavy door fell shut behind him, a sly and cold smile on his lips.

“Please…please let me go.”

It was a game the two of you played. Gortash would show up, loom over you, and mock, tracking his progress—your progress—and you’d plead for him for mercy. The taste of humiliation had long gone stale. Your half-torn dress, the last one you’d owned, was in shreds, revealing your entire lower body and the most intimate parts of you to his calculated gaze.

“You know I cannot do that, my dear. Not when we are so close to success.”

You were his first, he’d said. That he’d seen you through the eyes of his Steel Watch. That you made the perfect test subject.

Lord Enver Gortash—the people’s hero, the city’s saviour…the ruthless tyrant in disguise.

Bound and helpless and at his mercy, he’d taken you captive and had you brought to a secret hideout underneath the Upper City. Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks.

You didn’t know what his plan was. He’d never told you what it was that he wanted from you—what he wanted from your body. Only that not a single day passed on which you were not being violated. Not by him…but by whatever thing he’d tamed. A monster? Perhaps. You’d never seen its face, never even seen a real body—only its long phallic tentacles with a small opening boring themselves deep into your core, again and again, and again.

It was the same procedure every day. Of course, it was. This was your life now. Your body was a tool for whatever sick game Gortash was playing.

You heard them before you saw them. The slimy, slithering sounds of those things. The archduke raised his fist, a purple gemstone illuminating the dimly lit room he kept you in.

A whimper escaped your lips when the tentacles writhed around your thighs and your waist, holding you in place for the vile act they were about to perform on you. There was no pain, at least—the tentacle slipped inside you effortlessly, its shiny saliva, discharge, whatever it was, acting as an odourless lubricant. In, out, in, out. It wasn’t getting any pleasure from the act, nor was it trying to bestow it on you, this much you’d learned quickly. This was about something else entirely. The tentacle curled inside you as if to probe you, to explore you. You winced when it slid across your walls and pressed against your cervix for a moment. Then…it stilled until eventually, it released you and retreated back into the darkness.

Gortash sighed—disappointed by this outcome—he was every day. “A shame. There must be something I am missing.”

“Please…if you let me go, I swear I won’t tell a soul about this.”

Gortash chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t, my dear. But alas, I still need you.”

“Why me?” you whined. “What are you doing to me? What is this…this thing?”

“So many questions… Well, I suppose I can answer one of them at least. Why you? Because it was convenient. You are not Baldurian. Your absence from the city will go unnoticed. You are young, potent, durable…you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, my dear.”

“F-for what? Durable for what? For…for this?”

Gortash only chuckled in response. His dark eyes fell on the half-eaten stew from a few hours ago when one of his men you’d recognised as a Banite, reluctantly fed it to you.

“I’ll have something else brought down for you to eat. You’ll need your strength if our little experiment is to work.”

“N-No, fuck you! Please, don’t leave. Please, just…just stop, please, I’ll do anything, please!” You thrashed against your bonds, hot tears burning in your eyes.

Gortash smirked. “Such inappropriate language for a lady. I shall see you tomorrow, my dear.”

Your screams and curses ricocheted off the walls as he left, leaving you to your fate once again and to ponder over how travelling to Baldur’s Gate as an innocent refugee had turned your life into an utter nightmare.

Gortash’s Private Memoirs, No. 49

It turns out that the brain was rejecting the girl for a very specific reason. I was missing a rather significant variable. Arousal. In order for a female to grow warm, wet, and receptive, in this case for the tadpole eggs, she too needs to be in a, let us say, welcoming state.

The tadpoles are used to a wet environment such as that—the vaginal canal will therefore have to replicate it if the brain is to deposit the eggs inside of her.

Now it is highly unlikely to get the test subject into such an aroused state without any external help and additional stimulation. The girl is terrified enough as is, even if I did command the brain to work her to climax and then keep her in a libidinous state, the attempt would prove fruitless.

Taking care of the matter myself is unthinkable, of course. I am Lord Enver Gortash, it is beneath me to lay a hand on a poor refugee girl to pleasure her of all things—even though I will admit that the thought has crossed my mind. My own needs have come rather short since the retrieval of the Crown and with the Urge gone, I have no one else to blow off some steam with every now and then.

Be that as it may, over the last week, I have created a contraption that will easily get the job done for me and simplify this little experiment immensely. In order for it to work, it is of idle importance to focus on the clitoral region. My contraption will stimulate the area with both suction and vibrations.

Connected directly to the brain, it can be powered for a long period of time, enabling me to keep the girl in a constant state of arousal without my interference.

And, on a personal note, the result will truly be a sight to behold.

Gortash did not return the next day, nor the day after. You remained sleepless most nights, dozing off every now and then during the day. Not that you were able to distinguish between day and night anyway. You counted the meals, however. Seven. Seven days went by without him continuing to torment you, and even though the suspense was killing you, the retreating soreness in your aching core, that reminder of those tentacles claiming your cunt for themselves, ebbing away slowly, was a welcome break.

On day eight, the tyrant returned. Your stomach churned when you heard him approach, the way his steps sounded long engrained in your brain.

“Good morning, my dear. I sure hope you haven’t missed me too much. My apologies for neglecting you. I had a couple of things to take care of—archduke duties, you understand.”

“No, please…please, just…”

“Hush now, my dear. Lest I’ll gag you. I believe I realised what my mistake was. The brain has no grounds for breeding if the host is not receptive. It’s kind of obvious once you think about it, really.”

Breeding? “The b-brain? What brain?”

His response never came. You watched him, terrified, as he raised his fist, his purple gemstone glowing yet again.

He spoke up when those loathsome tentacles wrapped around your thighs and your waist to hold you in place, their wet squelching noises sending ice-cold shivers up and down your spine.

“Oh gods…no, please no… s-stop…make it stop…you don’t have to do this, please!”

The archduke did not react—at least not in a way you’d like him to. Instead, he stepped forward, an eerie metal contraption with four metal claw arms and a small, suspicious-looking hole in his hands.

