#it was a chance to start off strong with something that would get people's attention

[nightingaletrash]

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[doki-doki-imagines]

This must be my third order, but I feel like this has become the sugar I need... How about something like the male characters from mk1 Lin Kuei Brothers, Raiden, Liu Kang and Kung Lao, being jealous of their special forces wife when getting looks from Outworld men at some meeting or something.

author note: lol don't worry! It's a good period where writing juice is flowing🫡

Bi-Han: -The man is livid, ice particles are already forming on his hands. -He knows you aren't doing anything wrong, but at the back of his head, he can hear a small voice telling him you are enjoying the attention and doing that on purpose. -You had this discussion more than once, with voices rising and mean and meaningless words escaping both your mouths. At least he now understands he is wrong and trying to get better. -Trying = key word. -Bi-Han won't take his anger out on you, but if one of those Outworld men try to touch you, they won't see the next day.

Kuai Liang: -King of dealing with jealousy. -It just takes a spark to start a blaze, but since Liang has been dealing with the feeling since he was a young man, he knows how to calm himself down. -Liang trains with renowned intensity, each punch and kick stronger than the one before. -So, if you'll ever be in danger because of instinct driven men, it will take just one punch to smash their head in tiny particles.

Tomas Vrbada: -He knows you are hot. It's obvious that people would look at you like that. -This sparks a bit of jealousy in the boy, stemming from his insecurities, but Tomas will keep it to himself. -He'll keep telling himself that jealousy is dumb, that you love him and he loves you, and nobody can come between you two. -That doesn't mean that if one of the men get a bit too comfortable and you can't shove them away Tomas won't pull out his knifes at the speed of light. -Their eyes won't register what is happening.

Liu Kang: -Feel just a tinge of jealousy, but nothing that will close his brain vessels. -He knows you are strong, you can brush them off easily without him even moving a finger. -Liu Kang is also a bit…proud? He has a partner others can only dream of. -But his hand will slip on your lower back, na tap or slap, just resting there, a signal smart men will take.

Raiden: -Not as good as keeping his jealousy in check, as he neved had to deal with it before. -Raiden grits his teeth and clenches his hands, glare that could strike dead any enemy. -He is not angry at you, obviously it is not your fault, maybe he should work on his aura, now it isn't intimidating enough. -When you'll have a free moment, Raiden will pull you to the nearest corner to kiss you dumb. He says it is a reward for your good work, but it is mostly a reward for himself.

Kung Lao: -Ah! Let them look, let them drool, they don't have a chance with you anyway. -A peacock with feathers open wide, or better chest out, he is so proud of himself. -Totally gonna do pda to show off, it is a bit embarrassing, but Lao will stop if you ask him. -When it's time to go home he brushes off the hair in the back of your head, showing off your neck; the small hickey there a telltale sign for each men that even glanced in your direction.

[maidragoste]

was your meme w the daemon au about the oneshot where she married him to avoid marrying viserys? because i would LOVE to know how people reacted when daemon (i assume it would be daemon) sends a message to viserys - 🩵

Hi Anon 💖, sorry for the delay in responding but I was actually writing something totally different but I saw your question and Viserys' reaction came to mind so I started writing haha

btw, I thought this would be shorter

I hope you enjoy it 🥰🥰💖💖

I recommend people read "The Decision" first to better understand this

At first, when barely an hour had passed since you had disappeared on the back of your dragon, your family had not worried, thinking that perhaps you had lost track of time while flying. It wouldn't be the first time that happens. But then it got dark and you still didn't show up. The worst thing was that Viserys wanted to dine with you in his chambers. Corlys excused your absence by sending your maid to tell the King that you were feeling ill. Rhaenys was furious with her husband for not telling Viserys that you were missing, if the king asked for it then everyone would look for you but Corlys didn't seem to care about your safety, he seemed more worried that Viserys would think that you had escaped to avoid marrying him. Of course, your father couldn't hide your absence for long. Somehow Otto Hightower had found out about your disappearance and reported it to the king.

The next day the entire council was gathered and the king's fury at having been kept secret from the disappearance of his fiancée was evident. Rhaenyra listened worriedly as her father asked Lord Velaryon for explanations. She feared that you had made a drastic decision to run away, her heart ached just thinking that you had left without saying goodbye first.

Corlys didn't even have the chance to excuse himself and make up some story about actually knowing your whereabouts when a maester interrupted the room. The Grand Master was already about to scold him when the youngest reported that a letter had arrived with the seal of House Targaryen. Viserys instantly ordered the parchment to be given to him, knowing that it must be a letter from his brother.

Everyone watched in silence as the king's face became redder and redder as he read the parchment. “Daemon took her as his second wife,” he announced as he twisted the letter into a bun in annoyance.

Rhaenyra felt her heart skip a beat and had to hold onto the table to keep from losing her balance. You were supposed to run away or find a way to break off the engagement, not get married. The worst thing is that you married her uncle. It was unfair that he could have you but she couldn't. If only she had been brave enough to tell you how she felt but she was a coward and she settled for your friendship. She settled for pretending that you were hers every time the two of you walked hand in hand through the hallways or when she exchanged her rings with yours as if it were some declaration of love.

“Poor Lady Y/n, Prince Daemon surely took advantage of her,” said the king's hand with mock regret. Corlys was not blind like Viserys so he could see how Otto Hightower was forcing himself not to smile. He should be the only attempt with this situation, now with you out of the way he could push his daughter Alicent again so that she could get the king's attention and thus make her queen.

“You can annul their marriage,” said the princess, drawing everyone's attention to the obvious desperation and pain in her voice. Years later, different versions of the reason for Rhaenyra's despair circulated in history books. Some would say it was because she was in love with her uncle. Others would say that you were actually the owner of her affections.

“The king can no longer marry Lady Y/n. Not now that Prince Daemon…”Lyonel Strong trailed off, trying to think of a not-so-shocking word to finish with.

“He ruined her,” Otto continued.

“You're talking about my daughter, watch your mouth!” Corlys demanded furiously, hitting his palm against the table. Lyonel had wanted to avoid exactly this.

Rhaenyra also glared at the king's hand. She hated that he had used that word to describe you but I can't help but think that maybe it was better that the lords thought that of you because then they wouldn't want to marry you. Her father would annul your marriage, you would come home to her and she would never have to worry about someone else trying to steal you from her.

“They married under Valyrian customs. It may not be valid in the eyes of faith but in my eyes, it is” declared the king. Besides, he wasn't going to annul your marriage and then marry you. It would be humiliating. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life with a wife who didn't love him. You had made it more than clear in the letter. He couldn't be mad at you, not when you had apologized for not telling him how you really felt sooner, had told him that you appreciated him but couldn't imagine loving him the way you love his brother, and that you thought he deserved a wife who truly loved him. Still, he was furious with his brother because he had taken advantage of you, it didn't matter that in the letter you said that Daemon didn't force you into anything and that it was your decision to marry, Viserys was sure that Daemon didn't love you, that he had only taken you as a wife to annoy him, as revenge for making Rhaenyra his heir.

“I am very sorry for my daughter's actions, your Grace,” Corlys apologized almost through his teeth. He was furious with Viserys for being so weak. Another man would have instantly annulled the marriage and gone to find his bride but he was not surprised by the king's attitude considering that he had been more interested in planning the wedding than in putting an action plan for the situation that was occurring on the Stepstones

He was so furious with you too. If before Viserys was not interested in the Stepstones, now with you breaking your engagement even less so. He couldn't believe you did this to him. He thought he raised you better. You could have made the Velaryons go down in history by giving the king a son but you ruined everything.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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[marlynnofmany]

Accidental Training

The animal cargo of the day was large and honking, but it seemed well-mannered enough. Picture a sea lion with tiny scales instead of fur, dark gray on top and speckled pale underneath. Bobbing its head in curiosity at the cargo bay and the people in it. The squid-shaped clients maneuvering the cage into place didn’t rate a second look, but they were probably familiar and boring.

Captain Sunlight, with her lemon-yellow scales and dignified lizardperson demeanor, got a lot of attention. She ignored the honks as she finished business with the clients.

Then I stepped up to see what kind of creature I’d be in charge of for this trip, and it exploded in excitement like a 500-pound puppy, dancing in place on its flippers and honking up a storm.

One of the clients said, “It does that sometimes. Have a good flight,” then waved a tentacle and left.

Captain Sunlight squinted at the cage like she would have liked to cover her earholes but wanted to put on a strong front. Instead she looked up at me and said, “Good thing this is a short journey. It seems to like you, though.”

“I see that,” I said, waggling my fingers at it, which just made it honk louder. “Did they tell us a name for it?”

She consulted the information on her tablet while the excitable creature continued to hop around. “Looks like his name is Freckles.”

“That’s adorable,” I said. “Hi, Freckles! Are you a good boy? Yes? Are you so excited that you could break a weaker travel cage than this? Yes you are!” I pressed my hands to my knees in classic talking-to-puppy fashion, which did nothing for the noise levels in the room.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Captain Sunlight told me. “The hover setting for the cage is turned off; it’s clamped in place; the food and supplies are here; we’ll take off shortly.”

“Got it,” I said with a wave as she left. There was a chance that Freckles would calm down if I left too, but he seemed equally likely to make lonely wails if left alone, and anyways this was the reason I’d been hired in the first place. Nobody else on the courier ship knew the first thing about animals. “All right, Freckles, are you ready to travel through space? Is that new for you? You look like you’re in good shape. Let’s aim for no medical emergencies on this trip.”

Freckles honked once, which I took for a yes. He bobbed up and down like a dog inviting another to play.

I copied the move, and he did it again. I lifted one foot, and he did the same, honking happily.

“Good boy! I’ll bet you make your people proud by holding still for tooth-brushing, don’t you? Lemme see your teeth. Ahhh.” I opened my mouth as an example.

With a similar noise, the clever animal copied the motion. His teeth looked clean enough, with none discolored or missing, and he even stuck his tongue out for a good look when prompted. I found a nearly-empty container of treats among the supplies, and rewarded him for good behavior.

“Good job. What else should we check? Can you show me your flipper? And turn like this? Very good. And like that?”

He could and did, visibly happy with the praise and treats. He was a little calmer now that there was something specific to do.

The engines started up with a quiet rumble, which caused him a moment of anxiety, but he was happily distracted when I started echoing his honks back at him.

If this had been an inanimate cargo, I would have left the cargo bay already, but I had nothing more important to do. My job today was to keep an eye on this guy. So I prompted him to do more beneficial tricks, then when the treats ran out, I decided the container made a fine toy.

“Hey look, a hat,” I told him as I put the lid on my head. The container was a mostly-round thing that twisted apart into two equal halves. That meant Freckles got a hat too. And he was so happy about it when I stuck it between the bars.

Only one coworker walked past the door while I was entertaining the cargo: Mur the Strongarm, who looked much like the people who’d brought Freckles onboard. Mur paused, saying nothing. Freckles ignored him, dancing from side to side while wearing his jaunty new hat.

I held my own pose, one foot in the air, arms spread. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Mur said. “Nothing at all.” He continued on his way.

“You’re welcome to join us!” I called after him.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

The short trip was pretty fun. Freckles was particularly taken by the discovery that his honks echoed when the container covered his snout. He could even balance it on his flipper like a hand, taking it on and off to test the difference in sounds. When I did the same and then gave him another treat from a fresh container, he pranced in place and slapped his flippers together.

As it turned out, he was good at repeating patterns too. We did some clapping games of the sort that human toddlers love, then I found a ball among the supplies and we were all set for the rest of the trip. It was even the squishy kind that glorped between the bars instead of bouncing off, which was perfect. We played an entertaining game of catch until the engine noises changed into landing sounds.

I was honestly surprised the trip was over. The captain came back in to meet the clients who were here for pickup, and I made sure to pack away everything into the supplies. Freckles made a sad honk when I took the container back, but I gave him one last treat, and that made up for it.

These two clients looked much like the last, though one was carrying a bag from the shopping trip they’d done on the way here. They were also more talkative than the other ones.

“…Had to stop by the battery shop for three different kinds of chargers, then the feed store for more of the special diet that our oldest animal takes, and there was so much traffic!” The one typing information into the payment screen didn’t stop for breath, waving several tentacles as she talked.

“I’m just glad there was a mask attachment of the right size in stock,” said the one with the bag. “Getting Freckles his air vitamins is going to be hard enough as it is.” He pulled something from the bag: a long tube with a concave shape at one end. “What do you think, Freckles? Can this be easy for once?”

Freckles honked, which could have meant anything.

I looked at the mask. “What does he usually do when you have to give him air vitamins?”

The Strongarm sighed like a deflating balloon. “He just doesn’t want it anywhere near his face. He seems to think it’s a game to avoid it, which is fun for him but incredibly tiresome for everyone else.”

“Have you tried making it a different game?” I asked, starting to smile.

“Like what?”

“Can I see that for a moment?” When he passed it over, I got the container of treats and rattled it for Freckles’ attention, then took a position in front of the cage. I held the mask in front of my own face. “Hey Freckles. Honk honk.”

He of course honked happily and shoved his nose through the bars, eager for his turn. I settled it against his snout — perfect fit — and he honked away. I pulled the mask back and gave him a treat, then turned to beam at the clients.

“What! He’s never done that!” said the one.

“How did you train him to do that?” demanded the other.

“Honestly, I wasn’t trying to,” I admitted. “But he’s very smart. He seems to like copying motions, and he’s definitely food-motivated.”

“Oh yes, those are the good treats,” said the client with the bag. “The new kind that my cousin’s book club host recommended.”

I handed back the mask. “Then you might keep these in reserve for important things, like rewarding him for taking his air vitamins. Though given how much he’s enjoying the new game, you might not even need to.”

The clients were overjoyed. They thanked me, thanked Captain Sunlight, and showered Freckles with praise as they unclamped the cage and started up its hover function. We helped them down the ramp, then they waved off any further assistance on the way to a flatbed skimmer with a loading arm. The guy with the bag of shopping struggled just a bit managing all the supplies too, but neither Captain Sunlight nor I were about to insult a Strongarm by suggesting they needed help carrying something. So we just waved our goodbyes and made sure they got everything loaded onto the skimmer before we closed the cargo bay door.

“Bye, Freckles!” I called as it closed. I heard one last honk, which I decided sounded excited about the skimmer ride to come.

“Well,” said Captain Sunlight. “That was fortunate. Good job.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think they’ll all enjoy the vitamin process more now, especially Freckles.”

We walked through the empty cargo bay to the hall, where Paint met us, with confusion on her scaly orange face and a jar lid in her hands.

“Mur said to give this to you?” she said, holding it out to me.

I laughed. “Mur thinks he’s very funny.” I dutifully set it on my head. “Yes, the height of fashion. But I think it would look better on him. You can tell him I said so.”

“Okay,” Paint said, taking the lid back. “Why?”

Captain Sunlight huffed a laugh and headed off to the cockpit while I began the explanation of how I’d spent the recent flight.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[qyxzun]

𝟏 ┆𝕬𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝕯𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 almost caused an impossible amount of property damage. Numerous had minor injuries, while some were severely wounded, but overall, no deaths occurred. News reporters were at the scene, interviewing policemen, detectives, victims, and the public to inform others through television. Countless ambulances were parked nearby to help the wounded. People were divided, with numerous supporting your actions for saving them while others blamed you for the damages. Yet what made your head spin from confusion was how no one was talking about the other Spider-Man, Miguel. You knew he was there and that you weren’t imagining anything else. His ignored presence made it seem like the public never saw him, almost like a ninja undercover but a spider-man! The event covered each newspaper and channel and even started to gain more attention on online platforms. The raging public against you was making up crazy allegations in hopes you could be sued, making petitions in hopes of finding out your identity. Thankfully, it was just a small amount of them, mostly the politicians who wanted to give credit to the police. They’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side anyway, like those detectives who always tried to find any evidence on you but unfortunately found nothing.

It had been almost a full two months, and they still hadn’t gotten over it. Brooklyn Visions Academy has been closed since the incident to let students and faculty recover and rebuild the school. You, on the other hand, enjoyed the free vacation. There was no need to worry about exams or studies with the extra months off. The green creature caused a lot of damage, and the fire could’ve burned down the entire school. It was by chance that you got to save the victims, and you were thankful that Miguel showed up to help you, even if it was for a different cause.

It had been a full blast since the Spider-Man of Earth 928 invited you to join his spider-society. You learned a lot about it, as a rookie, when you started following him with the multiversal gizmo, the name of the watch. He founded it as an elite crew and began by recruiting other spider-people from other dimensions to assist him in removing anomalies, or people or things that were not intended to be in another universe.

You were shocked to see how many spider-variants he recruited before you. You believed it was already around twenty. But ever since you joined, the number of spider-men started to grow larger and larger. You met so many new friends, learning new techniques from them as well as forming new friendships. It was something you enjoyed; all of them—except for Miguel, were so much identical to you, even by personality. It created such beautiful diversity in his society, and you never felt more at home.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone anymore, knowing you weren’t the only one, the only one to carry the great power and responsibility as a spider-variant.

Miguel became your inspiration. He was strong, yet he remained the very sarcastic and aloof person he was. He was a man of few words, but you wanted to learn more from him and become stronger like him. His efforts to recruit more spider-variants from various universes piqued your interest, and you wanted to help him. He occasionally allowed you to assist his multiversal policing mission as a co-leader. The multiversal gizmo he gave you would occasionally beep, as it was his only means of communicating with you from another dimension. To keep it short, you were getting the hang of this spider society and often went on missions with other spider-men.

A few of them were your age, and you grew to like them. One of them was Gwen Stacy. You found her cool for having an eyebrow piercing and for playing drums while in a band. She had pretty blonde hair with a hint of pink, but a portion of it was buzzed off, which she joked about because it happened when a spider-man from another dimension accidentally forced her to cut it. She always mentioned that Spider-Man was sweet, friendly, selfless, and such to you. Gwen was likeable and friendly as well, but at times.. seemed more tense when she talked about her problems with her dad and her best friend, Peter. She would frequently make light of it while you were concerned for her.

“But hey.. stuff happens right? Canon events and all that stuff…” Gwen would say, with an aloof yet recognizable anxious tone.

Canon events. It was the only thing you hated about the rules of the multiverse. You never had it stored in your mind, as it caused your head to hurt, your spider-senses to go haywire, and, overall, it hurt you on the inside. Every spider-man had to go through it. Even you. Every time the words canon event were spoken out of someone’s mouth, your stomach would drop slowly as you remembered your canon event.

You were in the rain, fighting your nemesis, who claimed to be the Venom of your universe. He was an extremely difficult opponent ever to beat and you often came back home limping with blood stains dripping off your shirt while you tried to hide it from your parents. You could feel their worried expressions often behind you, resulting in you feeling guilty. You just wanted to pour out your problems to a person who could understand you. You already knew friends and family weren’t the answer. In this line of work as a hero, you always act alone. Always by yourself. Aside from your worries, you could’ve sworn.. every time you could manage to escape your nemesis, it was like you were on your last days on Earth.

After hours of fighting under a monsoon in a large, dark alleyway, you could remember vividly that the rain was pouring down on both of you while you were breathing heavily, exhausted, and injured. Your wrists started to bleed out of your spider suit while you continued to shoot webs the entire time you were fighting Venom. He was tossing you around, gripping your head and smashing it through walls. You often spat out so much blood through your mask that you could remember drinking a litre full of it. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, while your heart beat faster than a runner in a race. You clenched your fists as you felt the adrenaline in you, preventing you from giving up.

And in a fit of rage, you lost it. You remembered grabbing Venom’s forearm, gripping it so hard that you heard the host inside the creature’s bones shatter into pieces. You were silent during the entire fight; it wasn’t like any spider-variant. Usually, they’d make a sarcastic or humorous remark, but you weren’t playing around. You wanted him gone.

Venom’s limbs were tied individually to each wall of the alleyway’s buildings, as well as a tight noose formed by your webs on his neck supported by a billboard on top. He was weak for the first time in front of you. You couldn’t even take his presence anymore. You wanted him dead and gone, dismembered to the point where no one could ever find his body. You first pulled on all the webs to tighten their grip on him. They were thin enough to cut like a knife through his skin. His blood dropped down alongside the rain. After, you cut off all of them except for the one on his neck, leaving him to choke while you watched him suffer—the same criminal who killed one of your friends.

You remember him muttering your name, making you perplexed, but you were still heartless. You carelessly pulled his leg down as the venom’s skin started to melt. The gross substance ran down, staining you in the process before your eyes went wide. You quickly realized and as quick as you could, you cut the noose before his body collapsed onto yours.

“No.. no.. no… Peter, no,” you whimpered, cupping his beat-up face with your bloody glove. You quickly took off your spider mask. Tears built up in your eyes while you sniffled, and the blood from your nose dried. You caressed his cheek, moving any hair from his face in hopes of making him feel better. In his injured state, he slowly rested a hand on your soft-gloved fingers. When he saw your face, he couldn’t be more shocked. He winced as he tried to smile at you reassuringly, blood dripping from his mouth while his left bruised-up eye pulsed.

“I'm so sorry, Y/N… I.. I didn’t know you were spider-woman...” Peter blubbered, gripping your hand tighter. His hand slowly moved from your fingers to your face, cupping it as well while he wiped your fresh tears away before they could fall from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful...” He admired you, smiling. He coughed out more blood, choking on the irony substance. He wanted to close his eyes but he hated the thought of leaving you. He tried to pull your face closer but most of his fingers were bent and broken. His consciousness drifted closer to leaving him. At least he could die in the arms of the one he truly loved.

“Parker, shut the hell up I’m getting you help, okay?! Don’t die on me!” You fussed, crying more as you wiped away the rain that poured down on his face. You brought his injured body into your arms. "No, no, no, please, Peter,” your sobs were muffled on his neck, your chest heaving as well. Your hand went to his wrist to quickly check his pulse, noticing it was already gone.

That night, a part of you died, knowing that your best friend, Peter Parker, was your nemesis and best friend all along. It was one of your canon events.

In the early hours of Earth 926-Z’s New York, you were dozing off in one of your dorm’s couches with a blanket over your chest. You were too drowsy to pay attention to your gizmo which beeped again. The gadget vibrated on your wrist before its screen automatically flipped open as it activated the portal’s access. Some of your objects started to float before the familiar colourful hexagons were summoned as they started to circle. You put a hand over your eyes, groaning when the brightness annoyed you. You tried to get more sleep until you heard footsteps. When your spider-senses buzzed, you peeked through your fingers with your exhausted eyes.

“Heeey Y/N, just thought I’d drop by,” the familiar voice said. It was Jessica Drew, one of the spider-women of the spider-society. She looked down at you, who slept on one of your dorm’s couches, tired. She chuckled at how drowsy you were; it was understandable since you were out fighting and catching anomalies with Hobie last night.

“Told ya not to get overboard,” Another familiar voice said. Your tired eyes looked up and saw the mini Lyla, Miguel’s sassy but highly intelligent AI. She flashed a smirk with her small virtual body in the air next to Jessica’s head by a few inches. She adjusted her pink, heart-shaped glasses and glitched to get closer to your eyes. She tried to lift your eyelids open with her tiny hands. Jessica took small steps around the living room, seeing how messy but organized the room was.

You grumbled and tried to shoo her hologram away. “Ughhh.. what do you want…” you groaned, turning over the couch as Lyla glitched back next to Jessica. With a flick from her fingertips, the spider-woman shot her web and pulled you up effortlessly, making you sit up on the couch.

“Y’know the girl I recruited— and your friend, Gwen?” Jessica asked, looking down on you while you hummed in agreement shortly.

“Anyway, Miguel and I assigned her for a mission in Earth 1610B to catch another anomaly—well, technically just a villain from that dimension,” Jessica explained but paused, looking back to Lyla. With a clap of her tiny hands, your room went dark as she presented an orange virtual screen that was twice as big as the coffee table. It flickered, presented someone, and then began to play as Lyla carried on.

“This guy calls himself the Spot, and he recently just caused some havoc in Earth 1610B’s Brooklyn,” the small AI said as the video continued. The villain was faceless, with a black spot in the center of his face and numerous spots all over his body. Almost like a human...faceless cow? The screen was then flipped sideways, creating a three-dimensional hologram of the strange entity. You rubbed your chin, and even though you were really tired, you couldn’t help but become curious.

