#mind you she had DEBTS

[diandrarumi]

another headcanon, so i read that fic about harry giving ginny his mother's necklace and it was just so sweet....

so in my head ginny is not that big for jewels and accessories, like she obviously loves girly things but she also grew up poor so she probably knew that jewellry is a luxury indulgence that is not something she'd have the luck to have. So she never really bothered with any of them

but then she saw how harry cried when he went through his family's vault and saw lily and euphemia's jewelry box and how harry was so touched knowing that he had family heirlooms passed down from the women in his family

and like he shyly gave ginny his mother's necklace and proposed to her with his grandmother's ring and when they got married harry gave her the jewelry box and told her that he hoped they would grow old together and that he could watch her pass down these heirlooms to their daughter and daughter in laws if they have any

and since then you'd never see ginny potter out and about without bracelets, earrings and necklaces.

ginny even lent victoire the potter tiara when she married teddy

[swagstar]

dispencer talk

[eupheme]

— drive me crazy

[part ii of trouble will find me] | [masterlist]

bodyguard!logan x mobster’s daughter!reader

rated e - 4.6k

tags: 70s era, dofp/bonedaddy!logan, bodyguard!logan, reader is the daughter of a mobster, multiple pov, flirting, forbidden relationship, masturbation, light panty kink, poor professional relationships, making out, car oral (m) sex, come swallowing

It’s a bad idea to get involved with your bodyguard, you both know that. But you certainly don’t care, not after knowing how he feels inside you. Leaving you wanting more.

And with the way he watches you, you think Logan must feel the same. So when an opportunity arises where you’re left alone in the limo - you can’t help nudging at him, once more.

It’s worth the extra ten minutes of discomfort to see the shocked look on your face when he leaves you at your door. 

The held breath that turns into a pout when he leans close, only to open the handle behind you. A tilt of his head - a silent command that you enter. 

You move past the threshold - only for your frown to deepen, when he lingers in the doorway. 

“Aren’t you going to come in?” It’s soft, and he ignores the way it makes his cock twitch. 

Logan’s arms cross over his chest, a lift of his brow.

“Got what you wanted, didn’t you?” He points out, “Said you’d listen.”

Your mouth drops open in indignation and for a brief moment, he imagines what you offered him. 

Imagines slipping his fingers against your tongue again - the warm and wet suck, the press of lips that he now knows are so fucking soft.

“I wanted you.” 

He almost expects you to stamp your foot. 

“Already told you, sweetheart.” Logan steps back, fingers curling around the knob. The door swinging shut, with the murmur of his voice, “‘s not a good idea.”

Not looking back, as he takes the path to his room. 

Not about to admit that you’ve always had him. 

Logan’s barely kicked off his boots, flopped down onto the bed before the goddamn phone is ringing.

He debates not answering it - something far more pressing on his mind. But he knows it will only end with a knock on his door, and an even greater inconvenience. 

“Yes?” It’s barked into the receiver.

Cradled against his ear, as a hand snakes down to palm himself. Fingers yanking at the silver buckle, loosening his belt.

A sharp voice answers, not bothering with a greeting.

They both know who it is. 

“Late night. Shouldn’t you be back already?”

Logan fucking hates the check-ins. Another notch tightening in the collar, already wound around his throat. 

“She felt like staying out.” It’s gritted out - just barely managing to filter out the heavy edge of annoyance.

“It’s your job to keep an eye on her-”

Bodyguard. Not a babysitter. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. His hand fishing into his pocket instead - tugging out the lace as your father rambles on about the importance of an early morning for whatever bullshit breakfast you’re getting dragged off to tomorrow.

An inhale, as he presses your panties against his nose. His groan near-silent, mind wandering back to the feeling of you coming around his fingers. 

“-Logan. You listening?”

He bites back the growl, “Yes, sir. Early start tomorrow.”

The honorific is acid on his tongue - but if it gets your pathetic excuse of a father off the phone, he’ll endure it. 

Only needs a thousand more bucks to get his bike out of the impound. A couple more to make the repairs and settle his debt - and then he is out of there.

Logan slams the receiver down the second he’s dismissed. A lift of his hips, shoving down his jeans. Not bothering to fully kick them off - he’ll do that later.

Too focused on the ache. A rumbled-out groan when his hand wraps around his cock, a rough thumb smearing the precum across the tip. 

Inhaling you again, as he starts to stroke. It surrounds him, the soft musk that clings to the fabric. To his palm, where to you leaked against his skin - a low jolt in his belly, as he finally takes care of himself.

A sweep of his tongue against the gusset. It’s fucking filthy - how he laps at your arousal like a dog, but no one has to fucking know but him. 

Hips rocking up to match the jerk of his fist. It’s all too dry. Impossible to imagine the soft clutch of your cunt when all he has is the calloused texture of his palm. 