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear. Today is going to be a lot more pleasurable for you than usual.” With that, and ignoring your weak protests, he latched the metal device onto your exposed cunt. The claw arms sprang into action and gripped you immediately, wrapping around the very crease where your thighs and your pubic bone met, the other two dug into your butt cheeks, clinging on to you, lodging the contraption in place. Gortash pressed it down on you further until the round opening enveloped your clit.

You froze. Was he going to hurt you? Torture you? Even without extensive biology lessons on human anatomy at school, it was common knowledge the clitoris had over eight thousand nerve endings. It was sensitive. The pain this little device could inflict…

He left you no time to ponder over it. It hummed to life, tightening around your cunt. But instead of pain, what rippled through you was…pleasure. A gentle suction increasing gradually, combined with soft pulsing vibrations pampering your sensitive bundle of nerves peacefully, having you grow more and more…aroused.

No. This was wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, not here, not when…you gasped when Gortash placed his hand on your bare stomach, the metal claws of his jewellery caressing your skin almost gently.

“That’s it, my dear. Let it happen. You are going to enjoy this one way or another so there is no use fighting it.”

“W-Why are you doing this?” you breathed out.

“You’ll see soon enough. You are going to be part of something extraordinary, dear. You should be honoured.”

You didn’t feel honoured. But you did feel arousal. Your breathing quickened, your core growing warm, wet. It felt…good. And that, given your hopeless situation, was horrifying. You didn’t want this, not like this, not with this faceless beast violating your body, and not in front of him. He had no right to watch you during such an intimate moment and yet…when the suction on your clit increased once again, a moan escaped your lips. Whatever this device was, it had but one purpose—to force an orgasm from you.

Panting, you writhed against your bonds, the tentacles only tightening around you in response and the suction and the vibrations increasing as if the more you resisted, the more Gortash—and whatever this thing was—wanted you to relax into it.

The thick tentacle inside you moved with tenacity, probing and prodding where it didn’t belong. Only this time…this time your body couldn’t help but welcome it. You were lost. Lost in the pleasure, the bliss forced upon you. And the more time passed…the longer Gortash watched every single one of your desperate movements…the more any coherent thoughts left your mind until all there was left was an overwhelming desire…to come.

He was edging you, biding his time. His dark eyes were glued on your pussy as the thick tentacle disappeared inside you again and again and again. Squelching wet sounds echoed through the dimly lit room, riling you up even further. It was your own slickness this time producing these noises…and the more your arousal grew, the more you found yourself giving up all refusal.

You let your head fall back, unable to escape the invasive treatment any longer.

“That should suffice now. You’ve done well, my dear.” Gortash’s hand wandered down to your lower belly, the purple gemstone glowing. “Let us take this up a notch now, shall we?”

“N-n-no…”

Your weak protest fell on deaf ears. Without any forewarning, the pressure on your clit increased even more, the suction growing almost painful. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you had wanted to; the pleasure rippling through you like lightning in a thunderstorm conjured by the gods as you fell apart before him, your wet and aching walls clenching and contracting around the still moving tentacle inside you. You gave in, letting your orgasm consume you. The relief was so overwhelming you were on the verge of tears once the last waves of pleasure subsided and left you shaking in your bonds.

Gortash chuckled darkly. “Bravo…” he praised, his tone condescending, almost mocking.

But this wasn’t over yet, for it was then you felt something being released into your warmth, the tentacle still buried deep in your pussy pumping something into you. Gortash pressed his palm down on your lower belly as if to confirm what was happening.

Your eyes widened as it popped into you, the momentary pressure making you flinch.

“Good, good…keep going.” He wasn’t addressing you anymore. But there was something else you realised. Whatever these tentacles were, whatever they belonged to, they were pumping their eggs into you. Another one plopped in, then another, then another. You whimpered, fear digging its claws deep into your intestines, your heart pounding.

You counted five eggs until it finally stopped and the tentacle retreated. Trembling and with chattering teeth, you found Gortash’s satisfied expression.

“Very good…”

It was his words that finally triggered your full-blown panic, the shock of what had just happened sinking in. You couldn’t feel the eggs inside you anymore, they were small enough not to stretch you out painfully but knowing they were there in the first place…you gasped for air, fending off a panic attack. What if they hatched inside of you? What if whatever was growing inside you now would eventually bite and claw its way out, ripping you open?

“P-please, please, I beg you…get them out of me, please. Please do something, please, please, please…get them o-out of me…” Your words were drowned in sobs and tears, yet Gortash remained unfazed.

“There, there, there is nothing to worry about, my dear. The eggs won’t have to stay up there for too long. A couple of days, at most. Do not attempt to push them out before then,” he demanded—and the fear of what he might do to you if you disobeyed was somehow even greater than what the eggs inside you might do to you after what he already put you through.

“Am I going to die? Is this going to kill me?” you choked out.

“Of course not. Not if you behave. Rest now. I shall return to you soon, my dear. Don’t go anywhere.” He removed his hand from your lower belly and left with a malicious chuckle.

Gortash did not return for another five days, yet his contraption remained latched onto your body, unwillingly bestowing pleasure on you and keeping you in a constant state of arousal, edging you—but never allowing you to finish. To keep the eggs wet. To keep them warm and comfortable. Soon…soon…

Soon this would all be over and perhaps then the tyrannical archduke would let you go, surely. There were no thoughts remaining in your head other than your freedom and relief—sexual relief. Every cell of your body was on fire, and you were sure that the slightest touch, perhaps from a clawed hand, could toss you over the edge and have you coming for hours.

Thinking straight was not an option anymore. It was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not with your nerves turning into lava. You used to welcome the breaks in between—now, they were pure torture, a merciless reminder that Gortash held your pleasure in his hands—and he wasn’t even here.