The hologram flashed brighter with a slight change of colour as it became bigger. The figure collapsed from the screen as all three of you watched how the scenery changed into the broken collider from Earth 1610B that Miguel told you about. The Spot’s holographic figure flickered out of nowhere again before you heard him speak.

“Look at me— you did this to me!!” The Spot yelled, his voice becoming more and more distorted as he began to charge into the spider-man and the officer beside him. You watched as the two of them were in a fighting stance until the Spot summoned a hole by accident, getting himself kicked by, well, himself. He made a slight oof sound, knowing it would’ve hurt a lot. He took a pretty big tumble as he slid in front of the two with his jaw on the floor before another hole was created, pulling him into the black abyss. The hologram then ended, going back to being a screen.

You rubbed your eye after you finished watching, bewildered but still drained. You looked back at Jessica and Lyla; the frizzy, curly-haired woman had a serious expression on her face, watching with an austere look on the Spot. It made you slightly tense like a kid seeing their mother angry. She looked back at you before her face softened as she sighed. You cleared your throat before speaking.

"So, uh, what does this have to do with me?” You asked, scratching your head out of curiosity.

"Well, Gwen knows her way 'round that world since she got pulled into that dimension before,” Jessica explained while she started to walk around your living room, viewing the decorations with an aloof stare.

"I know 'bout her lil' friend.. Miles, right? 'm pretty sure she told you 'bout him before.” she continued, looking back at you to see what you had to say. You just nodded while you watched her slowly move around the room, running her hand gently on the surface of your tables.

“The girl’s good at combat like any other spider-variant in the spider-society. I mean, I could’ve sent her hours ago, but, y'know, Miguel.” Jessica spoke before her eyes wandered back to you. “It honestly ain’t a surprise that he doubts her but this Spot dude is starting to concern Miguel. I’ve faith in Gwen, but Miguel still insisted on bringing another spider; he recommended you.” Your eyebrows rose as the pregnant lady turned back to you She cleared her throat, and she became more serious.

“So— an order from Miguel; you accompany Gwen to Earth 1610B and the two of you make sure the operation is a success.” She rummaged through her spider-suit’s pocket and tossed you something very small. You easily caught it and saw a tiny mechanical spider, its legs tucked into its body, with a funky logo on the iron skin, You assumed Lyla fabricated it. Jessica continued to speak. “Aaaand put that device near the Spot. Just put it somewhere he can’t find it,” she explained.

You looked down on the very tiny machine. “What does it do?” You asked. “It can track the person's whereabouts through the multiverse and scan their data; pretty cool, huh?” Lyla smiled, floating around in the air. You looked back at Jess, who had a serious look, but you could tell she wanted you to join. You sighed.

“Fineeee, I’ll do it,” you responded before standing up from the couch, opening your closet nearby to get your spider-suit. Lyla easily opened up another portal, causing a ruckus as some of your furniture started to fly around again. Jessica was about to step into the large floating and orange hexagons before she looked back at you, giving you a thumbs up and fully entering the portal. It closed on you as well as Lyla, who disappeared out of thin air.

You travelled through space and time, bending the laws of physics as you travelled through the multiverse with speed faster than light. It was all blurry with only space and stars passing through you as well as the hexagons that led the way. It all started to clear when the matter itself tore apart, creating a hole. You blinked once before you finally saw yourself on Earth 928. You were spawned in the middle of the lobby as you easily used your webs to maneuver around and reach the cafeteria, where you'd meet Gwen. The familiar ginormous building would make a normal person pass out of confusion but it had what every spider-variant liked; a big space to swing freely, overpasses to walk on even when upside down, training programs, and even a therapy section for the spider-people who recently got their canon event.

You landed on the floor and looked around the large space, you spotted her sitting down next to a plant with her favourite pink cardigan and her watch flipped open. You snuck behind her while she looked down on the gizmo, scaring her in the process. She suddenly yelped.

“Jesus Christ—Y/N, that scared me.” Gwen sighed, while you laughed.

“My bad— your spider-senses didn’t go off?” you asked before she shook her head. Her expression then changed into a bright one.

“Can’t believe I’ll go back again!” Gwen smiled and giggled while you gave her a smug look. She slightly blushed before coughing. “T-To catch the Spot, duh,” she responded and looked away. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you giggled. Your eyes wandered back to her flipped watch before they grew wide. “You serious? You got the two of you as your wallpaper too?” You teased before Gwen quickly flipped it closed, looking around frantically. It was the picture she showed you a long time ago when Gwen and her friend took a picture together while she ended up in the wrong dimension.

“Huh? Me? don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, playing dumb before she quickly opened up another portal using the gizmo. The bright orange hexagons grew bigger and rotated very slowly. The blonde-haired girl looked back at you excitedly. "C'mon, let’s go!” She smiled before stepping in, not giving you a chance to speak.

"Geez, I guess she really misses him,” you shrugged before jumping in as well.

The afro-haired teen had his headphones on, trying to relax after a small argument with his parents. Now, he’s grounded but who do they think he was? He was spider-man for God’s sake. He can’t be grounded. Miles was lying down on his bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed and his head occasionally but slowly moved to the rhythm of his music, it was his comfort after all.

Yet he didn’t seem to notice some of his things started to float mid-air. They circled around his room before black bubbles and colourful light started to form just above him. The portal opened as it revealed you and Gwen. She had an excited look after seeing her friend near after two years. You, on the other hand, were just looking down, wondering when he’ll notice the two of you.

”Miles! Miles!” Gwen called out, trying to get his attention. In confusion, Miles slowly opened his eyes to the familiar voice. He thought he was seeing things until he did see Gwen. He quickly took off his headphones and sat up. “Gwen! H-How—” He stuttered, perplexed to see her after such a long time. She then dropped down next to him on his bed, her legs crossed.

“How’d you get here— oof-!” Miles tried to speak again until the blonde-haired girl quickly hugged him. He hugged her back as well, still bewildered. He then noticed you dropped down the portal as well. It closed before you landed on his floor easily, not making so much noise.

You took off your mask, revealing your face to him. You flashed him a small smile. Even though you knew why Miguel was infuriated when the name Miles would leave someone’s mouth, mostly Gwen, he was still another spider-man that you had respect for since he was Gwen’s friend. His mouth slightly gaped when he saw you.

“My bad, my bad, didn’t mean to appear all of a sudden,” you said before Gwen pulled away from the hug and introduced the two of you. “Y/N, Miles, Miles, Y/N,” She quickly said while you just nodded, His expression slightly softened as he just nervously smiled at you.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled.

“Nice to meet you too?” Miles nervously responded. Before it could get awkward between you three, you looked behind you, noticing his open bedroom window. You looked back at Gwen. “You can stay here, Gwen; I’ll handle things while you catch up with your friend,” you suggested while she stood up from the bed, puzzled.

“Wait— you sure? You know we can do that later.” Gwen said, referring to the mission, while you nodded your head, reassuring her by patting her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s alright,” you grinned, looking back at Miles and then at her. “Don’t want to miss this opportunity, no?” You teased, your hand slowly retracting from her shoulder while she slightly blushed. You turned back to his window, jumping off his bedroom window. You shot a web from your fingertips and quickly swung yourself away. Gwen watched while Miles looked out the window, his gaze finding you as he admired how quick and talented you were at moving swiftly through the air.

“Dang, she’s good,” Miles pointed out while Gwen nodded, looking back at Miles as the two of them smiled. They were happy to see each other again after so long.

Meanwhile, you continued to swing away until you were out of sight of any civilians as you climbed up a high building. You were standing by the edge of the building’s roof, walking around as you looked over to your watch to see where this Spot could be. You sighed and took off your mask, slightly frustrated to not find anything before Lyla’s hologram appeared out of sight.

"Heeeey, Y/N, how’s the mission?” She asked with a grin, spinning on her virtual chair, which was the same size as hers. You grumbled.

“I can’t find the Spot’s location,” you admitted, sighing from how annoyed you were. “Got any idea where he could be?” You asked the AI before she hummed, thinking about it with her tiny finger tapping on her chin. Her hologram flickered before she summoned a 3D model of the entire map of Earth 1610’s Brooklyn with all of its avenues, streets and even shop names. She zoomed into the new hologram, revealing a building made out of bricks under a few overpasses. A few other shops surrounded it, as well as a small highway. Some of its windows were oddly broken and covered with a partially dirty cloth as a barrier.

The small AI manipulated the three-dimensional screen easily, zooming into the broken glass as the screen changed again. Inside the building was a messy room, with wires, confusing machines, and more technical equipment around the shelves and floor. The room was completely unorganized and clearly dimly lit.

“Looks like he worked for Alchemax before,” Lyla pointed out, taking a look at the equipment. "Even one of them has a logo," she observed as she leaned down to inspect the equipment components.

“Is this the Spot’s place?” You asked, then returned your gaze to the floating AI. She nodded her head in response.

“Scanned the area earlier when I zoomed in and saw his driver’s license on the table. It’s expired, but got his information,” she explained, her tone playful as if she found it all too easy. She then displayed a screen of an image of the Spot’s driver's license it had his name, age, address and more information. With two of your fingers, you zoomed out of that screen as you looked back at the hologram of the building, which you concluded to be his apartment. “Plus— the area’s full of dark matter,”

“I’ll get going,” you responded once you had your information, sliding your mask back onto your face before the hologram flickered to a close.

“Bu-byeeee~” Lyla grinned before her figure also disappeared. You flipped the watch back to a close before you swiftly jumped down the building and shot a web mid-air, propelling yourself to the Spot’s location.

You jumped from the tall skyscraper while shooting webs into the air to propel you into the sky without attracting any attention. The cool air hit your masked face until you descended, turning gracefully but quickly onto the roof of the building. You walked to the edge and stuck to the wall to get inside through the broken glass.

You slipped in easily as you observed the area. It was an apartment room. Though it was dimly lit, you noticed papers scattered on the table, some of them close to falling down. You lifted your mask up to your head to get a clear view of your surroundings, some of your bangs escaping to the sides of your face and forehead. With your gloved hands, you picked up the papers, skimming through them.

Reports, hypotheses, notes, and more... one thing they all had in common was a connection to multiverse matter or the concept of bringing back different entities from other universes. They weren’t all from Johnathon, aka Spot necessarily, most of them were reported by different scientists, especially from the well-known Olivia who was the head of the whole collider project back then, which caused a misbalance in the entire multiverse. You threw the papers back onto the table's surface before looking around again. You noticed some mechanics in the corner, concealed by a metallic closet. You leaned down and picked one up, noting that it also had the Alchemax logo until you noticed a small post it attached to the back. You ripped it off the mechanic, reading it.

“This isn’t the villain of the week—maybe five months, but still…” you mumbled, pulling your mask back on before you rummaged through your pockets, taking out the small spider Jessica gave you earlier. It automatically opened and summoned out its miniature legs after you tossed it against the wall. It then dug its legs into the brick and camouflaged really well.

“Gotta alert Gwen about this..” you mumbled. You quickly flicked a web out of your fingertips as it shot through the window. You flew out once again, swinging away faster and faster. You were again back in the metropolitan area, gliding through the air while your eyes wandered around trying to find Gwen. You assumed she was still at Miles’ apartment.

You swung down when you saw his apartment complex, noticing on the building’s rooftop there was loud music and lots of parked cars outside next to the road. You guessed that his family had a house party; the familiar smell of Puerto Rican food may sound good, but you knew you had to find Gwen quickly. When you landed back on the wall, you peeked through Miles’ bedroom window only to find no one inside, only Gwen left her cardigan on his bed.

“Fuck— where is that girl?” You sighed, shooting out another web atop the building beside his apartment. You gracefully landed on its rooftop before you flipped your watch open, trying to contact her. Unfortunately, it showed a hologram that said contact is on; do not disturb.

You grew more frustrated before turning the hologram to a close. You sighed and paced around on the rooftop. You wondered where she could be. Confused, you opened your gizmo back up again, speaking through Lyla.

“Hey Lyla- sorry to interrupt, got any idea where Gwen is? If so just send the coordinates, I can handle it,” you spoke as the AI’s hologram flickered again. She tried to find her location via watch but then she sighed.

“Sorry Y/N, she’s on do not disturb apparently,” the brunette replied before you grunted. “Can you turn it off?” You asked until she shook her head no. “Nah, I can’t get deactivate anything during a mission, just the policy aaand, you know, Mig’s rules,” She explained while you got more frustrated.

“How is that even a thing— what the hell..” you groaned. “Can you ask Miguel to let this be an exception?” you questioned Lyla again. “Miguel’s not in right now, busy with another mission,” she responded.

“Knew you’d say that.. always the busy guy.. whatever, thanks Lyla,” you sighed before she disappeared once more, leaving you alone once more on the rooftop. You were so frustrated by Gwen’s absence; where the hell could she be? If not with Miles then where was she? Your thoughts came to a halt when your spider-senses made you turn around. You noticed someone dressed as spider-man with a black and red coloured suit. You raised an eyebrow as you walked over to them discreetly.

They noticed you as their spider-suit’s goggles slightly widened. “Woah- you got fast spider-senses,” the recognizable voice said, staring at you.

“Wait— Miles?” You asked before he nervously chuckled and took off his mask in front of you, his Afro popping out as he looked more buff with the black spider-suit on. It matched him a lot. “What’re you doing here?” You curiously asked, also taking off your mask to see him clearly.

“Me and Gwen was swingin’ around the city and just wanted to let you join,” he responded, looking down at you since he was taller. “We didn’t get a proper chance to talk right? Just wanted to make ya feel included..” he continued, noticing how he was getting nervous when he noticed you didn’t respond.

“Sorry— kinda busy..” you mumbled, looking back down to your watch to see if Gwen finally put that stupid do not disturb function off. She unfortunately didn’t. You were always the chatty type but now wasn’t the time now that you were dealing with a soon-to-be anomaly who knows how to travel through other dimensions. Miles’ eyes softened, he just really wanted to be accepted as another spider-man or as a friend.. but you had other priorities. He was disappointed but hid it well enough, not wanting to worry you. He was silent until he had an idea in mind.

“With what? I mean I can help ya. I know Brooklyn like the back of my hand,” Miles stayed optimistic, wanting to be of assistance. You already knew about Brooklyn's map thanks to Lyla, but you could see that despite not knowing anything about you, he merely wanted to help. You could see yourself in him, as you would always strive to help Miguel in any way you could, even though he was the epitome of independence. Miles also wanted to prove his usefulness in this society Gwen just recently talked about while the two of them were swinging through the city… so he could see her more often... but oh how difficult would it be for him? He spotted the gadget on your wrist and then pointed to it.

“Yeah- uh.. pretty crazy phenomenon right? Travelling to a different universe without your atoms glitching like crazy..” you responded, showing him your wrist as he came closer.

“How’d you get this?” He asked, his hands slowly inching closer to yours to hold the watch with his fingers. You almost flinched and he noticed. Ever since your canon event, you could never rest easy with physical touch.

“You good Y/N?” He inquired, a little worried as his fingers almost retracted. You shook your head.

“Sorry, sorry— my bad, but I’m okay don’t worry bout it,” you reassured as you moved your wrist closer to him, letting him hold your hand to inspect the watch. “As for how I got it.. from where we’re from, we earn them,” you answered truthfully. His hand moved from your forearm to your hand, gently holding it up. You also couldn’t help but notice how his thumb slowly caressed your knuckles, was he trying to be nice or was it just out of habit? You definitely had no clue.

“Who gave it to you?” Miles replied, still holding your hand delicately. He seemed so interested in its design and advanced technology on the orange screen. It resembled to nothing from his dimension nor has he seen anything like it. So small yet intriguing.

“My mentor, Miguel O’hara,” you answered. “He’s like the leader of the entire spider-society Gwen and I are in. It’s pretty cool if you ask me,” you rambled, sharing more than enough.

“Gwen never told me about it..” He muttered, carefully tapping a few buttons to see its functions. You couldn’t see his expression since his head was down, still looking at the screen, before he faced you with a small smile. “What’s it gonna take for the Miguel O’hara to meet Miles Morales?” The tall black teen joked but genuinely asked. You on the other hand didn’t know what to say. There was an explanation for why he couldn’t join but you didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of them. You gulped down the built-up saliva in your mouth out of nervousness.

“I mean.. if you tryna join… how about we try to catch some criminals on the way while we try to find Gwen? I’m not like- fully certain but maybe after I can put in a good word?” You suggested to try and change the topic as you put your forearm down once he was done inspecting the gizmo. Miles’ smile grew, he wasn’t opposed to the idea and wanted to get to know you better. “Sure, why not? Watch me put ‘em in place,” He replied with a confident smirk before you chuckled.

Your watch then beeped. Your back faced him as you turned around to check what news it had for you. The spider that camouflaged into the wall was recording the Spot’s messy apartment and analyzing his figure. You turned it into a mini hologram, watching in full effect what was happening in that room.

The Spot was walking around in his room, moving box from box to a specific area with mechanics and more collider parts you recognized.

“Oh shit..” you cursed under your breath when you saw how close he was to building the mini-collider.

“Everything okay?” Miles asked, about to peek over your shoulder before you quickly moved away. He slowly retracted, noticing how you flinched as if you were uncomfortable, but you weren’t focused on him anymore.

“Gotta go for now Miles, we can fight those criminals later alright? Sorry ‘bout the trouble,” you apologized quickly as you then put your mask back on. You approached the ledge of the rooftop and were about to jump off the building to swing to the Spot’s location immediately. A frustrated and concerned look was on Miles’ face. The young spider-man just wanted to help yet you continued to push him away. With an annoyed expression, he watched you leave so quickly with your webs. You were so quick, agile and so elegant in the air that he could tell you were much more experienced than him despite being the same age.

Once he was far enough for you to notice, he shot webs and swung himself in your direction almost immediately. It started to get dark as his black spider-suit blended in well with the atmosphere. The black lenses on his mask narrowed as he was more focused on catching up on you. Miles wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Gwen didn’t come back just to visit him, there was at least something else you and her had to worry about.

He saw you shooting out multiple webs under a metro railway from your fingertips as you pulled yourself up with the almost transparent strong strings. Like a flash of light, he saw you dash through in between a train’s cabins. Miles almost thought you got run over until he swung over the railway, you weren’t there like you disappeared. “Damn this girl’s fast…” Miles grumbled, trying to retrace his steps while looking around to try and find you. His stomach dropped at the thought of you finding out he was following you so he turned invisible quite easily just to make sure.

Even when invisible, it seemed like you didn’t let your guard down at all as he still couldn’t find you. He kept asking himself where you could possibly be or why you were here in the first place. There was something wrong but he had no clue of what it could be. He tried to retrace your steps by finding your webbing but they all disintegrated too fast. They’d all fall on the ground and slowly disintegrate since you were in the wrong universe. Frustrated, he almost thought of turning back and going back home until he noticed someone swing through the air as well. He saw the familiar spider-suit, it was Gwen.

Her mask concealed her face as she landed near a pillar supporting the overpass close to the Spot’s apartment. A few meters away, Miles landed on top of a street lamp, discreetly looking at the situation beforehand. There were corps surrounding the apartment with lights flashing to the holes in the walls.

“Shoot..” Gwen mumbled under her breath, in worry she was too late. She rapidly shot a web into the police officer's car, causing it to reverse before swinging inside the building with ease. Miles, on the other hand, quickly followed.

Inside the apartment was a whole mess, messier than before like a tornado merely broke down the building. Gwen stepped inside, looking around to find out what happened with a concerned look behind her mask. She then proceeded to scan the area using the multiversal gizmo while Miles hid behind the air ducts, making sure he wasn’t under the orange light that could point him out.

She looked around, noticing the Spot’s personal belongings like a portrait with Olivia, the spiders he brought from different dimensions, and such. When the scanning was finally complete, the spider-woman then started to replay the entire scenario. The orange light orbs turned back in her direction as they flickered a display of holograms in front of her to show what just happened. “Oh no no no..” She mumbled under her breath as she watched the scene play out visually while Miles carefully eavesdropped.

“Just need to get somewhere with a full-sized giant collider..” The Spot talked to himself as he continued to assemble his small micro-collider. It started to power up, creating dark energy from its sources. “Alriiiight, this’ll work, it’ll be good!” The faceless human optimistically said as he prepared to put his index finger into the dark matter the mini-collider was forming. He whistled as he was about to put it in until he stopped. “Or- I don’t know, might vaporize me and this entire building, which would not be good” He carelessly shrugged.

“Oh shoot..” Gwen muttered while Miles continued to watch as well, witnessing how far his villain of the week was going just to defeat him. They saw how he was getting so close to inserting his finger through the dark hole until multiple webs were wrapped around him, quickly taking him down.

You swung through the mess as you appeared just in time before the Spot could ruin himself with the dark energy. With a quick tug of your webs, you pulled him up from the floor and threw him at the other side of the room with only your hand. The Spot was launched back, breaking multiple walls in the process before he groaned in pain and looked up at you. “Wait— huh? Spider-man? But a woman?” he asked, perplexed as he thought you were his original nemesis. You had your back turned, paying attention to the collider more than him.

“Fuck this is dangerous..” Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the dark matter almost consuming the entire mini-collider, making it impossible to turn it off or break. You were about to inspect it until a sudden punch to the stomach made you nearly spit out saliva out of your mask. It just came out of nowhere through the black hole in front of you. You grunted when you realized it was all Spot’s doing.

“Yeah— sorry, can’t turn it off now huh?” the Spot laughed before it teleported so quickly behind you. His arm then made its way to your neck before he lifted you off the ground, making you choke. “Let go of me weirdo!” you yelled and rapidly kicked him off of you, causing him to almost lose balance. He growled under his breath, sick and tired of being tossed around like a weakling.

Creating a portal, he aggressively punched you through it before you stepped back once it hit your stomach again. He teleported back in front of you when you knelt down and held your stomach in pain. You tried crawling away until he grabbed your neck and shoved you down the floor repeatedly. “I’m tired of being treated like a fucking joke.” He spat as his voice turned deep, distorted and twisted. You winced, trying to push him off with your hands until he gripped your wrists as well. He saw how you had a weird watch on your wrist until his attention turned to the small gadget.

“Ohhh.. what’s that? Pretty interesting..” He sarcastically pointed out before he punched its screen. “Oops,”

“N-No!” You screamed when you saw its screen broken. The gadget started to malfunction, making distorted sounds as well.

“N-nnggh.!” You yelped when he choked you while lifting you up again. He threw you to the wall as you landed on top of the table full of collider parts that pierced through your skin. The Spot then turned back to the mini collider, shoving his hand into the dark energy. It started to absorb him as it generated more spots on his body. You tried to shoot webs to pull him back from the dark power until he was completely absorbed, pulling you into the void as well.

“Shoot..!” Gwen widened his eyes in fear as Miles continued to watch your hologram get sucked in by the dark matter. Once you were pulled in, the replay was complete.

“Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!” The spider-woman panicked, realizing how bad the situation was. You were in another universe, with no gizmo to help you call for backup nor any help. It was only a matter of time until you would suffer from glitching.

‘Y/N..’ Miles thought of your name, concerned and puzzled of why Gwen was panicking like crazy. She was shaking her head, trying to deny that wasn’t what happened until she took off her mask, breathing heavily out of panic.

With a problem like this, she definitely didn’t know how to solve it..

You blinked in and out of consciousness before you tried to get up only to collapse back to the floor when your back ached. You looked behind you and saw what you were crashed into, a truck. You looked up as you saw it was raining steadily. That was weird, you don’t remember it already raining when you just collapsed for a minute.

Once you managed to sit up, you realized this place wasn’t familiar at all. You shot a web as you landed on top of a building where you could see everything. But in the end, you didn’t understand.. why was the billboard Japanese.? Or why were there so many Japanese commercials on the skyscraper screens?

“Where am I?”

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

———

author’s note: this is so goddamn tiring to make Jesus Christ 💀💀 reblogs r very helpful since they keep me motivated to keep going alrr hope y’all enjoyed the first chapter. Second one will probably be a bit rocky idk.

[adventuringblind]

Birthday Surprise

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre: angst to smut to fluff

Request: Only for my fave human... you wanted this...

Summary: Carlos things she's cheating. She just wants to surprise her boyfriend for his birthday.

Warnings: mean dom Carlos, voyeurism, PinV, teasing, edging, degradation, spanking, hair pulling

Notes: so... happy birthday Carlos!

Masterlist

A week before his birthday, Carlos had determined that there is no doubt you are cheating on him. He just had yet to prove it.

It makes sense though. He can’t see any other reason you and Charles would be meeting up in private, hiding your phone from him, not telling him where you’re going.

He feels betrayed by both you and his teammate. The two people he’s supposed to trust.

But damn it all. He’s going to fight for your affection. Remind you why you chose him to begin with and put Charles in his place.

~

The day before they’re supposed to leave for Italy, Carlos is standing in the living room staring at you. Charles and his nervous laugh aren’t helping the situation at all. Is it really that hard to plan a surprise party?

The Spaniard wasn’t supposed to be home for another two hours. Max was supposed to keep him busy, but Carlos had supposedly told him there was an emergency at home.

You should have been paying closer attention to your phone. Then maybe you would have seen the texts reading ‘mission abort! Code red! Carlos is onto us!’

He’s onto something, but you’re not sure it’s what Max thinks it is.

“I can’t fucking believe you two.” He seethes. His eyes are burning holes into your skin. Does he really think you’d cheat?

“Carlos, please just-“

“Save it.” The shout makes you jump a bit. Part of you is worried he’s going to leave without giving you a chance to explain.

Best scenario right now it Carlos taking all his anger out during sex. Which you have a feeling is where this is going and you can’t help being turned on by it.

“I’m going to teach both of you a lesson.” And there’s the confirmation.

You don’t fight as Carlos rips you from the couch and tosses you over his shoulder like a rag doll. Charles looks mildly confused and frightened as the Spaniard grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him along to the bedroom.

He practically throws you onto the bed then slams the door behind him. He looks and Charles and points an aggressive finger at him. “You are going to stay put while I make a mess of what’s mine.” Charles gulps in fear, but he nods his head yes.

Carlos crawls over your body. His hands pin her waist to the bed. “Say the word if this is too much. Otherwise I’m not letting up.”

“Yes.”

“Yes who.” He growls. That small part of you wants to deny him the title. But seeing as the situation is already not going well for you-

“Yes sir.”

He doesn’t bother to spare Charles a glance. You do out of anxiety.

A strong hand grips your chin and rips your gaze away from him. “Can’t go two seconds without his attention. You really are just a whore.” He gets off of you. “Stand and strip. I want Charles to see exactly what he’s missing.”

You do as told. A measly few feet separate you and the Monegasque. You hold eye contact with him. He looks nervous, shifting his weight between feet.

Without clothes you feel exposed and vulnerable. The sun kisses your skin through the windows.

Carlos comes up behind you and runs his hands down your sides. A large hand lands on your ass with the familiar burn. You hiss in pain but don’t move.

“Count.”

Again, and again, and again. You stand there taking the palm of his hand. Bruised and burning. Your eyes are teary and your voice broke at about twenty. The sobs started and thirty. Then finally he stopped at forty.

Every nerve is on fire. Your legs are shaking like they might fall at any moment.

Charles looks horribly distraught, but he’s also got a hard on which is exactly where Carlos wants him. “See Charlie, aren’t her tears so pretty.”

her mind is gone. No words can be spoken kept she choke on her sobs.

Once again you’re being thrown onto the bed. this time you let out a shriek of pain. He flips you onto all fours. The sound of a zipper echoes in your ears.

Carlos spits on his hand and runs slick fingers down your slit. “Already so wet. Are you such a slut that you’re getting off on this?”

You let out a high pitch squeal as his hands slip out from between your folds and land a slip to your clit.

A hand grabs your hair and pulls your head upwards. Once again meeting the awkward gaze of Charles.

Carlos gives no warning as he slams into the back of you. “Look at her Charles. I’m the only one who can make her come undone.” His hips set a ridiculous pace. His fingers bruise your hips as he moves back and forth.

It feels like hours of Carlos just edging you. He finally pulls out and a warm substance coats your back. The guttural moans that Carlos realeases almost make you cry. But you know you’re not finishing. You've not earned it.

He flips you and repeats the same actions. Teasing you until you’re on the edge, then pulling out, leaving you a whiny writhing mess. Touching your clothes just enough to put you on the edge just to stop every motion and do it again when you calm down.

At some point, the words falling from lips are filthy, vile, and insulting. They slur together in your mind.

It’s so loud that none of them hear the door open. “Oh my god!” Shrieks Lando. A box on the ground displaying a cake which says ‘happy birthday Carlos’ in smeared letters. “I thought we were having a party?” The Brit covers his eyes and looks away. A bright blush covering his face.

Carlos looks between everyone. “Can you two give us a moment please? We’ll cleanup the cake later.”

The two boys leave you alone. Carlos takes a good look at his work. He places small kisses along your skin. “You were planning a party for me?”

“Thought it would fun before we had to leave.” The tears rolling down her cheeks from the teasing are being wiped by your boyfriend.

“I’m so sorry I accused you.”

“It’s okay, did you enjoy the sex?”

Carlos laughs. “I did. I feel much better. But now it’s time to get you cleaned up and see about getting a new cake.”

You whine a little. “Am I still in trouble?”

Carlos places a soft kiss to your temple. “No but we have a party to attend. I’ll reward you later.” He punctuates his statement with a wink. "For now, I want to remind you how beautiful you are. And tell you I'm sorry for ever thinking that."

"-'s okay. I still love you. I knew something like this might happen because I was being sneaky." She smiles at him. His feather light kisses still covering each mark. "And admittedly, I kind of enjoyed that."

The night continued as planned. Everyone enjoyed themselves. Aside from Charles and Lando, who couldn't look at the two of you without blushing.

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll down for its corresponding message for insight on what's next for you in love.

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Pile One ♡

I strongly feel that most people in this pile would be considered as someone who is inexperienced in love, maybe you guys are bookworms, maladaptive daydreamers, and writers yourselves when it comes to visualizing your future, different settings for how the world could be, and breathing life into the people that you haven’t gotten the chance or time to get to know yet. What’s next for you in love, is practice. You’re upgrading from being Bambi by becoming the Great Prince of the Forest by taking risks before you are able to know and find what is right for you. Some of you may believe in holding yourself tightly before you meet “the one” but the message is that you are being unfair to yourself by putting your life on hold to revolve it around someone who is also learning too, but isn’t waiting like you are doing. This doesn’t mean to be reckless or to feel coerced into going along with people you don’t have a good feeling about just for the sake of finally being in a relationship. This stage is about exploration and enjoying yourself before you meet your life partner. If you resonate with being a bookworm, you could be the type to read romantic fictional stories on a platform like wattpad, and while it serves its purpose which is to make you feel good, it could create an irregular perception of love for you, like subconsciously romanticizing traits that are toxic or wouldn’t be something that you would actually like if you were to actually experience it. For some, it could be re-evaluating your attraction to individuals, like when you crush on someone, you could find that they really look good, but do you yearn for more from them? Your path in love could be redirecting you to pay attention to how a person makes you feel than what you get from them on a surface level of interaction.

Pile Two ♡

There was someone in your life that you once felt like you couldn’t live without or took something from you that seemed irretrievable, but you’re being blessed in a way that’s shutting all of those lies down. You’re getting you back, in whichever way that it applies. This could be your motivation to take care of yourself, to do things that made you feel happy and at peace before this dwindle ending happened, like going to the gym, arts & craft, writing, solo trips or going out with friends, and even something simple as such as looking good for yourself, but it’s not limited to what was mentioned. This could even look like getting closer to who your deity or deities and spiritual maintenance. The best way that I can describe this, is that this phase in love is like this big circle of energy, stuff that was taken or borrowed from you, that’s being marinated before it is returned because it isn’t just aspects from the past, it’s also the time for creation. This whole entire time, your rain of tears that were collected from this heartbreak were observed yet not ignored, but transmuted into this empire that you’re building off of the corpses of failures that you’ve experienced with not just people but life circumstances, maybe when that break up happened it just seemed that more tragedies kept following you after that and it drove you into insanity like when does this pain ever end? Although you can’t forget about it, you’re learning how to soften from these things that stung you in the past, so that you can keep moving and consolidate your wishes. For some, this is personal, and an era that you’d like to be selfish with in order to see what else you can create, like developing a strong daily routine, starting that business, or maybe even working on yourself so that you can heal others, while the other side of this collective will open their hearts again to a new love which can be romance, friendship, or even adoption that is just as equally healing.

Pile Three ♡

The next thing in love for you is learning how to stop trying to win. I’m picking up multiple scenarios for this but the premise is that people in this pile are in love situations where there is no winner, and if there is, let the other person be the one to have it so that you can walk away and stop blocking yourself from better to come in. Some of you are in a long battle with a person by competing with them on who has the upperhand in the situationship, this involves the runner and chaser dynamic constantly reversing and both of you keeping tabs on each other when you’re supposed to be in no contact. The second scenario is sticking beside someone who has a wandering eye but trying relentlessly to get this person to choose you the way that you choose them. The third scenario is in general, trying to prove yourself in order to gain love from others by manipulating yourself and even them to win their affection. There is this storm brewing, you can even call this a tower moment, that could happen to finally get you to see the many ways that you are downplaying yourself with people who have stayed in your space and energy for far too long. You’re going to surrender from these situations to know what it means to pick yourself up and see how beautiful and worthy you are to the extent where you’ll be baffled by how much you’ve been settling for people who don’t deserve you. This phase will come with new connections, but what makes it different is realizing your authority in this by realizing how possible and freeing it is to choose people that choose you. Once you realize that you’re the prize in this game, let the winner take pride in being the fumbler, and be proud of yourself for not being the one to fumble you.

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLETT (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER TWO: DON'T YOU

"DON'T YOU SMILE AT ME AND ASK ME HOW I'VE BEEN. DON'T YOU SAY YOU'VE MISSED ME."

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions alcohol use/abuse, mentions of drug use/abuse, minors dni

☆ WC: 4K+

☆ A/N: please heed all warnings when it comes to this fic - it's gonna be a ride of dealing with heavy topics. also, if you ever see me miss a warning, please message me to let me know.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The days had all started to blur together for Eddie at some point.

Wake up in a new city, enter unfamiliar venues that all sort of looked the same, play the same tired riffs on his guitar that had become more habit than passion, drink himself to the point of unconsciousness in his hotel room after the shows. Rinse and repeat. Occasionally, the monotonous routine of it all would break in reprieve with an unexpected party where Eddie would find endless opportunity for more trouble. Drugs freely offered to him in private rooms, others willingly waiting on him hand and foot, women clinging to his arm in hopes of a chance of ending up in the rockstar’s bed.

They never did come back to the hotels with him. He always woke up to cold and unfamiliar beds. 

He’d stopped keeping track of most menial details. If someone were to ask him what city he was in, he’d only offer pathetic shrugs in answer. If someone inquired what the date was, he’d be lucky to even get the month right. Things like that didn’t really matter anymore. He had people for that. He had a person who took care of all his travel arrangements, only making sure he was in the right car or on the right flight. He had a person who took care of all his meals, some fancy chef he never bothered to learn the name of because he rarely touched the expensive meals. Someone to do his shopping, someone to do his emails. Someone to run his social media accounts and someone to keep his name out of the tabloids to the best of their abilities. 

You name it, he had a person. 

And at some point, between all the chaos handled and responsibilities shoveled off, Eddie Munson himself had stopped feeling like a person. 

“Munson, are you even listening to me?” 

No. He hadn’t been. He had been staring at an empty space on the shelf across the room, a clean circle formed by an object that no longer sat amongst the layer of dust. The sun was hitting it just right so even with the height, he could see the contrast in the wood where dust hadn’t been able to reach for some period of time. He hadn’t been listening – he’d been wondering what object had once occupied the space, what thing had been lost. Or maybe removed. What had been taken away from the shelf. 

It was probably just a vase, or a meaningless trophy. Something shiny without meaning to his agent. 

“Something about a tour, yeah?” he guesses baselessly, “You were asking me about tour dates?” 

Matt, his agent, scowls, “Not even close.”

Eddie waits silently as he looks to the older man, leaving an empty space in the conversation for him to continue on. 

Empty space. It was funny, the way nothingness could be so suffocating. The nothingness on the shelf that had suffocated all of Eddie’s attention, the current silence batting between him and his agent that was gripping his throat in irritation. 

Matt didn’t say another word. He was going to make Eddie contribute, to beg and barter to be let back in on information he would have been privy to if he had just been listening. 

It made a sigh of annoyance leave Eddie's lips, “Then what were you saying?” 

He was just doing his job. Matt had been a good enough agent to Eddie, to the entirety of Corroded Coffin, but he’d never catch any of the guys saying so. Not even Jeff, the kindest of the boys. And especially not Eddie, the roughest of the members.  

Matt had been hired two years ago, right at the tail end of the tour that had sky-rocketed all of the newfound fame. He was older, more experienced, better equipped to handle a band on the rise as quickly as Corroded Coffin was. A salt and pepper beard that spoke business, thin wire frame glasses that he always let rest just slightly lower than necessary on the bridge of his nose so he could look up at the boys over them with that specific look of disappointment only a father could muster. Heavy sighs when the boys were lashing out, muted patience every time he’d requested in person meetings with Eddie specifically only to slide another unpleasant magazine cover across his desk. 

For a while, all that father figure potential had made something ache within Eddie. Made him think of someone back home, consider the disappointment someone back in rural Indiana was experiencing just the same in him. But Matt wasn’t a smoker, he had a head full of neat and quipped silver hair, and his voice wasn’t very gruff when he lectured Eddie on why what he did was wrong. 

And most of all – Matt, unlike someone back home, still spoke to Eddie. It was only due to a paycheck, out of obligation more than genuine caring for his well being, but an incoming phone call is still a phone call all the same. 

Eddie had hated him for every single second of those two years. He hadn’t wanted someone new involved in the band’s business, but it had been necessary. Because change, according to Jeff, was necessary. 

Eddie fucking hated change. 

“I was discussing the release, Eddie,” Matt sighs and adjusts his glasses to perch in that damn fatherly position, looking up from the paperwork on his desk before him, “We need to start planning the album launch.” 

“What about it?” Eddie sinks further into the uncomfortable office chair, trying to keep his eyes focused on the large oak desk before him rather than that shelf. He doesn’t need to keep reminiscing on things that are missing, “We release the single, we release the album, we go on tour. Same thing we did last time.” 

“We were actually thinking about a release party.” 

He says it expectantly, as if the promise of a party should entice Eddie. And Eddie supposes that he brought that expectation about himself. 

“I don’t want an album release party.” 

They don’t get it. They never really do. The drugs, the alcohol, the women that never make it off the club’s front steps with him – they think of these things as Eddie’s indulgent vices. Things he realized he had the money and the status for finally, and so he’d taken to gorging himself. They think of them as treats to dangle before him. They think of them as pleasures, as rewards, even as punishments when they threaten to take them away as if he’s a child to be controlled. 

They almost get it. They’re so close to getting it. 

Eddie’s eyes find that blank space amongst photographs of other clients and rewarded plaques for albums gone golden, “Why the fuck should we start throwing parties now? It’s just an album.” 

Younger Eddie claws at his throat and chest alike, screaming ferociously at the way he’s dragged down the significance of the music. But younger Eddie isn’t the one in this chair, the boy who had started a band out of a friend’s garage and had spent endless nights up late giddily writing songs about sticking it to the man has long since died. Eddie buried him years ago, and never bothered with a gravestone. 

“It’s your sophomore album, and it’s highly anticipated,” Matt argues, the space between his brows creasing with both stress and confusion, “We’d be idiots to not make a big deal of it.” 

“If it’s already highly anticipated, we don’t need to make a big deal out of it.” 

“We’ve already hired an agency. We have a meeting with a planner tomorrow to help with all arrangements.” 

Another change, another person. 

“I don’t want a party,” Eddie goes stoic, white knuckling the arms of the chair he sits in as his teeth begin to grind each other in a desperate attempt to reign in his temper. It’s only acceptable when he’s drunk, when there’s cameras and the image of a rowdy rockstar serves to garner the band more attention, “Cancel the meeting.” 

Matt pulls off his glasses completely, leaning forward with hunched shoulders as he pinches that now empty bridge of his nose, “This isn’t negotiable. This is happening with or without you-”

“Like Hell is it happening without me,” Eddie snaps immediately, temper now flaring and tugging on the fragile leash he had on it, “It’s my fucking music, my fucking band-” 

“The band has already agreed.”

Eddie’s anger hits a brick wall. Matt’s gaze is unstaggering as he lets the revelation settle amongst the dust. 

The band has already agreed.

This wasn’t Matt coming to Eddie first to pitch an idea. This wasn’t a meeting to seek out approval. 

Eddie was the last to know. He was simply the last in the lineup, an obstacle to take care of for a plan he didn’t have the capability to derail. 

“I don’t care,” he spits out in disguised desperation, “I don’t want a pa-”

“It’s happening,” Matt repeats himself, not backing down even as he watches Eddie’s anger rise, “I’m sorry, Eddie. It’s happening. I expect you to be in attendance at the meeting tomorrow – I’ll send a car.” 

Eddie’s eyes are no longer focused on the blank space on the shelf. They’re zeroed in on Matt’s pupils, looking him right back in the eyes as he sees an empty pocket there, too. Something missing. Something lost. 

His only option is to lose this fight. This is a battle that must be lost in order to win the war. A war that everyone else is unaware of, a war that has been raged mostly only between Eddie’s own two ears. 

Something missing, something lost. 

Eddie’s grin as he raises his white flag is salacious, aware of the bloodshed to come.

Let it happen, he thinks bitterly. Let them watch it burn. I’ve got nothing to lose. 

Eddie gets what he wants — the meeting ends suddenly upon his giving in. 

And so another routine begins; Eddie is dismissed, Eddie is rounded up into a car, Eddie is left on the front door step of his apartment building with a doorman who doesn’t even smile at the rockstar these days. He’s probably seen Eddie at his worst one too many times, stumbling in drunk and incoherent, lucky that the paps had given up swarming the building this last month.

“Morning, Fred,” Eddie still greets him regardless, grinning behind dark sunglasses, wiggling his fingers in a taunt.

The doorman’s name is most certainly not Fred. Eddie forgot his name within his first week living here, though. And greeting the familiar face with a new name every time brought a little reprieve amongst Eddie’s tedious schedule of repetition. 

“It’s three in the afternoon,” the man replies in a flat tone.

“Ah,” Eddie pauses by the standing desk, “In that case – good afternoon, Frank.” 

The driver is long gone, probably eager to end his short day. Eddie couldn’t care less, lingering just a few seconds longer in the warm sun outside before he locks himself away in his self-built prison for the night. 

The man, certainly not Frank based on the unimpressed look he wears, forces out a stiff, “Good afternoon, Mr. Munson.” 

It’s Eddie’s cue to leave him alone. To walk away and stop pestering. 

When Eddie was younger, he would have loved the game. He would have stayed planted and seen how much he could truly bother the poor man. A pest in its truest form, he would have hounded the man from the first day he’d forgotten his name until he had relearned his name. It never would have carried on this long – a whole year of being too prideful to just admit the game he was playing at. 

Unmarked grave. That spirit, that essence, would lay restlessly beneath soil for another day. Another month. Another year. Another lifetime. 

Eddie’s apartment is on the top floor of his building, making his knuckle ache when he punches the 10th button on the elevator. His stomach lurches as the mechanics carry him up, and he tells himself it’s just gravity resisting; it couldn’t possibly be loneliness catching flight within him, making its presence known with each increase of distance he puts between himself and others who dwell on the streets. He’d had the option to move into the same building as the rest of the band, each boy having taken turns in groveling when he’d announced he’d be moving out of his old apartment. He had turned every single one down.

His old apartment. That small one-bedroom apartment that still exists on the other side of town, the one he can’t pass the building of and deliberately demands all his drivers avoid the street of. It never really felt like just his. Even when he returned to it empty. It was never just his. It had already been tainted as something more, and he’d dished out quite the pretty show of money to get out of his lease early. It had only taken him paying up front with cash for the remaining months of his lease, a price that at the time had felt a bit light. There had been half an amount missing. Half a responsibility handed off to someone else. Someone his mind can’t risk to think about, not tonight.

But his new apartment doesn’t feel like his either. 

And with each echoing footstep from the sole of his heavy boots, each click of each extensive lock that had been installed into his front door, he knows who he’s going to think about. Even before he pours the whiskey. Even before he catches sight of an old framed photo, folded with care and intention inside a frame to only see three quarters of the original picture. 

Himself in the center, Gareth with crossed arms leaning into the camera’s view on his left, and a wild hand in the blurry corner that surely belonged to none other than Dustin Henderson. And if anyone viewing the old frame squinted, truly leaned down to focus, they’d catch it — the phantom hand’s nimble fingers curled around Eddie’s right shoulder, and the rubber toe of a shoe, creased from the wearer perching up on their tip-toes. The tiniest of details of someone no longer visible from the fold.

His night was always going to end up this way. Thinking about the ones he’s lost, even as they still exist within reach. The ones he had given away. The ones that were missing. 

An empty sliver of space in the frame, where the missing quarter of the photo would fit perfectly. He doesn’t have to wonder where that absent item, person, has gone.

—

In deciding that the only way forward was to raise Hell, Eddie should have considered the consequences. 

Agreeing to the meeting meant a plethora of inconveniences, one after another, hit after hit against Eddie’s already sour mood. 

It begins with an early wakeup call. 

Pounding on the front door of Eddie’s too big and too empty apartment wakes him up, head still spinning from the night before. He hadn’t drunk that much – at least, that’s what he had convinced himself after his fifth glass of whiskey straight. 

He hadn’t even poured the liquor over ice. Leaving something to be desired, something missing, but telling himself he deserved the burn all the same. 

After he had been rushed through his morning, Matt himself arrived to escort Eddie to the meeting as if he had sensed the impending trouble from the easy succession the day before, it only got worse. The headache lingered, and Matt only made it pound against Eddie’s temples more aggressively as he spent the entire drive going over details that were entirely insignificant to the frontman. Nothing more than talk of a release party Eddie was still adamantly against. 

The black and tinted SUV had never more resembled a prison on wheels. 

“I figure we have time,” Matt focuses down on his phone, thumbs flying as he no doubt replies to an email in relation to this entire plot, “We haven’t announced the album yet, or the single. Release date is set for…” he pauses, checking the calendar on his small screen, “November sixteenth. So we’ve got about six months. We outlined more of the specific timeline in the contract with the company, but I’m thinking the first single should be released in three months…”

Eddie tunes him out slowly but surely, his tone eventually muddling with the hum of the tires on asphalt. He knows when the album deadline is. He knows when the first single will be released, having been involved in every step of the mastering process. 

He knows, he knows, he knows.

That’s the problem.

He knows this album better than the back of his own hand. He’s painstakingly aware of the memory of writing every single line, formulating every single guitar riff and going as far as to override Gareth on the drums when it came to perfecting beats during recording. He’s acutely aware of the ticking countdown in the back of his mind until this album no longer belongs to just him, to just the band – the day it becomes something for others to own, to analyze, to decide to relate to their own experiences. 

The thought makes Eddie physically ill. 

Because it’s not their experiences or their emotions to reclaim. It isn’t their blood, their sweat, their tears across every track. It’s not even the rest of the band’s – it’s Eddie’s. They had all known the first day he’d stormed into the studio, beginning the process two years ago, this was going to be his journey to take. The band had become a vessel, the album a labor of his own demise. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts and swirling nausea, he doesn’t realize the car has come to a full stop until Matt’s hand comes down on his shoulder. 

“You ready?” 

No. But I never will be. 

“Let’s just get this shit over with,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging off the palm meant to be comforting but only being smothering. 

The ache only returns whenever someone touches him. Whether it be Matt, or Jeff, or Gareth, or Grant, or random women at unnamed clubs Eddie hardly remembers the insides of. The ache of something missing, something lost, something he’s tried to forget but can’t seem to erase from the back of his mind. 

The building is nice. A large skyscraper to fit in amongst the rest of the city skyline around it, no lack of large ceiling-to-floor windows or modern decor. Something about the minimalistic approach, abstract artwork and fake plants that are almost convincing if it weren’t for their plasticky shine beneath fluorescent lights, leaves Eddie feeling even more empty than when he first entered the building. He didn’t even realize that was possible until he caught sight of one of the receptionist’s blank smiles. 