Perhaps the fact you stopped eating by day three was what had him pay you another visit. Perhaps he merely thought that those disgusting eggs inside of you were ready to hatch. You didn’t feel any different down there. They didn’t grow in size, didn’t move, didn’t poke. But knowing they were there…

You took a deep breath when the door opened and you recognised his footsteps approaching, preparing to start the so-familiar game of begging.

“P-please…” But this time, it was different. You didn’t want to ask him to stop. You wanted him to end it. To finish it—to let you experience the relief he’d been withholding from you for the past five days.

“Please what, my dear? You’re doing quite well…though I am a little concerned you are refusing the food I had my servants bring down. This isn’t some sort of belated rebellion, is it?”

You fought hard to shake your head, tears of exhaustion burning in your eyes. You flinched when the metal contraption hummed to life yet again, vibrating and sucking and forcing you to the edge within seconds.

“P-please…I need to come…I can’t…I can’t…take it anymore. It’s t-too much…please…”

“Hmm…” It was gone before you could be sure but for a moment, you believed to spot genuine desire in his dark eyes. His gaze skimmed over your helpless and trembling body, over your hardened nipples poking through the ruined fabric of your dress, drenched in sweat, and over your exposed sex gushing with your juices. “I don’t see why not. I think we can take the next step. Come, my dear.”

His words alone would have been enough to make you oblige, yet as if on cue, the device’s efforts intensified too. You were barely able to process how fast it tossed you down an endless cliff of bliss and relief. Your orgasm was almost painful as pleasure as sweet as honey and as sharp as glass pulsed through you, making you see stars.

You could feel the eggs now. You were contracting around them, your body forcing them out.

“Very good,” Gortash purred. “Keep going. Push. Them. Out.”

And so you did. Eager to be rid of the foreign spawn resting inside of you. You took a deep breath, the intensity of your climax still clouding your senses, and pushed. At this point, you wouldn’t even have cared if you had peed yourself right in front of him. All you wanted was for this to be over and…more pleasure.

What?

The first two eggs popped out of you, covered in your slick juices and you propped yourself up as best as you could to catch a glimpse of them. Then you wished you hadn’t. They were almost see-through and milky, a tadpole-shaped creature swimming inside acidic-looking water. You were even more eager now to get them out of you, pushing even harder.

Another two eggs plopped out, followed quickly by the last one. You breathed out, relieved. Finally. They’re gone…they’re gone…

Gortash snapped his fingers and seemingly out of nowhere, a Banite hurried toward you to collect the eggs with thick leather gloves on. Where he took them, you didn’t even want to find out. You were glad they were out of sight. And then, at last, he removed the contraption and set it aside.

Your clit was numb—fuck, your entire pussy was numb, and yet…as his fingers brushed over your pelvis…you moaned.

“You have become part of a scientific breakthrough today, my dear. You should be proud.”

“I…I’m…I…”

“Hmm? What’s that? Gods, look at you, you’re a mess.” His eyes found your dripping sex, lingering there a little too long. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you need more.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t shake your head. You didn’t deny it. Your walls were tingling, needy for something else to mould around. Because he was right. You did need more. And you hated your body for it.

“Beg me,” he demanded.

Your eyes widened in response.

“I…I…”

“Go ahead. Beg me. You want something from me, my dear.”

You swallowed. There wasn’t much of your pride left anyway. “P-please…”

“Please what?”

“Please…h-help me.”

Gortash tilted his head, clearly amused by your weak request—but he seemed satisfied.

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when he opened his trousers and pulled out his cock. You had affected him. He was hard. Or perhaps it was the simple fact you were in such a submissive state that had gotten him so aroused.

He positioned himself between your legs, his red tip pressing against your slick entrance. There was no need to prepare you for this after all. One way or another…you had begged him for it.

Gortash pushed inside with but one long thrust, slipping inside you to the hilt. You whimpered when his pelvis, lined with curly black hair, brushed against your clit. It was no gentle lovemaking. It was pure, carnal fucking.

He withdrew almost entirely, his fingers digging into your thighs. The metal claws hurt like a bitch but you were so beyond any sensation aside from pleasure you barely registered it. When he plunged back in, you gasped for air, his steady and frantic rhythm eliciting moan after moan after moan.

This…was heavenly. His strokes were caressing your walls, hitting all those pleasurable spots times and times again until you turned into an all but whining mess on the brink of orgasm.

“I can feel you tightening around me…” he purred, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Go ahead. Come. Come.”

His words were like a trigger. Unable to resist, you threw your head back, clenching your fists. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you into a restless sea of bliss. You contracted around him, your sex begging him for his seed.

Your eyes widened when he groaned and with one final thrust, buried himself as deep inside you as he could and stilled. You were not on birth control… you could only pray that Gortash had planned ahead for this.

His breathing calmed again, and so did yours. Eventually, after a few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence, he withdrew, sending a wet noise through the dimly lit room. He tucked his cock away as if none of this had just happened. When you looked up, you noticed the satisfied smirk in his eyes.

“Please don’t…put eggs in me again, please… I’ll do anything!” And you meant it. Perhaps it was your mushy brain malfunctioning as a result of being edged for so long. And now that Gortash himself had taken pleasure from you…he might feel something like empathy for you?

“Anything?” He smirked. But the tyrant ignored your pathetic request. “Do you feel better now, my dear?”

You nodded, unable to lie even if you had wanted to.

He chuckled and turned to leave. “Good. I’ll have someone sent down to get you out of these bonds.”

He’d let you go. It was over. You’d done it… Against all reason, you smiled, relief flushing your entire body.

Gortash’s Private Memoirs, No. 50

I spoke too harshly, perhaps. The tadpoles, just like I predicted, are doing fine, of course. They are stronger than ever and developed much quicker than even I anticipated. I will soon have some Black Gauntlets sent out to fetch some more subjects.

But this very first test subject…I found myself quite surprised I enjoyed holding her pleasure in my hands. After the insertion of the eggs, she turned into a helpless mess, completely defenceless. She practically begged me to fuck her. And I must admit, the sight of her slick sex did stir a fire in my loins. So I obliged. For I, Lord Enver Gortash, too have needs, do I not?