Not a single word is spoken during the elevator ride up to the sixth floor. It’s fine; Eddie has already spent the last two years trying to find solstice in the silence, he can survive another minute.

He’s almost prepared to ask Matt if the rest of the band is even here, but the question is answered for him after he’s guided through a series of hallways by another soulless receptionist, only to enter a large conference room in which two security guards flank the door of and the rest of Corroded Coffin occupy.

“Finally,” Gareth says, far too dramatically, as if Eddie was late. 

Matt had made sure he arrived a full five minutes early. A personal record, Eddie’s pretty sure. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to keep you all waiting,” Eddie sarcastically snaps, bowing for a bit of theatrics before he rounds the long table to go for the empty seat at the dead center of his friends. Right between Gareth and Grant, Eddie slips into a stiff-cushioned roller chair that creaks beneath his weight, “What is this place, anyways?” 

“An event planning agency,” Jeff answers from the other side of Gareth. 

Matt takes the seat beside Grant. 

“You do know what the meeting is about, right?” Gareth asks, genuinely quirking an eyebrow with such little faith in Eddie. 

It rubs him raw, offended despite understanding where his bandmates were coming from. He had become fairly disconnected from the business aspect of the band for a while now, “Of fucking course, I do. I’m not entirely oblivious.” 

“You sure do act like it,” Gareth mutters, barely audible, in return.

He doesn’t reply. Not with his immediate offense, and certainly not with the snarky reply that begins to materialize in his mind the longer he sits with the insinuation. Even if it hurts, Eddie won’t let it show. He numbs it, compartmentalizes it, packs the emotion tightly away and leaves behind nothing more than an empty space. 

Matt anxiously checks his watch, Craig begins to tap his knuckles against the large table before them all, Jeff begins to bounce his leg, and Gareth seems hellbent on now pretending that Eddie doesn’t exist. 

Don’t let it show. Even if it hurts. 

“They’re late-” Matt starts to mutter just as the door finally swings open. Eddie doesn’t move an inch, keeping his arms crossed and posture slack in his chair, as if he couldn’t care less. 

The person who storms in first clearly cares. “I’m so sorry, gentleman, there was just some… complications with your security measures-” 

Eddie doesn’t care who this woman is. He doesn’t care for the sudden sweep of her overwhelming perfume that follows her into the room, he doesn’t care for the bleeding edges of her mauve lipstick, he doesn’t care for the startling slickness of her pin straight blonde hair. She smooths her free hand over a pencil skirt he also feels little opinion towards, nothing more than another addition to a dreadfully boring corporate dress code. She’s nothing special – she doesn’t take his breath away. 

It’s the person that follows her into the conference room that sucks all the air out of his lungs. 

Frizzy hair, glaring eyes over a shoulder at one of the guards. Arms full of manila folders and a pen tucked behind the ear. A far more casual attire of jeans and a wrinkle-free shirt that fits well. If his eyes could tear away from the person’s face that had yet to turn cheek towards him, he’d probably glance down to find a pair of comfortable sneakers rather than heels like the first woman wore. 

A ghost. A phantom from Eddie’s past that had spent the last two years haunting every dream, every melody, every crowd, every drunken night. The one face that ruined every other set of eyes that had ever landed on him with the worst intentions.

You. 

You haven’t spotted him yet, not like he’s spotted you. You’re full of fire and spunk, so unlike the last time he’d seen you with his own two eyes. No burning cheeks like the first time he’d met you. No downturned gaze full of brimming loss or sadness, only a fierce gaze you won’t back down from. 

And then, from across a deathly still room, your head turns and your eyes find his. 

Like the first breath of wind amongst an impending hurricane, your fire exits you in a singular exhale. Eddie swears it travels across the room for him. Snaking its way over more than just physical distance, reaching out for him in a whisper of loss – no elongated conference table, no narrow room, no amount of time could deter its pathway to him. 

You, who he hadn’t seen in over two years. You, who had once been his end all and be all. You, who had chewed him up and spit him out without ever once sharpening your teeth. 

The entire room pauses for the two of you. Every single member of Corroded Coffin is staring, the corporate machine in a pencil skirt stills, and Matt glances at Eddie with blissful unawareness.

An empty space on a shelf, surrounded in dust. A glass half-empty, lacking in ice. A cold bed and an echoing hallway, a picture frame never quite filled as it should be. 

Something lost, something missing.

All Eddie is capable of is the sigh of your name.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

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[captainjamster]

Observation Duty

Pairing(s): Price x fem!Reader Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, monitoring and surveillance, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual mutual masturbation, non-consensual recording and photos Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: John isn't quite the captain everyone thinks he is, but he knows just how to act like it. No one would ever believe the things he does behind closed doors. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ MORE! This is the first part of what should be two chapters, because I can't stop starting things without finishing them <3

If I miss any tags you think should be there, please let me know!

Full fic under the cut <3

John’s line of work has taught him that people are so, so easy to play with. Know the right person, the right place. Know what to say, who to say it to.

Keeping you safe, under his ever-observant eye, is easy in the barracks and on the field. You don’t make a single move he doesn’t see or hasn’t approved. But when you go home, away from him and his control, he just can’t help but worry. Are you safe, alone in that big, empty house? What do you get up to? Are you eating and drinking? Taking care of yourself? Who do you see? Do you invite anyone around? The idea of another man in your home makes him shudder, and in your bedroom isn’t something he even entertains. John needs to do something about it.

He’s been thinking for a while. Some way to watch you, every waking moment. A permanent eye on the wall. He knows your address; it’s right there in your files. There isn’t a single legal document or piece of information about you that he can’t obtain if he wants to. Every place you’ve lived, your parents, extended family, even your friendship circles. Your school results, community hobbies, bank purchases, every doctors trip – especially your birth control and fertility, he paid very close attention to those details. He knows how to play you; he listens to your grumbling, observes what makes you happy. Notices the moments where you’re less resistant, records what makes you flare up in defensiveness or fury. John is a well-educated man, one who could’ve been a scholar in another life, and he’s decided his favourite topic to study is you.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

“Remember to fill out your forms, lads. New policies coverin’ house insurance and maintenance, let me know if y’need any fixin’ at home.” He hands out the papers, carefully keeping yours separate without being too obvious. Soap’s head bobs up, glancing at you and taking the bait John has set out perfectly. “Oi bonnie, weren’t ye chattin’ ‘bout fixin’ a light o’ somethin’?”

Your face lights up at the mention, a bashful smile gracing your lips, and John would be mad that it’s not in his direction if he wasn’t so satisfied with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that, yeah! I was going to wait until I got home.”

Gaz hums, hunched over his own form as he signs it. “Maybe Ghost can buy a piece of furniture this year.” His sentence is rewarded with a pen smacking into the side of his head, bouncing off him and onto the table as Ghost snorts in amusement, answering gruffly. “Fuck off, Garrick.”

It never goes wrong, but he still feels smug at how effortless it is to orchestrate an entire conversation before it starts. Getting your signature is as easy as an extra sheet, you can’t even tell the difference. No one reads terms and conditions, and he’s made extra sure you don’t - a couple of edited test forms a few months ago - to rule out the chance.

With the paperwork completed, he contacts the company and gives them a boring, digestible cover story. “Yeah, her husband. Installing cameras, yeah. Keepin’ it safe while we’re both on deployment. Just a light out the back to fix, cameras to install in and outside.”

They’re so quick to listen to the man playing the big, strong head of the house, not a single question about why everything but the payment would be in his ‘wife’s’ name instead. Lying, John finds, is easiest when others do the work for you; give vague details that seem right, and let them come to their own little conclusions. Let them assume you’re some kind of military wife who doddles along behind him, just an obedient little civilian pet while he organises the household. If only they knew what you were and what you did, he thinks. Though still, an obedient little pet is how he would like you. It just takes time to get there.

They come over and install the cameras in less than a week. John’s antsy the day he gets the call that they finished, waiting for it to be over so he can experiment with his new toy. He ignores the questioning looks from his inferiors as he dismisses his last evening meeting early, pushing out the door into the stream of soldiers heading for dinner, only departing from the pack when he reaches his office door.

John prepared a room for this in advance – the moment he set the plan in motion. A room at home, his central control that he could run unmanned and long-distance, circumnavigating his occupancy at the base. It’s almost undetectable; no pesky windows to peek in from the outside, entry hidden behind a locked door in his office. The numerous screens flicker to life, illuminating the room in a blue glow. The cameras are perfect; detailed quality, blur-less zoom. Every angle. It quickly becomes his favourite room to be in, despite only being in it once when he headed home to initially set everything up.

At the base, all he needs is an electronic device and an app to access the command. His favourite to use is his phone, flicking through each screen to take in the rooms, committing each detail and decoration to heart. Though to keep up all professional appearances, he often settles for his laptop, flicking between reports and gazing at the screens with every spare second. John takes the weeks leading up to break to memorise your house, seeing each room flickering on the back of his eyelids as lies in bed, tracing each path you’d take morning and night until he falls asleep.

He protects it. Types your address into his maps app, virtually scouting the neighbourhood to make sense of all your outside cameras, memorising every surrounding street. Plans escape routes, recording positions of defence and any weak spots he could reinforce, windows or vents that are just too easy to wrench open by perverse men like him. Within a month, he knows your house plan like his own; enough to contemplate how he would reorganise it if you wanted him to move in, how many little ones it could hold, tiny feet pattering up and down its hallways.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

When the last week before leave finally comes around, he’s beyond ecstatic. John is a carefully controlled slate around anyone else, but his boys know each twitch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lip. They clue you in to his unusually excited behaviour with teasing jokes and remarks that have him rolling his eyes, gruffly ordering them back to work. Soap is betting on a secret missus, making a point to sneak up behind Price when Soap catches him texting away on his phone.

When he finally arrives home, he’s delighted to see your house is still empty. It gives him time to unpack, running loads of laundry and showering. He keeps an eye on his phone, monitoring the screens until he finishes, bringing a cup of coffee and dinner to his little surveillance room.

The screens fill the wall, a 3x3 set-up that basks the room in a pale glow, yet still isn’t enough to display every camera hidden around your house. Everything is silent, the occasional rumble of a car getting his hopes up, but nothing happens until a few sips of his coffee and an article later. Movement from one of the screen catches his attention, his head straightening to watch your front door swing open.

A bag is the first thing that comes through the door, flung down the hallway with a dull thud. Your figure follows it in, heaving another heavy bag behind you. John frowns at the sight, mindlessly tutting as he crosses his arms. He could be there to do that for you. None of this silly straining yourself.

Leaning back and settling in, he watches how you unravel from your long absence. It pleases him that you��re practical in your return, taking the time to wash your laundry, circulate and dispel all the stagnant air (although Price dislikes seeing your windows open, so unattended), and give the place a general tidy up. There’s a ping from your phone a few times that puts John on edge. Who’s texting you already, when you’ve been back for less than a day? His prominent guess is family and close friends, excited to have their beloved child home and safe, but he can’t help from worrying that he’s wrong. Maybe you’re so pent up that you just can’t help it, using those silly dating apps you talk about with Gaz, eager for someone to unravel all that need within you. Maybe it’s an old friends-with-benefits situation you already have that’s eager to climb back in your bed. Maybe – maybe he should bug your devices.

His deliberations are disrupted as you reward your productivity with what Price thinks to be a party in your bathroom. The small haven of what should be privacy isn’t free from his omniscient gaze, either. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting; there are no boundaries to him. There isn’t a single side of you he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.

The music comes through his speakers, some songs he recognises from the long travels spent in transport together. Melodies echo through your room as steam slowly gathers, whisps streaming in and out of his lens view as water slowly fills the bath. You trail from the room, meandering down the hall and grabbing some snacks from the kitchen, filling a glass with a carbonated drink you grab from the fridge. Snug in the corner above the entryway, paired neatly with the fire alarm, his camera catches the way you bend yourself over the counter, distracted by scrolling through some app.

He feels himself throb at the sight, fumbling to take a screenshot of the image. You tease him, staying bent like that as you wait for the bath, your ass swaying occasionally when a trendy song hums from your phone. Disappointment washes through him when you stand up, though he basks in the sight of your stomach peaking from under your shirt as you stretch, but his excitement is quickly renewed when you gather your snacks and head back to the bathroom.

The room has filled with a thick fog that blooms out into the hallway as you open the door. It clouds his vision, leaving him cursing for not considering the possibility. Your darkened figure is hardly visible as you move throughout the room, but from the soft, metallic clicks and flickering of light, he assumes you’re lighting something. Two lights blossom in front of you, remaining behind you as you crouch at the bath and start flicking the lighter again. The cloud has dispersed enough to let John see the fuzzy details of your face, watching as you bring a third candle to your face, inhaling with a hum of delight before you light the flame and return it to the bath’s edge. You strew the candles about the room, leaving a large one to glow on your vanity and putting the other one on your closed toilet lid.

You fiddle with the taps – running cold water, he guesses – and sit on the floor, sorting your snacks onto a long tray as the last of the mist spills from the room. He’s been lucky this time; had you not been treating yourself, taking the time to create a small sanctuary, the fog would’ve concealed any chance of John seeing you at such a vulnerable time. A flaw within his system that requires refinement. Perhaps a flaw he can turn into an excuse to visit you.

His thoughts fall flat when you stand up, slotting the tray into its position over the bath and silencing the taps with a few sharp turns. Finally. The point he’s been anticipating.

The captain waits with bated breath, eager to salivate over his uninvited striptease. It’s far from the first time he’s seen you undress, though it’s the first time you’ve been so beautifully unaware. Close proximity (and the resulting lack of privacy) is just another test of comradery – he’s showered next to you in just underwear and ripped your shirt or pants off to treat a stab wound more times than he can count.

But this time you undress, you don’t stop at your underwear.

There’s no to palaver or parade to your performance – there’s no real performance, just a one-sided show, and that alone has John’s cock aching. Capturing you without filter, pretences or social expectations, no song and dance of captain and soldier. You’re clumsy pulling off your underwear, catching the elastic on your toes and throwing it haphazardly onto the floor with the rest of your clothes through curses and grumbles. Inspecting yourself in the mirror, catching up on each new scar and burn, bending over and peering around to see the state of your backside and between your thighs. This is a side of you he can never glimpse on base, despite all his attempts.

The buzz of your phone distracts you, straightening up with a right, okay! and grabbing the small device, unlocking it to peer at the content as you gingerly slide a foot into the hot, soapy water. Bit by bit, you emerge yourself within the sudsy liquid, minding the tray as you let out an audible groan. John watches you melt into the bubbles, arms resting along the tub as your head falls back.

For a while, the two of you remain like that; John sat comfortably in his chair, ignoring the heat flickering in his lower stomach as he works through some papers, keeping an eye on your relaxed form as you decompress within the hot, sudsy water, picking at the tray of food and drink. His attention slips as the minutes go by, becoming more focused on his work – pushing the aching need between his legs further to the side - as he checks the screen every ten minutes.

The swishing of water becomes a tranquil ambience as you scrub at yourself, low voices from your phone that John doesn’t currently care to make out keeping you entertained through the process. You luxuriate in the tub for much longer than the barrack would ever allow, taking your time to scrub the build-up of product and dead skin that you give little concern during deployment.

A paper absorbs his attention, keeping his eyes occupied as he grumbles through writing. His concentration is only torn away as he finishes scribbling his signature, a sharp, unexpected moan filling his ears that has him looking up so fast his neck cricks. Scanning the screen, he quickly determines that it’s not coming from you – rather, your phone, and is now accompanied by a deep, masculine groan.

Your expression is clear on his screen, a flush to your cheeks as you gaze at your device, hand running along your chest teasingly to tug at a nipple. Whether it’s from the pornographic material playing on your phone or the heat of the water, John can’t tell.

The tent of his pants is already insufferably tight, and he swears there’ll be a zipper print against the red of his aching cock when he pulls it out. He wants to relish this, commit each moment of this first time to memory without the taint of his lust, but he can’t help the growing need between his legs. Ignoring it to finish paperwork, merely bask in the company of your unwinding routine, has been a challenge even for his steeled resolve.

As he watches your hand trail down the soft pudge of your torso, dipping into the bubbly water to follow the rise and dip of your stomach, he breaks. His cock springs out of his briefs like it’s gasping for air, bouncing angrily against his stomach with each haphazard tug at the elastic around his hips. He can only imagine how your fingers work between your legs at that sensitive skin, how you orchestrate your undoing.

The tray holds your phone conveniently, allowing both hands to roam your body, and John thanks his luck for at least the opportunity to watch you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. You tug at the sensitive buds with whimpered moans, water sloshing as your hips buck against your hand, teasing John with actions that he can’t see.

He’s damp to the touch as he grips his shaft, fingers immediately sticky with precum that’s been smeared throughout his briefs. Pearlescent beads drool from his tip in a lazy stream, lubricating his motions as he tugs lightly at his foreskin, already teetering the edge of climax. The slightest stimulation has his stomach tightening, listening to your gasps and whines grow in urgency.

You chase your orgasm eagerly, working with a pent up need that comes from the absence of full privacy within the miliary. Convulsions rack through you in synchronisation, moans combining in a harmony he wishes wasn’t separated by the screen. He wants to time it perfectly; fuck up into his fist and release as you reach your own peak, as if a flawless synchronisation is key to unlocking some phantom sensation of being buried between your thighs, clenched down around him.

It doesn’t take much more teasing before you catch up, your tiles wet as water breaches the rim with each careless thrust. The video in front of you has ended, long forgotten as your head lulls back, lost in the sensations that envelope your consciousness that prove to be too much. They push you over the edge with a ragged cry, your knees peaking from the water as your thighs clench around your hand, and John loses himself too.

All it takes it a few weak thrusts into his hand before his balls are tightening, seed spilling in enthusiastic spurts, striping his shirt and pants before it dies down to a dribble that John coaxes out with a groan. He sits there, watching your breathing even out as you wipe away at your mess, spent and catching his breath as the cum dries on his clothes. You’re quick in cleaning up the mess, pulling yourself up on unsteady limbs as you pull the plug, bending down to rinse your hands one last time for John to relish.

He's almost heartbroken when you step out the tub, droplets cascading down to drip from your form, only to reach for a towel to wrap around yourself. The fabric is a slim cover, leaving glimpses of your behind and chest as you dry yourself, humming a tune with a note of content John wishes he brought instead. John tucks himself back into the soiled briefs, shucking off his shirt and pants to wash momentarily, but not before he glimpses you one last time getting changed.

Before you can reach for the underwear placed in advance on the sink and discard your towel, the camera barely picks up the vibration of your phone, catching both his and your attention. Leaning over to the tray, your process is halted by a text on your screen that makes you smile, and whether it’s the drunken, post-orgasmic haze that clouds his mind, or the way it makes him more vulnerable to the surge of jealousy that flares up at your giggle, John finds himself fumbling through the lockscreen and pulling up your contact before he can stop himself.

If you’re not going to think about him during your masturbation, he’s sure as hell going to make sure you think of him after.

Dividers by cafekitsune

[grippingbeskar]

strip poker

matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content 18+ minors dni (mxf, dirty talk, honestly kind of tame if i’m honest) swearing, gambling?? idk it’s literally the title

a/n: i have been getting a few messages to write more matt so HERE IS ME FULFILLING THAT REQUEST! i’m so glad you guys liked the first one! hope you enjoy! also this gif is how i imagine him looking for the whole first part. fuxk he’s so hot anyways.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. How is that even possible?” You shout, nearly spilling your beer on the already sticky table at Josie’s. You’d been playing poker in the shitty little set up at the back, a bunch of screwed up twenty dollar bills half heartedly thrown in as Matthew Murdock won yet another round.

“It’s unfair, really. Gets the looks and the brains. He either folds right away, or wins the whole game.” Foggy shakes his head, shoving Matt on the shoulder. “I lost a lotta money to this guy in college.”

“Yet you still play him.” Karen chucks her cards in the centre, watching Foggy re-shuffle the deck while Matt takes his winnings, shrugging.

“I didn’t say I learnt from it.”

“But how does that even…work? Because, you’re—well, you know…” You lean back, trying not to think about Matt’s attention, and how it had been on you the whole night. Especially now, as his fingers card through the new wad of cash in his hands, almost like he’s doing it just for you.

“Blind?” He smiles, and you make a noise of agreement while finishing off your beer. “I’m just very good at reading people.”

“Oh, I get it. You cheat, don’t you? Feel the fibres in the cards or whatever.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“Feel the fibres?”

“Okay— well, it’s something like that, though. Isn’t it?” Even Foggy was interested now, snatching the deck that was now in the centre of the table. Matt shrugs again, hanging one arm around the empty chair next to him.

“I don’t cheat. Most people give away their hand as soon as they open their mouth. You just have to know the tell. Poker is just a waiting game.” He says it casually like winning every single poker game he’s ever played is the simplest thing in the world. “Plus, like you said. It’s not like I can look over your shoulder, can I? How would I cheat?”

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it fails, because I need to start paying off this tab if Josie’s gonna serve us anymore.” Foggy deals out the cards, and you watch Matt intently. He never even picks up his cards, just sits there with one hand wrapped around his beer, head turned in your direction. “Alright, Karen?”

“I’m out. I’m running out of money.” Foggy boo’s, and she laughs, sliding off her chair. “Maybe if my boss’ paid me more, I’d be in.”

“Okay, ouch.” Foggy pouts, but deals your cards, skipping over Karen’s empty seat. “Matthew, you start.”

“I’m in.” He smirks, his free hand lightly tracing around the edges of his face-down cards. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“In.” You look at Foggy, and he sighs, pushing in his money as well.

“Last round. I’m all in.” All in doesn’t mean a lot to Foggy considering he’d only had about two chips and a one dollar bill left, but you and Matt still had a fair amount. Both of you match his bet, and he flips over another card. “Well, fuck.”

“See? Everyone’s got a tell.” Matt laughs and you roll your eyes. Foggy chucks his cards in the centre.

“Anyone could tell Foggy was gonna lose.”

“Hey! I had a fair chance about an hour ago.” Leaving both you and Matt laughing, he turns to go find Karen. “You two kids get home safe, okay?”

“I’ll look after her.” He says, his head still angled towards you. Your grip on the cards in your hand gets a little tighter, and he taps his finger on the table, asking you to flip another card. “Come on. You aren’t giving up yet, are you?”

“Definitely not.” You flip the last card, and it’s a King. The one you were looking for— you had a full house. A strong hand, but you didn’t want to give yourself away. You say nothing, remembering what Matt said earlier, and he smiles after a beat of silence.

“You aren’t talking to me now?” He teases, leaning over the table on his forearms to get a little closer to you. He smells like beer and cedar— a strange combination, but somehow intoxicating on him. “You know I’m gonna beat you anyways. No point in getting all quiet on me.”

“Shut up and make your bet, Murdock.” He’s still got that smirk on his face, the one that says he’s going to beat you before you’ve even put your cards down, and he matches your bet, sliding a few bills into the centre. “Showoff.”

“Just trying to impress you.” He was making it increasingly hard to keep a poker face, and you know he couldn’t see you but somehow it felt like he could see straight through you, like he knew how every one of his sweet words ate away at that feeble resistance you’d built up to try and keep him out. “You can fold if you need to. I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

“Does this whole act usually work for you? The girls eat this shit up, don’t they?” He shrugs, leaning back and leaving his still turned down cards on the table.

“Most of the time.” You push in double the amount of money he bet, and somehow he knows exactly how many, because before you’d even sat back he was matching the bet, smiling sweetly at you.

“How?!”

“How what?”

“How do you know you’ll win?” You lean forward and he moves too, mirroring you and nearly meeting your hands in the centre of the small table.

“I can’t give away all my secrets.” You roll your eyes and lay your cards face up on the table. He doesn’t so much as flinch, both your bodies still leaning towards each other.

This part of the bar was quiet and secluded, and you swear if you angled yourself just right no one would even be able to see you from here. The thought drove your brain to a whole lot of dirty thoughts you had been trying your best not to have about your literal boss, and you physically shook them away. When he spoke again, you had to squint to focus.

“Wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Oh, piss off. Let’s see what you have.” You deflect, holding out hope you could still make something of this game. Still smirking, he keeps his head angled towards you, reaching over and sliding his cards to you. You’re hesitant to take them, and he knows it.

“Help a guy out?” He reaches out to the wrong spot on the table, a clear ploy to get you to flip them for him. He was delaying this— dragging it out because it was fun to him, and as much as it sucked you were losing money, you’d probably empty your wallet if it kept him this close to you.

“I’m not falling for your helpless act. I’ve seen you in a court room.”

“Indulge me.” Deciding not to delay the process any longer, you flip them all over in one go.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” A royal-fucking-flush.

“What is it?” He says smiling, keeping as close to you as possible.

“A— you know what? I’m not even going to tell you.” He breathes out a laugh, leaning back finally, and it’s only when he’s sitting in his chair again that you manage to get your head screwed back on straight. “Now I’m really out of money.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Happens to the best of them.” You scoff. That’s the second time he’s called you that, and it seems to make you fidget in your seat more every time.

“Just means you have to cover the tab.”

“Don’t pout.” Instantly you steeled your face, and just as you were about to ask him exactly how he knew, he spoke again. “I tell you what— you want your money back, we can play a new game. All or nothing.”

“I feel like this is a trap.” He laughed, the sound drawing you in like some kind of siren song. You leaned forward again, reaching out for your money on the table, but he was faster, his own enveloping yours. His hands were rough and large, and you couldn’t peel your eyes away from how you practically disappeared underneath him.

“It’s not a game we can play here, though.” You swallow hard. You’d always flirted with Matt— it was easy, and honestly the best part of your day was seeing that playful smile, or even when his ears got a little pink when you got particularly close to whisper something about a case.

But this? He’s talking about leave a bar with him. On a Saturday night. To play a game. You chugged the rest of your beer, needing the liquid courage.

“Alright, Matthew. I’ll indulge you. What kind of game are you talking about?”

“Poker.” Laughing, you watch as he gets up from his chair and grabs his jacket, already resigned to the idea you were both leaving. Now.

“We are playing poker.”

“It’s not that kind of poker.” He’s right next to you now, edged between you and the chair cemented to the floor next to you. He was so close you had no choice but to lean into him, not that you could think of anything else you’d rather be doing.

“Not that kind of poker?” You say softly, and he hums. The sound vibrates through his chest, and you resist the urge to flutter your eyes close and just listen to him talk. Something about his voice has you floating on air, and it’s part of the reason he’s so hard to resist. He just never stops talking.

You jump slightly when you feel his hand brush against your shoulder. You were wearing a silk dress that hung off your shoulder, so he took his time, grazing along your soft skin. His fingers carded through your hair lightly, and to top it off, he brushed the hair back, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck, tilting your face upwards gently.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were suggesting something unprofessional, Mr. Murdock.” His face splits into another smile, but his hand drops from your skin. Instantly you feel colder without his touch.

“You tell me to go to Hell right now and I will. No hard feelings. You’re a good lawyer, and I won’t mess this up for you.” Now you understand why he stopped touching you. Matthew Murdock— self professed people reader, was unsure if he’d read this situation right. The thought occurred to you once to fuck with him a little, but when you looked up at him and saw how tight his jaw was, you melted a little. That tiny wall of resistance you’d built up was crumpled from the inside.

“And if I say I’m interested in this little game?”

“Then I’d say I’ll meet you outside. Balls in your court, princess.” He presses a light kiss to your cheek, and you nearly get dizzy from the gesture if you hadn’t seen him grab your money as well as his off the table before he disappears into the crowd.

You call after him, but all you get is a shrug and a laugh that is unmistakably his as he disappears into the crowd. You don’t move for a second— your heart screaming at you to get on your feet and follow him, but a small, stupid part of your brain tells you to not. He was your boss, after all, and you needed this job, but it was also Matt.

You knew he was a little bit of a lady killer— Karen and Foggy making a thousand jokes at his expense which he managed to laugh off. Even with clients he always managed to win the girls over with his charm, but as much as people talk about it, ever since you came around you haven’t seen him so much as flirt for more than a few minutes with anyone but you. Sure, you weren’t with him every second of every day, but between the late nights and weekends spent in his office to getting lunch and sometimes dinner on your days off, even Foggy had made a few passing comments about how he’d staved off women.

You didn’t have a leg to stand on to get jealous even if he did— but it made your heart stutter in his chest to think you had something to do with it. He was always showing up with an extra coffee for you, walking you home if you had to stay late, paying you endless compliments… and the way he spoke to you, teasing but never cruel, always making you laugh even when you hadn’t slept for 24 hours.

Really— your decision on whether to follow him out was made months ago when you first met him. The moment you saw that stupid smile and the first time he said your name; you nearly took the chair with you with how quick you jumped up to find him outside the bar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’ve never been to your place before.” You listen to the sound of Matt pouring you a glass of wine as you hang your head off the back of his couch. You have to squint to block out the streaming colour of light that shines through the giant windows; hues of pink and blue billboard warped from the rain that was coming down outside.

“It’s an acquired taste.” He taps your leg and you shift to sit up, him sitting close next to you handing you a glass. “You like red, right?”

“I drink anything as long as it’s free.”

“This one’s on me.” You laugh into your glass, taking a long sip and enjoying the burn that comes with it. It tastes expensive, and you expect nothing less from him. He’s facing you, one arm lazily hanging behind you on the couch, and your heart is racing even without the wine.

“So, did you really invite me up here for a game of poker, or was that just a ploy to get in my pants?” His laugh fills the quiet apartment, and he leans forward to pull out a drawer, his hand reappearing with a deck of cards.

“I never say no to a pretty girl in my apartment, but if you want your money back, you’re going to have to play me for it.” You snatch the cards from him, shuffling them dramatically.

“And tell me why, exactly, we couldn’t play this all important game in the bar?” You watch him carefully, how you always do when your alone, and you see his tell tale sign. The slightest hint of red on his cheeks, just at your question. “Matthew?”

“You’re out of money, but we’re still playing poker. What do you think we’re betting?” Now you were the one blushing.

“So this really was a ploy to get in my pants.” You try to sound nonchalant, confident like he always manages to come across as, but your voice shakes a little at the end of your sentence, and you were still shuffling the cards even though they were way past ready. You quickly put them on the table and down the rest of your wine.

“Can you blame me?” He asks lowly, and you cross your legs, ignoring the heat that grows in your stomach. “Listen, you know I love these games we play, but I don’t want you to—“

“If you’re bitching out now, I can take the money in credit or cheque, too.” He stops talking, mouth open a little, and scoffs out a laugh. The last thing you wanted him to do was think you weren’t a hundred and ten percent here for whatever he wanted to do with you. To you. Shit— that wine was going straight to your head.

“Alright, you asked for it. I was gonna go easy on you, but…”He sighs and shakes his head, and you roll your eyes, dealing the cards.

“Sure you were. Pick up the cards this time.” You all but shove them in his hands, and he takes his time pulling away from you, smiling like he could feel your pulse through the small touch and knew how much he affected you.

Looking at your cards, you tried to see a way to win with what was on the table. You had nothing, really, but he didn’t know that, and you still had a chance. Besides, if he wanted to play that kind of poker, you were positive you wouldn’t have to rely on the cards to distract him. If you could keep your thoughts under control.

“It’s a real shame you aren’t going to win, you know.” You bait him, and his head tilts up from where he was pretending to be looking at his cards.

“And why is that?” You shift in your seat at his voice. Again.

“Well, I dressed up all pretty for tonight.” You flip over the next card on the table, and suck in a breath. “And it’s just a shame you won’t get to experience that.”

“You know the point of this game isn’t to keep your clothes on. No matter how pretty you are in that dress.” He flips over the final card, and you bite down on your lower lip. You have nothing. Nada.

“Exactly, but the best part of my outfit isn’t the dress. It’s what I’m wearing underneath.” His eyes close, and you watch as he sighs and lets his head fall back.

“Can’t believe I was going to take it easy on you, sweet thing.” You can’t stop the grin on your face as he looks up at you like he’s in legitimate pain. “Play your cards.”

“Ohh, so serious now!” He manages a small ‘hm’ and although you were joking, he doesn’t seem so playful anymore. The look on his face was more akin to what he was like in court— focused and ready to win at all costs. “Don’t pout.”

“You’re bluffing, aren’t you?” He says, and you feel his hand on your opposite shoulder, the arm laying around the back of your couch sneaking closer while you were distracted. You shuffle slightly closer, allowing him the space.

“I thought you knew everyone’s tells.”

“You’re a little harder to read than most, I’ll admit it.” You make a noise in surprise, but he just shakes his head. “That doesn’t mean I won’t take you apart just as easily.”

“Guess you’ll have to play your cards to find out. Unless you want to fold?” He laughs, breaking up the tension just a little, and while you two were inches away from each other, he tosses his cards half heartedly onto the table, face up.

“How’d I do?” He leans closer, taking the extra space when you turn your head. You feel every word he speaks on your skin, lips not even an inch away from being on you. You could hardly keep your eyes open, let alone focus on the cards.

“I think you win this round.” You manage, shakily exhaling as you practically feel his smile on your neck. The hand that was around the back of the couch leaves you completely, while the other slowly creeps up the bare skin of your arm, making you shiver. “Th-three sixes against a four of a kind.”

“Hmm. Unlucky.” Shallow breaths were the only ones you could take with him this close. Gentle fingers find the soft material of the strap of your dress, hooking under it loosely. You told yourself you didn’t wear this dress for him— but you knew how it would feel. Silky and smooth against your skin, if he couldn’t see how good you looked in this dress, he would damn well feel it.

He slowly drops the strap down your shoulder, then the other hand encourages the other side down. You use your arms to keep the dress up, making him work for it a little, but as soon as he tugs lightly at the hem you let the dress fall over your breasts.

Matt’s hands feel the lace of your bra, lingering a little longer than he had to. Then he flattens his palms on either side of your rib cage, pulling the dress lower. He feels every curve and ridge on your body, and you can’t take your eyes off his face. He was enamoured— completely lost in the feeling, so much so that his eyes were shut tightly, even the light was taking too much away from the sensation.

“Matt, hurry u—“

“Shh. Let me enjoy my prize.” He finally leans closer, a soft kiss to your collarbone nearly melting you into the couch.

His hands reach your hip, and then get a little more aggressive, fisting the soft material and pulling rather than guiding. You shimmy your hips and let him drag it down your thighs. He seems reluctant to move past the faint excuse for underwear you were wearing, but eventually the dress falls to the floor, and he sighs.

“You were right.”

“About what?” His hand catches your chin, thumb pressing on your bottom lip lightly.

“You are even prettier like this.” Your knuckles were going white with how hard they were trying to stay at your sides, but now you were half naked, and he hadn’t so much as taken his jacket off.

“You think so?”

“I fucking know so. And these—“ The hand on holding your face to his is still on your hip, and one finger hooks under the lace. “—these for me?”

“You haven’t won that yet.” He presses his forehead to yours and groans, and then leans back, but doesn’t go too far. “Your turn to deal.”

“Fine.” He frowns like a little kid who just got told he can’t have ice cream, and quickly swipes up the cards. It’s only then that you notice these ones— his personal set, have braille on them.

“You can read these ones.” You say, and he nods.

“This game is much more important.” Biting your lip so hard it’s probably bleeding, you watch his talented hands quickly sort and deal the cards. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m cheating.”

“You’re so funny.” You squint, and he smiles.

This round is much faster. He’s clearly in no mood to fuck around anymore, and makes every opportunity to touch you now you’re sitting in front of him in nothing but a few strands of lace. In front of anyone else, you think you’d feel insecure, or at the very least cold, but with the way he’s acting like he’s starving for you— it has enough heat in that look to warm you for an entire winter.

You actually have a good hand this time, and to your surprise, you win. Your Aces beat his fours, and he takes off his jacket.

“That is hardly fair.”

“Are you trying to get me to take my clothes off? Because that is entirely unprofessional.” You want to laugh, but what you want more is to tear off the buttons on his shirt and— “Your cards, sweetheart.”

“So, are you going to tell me how you know you’ll win?” You take them quickly, trying to ignore how you missed him reshuffling the deck completely because you were too lost in your thoughts of fucking him right here, right now. What else was going to happen here, though? It was the anticipation that was driving you wild— the inevitable burn of what was months in the making.

“You really want to know?”

“Please.” He smiles again, flicking through his cards.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” You laugh, and he faces you again.

“You’re kidding.”

“It gets faster when you’re winning.” You look down at your cards— another solid hand, and you think he might of had something to do with that.

“I don’t think th—“

“It’s getting faster.” He leans closer again, tilting his head like he could actually hear you internally losing your shit. He was right— it was getting faster, but it had nothing to do with the cards. “You have a good hand, don’t you?”

“Maybe?” He laughs, and his hand touches yours. You watch as his hands— the hands you’ve spent way too many hours looking at, and they read your cards.

“Shit. I’m starting to think you might be cheating.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but your hands reach out, stopping him.

“My turn.” Keeping your hands on top of his, you relish in his surprised expression as you swing your leg over him. He all but gasps when you sit your weight down fully, the underwear hiding nothing from him or you as you press yourself against him.

Your fingers are as soft as his were, moving his tie to the side while you slowly undo each little button. When a new one opens, more of him is revealed, and every inch of unexplored skin has you nearly panting. Not to mention the way he’s holding you, his hands roaming the bare skin of your back and hips to pull you closer.

When you finally reach the bottom of his shirt, you nearly rip at it trying to remove it, but Matt takes it from you and slips out of it within a second, throwing it away somewhere behind you. Your hands are gentle as they slide up his chest, trying your best to avoid the scars that might still be painful. You had no idea he had so many scars— the image of him shirtless is even more alluring now.

“I don’t want to play games anymore.” You whisper, and his hand is already tangled in your hair when you finish, hauling your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Its fiery and hot, everything burning at once. You wrap your arms around his head and in one motion he stands, a small squeak of surprise coming from you as your legs wrap around his torso.

You couldn’t stop obsessing over the feeling of his skin on yours, the way he felt so warm against you; how his hands were rough and gentle at the same time, grabbing and pulling at any part of you they could find purchase. Eventually he stopped moving and your world fell backwards, landing on soft sheets and being encased by Matthew Murdock.

“Matty…” You whine into his mouth and he hums against you, his tongue opening you up, taking control of every single breath you take. Your eyes flutter open when he moves lower, kissing your jaw, and you inhale sharply when his teeth bite lightly at the sensitive spot on your neck. It felt electric, almost, the way he followed the harsher touch with gentle kisses and soothing hands.

“Fuck, you liked that? My sweet little fucking thing. Thought about this every day.” He groaned the confessions against your skin, leaving you helpless to do anything but moan and squirm underneath him. You were at his mercy, and you were pretty sure if he didn’t fuck you soon you’d implode. “You’re beautiful. Beautiful.”

His hand slips from your side down between your bodies, quickly finding the spot between your legs that has you nearly screaming his name in the first ten seconds.

“Oh God, more—please.” You beg shamelessly, rolling your hips into his hand as he takes his time drawing slow, firm circles on your clit. His other hand holds your hips down, making you whine in protest.

“I know, baby. Feels good?” You nod quickly, eyes squeezed shut.

“I need you—“

“You’re so fucking pretty like this. You want me to take these off? Have I won these yet?” He whispers, that casual confidence thick in his low tone.

“Anything you want. You w-win.” He tugs at the now ruined fabric, and you practically beg him to get rid of them, a mixture of ‘pleases’ and ‘yes’ in high pitched tones must convince him. He quickly slides them over your knees before his hand returns to your clit, making your legs shake with how close you are. He had you on the edge with just one of his talented fucking hands— but then he drops down, shoulders forcing your legs apart and buries his face in you. You hardly have time to realise what’s happening before your hands are threaded through his hair and your hips are fighting in his hold to stay still.

“Fuck, Matt!” You scream, and he only wraps himself further to you, hooking his arms under your thighs and holding you on him. When he takes your clit in his mouth you lose all sense of reality, and are shoved towards the edge of consciousness, white hot pleasure stripping you bare. “God—“

“You taste so fucking sweet— cum for me. I want to hear you say my name like that again” He murmurs into you before going back to driving you into the hardest release you’ve ever felt build before.

“Matt. Matt—“He holds you so tight you couldn’t squirm away if you tried, and when your orgasm washes over you, you all but drown in it. Electricity shoots up your spine and your back arches, hands gripping Matt’s hair hard enough that you feel him groan into you at the feeling.

“Harder.” He moans into you, and you were still so lost in your own pleasure that you couldn’t do anything but obey— nearly yanking him upwards, but he just moans again and takes everything you give him.

He only drags himself away when you jolt at his touch, kissing his way up your stomach, chest, and this time when he gets to the fabric of your bra he lingers longer, taking his time to enjoy the feel of the lace under his fingers. When he starts kissing your neck, leaving a multitude of hickeys you’ll never be able to hide in the morning, you notice at some point he’d taken the rest of his clothes off.

His hips slot between yours and he’s fucking hard— the feeling of him pressed against you makes you gasp. He was bigger than you’d expected, and every so often his hips would move slowly, running the length of him through your wet folds making you whimper into his mouth again.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was gravelly and layered with restraint— hands gliding up and down your side, grounding you.

“Perfect, Matty. Please…” He kisses you again, gentle and sweet, nodding as he slides himself into you. You gasp into each others mouths at the feeling, and he pulls back, watching your expression melt from a little bit of pain as he waits and kisses you, to pleasure, taking the hint of your nails in his shoulders to start moving slowly.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck— so fucking good. Jesus Christ.” He moans in your ear and you shiver. It was always his voice that drove you crazy, but hearing it now, so broken and not put together like he always is. The words hit you in the chest, pleasure blooming in every single one of your veins, overtaking every part of your body. “So tight.”

“Right there. Harder, please Matt. Please…” He holds you tighter as he does what you ask, and your whimpers turn into screams as he fucks you into the mattress without another thought. Your eyes must roll back or close because you lose the sight of his face, but all you need is to hear him.

“Good girl. Good..fucking…girl.” Hearing the way he says your name, all drawn out and heavy— how he whispered how he wanted to fuck you for days, how he thought about ducking you at your desk for just as long as you secretly did. Everything about him, mixed with the brutal pace he fucked you with hurtled you into another wave of pleasure, screaming his name so loud there’s no way the rest of Hell’s kitchen didn’t know exactly who was making you feel this good.

“There you go, baby. Gonna…fuck— gonna cum. Sweet fucking thing.” His hips stuttered and you were still cumming, every word spurring you further out of your mind.

“Give it to me, please please please—“ He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt the warmth of his release on your stomach and thighs. He was still breathing praises into your skin even after he pulled out, wrapping you into his body, not caring about the mess you had both made. He couldn’t find the care to let you go.

When you had both finally caught your breath, he dropped beside you, curling your body to fit perfectly against the front of his. His hand tangled in your hair, lips pressing to your forehead and cheek as he used his own shirt to clean you both off gently. You were both far too lost in each others mouths to do it properly, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck. You’d gladly spend the rest of your days losing hours in Matt Murdocks mouth.

“Stay tonight.” He whispers, voice cracking.

“Only if you admit I won.” You can feel him smiling against your skin, the sensation sending a different kind of warmth all the way down your spine.

“Yeah. You win.”

[sucker4colby]

Jealous looks desperate on you

18+ Smut!!!!

Warning: smut 18+ Cussing, cheating ?

Summary: Colby gets jealous of your new boo so he takes matters into his own hands .

Word count: 2058

Pairing: Colby Brock x female reader

You gave Colby every opportunity in the book to ask you out, you hinted at it and even told him how you felt to which he responded with a simple “ thanks for letting me know”. Never in your life had you of wanted to curl up and die like you did in that moment. You really thought that there was something there and you had gotten your hopes up thinking he’d like you as much as you liked him.

Honestly you wouldn’t had cared had he of been any other guy but there was something about Colby that made it impossible to move on from him. After your confession you didn’t change your behavior around him but you decided to stop rejecting guys in hopes that something would become of you guys.

You guys were lounging around the house while everyone else was off doing their own thing having had a day off. He plopped down next to you on the giant bean bag you had lying around wrapping his arms around your midriff and snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “Whacha doing” he asked closing his eyes as you patted his head. “Nothing” you mumbled dismissively as you texted Cody Christian an actor who was interested in you. You had met him at a couple events and after some time of flirting he asked you out and you had been on a couple of successful dates.

You didn’t want to comprare him and Colby since they were completely different people but he had been doing a great job of getting your mind off the blue eyed boy next to you. You had strong feelings for Colby but there was no way you’d sit around pondering if he returned those feelings. Why not give the green eyed actor a chance since he clearly couldn’t get enough of you.

Colby hummed looking up at your screen furrowing his eyebrows once he saw the excessive amount of red hearts on your screen. Jealousy and hurt clouding his judgment. Who the hell had taken your attention from him and was calling you the cringe worthy nickname “doll”?

He thought you were guys were hitting it off and it had not been long ago that you had just confessed your feelings for him. He was going to tell you he felt the same way but he didn’t know how to feeling nervous that you had changed your mind but now it seemed someone was trying to take you from him.

Deciding to steal your attention back to himself he layed a quick kiss on your cheek knowing that always made your cheeks turn red. To his surprise you gave him a quick smile barely acknowledging his display of affection before going back to your phone. That definitely bruised his ego but he was damned if someone else was going to make you blush like that.

He stood up from the beanbag but you hardly noticed until he snatched your phone and started running with it in hand. You were stunned at the sudden motion for a moment before jumping off and calling him out annoyed.

Acting like a child Colby ran around the house while turning your phone off and looking for a place to hide it All while dodging your roommates and trying to lose you. You called his name chasing him down rushing past an amused Jake who waved goodbye as he exited the house leaving you two alone.

He dropped the cellphone into a pot before running into the living room and plopping on the sofa like nothing had happened. Running in you glared at him sticking your hand out to which he high fives it acting like he didn’t know what you wanted. “ Colby give it back I need to respond to a message.” You whined leaning down to try to look behind his back. He laughed refusing to move as you pushed on his body. “ you’ve been on your phone all day, you haven’t even paid attention to me.” He told you grabbing a hold of your arms. “ it’s important.” You argued pulling on your hands but he was stronger and he pulled you into his lap causing you to blush at the close proximity. Feeling confident once more he grabbed your jaw making you look into his blue eyes.

“ Is he more important than me.” He asked scanning your face. He loved that he made you nervous, his heart raced at the sight of you gulping knowing he had you in the palm of his hand again. When you didn’t respond he leaned in closer to you causing your eyes to flutter shut. “ I asked you a question.” He muttered ghosting his lips over yours. You shook your head no nervously almost like you had lost your voice. Adjusting your position he moved your leg so you were straddling him keeping a hand wrapped around your thigh.

“ i want you to stop talking to him” he told you pulling you in closer by your waist. Snapping out of your trance you raised an eyebrow at him . “ why would I do that?” You asked tilting your head and wrapping your arms behind his neck. “ because I don’t like sharing.” He looked up at you holding your gaze. Leaning forward you brought your lips closer to his ear. “ you can’t share something that isn’t yours.” You whispered making sure to ghost your lips along his ear. The way your chest was leaning against his gave you the perfect opportunity to feel how his breathe hitched. “ I can change that.” He mumbled leaning his head back so you could continue ghosting your lips over his flustered skin. He closed his eyes overwhelmed with the way your fingers were teasing his hair, the way the soft skin of your thigh felt in his palm and the way your lips left a trail of warmth along his skin.

Humming in response you started leaving small kisses along his jaw towards his pink lips, you made sure to miss his lips making sure that he’d be the one to initiate your first kiss.

The thought of Cody popped into your head making you feel slightly guilty, he was great and he gave you everything Colby was scared to do but no one could compare to Colby, At the end of the day you’d always come back to Colby.

Getting fed up with your teasing Colby moved his head to connect your lips , moving his hand to pull your waist closer to him. Your lips moved aggressively against each other both your frustrations fueling the kiss.

Wanting to feel more Colby gripped your hip and rocked you against him causing a gasp to escape your lips, the sound traveling straight to his dick. You both moaned at the new sensation, your shorts shifting as you dry humped barely giving you an barriers , his hard member rubbing against your barely clothed core.

Colby pulled you back disconnecting your lips a whimper leaving your lips at the loss, he grabbed the hem of your shirt helping you pull it off before connecting his lips to your throat.

You rocked your body as he left dark purple marks along your neck. “Saying your not mine but these tell another story.” He mumbled against your skin moving down to kiss the swell of your breast. Lost in his touch you moaned not finding any words.