The girl did her job well. She was…as obedient as can be in her predicament. Such behaviour should be rewarded. Needless to say, she begged me to let her go after I had my fill of her. But I think I have a better idea. I have long been toying with the idea of getting myself a concubine to keep my bed warm at night. And after what I have put her through, she is way too terrified to cause me any trouble or pry into my business.

The plan will be as follows: Send the Banites in the Lower City and Rivington on a quest to find as many hosts as possible. Anyone with a uterus will do. They will focus on the poor and the few refugees that made it into the city, of course. These disappearances have to remain inconspicuous, after all.

Next, I will have the underground facility in the Upper City near the brain expanded and hire more servants (or slaves, whichever is at my disposal when the time comes) to take care of their well-being while they breed the eggs. As for the girl…she will be mine alone.

#lord gortash #gortash x reader #gortash x you #gortash imagine #lord gortash smut #gortash smut #lord enver gortash #gortash x female reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 #bg3 imagine #jason isaacs #enver gortash #enver gortash imagine #enver gortash smut #enver gortash x you #enver gortash x reader

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bloodybreakupscene · 1 year

Text

-> 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ! !

miles morales [ 1610 ! ] x reader

◗ 　basically miles has a crush on someone he sees around school

◗ 　thsi is inspired by @/moonpiies fic but it's #REVERSED!! her fic was so cute i was kicking my feet and giggling while reading it but with that aside miles is so real for changing his whole walking schedule to see a cutie patootie :3

miles yearned for the past time between fifth and sixth period. for no particular reason of course….is what he tries to think but in reality it's just to see you. now you don't share any classes together. maybe the same lunch period? but only on thursdays. the walk from his fifth period to his sixth is only about a couple minutes, one if he's feeling a bit more athletic than usual.

'okay.. just got to take a left from here..' he thinks as he walks downstairs. as he's doing this, you glance at him, only because you swear you've seen him during passing time last period, but whatever you walk off towards your classroom failing to recognize miles' silent victory. you made eye contact with him! for two more seconds than last time!

he arrives at class a minute before the late bell rings. he can't help but feel giddy as he thinks about the next route he can take to meet with you again.

anyone with a heartbeat can see from a mile away that he has the hugest crush on you. hearts basically popping from his eye sockets whenever you two cross paths in the hallway. he sees you usually walking with a friend laughing at something they said or rolling your eyes because– again— of something they said. embarrassingly enough, he imagines it's him making you laugh or smile.

the bell rings once more and miles and his friend, ganke, walk out of the classroom to go to their shared final period.

"wait, let's take the long way." miles says, already leading the both of them to the longer hallway.

"oh my god miles do you even have a class with them?" ganke comments, frankly quite annoyed that they might be tardy.

"no, but… we follow each other on instagram!" he replies.

"whatever man. do what you want." ganke rolls his eyes, continuing to follow miles.

you scroll on your phone, changing the song you were walking to and see miles again. you only know his name and that you seem to find each other after every passing period. you hoped it didn't look like you were stalking him, but nevertheless you walked into your class.

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wonkawinka · 7 months

Text

we’ll meet again

“we’ll meet again… don’t know where, don’t know when…”

alastor x angel!daughter!reader

CHAPTER TWO: smile like you mean it!

— — CHAPTER THREE: weak ankles!

warnings/notes: EPISODE 6 SPOILERS! not proof read, no use of y/n, used she/her pronouns, reader is on the fem side, maybe vaggie x reader and maybe emily x reader if you squint but its all platonic

chère- french for dear

remercier dieu- french for thank god

court reporter- someone who transcribes everything said during a court meeting

wc: 2336

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

ROLLER skates. flashy lights. bursting colors. street jazz at every corner. twists and turns.

NEW ORLEANS had it all. all you could need in your heart. soft, live jazz rung through the tiny diner that everyone got their morning coffee from. skating through the diner, you tipped your hat from one couple to another. there was the occasional (and by occasional you mean somewhat often) jerk who flirts with you, a teenager, but you brush it off.

ever since the stock market crash of 1929, people have been living off the hook ‘round these parts. you were lucky enough to snag a job, let alone have a father that's able to put food on the table for you.

the bell of the door rings exactly at 9:01 am, you don’t even need to turn around to check who it is.

“good mornin’ ladies! fine morning today, isn’t it?” alastor’s voice rang through the diner, sound waves bouncing the walls and into your ears. his presence was certainly not something anyone would miss. your coworkers nodded in agreement, saying their tiny welcomes, the occasional giggle for one of them.

pouring out straight black coffee into a medium sized cup, you skated towards the counter and slipped your dad a napkin and his cup.

“mornin’ papa.” you said with a smile, taking his coins and filing it into the register.

“good morning, my dear!” he said with his chipper smile, one that made the men grumble and ladies swoon, but it just made you happy to see your father happy. “day treating you well, i hope.”

he took the coffee and took a sip. a sound of satisfaction left his lips “perfection! you know me so well, ch��re.”

“pa, you drink the blackest coffee on earth. it’s not hard to mess up, dontcha think?”

“ah, don’t sass me now, little miss. i’ll have you know this is the best coffee i’ve had since yesterday mornin’!”

“i made that coffee yesterday morning.”

“hmmm, did you now? seems i dont remember…” he grinned teasingly, pushing up his glasses in ‘thought’.

“yeah, course ya’ dont, ya old man.” teasing back, slipping him a slice of pie “i know you didnt eat, pops, cant have ya flopping dead during your morning show. who knows, maybe the cannibal will getcha. then i’ll have to take over the show.”

he smirked at her words, ha, if only she knew.

“well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” he said, taking the to-go box from her hands.

“well, you raised me, so you tell me.” you smiled brightly

his laughter rang through the diner, and soon yours as their vocals mixed together in a medley of sounds. they nearly mixed together perfectly. nearly.

some people looked at you weirdly, but you both never really minded. everyone in town knew you were his daughter and everyone in town knew he was your father. the talk of the town, especially when people found out your father of all people adopted you all those years ago.

he smiled at you wholeheartedly, something you only get to receive from him. “thats my girl.” his hand cupped your face, thumb brushing against the skin.

you placed your hand on top of his and smiled. “love ya’, pa.”

“love you more, my dear.”

you patted his hand, signing him to let go. “now shoo, before you’re actually late. you got an audience waiting for you all ‘round the area. can’t have them sitting for too long, hm?”

with a tip of his head, he bidded you and the ladies of the diner farewell, grabbing his coffee and pie, slipping out the door.

one of your coworkers called out your name “hunny, you better help a girl out! is your fatha’ up for grabs?” she giggled, winking at you.

“oh hush, lonnie! that's my dad..!”

——————— PRESENT.

“OH, don’t worry, it’s really not that hard! you just flip the book and let them in! see? simple.” st. peter directed you to the golden podium of the pearly white gates.

“are you sure i’m even allowed to do this? look.. i’m happy to help. i just don’t wantcha to get in trouble with the Seraphims.” you floated down onto the podium, scanning the big book of entries.

“it wouldn’t be for long! thank you so much, by the way. you really are heaven’s little helper, huh?” he elbowed you and gave that big smile he had. it was almost blinding. literally.

“haha, yeahhh… if you say so.” you turned and flipped through the pages for what seemed to endlessly go on.

“who names their kid breakfast?”

“now, now, we dont go and judge what those humans name their offspring!” he placed his two hands on your shoulders in reassurance. you cock an eyebrow at his word choice, but next thing you know hes already flying off to do who knows what. ‘saintly duties.’

“huh.” you continued to flip through the pages to examine the very odd name choices, nodding at some and… skipping through others.

minutes, maybe even hours went by until sudden echoes from down the golden pathway filled your ears. they shoot up in reaction to the newfound sound.

“uhhh, heelloooo? helloooo!” the blonde hair girl called out

“hiya!,” you call out , “how may i help ya’? well, getting into heaven i guess, huh?” you laughed at yourself, watching the girl’s nerves calm down a bit. behind her was a recognizable individual. you know, it nearly looked like vagg—

“OH— uh, uh, uh— hello! my name is charlie morningstar. heh.”

“alright, lets see…” you flipped through the alphabetized record only to find every name known to man BUT a charlie morningstar.

panic fills your core when you cant find it, scanning the page over and over and over again to no avail.

“uhhhh, you see, slight problem, hun...” you start, throwing in a name to ease her name. “i, uhm, can’t find your name… but you know! the trek all the way to the uh, other place, is a long way. maybe i can like… sneak ya’ in—”

“OH, no, no, THAT won’t be necessary. uh— see, my dad got me this meeting, so maybe try lucifer… morningstar..”

THAT CERTAINLY RANG A BELL.

“OH, uh.. uhuh.” you nod “i see.” you nod quicker. your eyes darted to the gray haired girl who looked at you with the same tense expression.

“i think there may have been a, um..” you put your hands together “mishap… but i am SURE it is a just BIG misunderstanding, haha!”

a mighty voice called out to you, one that could shake all of heaven’s foundation.

“remercier dieu…” you say, quite literally.

“don’t worry, we can take it from here.” sera’s voice reassured, the normal call smile present on her face. you bowed your head in respect which she kindly returns.

behind her was an excited emily which shot you an ecstatic wave. her smile was about to explode with happiness which only grew more as she approached charlie, the princess of hell.

st. peter pops out of nowhere and of course, starts singing his welcome song.

see, you didnt think it was bad, it was quite good, but hearing it over and over again for the past century really takes a toll on your ears.

after his musical number, em is basically ready to explode into a pile of rainbows and sparkles. “oh, oh! i gotta show you! the zoo, the petting zoo, the aquarium, the- the EVERYTHING!”

her and charlie jump for joy as they start running off.

“oh come on, do we need to ru— yEUP okay.” you’re dragged along the crossfire, em tugging on your wrist.

you catch a glimpse of adam and lute. they did not seem… very ecstatic.

hm.

“em. emily. emmy. e.” you bring her to the stop. her happiness was contagious, a sickness, her happiness basically flooding into your veins.

“i know you’re excited, sugar,” you start, “but maybe, i show them their room first. how's that sound?”

with some reluctance, emily allows you to guide the two girls to their temporary room.

“here, let me get that—” with an easy spell you learned, you pick up their bags weightlessly.

“follow me, i’ll show ya your room.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

on the way there, you’re bombarded with questions from the princess. not that you were complaining of course, you found it quite endearing.

“wow, your sprinkles have RAINBOWS in them?!”

“yup, those are just rainbow sprinkles,” you chuckle lightly at her innocent excitement, “so.. about this hazbin hotel you were talkin’ about, mrs. morningstar…”

“oh, please, call me charlie!”

“charlie,” you smiled ,”i really do love the idea. quite innovative! you have my support. do you already have people staying?”

“oh, we only have.. two residents. but we do have lovelt staff! we have a maid.. nifty, she’s harmless, most of the time.. and a bar-tender, husker, he’s great, grumpy, but great! vaggie, my lovely girlfriend keeps the hotel safe,” she smiles brightly at her partner, “oh, and our host, alastor! he’s uh.. the radio demon, BUT HE MEANS WELL! i think.”

the name rung in your mind, bouncing off the walls and causing them to shoot jolts through your head. it was like a migraine, but worse. radio demon. it was strikingly familiar resemblance to your father (father?), but who knows! there are probably many alastors that loved radio.

“i see,” you nod, “well i wish you luck on the growth of your hotel.” you opened the entrance of there room and landed their bags perfectly in the corner.