Moving your bra down to free your nipples he pinched at one pulling his face back to look at your face. “ you’re all mine.” He tugged , a gasp escaping your mouth. “ I want to hear you say it.” He demanded.

“ I’m all yours Colby.” You rushed out his hold on your sensitivity pebble starting to ache deliciously. He smirked smuggled “good girl” he praised connecting his mouth to your nipple to sooth the pain.

Closing your eyes at the pleasure you reached under you to rub his bulge through his shorts. Once he was hard enough you pulled his member out with his help. Pumping the smooth skin with your hand you ran your thumb over the tip spreading his precum. Desperate to feel his thick member stretch you out you pulled your shorts and underwear to the side aligning your entrance with the throbbing tip.

Teasing yourself to spread your wetness you moaned at the feeling gently pushing down on it.

He let go off your swollen buds letting his head fall back eyes closed with a moan placing his hands on your ass encouraging you to ride him. “You feel so good baby girl.” He groaned as you picked up your pace the sound of your wetness and skin slapping filled the air.

You clenched your eyes panting at the feeling of him filling you up, your pussy tightening around him. “ good job mamas just like that.” He whimpered feeling himself coming close, his thighs tensing at the familiar feeling in his stomach. Wanting you to finish as well he brought his thumb down to play with your clit making your body shake at the overwhelming feeling. “ Colby I’m close.” You sobbed losing your pace. He grabbed your hips lifting you up a bit before slamming you back down helping your momentum. He hit a new depth causing stars to fill your vision. You cried as the tension in your lower belly snapped your orgasm making your body tense up. Colby closed his eyes his orgasm coming as well, his seed shooting up into you mixing with yours.

You sat on his lap both of you panting trying to regain your breathe. Opening your eyes they met Colby’s blue one causing a breathy laugh to fall out of both your lips. He smiled dreamily at you bringing your bra strap back over your shoulder and helping you adjust your bra. “ I told you I could change that.” He joked making you scoff, you went to get off him but he grabbed your waist helping you. “ wait here I’ll go get you a towel” he told you getting up and running up the stairs after adjusting himself.

You closed your eyes disappointed that you feel back into his control so easily, he didn’t take you seriously and now you had to look at Cody and know you fucked the person you love behind his back.

Colby came back down with a new pair of underwear and shorts from your room along with a damp towel, you reached forward to grab the items but he snatched them back pushing you back down. “ I got it.” He mumbled getting on one knee to clean you up causing you to scrunch up your eyebrows. “Colby what are you doing?.�� You stopped his hand that was rubbing the towel along your thighs.

He took a deep breathe knowing this was his one chance at keeping you. “ I’m taking care of you, the way you deserve, you deserve the best and I want to be that for you.” He smiled softly at you helping you out of your soaked shorts and underwear helping you out on the clean ones he brought in.

“Let me be that for you. Don’t go back to him and stay with me.” He pleaded pulling you to your feet, You stumbled your legs still sore from a few minutes ago “Colby” you gasped grabbing his waist to steady yourself. “ please.” He whispered bringing your hands up to his lips placing a gentle kiss on your palms.

You’re heart was pounding hard in your chest, shocked that he was pleading to me with you now. The petty side of you wanted to make him beg but you wanted nothing more than to be able to be wrapped up in his arms like you currently were. You were hoping karma wouldn’t come back and bite you in the ass for what you were about to do.

“Jealousy looks desperate on you,” you teased leaning up to connect your lips. Colby let out a sigh of relief returning your kiss glad that your heart still belonged him. “Let’s go get my girl some food.” He said grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door. You let out a laugh at the new title, dropping Cody would be hard but worth it as long as Colby was calling you his girl.

—————-

Hope you guys enjoyed !!!!

[rukia-writes]

hi rukia.

can you do Rangiku kind of reader as Hades and Poseidon s/o, separately of course.

the other is up to you

T/N: Let’s see what I can cook up. 🧑‍🍳 I love Rangiku a lot. Top 3 BLEACH characters

Poseidon.

Tyrant of ocean.

The Most Fearsome God.

Poseidon was that and much more.

A complex individual with his own principles and beliefs.

Poseidon also wasn’t much of a talker, he spoke only when necessity or when something was out of line.

However, not many people knew it but he did like talking. Rather, with someone. (Name), his beloved who was the opposite of him in every way and yet somehow the two clicked.

(Name) could be lazy, Poseidon had his days but he liked doing stuff.

Poseidon liked modesty, (Name) was a beauty with loved showing her body and curves getting the attention of other gods.

(Name) has an easy-going and free-spirited personality, Posieodn was the exact opposite.

The biggest contrast between the two that people noticed was that (Name) liked wearing human clothing and Poseidon always found that the hardest to tolerate about her as he considered human nothing but filth.

Yet, the two clicked.

“Human clothes again? You should take that filth off.”

“But I like it, the fashion those are developing is slick and stylish. If you want me to take off these clothes you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Yes.

No shyness or shame.

Poseidon sighed in response while she enjoying teasing Poseidon smiled as the other gods found their conversation “entertaining” as the cleared their throats changing the subject.

Zeus called the two the weirdest soulmates ever.

Before the two became an item (Name) was arguably the most beautiful goddess in Valhalla. Hades had a saying about her,” A voluptuous beauty with an adult charm in Valhalla. With her broad-minded personality, the chances of men in Valhalla who say no to her... simply do not exist."

Even Poseidon.

(Name) had a habit of whenever she felt like drinking, she would find free people and then invite them to come out with her, and then has them treat her to drinks, so that she wouldn't have to spend any money. Drinking buddies were many but she enjoyed Hades and Poseidon as drinking buddies.

Why Poseidon? People didn’t know.

Poseidon didn’t know. Unlike his brother, Poseidon wouldn’t talk much.

So, Poseidon came to the conclusion that (Name) was using for free drinks and while this could have been true…he didn’t care if it was.

Because he liked her company and he had more than enough money that he didn’t seem to mind.

That’s how it started.

From drinking buddies to lovers.

“Please, don’t tell me you brought that human shit.”

“Listen, listen. This is really good, top notch.”

“You said that last time. It was disappointing to say the least.”

“No, no. Not this one. Here, here. Just close your eyes, tip it back and swallow. It’s really good…See! That’s good right?!”

(Name) gracefully got the tyrant of the seas to drink the alcohol from the human world, only for Poseidon to say it was worse than the last one. Which made the two go back and forth that they had “bad taste” in alcohol.

Although, the next day (Name) was in for a real treat when Proteus invited her to Poseidon’s palace. In the dining room was a small bottle of wine, two wine glasses with Poseidon already at the table.

“Sit. I have somethings I wanted to discuss.”

Poseidon didn’t have to repeat himself as (Name) sat infront of him with a happy smile on her face while Proteus opened the wine bottle.

The two discussed politics and seemingly family problems.

Seemed like Poseidon when he had a few drinks would talk about family a bit.

(Name) mentioned that the wine was exceptionally great and took the bottle wanting to know where Poseidon got it from. Sure, (Name) had a few drinks but the wine wasn’t necessarily strong that she couldn’t recall what wine was what.

“What is this, Poseidon?”

“Wine from those humans. It’s called “Beaujolais nouveau” apparently.”

“…You like human wine-oh my god.”

Smiling in a teasing manner while Poseidon simply shrugged his shoulders, simply saying, “It’s not bad.”

“Not bad you say, and yet you took it. Why?”

“…You enjoy teasing me don’t you?”

“I’m just wondering why we are enjoying human wine, since you called it gross yesterday.”

Cold blue eyes saw how much his visitor was liking this situation, of course she was. A quick sigh and Poseidon poured her another drink and then himself.

“Shut up and drink.”

The two clinked their glasses together and enjoyed a night of drinking and talking.

Poseidon loved those moments.

“That’s my seat.”

The unknown god that was seated next to his drinking buddy quickly got up from the seat as the king Helheim, not only being one the most respected gods but also feared wanted his seat beside (Name).

The gods were having a party, a reason didn’t have to be, and Hades managed to arrive just in time knowing (Name) was already partaking in the wine with a few unknown gods wanting her attention.

Something Hades didn’t like.

“Why is it whenever I leave you alone there’s always a no name god wanting your affection?”

“I honestly, didn’t notice him there. I think you scared him.”

Hades sat down beside (Name) and like any gentleman poured her a drink and then himself, sighing in a tired smile.

“Oh no, how dare I?”

“Jealous?”

“Protective. Now drink and tell me about why you’re visiting the human world for clothes.”

Hades didn’t have big disdain for humans like his brother Poseidon, (Name)’s other drinking buddy. While she had many drinking buddies Hades and Poseidon seemed to be her favorite.

(Name) also had a habit of going to the human world for clothes, sometimes the clothes were modest and sometimes they were a bit revealing.

Hades didn’t mind either.

(Name) was a rather beautiful goddess arguably the most beautiful goddess in Valhalla. She wasn’t above using her charms to get what she wanted which could be drinks, so she didn’t have to pay, or getting support on anything she wanted.

“They are comfortable. The humans aren’t all bad, great fashion sense. However, your brother thinks otherwise.”

“Of course he does. Especially, since you gave him that wine from the human world.”

“It was great! You had to admit it was great!”

(Name) seemed to already be a bit tipsy as she gently shook Hades shoulder trying to get Hades agree with her. Drinking from his wine glass, Hades eyes quickly, very quickly, glanced at down her shirt to admire those beautiful breasts.

Hades didn’t have to quickly look in honesty as (Name) and himself were close and (Name) liked it when he gave her compliments on her body or how she dressed.

“Whatever you say. I’m not arguing with you.”

“Good! I was hoping you would let me see your Bident.”

Hades kindly chocked on the wine he was drinking as a easy going and kindly flirty (Name) patted the top of his head with a teasing smile. A smile, Hades came to love just as much as the smile that was charming.

“You can’t see my bident. Are you insane?”

“Aw, come on! Just for a little while~”

Slightly giving Hades a peek down the split shirt, which Hades already took a quick peek at, but Hades quickly played coy. Saying that he couldn’t be swayed. Even when, (Name) tried again Hades still said no. As the night went on and the two talked, as though the two were the only ones there, and had some more drinks for the night.

“I don’t like cold men, Hades.”

“Then why are you friends with Thor?”

“He has good company! Just because he doesn’t talk to you doesn’t mean he doesn’t talk. Don’t laugh! It isn’t funny.”

Hades had to laugh.

Imagining the indifferent and cold Norse talking and keeping good company seemed a bit out there to think about. While laughing (Name) kindly shook him trying get Hades to take her seriously, it didn’t work.

But that was Hades way of flirting; teasing.

The two liked to tease each other whether the two were together personally or on the phone.

“You’re still on that?”

Days later, Hades was sitting on his chair in his king’s chambers reading a book while on the phone with his favorite drinking buddy; beautiful drinking buddy.

“If you won’t let me see your bident. At least name an attack after me. Shows that you love me~”

“What makes you think I love you?”

Hades had a smile on his face as he awaited (Name)’s answer, on the other end (Name) was back in the human world. Shopping no doubt.

“Poseidon told me.”

“Lies.”

“Are you calling your brother a liar? Shame on you~”

Smirking Hades found (Name)’s teasing and charming, that’s what he loved about her. That and how he could just be himself around her.

“I’m not calling my brother a liar. Just my favorite drinking buddy.”

“I’m hurt! Just for that you and I are no longer friends.”

Playing hurt (Name) knew Hades would reply back with something just as sly or funny and he did as he clutched his hand over his heart and pretended to be hurt.

“Oh no! Whatever will I do? My one and only friend is gone. I enjoyed placing my head on your lap. Looks like I’ll to find another place for my head to rest.”

“It’s not too late to apologize.”

“Good night, (Name). I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Hades.”

The two said good bye and ended their call, Hades had to admit he must have had it bad if he found her saying bye to him was sexy.

(Name) was truly beautiful goddess inside and out.

Hades had a saying about her;

“A voluptuous beauty with an adult charm in Valhalla. With her broad-minded personality, the chances of men in Valhalla who say no to her... simply do not exist."

Her beauty alone was what made gods trip over their own feet, except for Hades. Hades didn’t seem to let her beauty rule his desire, it was in truth that her personality that he loved.

Her teasing.

The way he could talk to her about anything, as he laid his head on his lap and she gave him sound advice. The way she waved and smiled at him would make him a liar if he said he didn’t feel his heart skip a beat.

Jealous? Protective? Hades wasn’t sure.

All he knew was he didn’t like certain gods coming around, not everyone has a warm agenda. Hades had to keep an eye out for her.

As the years passed, it wasn’t a secret that Hades and (Name) were close. A few gods and goddess became jealous of the two good looking, close friends, but it didn’t matter to them as the two just became closer and closer.

“Where are you two going?”

“Where does it look like we’re going?”

Poseidon caught his brother and (Name) at the gate that went to the world of the living both were dressed for the beach. Hades was carrying all the equipment, no doubt (Name) asked him to do so.

“You have a domain to run, you know.”

“Yeah, but if he stay cooped up in Helheim all the time he’s going to age faster than Zeus.”

“Helheim can’t be left unattended.”

“Beelzebub is taking command.”

Poseidon heard (Name)’s stance on taking Hades with her to the beach and while he hoped he could get some sense into Hades it was too late, (Name) already had her claws in him. Gently grabbing Poseidon’s well toned arm (Name) tried to convince Poseidon to join them.

(Name) was the only one in Valhalla who could hug Poseidon’s arm and get away with it.

Poseidon declined to go and instead told his brother not to be gone too long. Hades promised he would be gone two hours tops…

Hades and (Name) were gone the entire day.

🎀Rukia-Writes🎀

[whoslibby]

my wonderful bestie gave me this idea <3 || long post + angsty

being a solider in the force had it perks, you got to say you were a solider, you were thanked for everything you did and you got to serve your country. however it was when you got told this mission wasn’t going to be a good one.

you sat at the pre-mission briefing, a clip board in your hand of all the details. price telling the force what were to happen and how it was to happen; he always had everything meticulously planned. you rested your head into your palm. these briefs were long, excruciatingly detailed and exhausting; hearing every possible mistake that could be made and how to avoid it was never a positive of working with the team but you had to suck it up.

you looked around the room, ghost was paying attention, he had to, he was always so aware of what everyone was doing he was probably already planning what each of you would do in tomorrows mission.

soap was paying attention, his fingers flicking the pen between them, he could never truly sit still even after all this time. he had to be doing something he was like an eager puppy waiting for the go sign.

gaz however had his eyes pinned to price, he was always all or nothing. you liked gaz for that aspect with the friendship the two of you formed he was always a hundred percent into it.

this briefing seemed to go on for longer than usual, it was a sucide mission. it hadn't been directly disclosed but it was, it was like the kamikaze. you didn’t really know how to feel about this, you had no choice you were to fight your best and make it out alive even if there was a slim chance that all five of you would.

the mission was tomorrow morning and you knew ghost would be down your throat with every move you made. even if he was somewhat the unofficial boss of you, he made it clear that he didn’t like you around. he made it quite obvious he found you a nuisance and that the force was better off without you.

at first when he’d say these things it got to you; why wouldn’t they. he was horrible, it was in his nature. you got told over and over again to ignore his nit picking but when it went from calling you a nuisance to telling you every little thing you were doing wrong; it had you uneasy around him. always trying to gain some positive attention from him that you never got. you eventually stopped and that’s when it was bitter between you.

you headed to your barrack that night, thinking of the mission ahead. normally you’d never overthink about them like this but how could you not, it was a suicide mission. how could you do this if you didn’t trust one of your teammates.

it took a lot for you to fall asleep that night; and when you finally did, it was harsh, full of nightmares of the past lives that you had seen been taken. this job wasn’t for the faint of heart, it was for the people who could take the pressure; and you could.

waking up the next morning you got dressed and prepared for the day instantly, you had no time to loose. you were on the plane there in almost fourty five minutes.

you took note of everyone’s appearances, everyone knew that today was not a lucky mission. you however stayed strong, you weren’t going to be the one to mess it up, not this time.

getting onto the ground it was worse than anticipated. even ghost looked a little overwhelmed about it all. the five of you began filtering into the buildings and starting your attacks, you had of course been put with ghost he had called you ‘a liability if left alone’.

‘it’s not looking good,’ you tell him, your sniper held up close, you’ve never felt pressure this tremendous before. your heart thumping in your chest, the silence was deathly, anything could pop up right now.

‘I know it’s not sergeant,’ he spits at you, ghost never referred to you as your name, the one time he did it was like he was spitting out poison.

The two of you started running, gaz had got caught in a battle between a few of the opposing, price was shouting through the comms, an anxiety laced throughout his voice.

the two of you got to gaz, he looked just as nervous when you got there. he had a scratch on his leg, getting caught but he managed to get out; it didn’t look good though, black stone and rubble already making it into the wound, the worse it looked.

‘price we need to stand down,’ ghost tells him through the comms feeling pissed that gaz had already been injured like this. it wasn’t as fatal as it could possibly be but it didn’t look good either.

‘fine, get them on the plane,’ price says, his voice a faint buzz in your ear piece.

gaz could barely walk as ghost through him over his shoulder, beginning to jog to the plane with you fatefully behind.

he had got gaz on the plane as you saw the enemy opposing. you pulled your sniper up to defend, you weren’t quick enough.

you woke up in hospital four days later, a gun wound to your thigh, a pain like no other. you opened your eyes looking around the room, cards and flowers from people you never even spoke to before but it must of been fatal at the time. to your left ghost was there. he sat in the chair, head in his hands.

‘what are you doin’ here?’ you mumble your body’s exhaustion hitting you hard.

ghost stood up, walking over to the bed his mask in his hands, looking up at him his face scarred and teary. you had never seen him without the mask. his blonde hair spiky from being in his hands. ‘thought you’d never make it.’

‘well i’m ‘ere,’ you mutter, your leg in agony from the surgery. he lets out a dry chuckle at this.

you were so confused, he hated you more than anything else and yet here he was? ‘you hate me,’ you tell him, ‘and your ‘ere.’

he didn’t really have an excuse on why he hated you, you were everything he wasn’t and that’s why he loved you. even simon himself didn’t know what exactly he felt for you but seeing you always so happy and so full of life. it was something he could never comprehend. but when you were around him he felt like everything felt right and that was something he couldn’t allow himself to feel.

‘I really don’t know,’ he grumbles.

‘is this gonna be a love confession?’ you ask tiredly, it always happened in the movies.

‘thanks you saved me the time,’ he says with the same familiar dry chuckle. simon crouched down to your level. ‘I don’t know why I hated you, because I didn’t. I love you.’

‘you love me?’ shocked wasn’t even the right word to describe how you were feeling.

‘along those lines, what you did out there was brave, and stupid.’ he says with a half smirk.

‘don’t just gloss over it, you love me,’ you say, maybe the drugs they had been pumping into your body during your little coma was kicking in.

‘I do, is that what you wanna hear?’ this was why he fell in love with you.

‘yes,’ you smiled.

[charlie-lec-stories]

Everything happens for a reason // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Stroll!Sister

Summary: After a whole life of following her father's orders, Y/N's tired of being the good girl and when she finally stood up for herself with the help of her best friend, all hell broke loose.

Warnings: Sexual comments and scenarios, cheating, strong vocabulary.

Author’s Note: Well guys, gals and non-binary pals, you know I love messy stories, this is no exception. Rate: +18 (adult content)

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"UGHHHHHH". Y/N couldn't help but laugh out loud when her brother, Lance, sat down beside her, grunting as if it was the hardest thing his body had done in 20 years.

"Really, Lance, was it really that hard? Are you that old?". She rolled her eyes as the boy fixed his position on the roof, making sure that he wouldn't fall off. They had the tradition of sitting on the roof of their mansion after dinner and before bed time. They had an hour before the staff would start looking for them, the only time they could be normal and not billionaires.

"I'm not old, it was that hard, some of us train, you know. Not everyone is naturally gifted at driving cars". She laughed again. Even though her brother tried to act annoyed with her great driving, he was actually proud of her.

"I'm not that good". She lied, but he shook his head, then let it rest on her shoulder, getting comfortable next to her under the blanket she had. Her hand went to his hair, lovingly running her fingers through the locks.

"Don't lie. Gees, I'm not ever sure who you got that from, because dad sucks". She felt his body shake as he giggled at his own comment. "That old man may love racing but God knows he should never touch a steering wheel".

"Hey, don't be like that, he's an average driver...". Lance moved his head up to give her a pointed look. "He is!... When it comes to tennis karts he is". They stayed silent for a moment before bursting out laughing so hard that they got worried someone might have heard.

"Okay, okay, enough with roasting the old man". Lance said once they calmed down. He resumed his position close to her and changed the subject. "Are you excited for the new season? I mean, you have a real chance this time, sis".

"Carlos said the same". She said, sighing and looking into the horizon. The sun was setting and the sky had that perfect shade between pink and purple, it was lovely, it made her feel at peace.

"Well, we are right. I'm always right, as you obviously know, and Carlos is your best friend, he could never lie to you, that's illegal". Y/N smile, that was true, her best friend was the most honest person she had ever met, and if there were two people in the world she trusted with her life, those were Lance and Carlos.

"Speaking of Carlos, I have something to tell you about this season". Lance could feel the tension in her voice so he fixed his position again, showing her that he was giving her his full attention. "Nelson, you know, the PR guy, he told me that I have to get into a PR relationship. He gave me two options: Carlos or Leclerc. Of course, I chose Carlos. I'd rather fake-date my best friend than Charles-stupid-Leclerc".

"You should let go of that anger, your beef with Charles was years ago, he's a nice guy". Lance rolled his eyes at his sister. Y/N and Charles fought after a karting race when they were 16 and never got along after that. He was unnecessarily mean to her and she always over-reacted. But to be fair to Charles, she did say to him that he had a small penis in front of the whole grid, and that can be really harmful for a teenage boy. The fact that everyone knew that they had hooked up once only made the accusation seem more reliable, humiliating Charles even more in front of their peers. To add to the feud, Y/N called him "Peanut" and he called her "Matagot", which is basically a south-french mythology monster that only treats you well if you keep it well-fed, otherwise it can be your biggest nightmare. It was Charles' way of calling her a spoiled brat, that only cares for others when she can get something in return.

"He's not nice. But I don't want to talk about him, I want advice. I have never been in a PR relationship before and you have. It's pretty uncomfortable to have to do this with Carlos, but I have to make it work".

Lance and Y/N spent their hour talking, he gave her advice on what to do and how to keep the friendship strong after having to be all over each other in public. It was going to be awkward, but her contract said that there were things she had to do to get a better public image and Carlos was a great way to keep things interesting. Drive to Survive, the Netflix series about the sport needed something to talk about, and a relationship between two drivers from different teams was perfect, and that's how she ended up trapped with a PR relationship. Around 10 pm, they got down the roof and made their way to their rooms. Before bed, Y/N checked her phone and found a text from her best friend.

Chili-man: Hey kiddo! I know that this is going to be awkward, but remember that we're best friends first, if you ever feel uncomfortable, you let me know and I'll do everything to help out. Okay?

Y/N: Thanks Chili-man. I love to know that you're always on my corner. You're the best. And the same goes for you. It's gonna be weird, but at least I'm not fake-dating Peanut.

Chili-man: Don't be mean, he's a nice guy.

Y/N: You and my brother need to stop being such Leclerc's advocates, I'm sure he can pay his own defense lawyers, you guys don't need to do it for free. Anyways, good night and I'll see you tomorrow for the first day!

Chili-man: I promise he's not that bad. But whatever. Sleep tight kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of her father shouting and her mother begging him to lower his voice. Still half asleep, she walked to the door and cracked it open. Outside, she saw Lance peeking out of his own room and after sharing a puzzled look, they moved their attention to their father. He was at the end of the hall, at the door of his room, their mother was pulling at his arm, trying to pull him into the room without success. It was strange to say the least, that their mother interfered with their father's affairs, she had her own business to worry about, but she seemed actually worried about the discussion their father was taking part in over the phone.

"I SAID NO. I don't care about the numbers, I don't care about the stupid show. She's not dating Carlos Sainz Jr. She'll do that over my dead body!". Both Lance and her looked at each other. Why was he so upset? He loved the Sainz; he had been friends with Carlos Sainz Sr. for as long as they could remember. "I DON'T CARE IF IT'S FAKE".