“wow, okay, i LOVE heaven! everythings so clean and nice! AHH, and emilys going to bring me to a zoo where everythings fluffy and soft!” you zone out the rest of their conversation before charlie bids her goodbye.

“safe travels, charlie.” you bow your head in respect, earning a giggle from the princess.

“thank you sososososo much for your help! heh, alright SEE YOU LATER!”

silence filled the room.

“vaggie.” you started, not bothering to around and fully face her. “knew that was you, cant hide from me under all that hair. looks good, though.”

“uhhhhhhhhhhh—” she says your name in a frantic manner, causing you to cock your eyebrow “ah, fuck, i can’t think of an excuse.”

“look, vaggie, i dont know.” you sigh “you disappear for your ‘yearly outing’ to god knows where then you go missing for years, now you come back to be dating lucifer’s daughter.”

“i know, i’m so—“

“no no, don’t apologize. i get it. im happy for ya, vags, but damn, years. i dont know what you do on that one day, but adam and lute didnt seem very happy when they saw ya today.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you turned to her.

“look, adam tried recruiting me to god knows what when you went missing. said i got good aim or something. im just telling ya to be smart. i got no idea what he was trying to do with me, so im telling ya’ to not give in to that prick. i’ll be at todays meeting; i work as the court reporter.”

she pondered your statement for a bit, snapping out of her thoughts once you handed her the room key. you offered her a smile, which she hesitantly returned.

“ah, come on, smile like you mean it! though a smile may not mean everything, you’re never fully dressed without one.” that phrase rang in vaggie’s ears. that was oddly familiar.

a little too familiar.

it was your time to bid farewell, but before you did, she called out to you.

“thank you.”

“ah, don’t mention it. we’re friends, arent we?”

and with that you shut the door.

— — — — — — — — — — —

SCRIBBLING. writing. swirls of ink as you titled the paper in preparation. COURT ISSUE 36789127. it made you think, whos counting all these issues?

“WHAT’S UUUP, BA-BY!” the annoying ring of adam’s voice filled the court room. he was like a toddler, ironic as he is the oldest human soul known to mankind. he was mankind. a sick joke for it too.

every little thing he said you were required to write down, even if it was a dumb, immature response.

“we are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into heavenly realm by the means of this Hazbin Hotel… Princess Morningstar?”

the blonde takes a stand and clears her throat,

“Webster’s Dictionary defined redemption as—”

you scribbled that down.

“..incredible progress..”

scribble.

“… the porn demon …!”

scribble.

“well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into Heaven?”

that puts a halt in the discussion, causing you to lift your head and wait for an answer. she had a point. how did you get here in the first place?

a copy of adam’s terms were presented to your table: act selfless, don’t steal, stick it to the man.

well damn, if those were the terms, even your father (father?) would be in heaven, right now.

evidence was presented, words have been thrown, objections were made. the endless back and forth of right and wrong being thrown around the courtroom. not even the written word could convey the thick tension lathering the walls of the heavenly court.

all the evidence weights to charlie’s side, and yet, the judges say otherwise.

“wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?”

this sparks a musical entrance from emily which you would say was surprising, but you would be lying to yourself.

good thing i took band and choir you thought. perfect pitch came in handy as you noted every chord and pitch in your work.

at this point, you were ready to combust. it was clear who won but the rulers of heaven seemed adamant to keep it from happening. it was suspicious, ironic even.

“..don’t you care, sera…”

scribble.

“..just because someone was dead..”

scribble.

“he blew the shot like the cocks in his…”

scribble.

“..come down and exterminate you..”

your quill snaps in half as you look up from your paper. extermination.

murder.

genocide.

from heaven itself.

#alastor x reader #platonic #dad!alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #st. peter hazbin hotel #sera hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #angel reader #hazbin hotel spoilers #french…

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smallestapplin · 26 days

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Alucard in dbd idea

Hi, castlevania dropped in dbd and I've been feral, please excuse my rambling.

Reader is a Belmont.

You and Trevor in the fog first and a month or so before Alucard shows up, and when he does he's glad to see his old friend and questions who the other Belmont is(you)

You're delighted to get to know him and Trevor more, as you have read so many books and texts about him from previous Belmonts, it's so nice to finally meet him! However, much like Trevor, there is a bit of a learning curve he has to go through.

Other survivors try to help him, but most aren't really easy on him, which is fair and you don't blame them! After all, in trials it's nerve wrecking, you can't exactly teach him with all the time in the world. But he picks up gens with ease.

It's everything else that trips him up.

Huntress landed one hell of a shot on him, he shouted surprised and pained by the hatchet that came out of nowhere across the map.

His shoulder now slashed, slowly dripping blood and soaking into his shirt and cloak. but ten minutes later as he was helping you on a gen, you noticed he looked to be in far more agony than anyone you've ever met, his skin sweaty, taking shallow breathes, he looked scared.

"Alucard?"

"I'm not healing, why am I not healing? Gods it hurts...what is this?"

You are swift to whip out your med kit and start patching him up, gently shushing his pained whimpers as you focus on healing him.

"There, good as new!"

He still looks so confused, and it makes sense, his own regenerative abilities always came in handy, he's never really need a med kit, and most of his human companions had a mage on hand for healing.

A match against Trapper was much the same.

Alucard didn't even notice the trap, that or he did didn't care, he just walked right into it and his scream was heard across the map, his second scream as he placed on hook sounded like he was right next to you he was so loud.

When you got him off hook and to a safer place, he collapsed on you, his forehead on your shoulder, which was growing wet, either from his sweat or tears you arent sure, but he held onto you as you patched him up, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Why...why does it hurt so much? I...I shouldn't have gotten hurt from such a weak trap."

He sounds so tired, his voice is weak, small even.

"The entity's abilities it seems, in this realm you're nothing but a human."

"This is what you feel?" He moves, his watery glowing eyes looking up at your focused expression.

"Every match."

He's horrifed, all these matches where you've gritted your teeth and bared through, all these matches where you sacrificed yourself just to make sure everyone else lived, hell even the missions he knew you took as a Belmont- speaking of!

Your family goes on such dangerous missions, gets injured or even killed, and yet you still bare your family crest? His respect for you and your family grew, knowing first hand the pain of your injuries and yet you still choose to be so selfless.

Cue Alucard falling for you, the poor thing didn't even mean to.

It's just you pulled him off the hook, the bell rings louder, warning there isn't much time left, yet you still came back for him.

The second he was touching the ground, he looked at you, despite the pain he looked at you confused.

Your face was stern, filled with sheer determination as you grab his hand and lead him to the door.

"Why did you come back? You could have escaped instead of dying here with me."

You patched him at at the gate, just to be safe.

"Either neither of us die or we both die."

Your eyes locked

"I'm not leaving you here. Come on."

His own eyes widen.

Oh.

........so this is how those dames in novels feel being saved.

Oh, Trevor is going to have his head.

He grows more skilled and knowledgeable the longer he's here, and is determined to help you (by proxy the others) he's noticeably closer to you, practically shoulder to shoudler with you by the fire, the first to help you off hook or to heal you.

Even his familar, which followed him here likes to hang off you and get scritches.

He can feel Trevor's side eye, knowing the older Belmont isn't fond of him cozying up to hos descendent.

But he at least knows Alucard would treat you right.

#dbd x reader #castlevania x reader #castlevania alucard #castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania x Belmont reader #dbd alucard x reader #castlevania headcanons #??#Belmont reader #I've been obsessed #hi I love the castlevania games so this collab has had me by the neck

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belovedspector · 9 months

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Love at First Sight's for Suckers (At Least, It Used to Be)

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Jake can’t help but notice you when you become a regular at his favorite diner.

Content: Fluff!

A/N: Title is from “I Never Planned on You” from Newsies. I’ve never written for Jake before, and I haven’t read the comics, so I don’t have much to go off of, but I figured I’d give it a shot. I hope I did okay! Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

Jake Lockley knows his place. He’s the protector of the system, keeping Marc and Steven out of harm’s way and doing Khonshu’s dirty work. He doesn’t have time for “earthly pleasures,” as Khonshu had once put it. He doesn’t really have a life outside of protecting his alters and the travelers of the night, and he’s fine with that. He’s content to lurk in the shadows if it means Marc and Steven getting to live their best lives. He treasures what interaction he does get, when he’s driving his cab through the city or getting food late at night after a mission. He tries not to dwell on it, though; there’s no sense in mourning what he can’t have.

Jake notices everything. It’s his job, to always be on high-alert, even when he’s not the one fronting. So, when you start showing up at his favorite diner every Friday night like clockwork, he notices. He observes from afar. From that first time you walked in, the bell tinkling to announce your presence, he’d been…interested in you. He’s not sure why—it’s not like you pose a threat. You should fade into the background, just like everyone else.

But, you don’t.

Jake can’t help but take note of everything you do—the way you always say your “please”s and “thank you”s to the waitress, your soft laugh, your sweet smile, the ungodly amount of sugar you put in your coffee. He’s good at watching people; it’s part of his job, after all, so he’s able to absorb you and your habits without drawing suspicion from you or anyone else. Some might call it creepy, but Jake means no harm, and he can’t help his…infatuation with you. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him.

One night, he finds himself rambling as he drives around the city. He likes to talk out loud to himself in the safety of his cab; it gives him a chance to make sense of his thoughts, and it’s not like he has anyone else to share them with.

He starts off by talking himself through the details of his upcoming mission, but he soon finds his mind wandering to bright eyes and the scent of coffee. You.

“She’s really something, huh?” Jake says to himself. “I—I don’t know what it is about her. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I think you humans call it a ‘crush.’” Khonshu suddenly appears hunched over in the back seat of Jake’s cab, and, if he was a less skilled driver, Jake absolutely would have crashed. As it is, he jumps almost imperceptibly in his seat, swerving the tiniest bit before regaining control of the vehicle.

“What?” Jake asks, not even sparing Khonshu a glance in the rear-view mirror. He’s used to the god’s antics by now.

“It appears you have a crush, Jake Lockley.”

“I don’t get crushes,” Jake protests. “Don’t have time for that shit.” He grips the steering wheel more tightly, the leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles.

“You’re right; you don’t have time,” Khonshu agrees, “so I suggest you nip this little problem in the bud, before it interferes with our work.”

“What, you want me to kill her?” he deadpans.

“No, nothing that extreme. I was going to suggest finding a new diner.”

“But I like that diner.”

“Then you’d best find a way to ignore the girl.”

With that, Khonshu disappears, and Jake mutters some choice words about the bird in the quiet of his car.

It’s Friday night again. Jake sits alone at his usual booth—in the corner, with his back to the wall, so he can continually scan the entire diner for any threats. He alternates between sipping at his coffee and taking bites of his blueberry pie while scanning the newspaper.

The door opens, the bell ringing along with it, and Jake instinctively looks up.

It’s you.

Jake casts his eyes back down to the sports page. Khonshu had given him orders, and he intends to follow them.

His plan is going great. He’s not thinking about you, not even a little bit. But, shit, now he’s thinking about how he’s not thinking about you. Does that count as thinking about you?

Jake returns his coffee cup to the table with a little more force than necessary. He can feel a headache coming on.

Get it together, Lockley.

He looks up again to do another sweep of the interior, when he notices you’re not sitting in your usual spot. No, you’re…walking towards him. Surely, you’re just going to use the bathroom past his seat, right?

No such luck. You stop at his booth, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped in front of you.

Slowly, Jake moves his eyes from his newspaper and allows them to find yours. He’s never seen you up close before, and, God, you’re even more breathtaking when he can see the sparkle of your eyes and the way your lips curve upward into a soft smile.

“Um, hi,” you start, rocking a little on your feet. “Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you had a pen?”