"Honey, please, they'll hear you". Their mother tried to calm him down, but he was furious.

"THEN USE LECLERC, BUT SHE'S NOT DATING CARLOS AND THAT'S MY FINAL WORD". She definitely didn't like that last statement. Her father hung up and stormed into his room. It was her turn to be upset, she didn't want to date Charles Leclerc, fake or for real, it was a nightmare both ways. A little later that morning she tried to convince her father in her favor, but he was so angry that it was impossible to make his change his mind. Carlos texted her mid-day, while she was on the jet on her way towards Bahrain, asking her what happened and why his PR team told him that he was replaced by Charles. She didn't want Carlos to feel bad or inadequate in the eyes of her father, so she lied and said that she had no idea and that as soon as she had an answer for that, she would tell him. When she made it to Sakhir, she was told to leave her luggage at her room and then go back to the lobby so she could wait for a car there with Nelson. They had to meet with Charles and his team to discuss the details of the arrangement. It was a quiet car ride, Nelson was aware of what she thought of Charles and that the change had not been her decision, so he let her off the hook for a few minutes.

"Welcome, Miss Stroll, please have a seat". Kathy, Charles' PR head of the department greeted her when they made it to the hotel where Ferrari was staying. The room they used for the meeting was a last time arrangement, but it had space and it made her feel better, considering how bad things could get once Charles arrived.

"Thank you". She sat down on the couch and Kathy handed her a glass of water. They didn't have to wait much before Charles walked through the door. If it wasn't for her being completely aware of how much of a prick he was, she was sure that she could fall at his feet over and over again every time she saw him. He was the most handsome man on Earth, she knew that, but he was also aware of that so it posed a problem for her.

"Sorry I'm late, I wanted to shower after the flight". He sat on the bed of the room and looked at Y/N when she scoffed.

"Thank you for that! Now the only thing that stinks in this room is your shitty personality". Charles growled. They spent less than two minutes together, 2 meters apart, and they were already at each other's throats.

"I told you this was not gonna work". He told Kathy. "She's a spoiled little shit and I can't stand her close to me. The feeling is obviously mutual, why force this?".

"Because you're the perfect marketing option and it's our job-". Kathy pointed between her and Nelson. "- to make you both a selling machine. So you'll both make it work or your teams will reduce money from your salaries for breaching your contracts".

"That's not fair. I need my money and this Matagot doesn't give two shits about her contract, her Daddy is a billionaire, you're giving her all the power in the world over me!". Charles complained. He knew that she didn't need the money, she could make his life a living hell without a problem and he would have to take it all like a good boy not to lower his income.

"Suck it up, Peanut. Compensate that small pecker of yours by being the bigger person!". She was enjoying the moment.

"The itinerary is long. Read it, learn it and follow it". Nelson explained to ease up the tension. "Remember to be caring and loving, but do not overdo it. Kiss once in a while, hold hands while you walk together. We'll take care of the interviews and the press. Act the part for Netflix and we'll help you with the conflict for the show-".

"We don't need help with conflict". Charles interrupted.

"We need conflict, not first degree murder, Charles". Kathy sent them a stern look as she let the comment out and both drivers looked at their laps.

"Okay, I got it all. Can I go now?". She wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

That night she texted Carlos, and he told her something interesting: His PR team and his father told him to put some distance with her. They were both surprised, since when did their parents dislike the idea of them being friends? They had been friends their whole lives, close since they remembered. They were like siblings, why couldn't they be friends anymore? They understood the whole PR thing, that she needed to sell and that there was drama that had to occur between her and her fake boyfriend, but why did it all have to happen with Carlos at an arms' length? It was weird and she needed to know. It was hard enough that her father had controlled her whole life, she was already old enough to make her own decision. Why did he care so much about her friends? It wasn't like she was going to date Carlos for real. Carlos had his own questions, he was almost 30, his father was stepping over a line trying to control his life like that, but he respected his old man and he was going to listen, as long as the decision didn't prove to be hurtful for his best friend.

"I'm not kissing you". She said as soon as she met Charles at the lobby of her hotel. They were supposed to show up together for the first day at the paddock. Of course, she wanted to make it difficult for him. "I'm not doing the same stupid shit twice".

"You don't have to do me this time, Matagot". Charles hissed at her. "Plus, it's not like I will enjoy it so shut up and make this easy for everyone".

"I said-". But he cut her off with his lips over hers. As fast as he did it, he pulled away and before she could say anything, he was practically dragging her to his car.

The day went by incredibly slowly, but at some point she became numb to holding hands and kissing with Charles. They would kiss and she would instantly start talking about something racing related, like Lance suggested she do to get rid of the awkwardness. Charles seemed okay with that. What was actually bothering her more was the fact that she spent the whole day without talking to Carlos. Charles noticed her looking for his teammate a few times but decided to ignore the raging fire it started inside his veins. He hated the idea that he had to date her, but he dated more the idea of her dating Carlos. He wasn't surprised when Carlos told him that he was going to date Y/N as a PR stunt, what surprised Charles was that they weren't actually dating for real. He could never understand why the Spaniard would refuse to date a woman like her. Charles found Y/N the most amazing woman, when she was nice, and she was definitely nice to Carlos. The older man explained that he never felt like that about her and it never made sense to Charles, after all, he did feel that way about her when she used to be nice to him. But that was a decade ago, and she had never been nice once to him since that time. Still, he felt pleased that Carlos wasn't a threat. She may have looked around for him, and liked him over Charles, but he didn't reciprocate her feelings, so Charles was safe. He was torn between a need for her to love him and constant reaction of disgust to everything she said.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Peanut? There are no cameras here". She said when he appeared at her room door.

"We need to talk". He made his way inside the room and she sighed, already too tired to complain.

"What do you want to talk about?". He sat on her bed and she went to the couch, not wanting to be near him.

"Do you like Carlos?". He decided that dancing around the question was pointless and she was kind of thankful that he cut to the chase.

"That's none of your business, Charles"

"Well, but we are fake dating, and he's my teammate, so I need to know". Lie, that wasn't the real reason, and she knew, but she let it slide.

"I don't like Carlos that way". She saw the accusatory look on his face and explained further. "We're best friends. Something happened. I don't know what. I think our fathers may have something to do with it. He told me that we can't hang out much for now. It's weird".

"Does this have anything to do with us getting together?". 'Failed act', Freud would say.

"We're not together Charles, we can't stand each other". He could pick up on her tired tone, maybe it was the right time to finally get her out of her shell.

"We used to. I remember that time. We had a great moment". But what he thought was going to be a comment that made her happy, completely backlashes at him.

"A great moment?! That's what it was for you? Just a great time?". She stood up, tears at the corners of her eyes and Charles suddenly felt the need to get up and hold her. He didn't, though. "That's why you just simply walked out and ignored me then? Because I was just another good time for you?"

"What? No, how did you even get there?! I never said that!". Now he was the one in a defensive mood.

"Your actions speak better than your words. You ignored me, after everything we did together, after how vulnerable I was with you. I gave you my virginity and you simply threw me away!". She was fully on crying and Charles just could take it anymore, he got up and pulled her to his body, hugging her as tightly as he could.

"I was embarrassed. I felt like I did it like shit. I was stupid and had zero experience. I came so fast because I liked you so much. I thought I let you down". He wasn't sure if she heard him, his words muffed by her hair and his sobs. "I thought you had not enjoyed that moment as much as I did and it was embarrassing, because I loved every second of it. I wanted to talk to you but your parents kind of scared me off from the house the next morning. It felt like I had done everything wrong. Then we saw each other at the race and you were so cold that I believed I was right. You then said those things... I- I just didn't know what to do".

"I shouldn't have said that. I was hurt and felt humiliated, I was wrong". She was grabbing at him as tightly as he was at her.

"We both were". He kissed her head and they broke apart. "I never stopped thinking about you. I always wondered what we could have been...". He let that linger in the air, the possibility. She took his hand and led him to the bed. Her actions spoke better than her words.

They woke up the next morning to someone pounding on the door. Charles quickly fell asleep again, but Y/N got up to tell the person at the other side to get lost. She was surprised when she found Carlos on the other side. The man didn't even say hi, he walked into the room, pushing her inside with him and slamming the door shut. The noise woke Charles up again, this time he did get up, furious when he noticed that his teammate was grabbing his girlfriend's arms with a python's grip. Carlos looked worried, but it was mixed with a bit of anger and something else Charles couldn't decipher. It wasn't until he spoke up that Carlos actually noticed his presence.

"What the fuck are you doing?!". The monegasque walked towards him, and Carlos noticed the lack of clothing, the black Calvin Klein's hanging from Charles' hips were the only thing keeping him decent.

"You two...". He suddenly smiled. "It was about time. A decade. Never met two people this slow".

"You're on thin ice, mate". Charles said, sternly.

"Then you're not going to like what I'm going to say next". Carlos took a deep breath. "I need us to fake-date, Y/N. I want to pressure my father. I think he's planning on setting me up with someone. But if he thinks we're dating even though he said no, he'll leave me alone". She looked at Charles, he didn't seem happy with the idea, but she also wanted to find out why her father was so against Carlos so suddenly.

"If- IF I do it, do you think we can make it happen sometime when both our parents are there?". Charles looked down at her frowning. "Remember last night, when I told you that I didn't know what happened? I want to find out".

"I don't know, mon Ange". She took his hand and his face relaxed a bit. He used to call her that, when they were younger, it felt right.

"I need to know, something feels off. This is the reason why we are together now. Over ten years of history fixed by one phone call by my father". He let out the breath he was holding, she was right. "Please, everything happens for a reason, Charlie".

"Okay, let's do this".

They had to wait until after the race. Carlos Sr. and Lawrence, Lance and Y/N’s father, were sitting at the hotel restaurant, chatting with frowns on their faces. Carlos and Y/N held hands and walked towards them, Charles following them close behind. He had a part in the plan, and he was ready to execute it perfectly, even if it was harder for him to act mad at Y/N now that they had made up. The older men looked up at their children when the three drivers approached them. To say that they looked horrified would be an understatement. Carlos Sr. seemed about to throw up, while Lawrence was simply shocked. The first part of the plan was done, keeping the element of surprise. Now to phase two: the lie itself. They sat at the table, Carlos in the middle of Charles and Y/N, his hand interlocked with hers resting on the table so their fathers could see them. It took the older men a moment to get the color back to their faces, but when they did, Lawrence went from white to red in a second.

"What the hell is this?". He asked, trying to keep the little cool he had left.

"We're dating, Mr. Stroll. We wanted you both to know". Carlos was the oldest, he took the lead.

"You can't". Carlos Sr. said with his voice rough thanks to the lump in his throat.

"That's not your decision, Dad". Everything was going as expected, but they had to admit that their fathers did look more disturbed than they had foreseen.

"It is. You won't date Carlos, you will date Charles as it was planned by the PR team and I don't want to hear anything else about it". That was Charles’ cue.

"I won't date her if she's in love with my teammate. We can barely stand each other, I won't get stuck into this mess for her". It hurt, but he had to say it like that. The other two didn't budge, and they had to pull out the last resort they had to press their fathers' buttons. Y/N saw their mothers walking to the table, so she took Carlos by the chin and started to get closer to him, ready to kiss him. Before they could make contact, Carlos Sr. was pushing them away.

"You can't do that, don't do that". He was almost losing it.

"Why?". She whispered, her eyes looking into his and a chill ran down her spine.

"You're half-siblings". It was Lawrence who said it. There was a long list of options that Carlos and Y/N had made of what could have happened, being siblings was not on the list.

"What?". Charles was as stunned as them. Lawrence and Carlos Sr. sighed and rested against the backs of the seat. Their wives, paralyzed behind them, were still unnoticed by the rest of the table.

"I had an affair with Lawrence's assistant. Of course your mother didn't know about it". Carlos Jr. had an expression impossible to read as his hand gripped Y/N tightly. "She got pregnant, asked me to leave your mother. I refused. She had the baby, Y/N. But then she got postpartum depression. She killed herself three weeks after giving birth".

"Y/N, you mother had just lost a pregnancy, no one knew, I found you in that house, alone, crying. It was the chance to give your mother a baby after the one she lost". Lawrence continued.

"You had the power and money to make it happen". Charles was officially angry, and it wasn't even his identity on the line. "What did you do with her mother? Where is she buried?".

"She was cremated. I took care of everything. I gave her the best there is". Carlos Sr.'s wife was looking at Lawrence's with pain in her eyes. She knew, all this time she knew that they were raising her husband's offspring and she hid it from her.

"Why did you let us become friends?". It was Carlos Jr.'s time to ask. 

"I wanted to keep in contact with her, watch her grow. You two got along so well, she ended up liking racing too. Everything led to you two in my life". Carlos Sr. let a few tears free. "Ten years ago, we considered letting you know the truth".

"Your mother and I discussed it, but then we saw that Charles was in the house, we kind of got rid of him to talk to you, but then you looked so upset. You got disqualified from the race for fighting with Charles. We understood that you were going through a lot, so we desisted". Lawrence added.

Carlos Jr.'s mother made her presence known and the three drivers took the chance to run away from the situation, knowing that the argument the two couples had was going to be too much to witness. The three ran to Y/N's room, crossing paths with Lance on their way there. Telling Lance that his sister was not his biological sister was one of the worst conversations they had. But they were all victims of so much, they found solace in sharing the tears together. They refused their parents' calls for the night, sending a text explaining that they needed time and that they would reach out when they felt like it. The four of them stayed in the room, chatting and calming themselves down. The irony of it all struck Y/N like a lighting and she couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny, mon Ange?". Charles asked and then kissed the back of her hand.

"If my parents hadn't scared you off that morning, we would have never discovered the truth". She explained, but her brothers didn't follow. "Charles walking out on me that morning is the reason why we fought that day in the race. Because of the fight in the race, we started hating each other. Because of the rivalry, I choose to fake-date Carlos instead of Charles. Because of my choice, Dad made the call and everything else followed".

"So, if you and Charles had made up that day...". Carlos started.

"We would have probably been together today, no need for PR, no need for your fathers to say anything".  Charles finished. All four laughed softly. "I was so sad that things didn't work out back then".

"Everything happens for a reason".

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Okay, this is a LONG ASS STORY, sorry guys for not posting in months, I've been so caught up with work I literally thought I could get fired, but I had some time to edit this one. I hope you liked it. Remember to like, comment, reblog and all those beautiful things you do.

[msbigredmachine]

Angel/Beautiful (Jey Uso/OC)

Long-time feelings are finally expressed on a night out. Jey Uso/OC one-shot.

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: This is the fluff/smut fic from the poll that Jey won. Partly inspired by the Walemania pics from WM39.

Enjoy!

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She couldn’t help herself. She had never felt this way about anybody before. And he had not done all that much to make her feel like this. When she was not wrestling, she was talking Mona and Jacqui’s ears off about him. Every night she went to bed thinking about him…She had fantasized about him since the day they first met, touching herself alone in her room as she imagined being held by him, touched by him…fucked by him.

Vivienne had done some pretty interesting things to get Jey Uso’s attention. She made no bones about how shameless she was about shooting her shot. Like rigging the annual Secret Santa draw to ensure she chose him, and gifting him with a watch that she’d heard from a source - aka Roman - that he wanted. She sent him flowers on Valentine’s Day and openly flirted with him every chance she got. Accessing his circle was easy because she was always around Jacqui and Mona, both of whom were dating Roman and Jimmy respectively. Everyone thought her antics were adorable, but secretly, it was a defensive mechanism of sorts, to soften the blow when he eventually, and inevitably, turned down her more serious advances. Luckily, Jey seemed flattered and was taking it all in his stride. It was all fun and banter, really. 

Until he started texting her first. Checking on her. Then, he would ask her out for coffee before the show started and pick her up after the shows to head to the next city. Sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of others. He included her in more and more social gatherings, like the one happening later tonight. It was their day off and a group of them wanted to check out a new spot in town. This morning, he sent a text that had her head spinning:

‘Sup angel, we goin out with the squad tonight. Wear something nice for me. 😉😚

As she checked her hair and her outfit in the mirror of the lobby, a million different scenarios played in her mind. The romantic in her wanted so badly to believe they could take things further tonight. All signs pointed to a strong mutual attraction. But the more pragmatic side of her knew to err on the side of caution. After all, the last man she gave her heart to, broke it - and broke her - into a million pieces. 

She would be fine. This was nothing like her last relationship. She and Jey were just playing a game, a fun, harmless game. It was going to be a good night.

An uproar of laughter caught her attention, her eyes looking up just in time to spot him coming into the lobby with Roman, Jimmy and a lot of the guys from Smackdown in tow. They all looked amazing - she could hear the other girls oohing and aahing, not least Jacqui and Mona. But Vivienne had her eye on one man and one man only. 

God, he’s so handsome. 

She could see him looking around, probably trying to figure out where she could be. Sweetly, he seemed a little nervous, wringing his hands as he searched for her. Taking one last steady breath, she walked into his line of vision and waved him over. His smile had her panties soaked with the quickness. As he made a beeline for her, she forced herself to calm down as her body grew hotter. This motherfucker got you weak in the knees…like, bitch, stand uuuup! Stand up!

“Hey, Big Daddy Jey. You lookin’ real good tonight.” More than good; decked in all red, with white Air Force Ones and a small cross earring adorning his ear, he looked sinfully sexy.

“What up, Vivi?” She did not miss the way his tongue swished across his lips as he eyed her from head to toe. “You look really beautiful.” 

She absolutely adored his version of her name. Vivi, rather than Viv like most people called her. She liked to think it was their own special thing. “Why thank you, kind sir,” she smiled brightly, posing a little in her bodycon dress which showed off her generous cleavage and curves, with ropey high heeled sandals. The gleam in his eyes as he drank her in was unmistakable. She could almost read the naughty thoughts behind them, and she liked where his mind was at. “Tonight is gonna be fun, you ready?” she added.

“As long as I’m with you, I’m good. But first let’s take these selfies so Jacqui won’t nag us for the next week about not doing it.” 

“I heard that, Jey!” Jacqui shouted, “Y’all two lovebirds get over here, now!”

They all took pictures in front of the famous sculpture in the lobby, with serious and goofy poses alike. Three limos filled with wrestlers headed to the restaurant they rented out to kick off their night. At dinner, Mona was on Vivienne’s left while Jey was by her right. They were in close contact with each other all evening; fingers brushing together, bodies side by side, paying attention to each other even when they were not talking. Though she was nervous, his reassuring presence calmed her. She could tell he was biding his time, confident that they would have their alone moment eventually. 

That moment came not long after dinner, when everyone moved to the lounge area and were just hanging out and joking around. Jey walked over to Vivienne, silently took her hand and pulled her away from the group. She locked excited gazes with Mona and Jacqui as she walked past them; their thumbs-ups buoyed her, encouraged her to breathe and let Jey lead her outside. 

“Finally,” he smiled, “About damn time I had you all to myself.”

The back of the restaurant led out to a beach. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance was soothing and calming. As they walked down to the patio, Vivienne’s hand brushed against Jey’s, and he smoothly threaded his fingers through hers without missing a beat. Butterflies fluttered in her belly at the warmth of his big hand enclosing hers. 

On the patio, they came across a hanging wicker chair big enough for two. They settled in comfortably, sitting side by side. She could see him smiling at her out of the corner of her eye which made her blush. 

“You good, angel? You’re kinda quiet.”

“I’m good. Just taking in my surroundings…taking you in,” you added, giving him another approving once-over. He looked so good.

He patted his thigh in invitation. “You’ve been shy all evening, baby. No more. Come sit on my lap,” he cajoled.

Eyeing him for a beat, she obliged, swinging her legs up onto his thighs. He did the rest, pulling her closer until his arms were around her waist and her butt was on his lap.

“Better?” she giggled.

“Much better,” he replied just as cheekily, tracing his finger along the side of her arm. “I know you feel the energy between us, right?”

Vivienne nodded, her gaze shifting from their joined hands up to his bearded face. “Yeah, I feel it,” she agreed. She watched him lift her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss so soft and tender on the back, that she swooned. “Mmm, what was that for?”

“Maybe it’s my way of telling you I’m feelin’ you too?” He smiled. “I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but you’ve worked your magic on me, girl.”

Man, he was quite the charmer. “Like they say, hard work pays off,” you joked.

“Mm-hmm. It’s been a while since I’ve been this interested in anybody. It’s been all about work and my sons, and then you tiptoed into my life and my days have become a little better.”

“Aww, I’m blushing, Uce.”

Jey chuckled and glanced down with a shake of his head. “Please don’t call me Uce. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“That’s that platonic shit. We’re way past that point now.”

She felt a warm fuzzy feeling in her tummy at his knowing grin. Pinch me, she thought. “Is that why your heart’s beating so fast?” she asked, resting her hand on his chest. “Cuz you want me?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said simply. 

Vivienne giggled and snuggled into him, laying her head on his shoulder as she stared out into the beach. “Luckily, I want you, too. I’ve always wanted to be with a man like you.”

“A man like me?” A wry smile formed on his lips as he shook his head. “Trust me, baby, I ain’t perfect. Far from it.”

“And yet you call me angel,” she pointed out. “No one’s perfect. But there’s so much that attracts me to you. You’re strong, you’re passionate. You care and you love hard, and that is so sweet to me. On top of that, when I’m with you I feel safe, like I belong with you.”

“I want you to always feel that way with me,” he said sincerely. “You’re so cool, Vivienne, you’re a badass. It’s so dope to see how nothing seems to faze you or bring you down.”

“It's something I had to learn. As bulletproof as I make myself out to be, I bruise easily, Jey. And I don’t just mean in the ring.”

Jey felt his heart sink as he realized what she was talking about. “Hey, don’t say it like that.”

“I have to, because that’s exactly how it was. I may have dark skin, but every mark he left on me was visible to the naked eye. I barely escaped with my life and my daughter’s life. I had to deal with the trauma while trying to raise my baby and making a name for myself in this crazy business of ours. But now I’m a woman reborn, so I’m living life to its fullest. I have no doubt that you understand that.”

“I do. That’s why you’ve been so full-on with me, huh?”

“You could say that. I tend to cover up my terror by being vocal about it, you know. But I meant everything I’ve ever said to you. You’re gorgeous. You’re a good guy. A little oblivious sometimes, a lot blunt too many times, but a good guy.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” he laughed.

“Just being real with you. You make it real easy to fall for you, Jey. Any woman would be lucky to be with you.”

Touched by her sweet words, Jey arched his eyebrow as he held her gaze, drinking in her full mouth, her heaving chest. Having her like this in his arms was something he’d fantasized about for quite some time. And not just this…

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he said, his tongue swishing seductively over his lips.

Vivienne ran her finger along his chin, tracing it beneath his bottom lip. "A couple of times. But I don't mind hearing it again," she whispered.

“I can do better than just tell you,” he offered, his voice deep and sultry and making her heart race. As he pressed his lips to hers, she felt herself float up into the sky. His hand made its way into her hair, holding her to him as the kiss deepened. She moaned softly as his tongue teased her bottom lip before slipping inside her mouth. He tasted like Mai-Tai; strong, rugged, delicious. He pulled back just enough to pepper kisses along her jawline, making her lightheaded. Catching her eyes with a smile, he returned his lips to hers. Vivienne liked how passionately and thoroughly he kissed; his lips and tongue were built for it. He slid his other hand down her back and over her hip, his fingers closing around her thigh. 

“You been drivin’ me crazy for months, girl,” he whispered.

The lust on his face made Vivienne’s pussy tighten with need. She’d never felt so wanted and so sexy with just one look.

“Look who’s talking,” she retorted, her voice raspy with desire, cupping the side of his face and pulling him in for another kiss. She could feel his hand inching further up her thigh, pushing up her dress, exposing more of her skin to the open air.

“This okay, baby?” Jey asked. Vivienne nodded with zero hesitation. Whatever he wanted was exactly what she wanted. His hand weaved its way to the front of her panties, and he groaned when he felt the heat emanating from her pussy, clamoring to be petted and played with. A needy moan rumbled in Vivienne’s chest as he neared the promised land.

Jey didn’t take his eyes off her for a second. Gently but firmly, he caressed her wet folds, gliding his long fingers from top to bottom and back up again. Vivienne tensed from a mix of lust, anticipation and the fear of getting caught. They were not so concealed and anyone who walked out would surely see them.