Jake’s not very well-versed in pickup lines, but he’s pretty sure that can’t be one, right? He stares at you for a few beats, dumbfounded that you’re really speaking to him, before he pulls himself together.

He clears his throat and answers, “Uh, yes.” He reaches for the pen he always keeps in his jacket pocket and hands it to you.

He can’t help but notice the way your soft, warm fingers brush against his as the pen exchanges hands.

“Thank you!” you say, and you sound so sincere. “I just wanted to do today’s crossword. I’ll have this back before you know it.”

“Sure,” Jake forces out as you turn on your heel, back to what he’s begun thinking of as “your” booth.

He goes back to his own paper, definitely not thinking about you and your sweet smile and soft hands. It’s by complete coincidence that the next page he turns to has the daily crossword puzzle. He’s never been much for puzzles; that’s more Steven’s thing. Still, he takes a look.

Across 1. An infatuation with another person

It’s five letters. It can’t be anything other than “crush.” Jake groans. He scans the rest of the clues and notices they all seem to revolve around love. It dawns on him that Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. So, maybe the universe isn’t totally fucking with him, after all.

Jake has just about finished his pie when you come bounding over. You don’t wait for him to look up before you’re speaking.

“Thank you again!” you say, placing his pen back on the table near his coffee cup.

You’re already turning to go back to your booth, but Jake can’t just let you go. Screw Khonshu’s orders, he thinks.

“Wait,” he calls to you. He half-expects you to ignore him, to keep walking away, but you do turn around and take a step closer to him. Shit, now he needs to think of something to say to you. “That was, uh, fast,” he says lamely.

You beam at him, and it’s just about the prettiest thing Jake has ever seen. “Oh, yeah, I used to do them with my dad all the time, so I’ve gotten pretty good at them.” Your eyes drop to his newspaper that sits forgotten on the table, still open to the puzzle page. “Oh, do you do crosswords, too?” you ask, and you look like you’re genuinely interested in his answer.

“Oh, uh, not really.” Jake’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck nervously. Since when does he get nervous?

“Ah,” you say, nodding wisely, “you must be more of a Sudoku guy.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Great conversation skills, Lockley, he chastises himself.

“Well, thanks again for the pen. I hope I didn’t keep you from your Sudoku for too long…” You trail off, and Jake realizes, belatedly, that you’re waiting for him to offer his name.

“Jake,” he provides, putting on his most charming smile.

You smile right back, telling him your own name.

“Pretty name,” he remarks.

“Thanks, I got it for my birthday.”

Jake just stares at you for a moment before the joke lands, and then he’s laughing—like, genuinely laughing. He can’t remember the last time this has happened.

He notices you seem a little flustered. Maybe he laughed too hard? Maybe it wasn’t even a joke, and he just totally misread the situation? Maybe—

“Wow, I don’t think anyone’s ever actually laughed at that one,” you say with a slight chuckle of your own.

“I liked it,” Jake says honestly, as if you couldn’t already tell. Before he can second guess himself, he’s asking, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Oh!” A look of surprise crosses your face. “Um, yeah, I’d like that. May I?” you ask, gesturing to the bench seat across from him.

“Please,” he says with a wave of his hand.

You slide into the booth as Jake gets the attention of the waitress and orders two coffees.

“Anything else?” the waitress asks, looking between the two of you expectantly, pen ready against her notepad.

“The pie’s really good,” Jake tells you. “My treat.”

You seem hesitant. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Come on,” he encourages with a smile.

“It is really good,” the waitress chimes in.

“Well, okay,” you relent. “One slice of”—you look down at the table to scan the menu briefly—“chocolate cream pie, please.”

“Coming right up,” the waitress says with a smile and a click of her pen.

The time passes quickly, and the conversation between you and Jake flows as freely as the coffee. All that’s left of your pie is an empty plate with a few stray crumbs. You’re laughing at some comment Jake made when you glance down at your watch.

“Shit,” you say, your brows furrowing together in worry.

“Everything okay?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” you say. An apologetic look crosses your face.

Jake checks his own watch. 2:53 am. He really should be getting back home, so Steven and Marc can wake up in the morning without suspecting anything.

“Can I drive you home?” he offers.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You shake your head. “I’m just a couple blocks over.”

“It’s late. I’d feel better if I knew you got home safely.”

“You’re sure it’s no trouble?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not at all,” he says with a smile. He’s smiled a lot tonight.

“Well, lead the way,” you say as you both exit the booth.

Jake throws a wad of cash on the table—more than enough to cover the coffee and pie—and walks you to his cab parked out front.

“You’re a cab driver?” you ask, sounding intrigued.

“I am,” Jake says as he opens the passenger’s door for you.

You pick up right where you left off at the diner, intermittently giving Jake directions to your apartment. He doesn’t want the night to end, but, soon enough, he’s parking in front of your building.

You start to unbuckle your seat belt but pause and turn to him. “Hey, can I borrow your pen again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Jake says, digging it out of his pocket and handing it over once more.

You take it with a smile and reach into your pants pocket. You pull out a crumpled napkin and quickly write something before handing both the napkin and pen to Jake.

Jake looks down to find your name and phone number written on the napkin.

You smile, looking a little shy. “In case you want to see me before next Friday,” you explain.

Jake doesn’t even think about the implication that you’ve noticed him at the diner every week, just like he’s noticed you. No, he’s too excited about the fact that you want to see him again, maybe even to go on a proper date. He hopes you can’t tell that he’s blushing in the dim glow of the cab’s ceiling light.

“Good night, Jake,” you say, finally unbuckling your seat belt and opening the door.

Normally, he’d do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for you, but he’d been too caught up in this surreal moment. Next time, he thinks, because there definitely will be a next time.

“Good night,” he echoes, still in a bit of a daze. He watches as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, making sure you’re safely inside before he pulls away from the curb.

Jake will deal with Khonshu’s wrath over disobeying orders. It will be more than worth it, if it means getting to see you again.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! :)

#moon knight #mcu #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jace writes

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