But getting caught was the least of Jey’s worries. He brazenly brushed his fingers over her clitoris before entering her pussy with one, and then another, churning them inside her while his mouth made out with the curve of her throat. Vivienne gripped his bicep with a breathless moan, her heart fluttering as he kept up the salacious rhythm of his fingers dancing inside her.

“Mmm, you’re dripping. Do I make you wet, baby?” he asked, his voice gruff and hungry.

“Yes,” she sighed, her pulse quickening with every thrust of his long digits.

“Good girl. Love how tight you are too.” He needed her, like asap. Suddenly all Jey wanted in this life was to hear her scream his name. Maybe tonight, if they could. But definitely sooner rather than later.

Without warning he shoved his fingers deeper, burying them up to his knuckles in her. Vivienne’s cry of pleasure was quickly devoured by his mouth on hers, equally swallowed by the crashing waves across from them. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on kissing him. The pleasure pulsing through her was intense, amplified by the feel of her pussy greedily suckling his thick fingers.

“Jey,” she gasped, her head tilting to welcome his lips on her throat again. It was an onslaught, one set of fingers deep in her, the other set molding her breast through her dress. If he was this good with his hand and his mouth, she could only begin to imagine the commotion that the rock-hard dick throbbing against the back of her thigh would cause. Jey Uso was a dangerous man, and she was tumbling headfirst into the danger with no safety net.

“That’s it, baby, let me make you feel good,” he responded, kissing her again. His fingers were meeting far less resistance now as she was dripping all over the digits. This only fueled him to thrust faster, dig deeper, his own breathing ragged and heavy as he took everything she had.

Vivienne's breaths spiraled out of control as the orgasm claimed her. She moaned and panted as Jey continued to pump his fingers, making her come hard and long. It was almost too much, yet it was still not enough. Vivienne had to have him inside her.

“Fuck,” she breathed, clinging to him. He slowly pulled his fingers out of her, and she shivered when he brought them to his mouth for a taste. She watched with helpless, hazy eyes as he licked his fingers clean.

“Mmm, the sweetest little pussy. My sweet Vivi.”

His impromptu nickname for her had her sensitive pussy clenching again. A smirk curved his lips at her little blush as he pulled down her dress, covering up her modesty. He looked around quickly; they were still alone outside.

“You okay?” he asked her, stroking her leg tenderly.

“Damn, Big Daddy.”

Chuckling softly, he brushed his lips over hers in a softer, more chaste kiss. “We should head back inside,” he murmured, gently standing her up, and smiled at her disappointed features. “Don’t worry, baby, we got all night.”

By the time they returned, karaoke was in full swing. When it was his turn, Jey belted out a rather sweet rendition of “All My Life” by K-Ci and Jojo and kept his eyes on Vivienne the whole time, making all the ladies swoon. In contrast, Vivienne’s choice was the far more raunchy “WAP”, complete with a full lap dance on Jey. Mona and Jacqui could not believe their eyes and neither could the rest of the group. Jey blushing throughout her little performance made it even cuter.

The blossoming couple was inseparable for the rest of the night. Jey made it a point to stay by Vivienne’s side, kissing and touching her sensually the whole time. Deciding to be random, they cut a slightly drunken, Uso penitentiary-like promo on her Instagram live. Each time they danced together, it was a glorified dry-humping session. Her new seat was on his lap with his arms wrapped dutifully around her. Vivienne soaked up all the attention he was giving her. She was loving this new turn with him, and judging from the permanent smile on his face, so did he.

Roman invited those who needed a place to crash back to his condo. Most people declined as they had flights to catch the next day, so all that was left was the Bloodline and their ladies. Before heading out, they made a stop at a nearby convenience store to grab some things for the condo. 

Jey cheekily palmed Vivienne’s ass as they walked up to the front counter with their selected items, earning a playful glare from her. Boxing her in against the counter with his bigger frame, he handed the cashier his card to pay. A row of shelves lined with branded contraceptives caught Vivienne’s eye. Wordlessly, she reached up, picked out a Trojan pack-of-ten and tossed it among their other purchases.

Jey grinned, kissed her neck and pressed himself against her. “That’s what I’m talkin ‘bout,” he murmured.

The limo ride home was uneventful save for Jimmy and Mona’s hyper singing and rapping. Roman and Jacqui were locked in a heavy make out session in the back of the limo. Vivienne was content to just be in Jey’s arms and watch her friends be happy.

“You okay, angel?” Jey asked her, resting his hand on her thigh as he looked at her with sensual eyes. 

“Mm-hmm.” Having become much bolder over the night, she tugged his head down for yet another kiss. Soft and teasing, her lips sweeping gently over his. The tip of his tongue tickled her bottom lip and she opened up for him. His warm, wet tongue caressed her mouth and she slowly dragged hers over his. When she withdrew her lips to breathe, the hunger in Jey’s gaze made her loins throb.

“You two are so cute!” Mona gushed from her place on Jimmy's lap, causing Vivienne to blush and duck her head in Jey’s shoulder.

Back at Roman’s condo, Mona and Jimmy arranged themselves under a blanket on the sofa. Jacqui and Roman were first to disappear into one of the bedrooms downstairs. Jey dropped down in an armchair and pulled Vivienne onto his lap. Jimmy grabbed them all big bottles of water - no one wanted to drink any more alcohol - and put on a random documentary on Netflix.

After about ten minutes of squirming, Jimmy stood up. "Uh, we’re gonna go get some sleep, I think,” he said, casting his girlfriend a sly glance.

Vivienne smirked as she watched Mona take Jimmy’s hand and lead him away towards another bedroom. "Goodnight guys," she called out.

"Roman said something about another room upstairs, if y’all are interested," Jimmy said, and then added, “Sorry, when you’re interested.”

"All good, man, we cool," Jey reassured him with a thumbs up, "Go get you some, Uce!"

Jimmy smiled back, distracted, then stumbled off to the bedroom behind Mona, not quite closing the door all the way behind him.

“Wanna go to bed before they start makin’ all that noise?” Jey asked Vivienne.

Right on cue, they heard Jacqui moan.

“Sure.”

As they left the living room and headed upstairs, Vivienne felt her heart pound with excitement, quickly accelerating when they entered their room for the night. Beautiful bedroom, just like the rest of the apartment. The king-sized bed was made, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long. After tugging the window open to let in some fresh air, Jey turned, a serious look on his face as he walked over to her. Holding her close, he smoothed his big hands up and down her waist, a smile on his face as he looked down at her. 

Fuck. This was finally happening.

Vivienne placed her hand on the back of his head as he leaned in to kiss her. Not for the first time tonight, the feel of his lips against hers took her breath away and her head swam. She pressed closer to him as his hands began exploring her body. Big, expansive hands that caressed her intimately. The heat between her thighs called to him, and she moaned softly as he ground his aching erection against her.

“You can change your mind if you want, angel,” Jey murmured, nuzzling her throat before pressing open-mouthed kisses to her cleavage.

Vivienne almost laughed at the thought. After spending half the night grinding on him, she was sure she would combust if she didn’t get her hands on him tonight. Helping him out of his red t-shirt, she let her eyes drink in his breathtaking body. He was lean yet muscular, with the strength of a male in his full-blooded prime. A Samoan specimen. Vivienne allowed her hands to roam over the muscles of his chest, the sturdy vault of his ribs, the rippling muscles of his abdomen, and the bulging outline of his biceps. Pure, unadulterated sex on legs. 

Jey couldn’t stop the tremors that coursed down his spine as she touched him. He really could get used to her hands being on him like this. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, he took one step back. “How about you take off that dress for me. Let me see you, baby,” he said.

Vivienne felt the heat blossom in her cheeks, all the way down to the tips of her toes. Wanting to give him a show, she peeled off her dress as slowly and sexily as possible. Jey looked at her like a man that had found water in the Sahara desert. She knew she was going to be in for it tonight, but she had no qualms. She planned on quenching his thirst and more. 

Jey had to take a moment to even speak with the sight before him. He wanted to dig her out so bad. Her body was so thick and juicy. He planned to lick and suck and fuck her for hours, for damn sure. He watched her slide off her thong and smiled when she unexpectedly tossed it at him, catching it easily with one hand. 

“Your turn,” she challenged.

With his eyes glued to hers, Jey’s hands met the waistband of his pants. He pulled his pants and his shorts down together, watching her reaction.

Her jaw dropped. Shit!

Stunned, she started to back away, but Jey pulled her right back to him, chuckling at the trepidation on her pretty face. “Where ya goin’? It’s a little too late to run, baby.”

Holy hell. She could always tell he was well-endowed, but seeing it up close and personal was a whole other story. “What am I supposed to do with all that dick?” she whimpered. She feared for her life.

Jey’s grin managed to be both devious and sexy at the same time. “Take it.”

Her mouth went dry. Fuck.

With a reassuring kiss, Jey led her over to the high bed, helping her in and taking off her shoes for her. Now perched on the edge of the bed, Vivienne adjusted her knees, arched her back and poked her wet juicy ass out at him. His palms on her deep brown skin kindled an already burning flame within her. He was using those hands to let her know exactly what he wanted to do to her tonight. He was gentle at first, with the way he massaged her thighs, hips and backside. But that changed when he smacked her ass. It was hard and sudden and alarming, but she liked it. Now, he had his fingers on her slit, moving them up and down, gathering her seeping juices. Vivienne closed her eyes and inhaled deeply when his thick fingers pulled her folds apart to rub all in there.

“This is my pussy now,” he told her matter-of-factly.

Without letting her respond, he spread her cheeks open and buried his face in her pussy from behind. She let out a shaky moan and clutched the sheets to steady herself as his tongue made contact with her flesh. He wrapped his entire mouth over her pussy, his long tongue lashing around and around, pulling and sucking and slurping on her. He then moved to her clit, and her gasps and moans threatened to pitch higher. She tried to look back at it, tried to grind back against his hot mouth, but her body was so weak from the pleasure she was feeling. 

“You got a fat wet pussy, baby.” He was French-kissing her folds now with those soft lips. He opened his mouth wider, sucking and licking her all up, using his mouth and strong jaw to work every inch of her. “Taste so fuckin’ good. I want you to come in my mouth.” 

He slapped her backside again and held onto it with both hands as she started to squirm. His commanding voice had her walls tightening around his tongue. Groaning against her pussy, he sped up his licks until it became too much for Vivienne. She couldn't control her body from releasing inside Jey's mouth, her eyes watering from the intense sensations surging through her. His triumphant moan vibrated against the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing her to groan out loud again as she leaked some more. He caught her cum effortlessly with long, sloppy laps of his tongue, not stopping until she was spent and emptied. Her pussy quivered when he gently bit her thighs and left big wet kisses on them. It was a miracle that she'd kept her position on her knees while he ate her out.

“Mmmm, fuck,” Vivienne sighed, twisting her upper body around to grin lazily at him. “You so fuckin’ nasty, Jey.”

“You never got it like that before?” She shook her head and he chuckled at her blissful expression. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ma change all that. When that dick hittin’, the rest will come later…literally.”

Standing upright, Jey grabbed the bag with the condoms. Vivienne’s stomach lurched with anticipation as she stared down between his legs again, licking her lips at the sight of the heat he was packing. As he sheathed himself with a condom, they met each other's gaze, and she loved what she saw in his. That she could evoke this kind of emotion out of him was an absolute thrill for her. 

“Hopefully, we’ll fuck raw some other time,” he uttered. “Would you like that, baby?”

Her pussy instantly rippled at the thought of taking all that dick with zero protection. "Mmmm, give it to me, baby," she purred, licking her lips and twerking her booty at him in approval.

Jey groaned appreciatively at the sight of her wiggling cheeks and massaged each one in his palm. "You want this dick now, huh. You was runnin' from me earlier."

"Don't worry Daddy, I can take it," she promised.

“That’s a good girl.” Grabbing his throbbing erection, he slid the tip along her slit, preparing her for his intrusion. Her gasp echoed through the air as he pushed his full length inside of her from behind. He stretched her pussy open, making her moan into her chest. He remained still for a couple of seconds, letting her body adjust to him. He gritted his teeth as her tight, moist warmth enveloped him. Then, he started to move, slowly, steadily, drawing soft gasps from her. Jey caressed the arch of her back with his large hands as he worked his dick inside her. 

“Shit, baby, you tight as fuck. Damn,” he hissed.

Vivienne tried to speak, but all coherent thought vanished when he drew his hips all the way back to the tip before lunging forward again. He repeated this until he was all the way inside her. His girth stretched her out as he started pumping in and out of her with deep, pounding thrusts. She felt as if the wind was being knocked out of her. So good. So perfect.

Letting out a low groan, Jey leaned over her body and lowered his lips to her throat. “Is this my pussy, baby?”

“Yes Daddy, it’s yours.”

“You gon’ give it to me whenever I want?”

“Yes…Unnhh, baby, you’re so big," Vivienne whined quietly, her breathing ragged.

Jey bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying not to think about how good it felt to be inside her. If he did, all of this was going to end…prematurely, pun intended. He lifted her ass higher against him, forcing a deeper arch of her back. It also nudged the head of his dick against her g-spot, making them both moan with pleasure. Bracing herself up by her arms, Vivienne threw her head back and rocked with him, throwing her ass back to catch his deep thrusts. His dick felt amazing. The sounds of their smacking flesh accompanied her moans and his growls, making Vivienne lightheaded. Resting his chest on her back, he guided her face up to his for a hungry kiss.

"So fucking beautiful. Your pussy feels so good, baby," he muttered, massaging her throat as he flicked his tongue across her parted lips, all while feeding her delicious backshots.

Vivienne yelped when he slapped her ass with his free hand. He grabbed her hip, his strong grip making her rock back and forth on his dick. Every action he took on her body ignited a brand new fire inside of her. "Do that again, Daddy," she pleaded.

Turned on by her request, Jey popped her ass again, then reached out to grip her by her hair, causing her to whimper and tighten around him. “I knew you liked that rough shit,” he rasped, “I been dreaming ‘bout fuckin’ you for so long, baby.” 

She believed him, because he was fucking her like he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment. Like he lost sleep over the thought of having sex with her. Finally, all of his wants and needs were being fed, and he was ravenous. To prove his point, he ramped up the tempo, giving it to her deeper and harder. Vivienne used one hand to rub her clit furiously in an attempt to intensify the approaching orgasm. Jey rubbed her ass again and squeezed, feeling her get wetter instantly.

“Shiiit, you hittin’ my fuckin’ spot, Jey,” she moaned. “Yeah, fuck me up, baby, fuck that pussy up!”

"Uh huh, take that shit, take this dick," he said breathlessly, a smirk adorning his full lips when she collapsed onto her chest and groaned into the blanket. Switching it up, he held onto her waist and rolled his hips against her backside, practically slow-grinding her into the bed. He got the desired effect as her walls clenched almost painfully around his dick.

"Oh my god," she moaned loud and long, her voice muffled as his gyrations sank her face deeper into the mattress. “Mmmm, fuck, don’t stop…” 

Jey growled as she squeezed around him again. He leaned over her prone body, caging her in as he pushed every thick inch of him inside of her. "You wanna come again, angel? Do it. Come on Daddy’s dick."

His gruff command made Vivienne's breath hitch and her brown eyes glaze over. She rubbed her clit faster, her fingers moving in circular motions on the small bundle of nerves, moaning as another orgasm danced closer. As he began slamming harder into her, she felt her toes curl and her thighs start to tremble.

"Fuck!" She screamed out as she came so hard she saw stars. Her body convulsed involuntarily, her inner muscles clenching around Jey's dick. All of a sudden, he pulled out of her with a grunt, right in the middle of her orgasm, and she was sure she was about to burst into tears. But in the next move, he had flipped her onto her back and climbed into the bed. Taking her right leg, he kissed his way down her inner thigh, nuzzling his face against the lush expanse of skin there. He then made a wet trail with his lips and tongue over her hip, traveling along the flat plane of her stomach, pushing her breasts together to suck her nipples. He watched her arch her head back, luxuriated in her moan. His final destination was on top of her body, wrapping his lips around hers and swallowing her sighs. 

“I wanna look into your eyes when you come for me again,” he told her. He’d seen the look on her face when he pulled out; she’d thought he was done with her. But she would learn to know that he was never finished until he’d made her lose all her senses.

A mischievous smile spread across her face as a dirty thought came to her mind. He wasn’t the only one that could take control. She reached down to wrap her fingers around his cock, still hard and covered in her juices. She peeled off the condom in one go and caressed him with intention. He groaned as his dick jumped in her firm grasp. Her delicate kisses on his neck and shoulder relaxed him as he melted under her touch. As she gently massaged his sensitive head, Jey let out an appreciative moan, shivers traveling down his spine.

"Aww Vivi, fuck..."

"You're so hard, big boy. Wanna come for me?" Vivienne whispered in his ear, nibbling the shell of his ear. She raked through his hair with her free hand. "Come up here and come in my mouth." Her knuckles strained as she stroked him harder, faster, losing herself to his quickened breathing and lusty groans.

A startled yelp escaped her as he suddenly yanked himself out of her grip. She watched him quickly crawl up her body, pumping his dick in front of her face. Vivienne grabbed him again and put him in her mouth this time, her head bobbing to take him as deep as she could. She suckled and tongued him while twisting her fist around the base of him, holding his gaze with sexy, sinful eyes. His harsh, long groan followed when he began releasing into her mouth. She swallowed every drop with a deep breath, cradling his balls as his cum continued to spurt inside her warm mouth. He tasted good, just like she'd hoped. She reveled in his weak whimpers, reveled at the sight of his beautiful face twisting in blissful agony as pleasure washed over him. She kept at it, sucking him until she had thoroughly drained his cum down her throat.

Jey slowly slipped his dick out of her mouth, the length dangling helplessly between his sturdy thighs. She’d drained the fuck out of him and he fought to catch his breath. He crawled weakly back down her body and captured her lips in a long and profound kiss. Vivienne thought it was hot that he had no issues with tasting himself in her mouth.

“Wow, baby, didn’t know you was nasty like that,” Jey breathed, his face flushed as he stared at her in complete awe. 

Vivienne merely winked and pinched his chin playfully. “I’m full of surprises, big boy.” She smoothed her palm down his back and looked him right in his eyes. “I think I want it raw now.”

Hearing her say it to him like that, with her eyes full of lust, gave him another erection. “You sure?”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” she confirmed, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist to drive home her point. “Give me everything you got, baby.”

If the lady wanted it raw, she would get it raw. Seconds later, he guided his dick back into her wet warmth, causing them both to groan loudly at the intimate contact, with no barrier between them. Then, in an unexpected move, he took her hands and pinned them above her head. His fingers gripped her wrists in a shackle as he pumped into her, slow and deep.

“Fuck, it actually feels better,” she mumbled, a delicious feeling of helplessness and pleasure rolling through her in varying degrees. “Damn, Jey, yeah, fuck me with that big dick.”

"Mmm, moan my name like that again, baby," Jey nuzzled her cheek, a sly smile lighting up his gorgeous face when she obeyed. His voice was deep, compelling and dripping with desire, and she couldn't help but respond. She whimpered as she met his eyes, and his features softened, his mouth finding hers again. As his thrusts became harsher, Vivienne gripped his waist tighter with her thighs, trying to keep him as deep inside her as possible. He held her body down to the bed as he drove his hard cock in and out of her, his grunts blending with her throaty moaning. Though her arms strained from his vice-like grip, she couldn't deny how much hotter it was that he was making her take it like this.

“Daddy, you makin’ my pussy so wet,” she whined. He was impossibly deep, slipping in and out of her with relative ease, and yet with a tightness that dragged him back and forth inside her tender walls. The sensation was unbelievably erotic.

“I can feel you, baby, you all wet and tight. So fuckin’ incredible.” Grabbing her leg and hooking it over his shoulder, he powered deeper inside of her, glancing down at his long, thick shaft spreading her wide. “Mmph, look at you, creamin’ on me while I bust this pussy open.”

Vivienne's eyes rolled in the back of her head as Jey swiveled his hips while buried inside her. The feel of his skin sliding against hers due to his deep, grinding strokes, all while his hands pinned hers down, had her gasping for breath. He was turning her out, evidently determined to bring her off the edge of unspeakable pleasure. Her body started to go numb, her senses wracked by a cocktail of emotions that blurred into each other. She tried in vain to hold off the rising tide, her eyes squeezing shut as her leg began to shake on his shoulder.

“Babe, I’m gonna come,” she announced.

"Me too," Jey groaned. "Come for me, beautiful. Soak my dick with your cum." Leaning down to suck her nipples, his other hand curved over her ass and gripped tight, his hips moving with force and authority. He drilled the fuck out of her in search of his own release, his balls slapping against her ass, drowning in the sweet symphony of her cries and her weeping pussy. He sucked greedily on her neck, growling in her ear when she screamed his name and squirted all over his dick. His thrusts accelerated, faster, rougher, sloppier, until it all came to a sudden stop. A harsh groan erupted from his own throat as he exploded in an orgasm that had him forgetting his own name. Pleasure zipped through his bones like electricity as he filled her up to the brim with his seed. His senses were devoid of everything except the feeling of being buried deep inside her, and the look in her beautiful eyes, a look of sensual triumph and satisfaction, mirroring his own.

Finally releasing her hands, Jey trailed feathery kisses along Vivienne’s neck, making her shiver. She quickly draped her arms around him, craving access to his heated skin. He was still inside her. As their breathing normalized, he brushed his lips on her forehead and nose before claiming her mouth for his own, both of them sighing pleasurably at the lingering taste of their joined sex fluids. His hands dropped to her hips so he could pull out of her, before lowering her legs to the bed. Vivienne held on possessively to him, almost afraid that he would disappear if she let go.

“Damn. I can’t fuck witchu no more, you’re gonna ruin me,” she smiled up at him, a hint of seriousness in her voice as she massaged the back of his neck. 

“But we just getting started,” he grinned deviously.

What had she gotten herself into? “You are gonna be big trouble for me.”

Jey chuckled and kissed her lips. "Well, you gon’ like my kinda trouble." Laying on his back, he slid his arm around her shoulders and laughed when she confidently tucked her leg between both of his. It felt comfortable and natural, like they had been laying together like this forever. He nuzzled his face against hers and ran his hand up and down her thigh, feeling his heart swell with affection for the beautiful woman in his arms.

"Can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?" he asked her.

“Mmm. Sounds like a date," she mused. “But only if you fuck me again like this in the morning and buy me a Plan B afterwards.”

"You just said you wasn't fuckin' with me no more," he teased.

Vivienne laughed with him. “Yeah, that was cap. You can’t blame me, though. You dicked me down so good, baby.” 

“All down to you, angel. Your pussy is so damn good. Best sex I’ve had in a long ass time.”

As he spoke, she felt him harden against her leg, as though aroused by the memory of being inside her, and her ego swelled. "It was my pleasure. Literally," she giggled, kissing his neck as a reward for his glowing review.

“Your girls will be happy about it, that’s for sure.” 

Vivienne rolled her eyes good-naturedly at that. “I know, right?” Yeah, tomorrow morning was going to be interesting. Mona and Jacqui were not going to let her rest now that she finally had sex with Jey. And speaking of…She stared into his eyes, searched for any hidden doubts or regret. But he stared right back at her with the same content, dreamy expression. It made her feel on top of the world.

“I feel like I’m having another one of my fever dreams," she whispered, stroking his beard. “I can’t believe this is really happening...You and me. It’s so crazy.”

"Not so crazy, angel." He leaned into her touch, turning his face to press his lips to her palm. “We been waitin’ on this for a long time. And now that we here, I definitely want more of it.”

“Hmm. More of what, exactly?” she dared to ask. 

His brown eyes seemed to see right through to her soul as he stared down at her, his face somber and serious. “More of you. More of us,” he elaborated. “I want you, Vivienne. I want what you want, and I wanna give you everything you want, too. So if you down, let’s get it.”

A tender smile appeared on Vivienne’s face, and she leaned in for another kiss, both passionate and heartfelt, letting her actions respond to his sweet proposition. It was a big step forward into the unknown, with challenges that were sure to come along the way. But Vivienne was ready to face them with Jey, and to know he was as ready as she was, convinced her that everything was going to be okay.

THE END

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This is my last standalone Jey fic for a while. I’ll concentrate on finishing up ‘On Sight’ after this.

Please leave comments. I love comments!

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