How wet you were, and he barely had even touched you. How you practically begged for him to fuck you, offered to get on your pretty little knees for him. 

Logan’s breath hitches, air inhaled through clenched teeth. Only a heartbeat passing before he’s wrapping the scrap of lace around his cock.

Smearing himself with spit and your slick. Teeth bared as his fist curls around the head - on another night, he’d be annoyed about how fucking close he is already.

That it’s a little bit pathetic, what he’s doing. 

But right now, he’s only thinking about you. 

Picturing the way he’d fit in your mouth, how your lips would wrap around him. The pinch of your eyes as you struggle to take him - he knows you’d try. 

That you love a challenge, and it only makes his cock jump in his hand. 

Doing this so he doesn’t stomp right down the hall, shoulder your door open. Fuck you into the mattress, hard enough that he’d see your legs wobbling the next day.

Doesn’t need the mess in his life, shit is complicated enough as is. Just needs to keep his dick in his pants long enough to get his bike fixed, and get out of here.

Doesn’t need to stir things up by fucking the bosses daughter, either. He’d endure what was thrown at him, he always had, but to take on a mob family just for a girl-

The pressure mounts, coiling tight. His eyes half-lidded, lips parted as the air hissed between his teeth.

Again, and again. His mind fixed on You, you, you - and then he’s there - something ragged caught in his throat as he spills with a grunt against the lace. Soaking the fabric with each pump of his fist, wringing out his orgasm as it scorches through him.

Just barely able to hold back the sharp poke of bones between his knuckles, threatening to tear through skin. 

Leaving him panting, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. His conviction leaches from him, because Logan is now certain of one thing - as his chest heaves. 

Your underwear is a mess - the fabric stained dark, where he’s already soaking in. 

He’s fucked.

It’s been four days of Logan doing everything to avoid being alone with you - all while being closer than he’s ever been.

Conversations are short. Gritted out, all while the familiar weight of his gaze still settles on you. Logan’s constant steady presence as the days pass, hip cocked as he watches from the corner of a room. 

That mark between his brow deepening, as if he’s trying to settle something in his mind. 

It’s maddening. 

How he’s trying to convince himself of what he told you. Betrayed by the moments when you come together. A hand at your back to guide you through the door in front of him, his palm dipping low.

The jolt that rocks through you, an inhale that surely he must hear, when he passes you something in the dining room that you couldn’t quite reach - fingers brushing. 

Orbiting around each other, neither one quite daring to move first. 

The hunger that simmers, when his eyes are not hidden away.

Even now you can feel them. 

Dark eyes behind gold-tinted sunglasses. A lean as he waits - the buttons on his dress shirt popped, thighs spread as he fills the corner of the bench in the foyer. 

Could swear you see them narrow, when you glance his way. Half-way across the room, a distance that’s become familiar when the house is quiet. 

Unable to let your eyes dip, for just a second. Down to linger at the dark shadow of hair at his chest, and then to the tight pull of his trousers. 

The edges of his lips curl, when he catches you. A lift of his hips, as his thighs inch wider.

Impossible. 

A sniff, as you pivot - facing away from him.

It’s not that he turned you down. Or that he seems set on taunting you.

And you’re not pouting - just licking your wounds. 

You know it’s a bad idea. Just for once - you find yourself not caring. Stuck in a loop, as you try to figure out if he thinks the same. 

What this game he’s playing means. 

A little shake of your head to clear your thoughts - there’s Better things to think about, after all. 

Things definitely more important than the way his mouth felt on yours. The way his fingers stretched you out - how full he made you feel. 

How you haven’t been able to come close, with your own. Working between your thighs, only to feel a weak echo compared to tremor that wracked through your core at his touch.

It’s definitely not what you’re thinking about now - eyes drifting over the program for tonight’s dinner. Another charity event, where you’ll be paraded in front of countless socialites and politicians.  

All in the pocket of your family. In your father’s. 

The apple of his eye. Another reminder of a good daughter you are, to support him like this. 

A leg jiggling as you wait, one crossed over the other. Waiting for your driver, but as time ticks by, it becomes evident that Johnny seems nowhere to be found.

The jiggle becomes a tap of your foot. Impatience lacing through you, adding to the keyed-up feelings you’ve carried since the club.

A hallway door opens - there’s a hushed murmur, as one of your father’s men greets Logan.

You let yourself look, while he’s distracted. A brief reprieve, letting yourself want.

He looks good. The shirt pulls tight across his chest. A jacket laid out on the bench beside him, a tie jammed into the pocket. Cleans up nice, and you have to remind yourself that he’s not doing this for you. 

Just part of the job. 

Quick to bury yourself in your notes again, when he stretches - crossing the room.

“Come on.” His head tilts, expression hidden behind the glasses, “I’m driving you.”

You stand, but your feet stay rooted in place, “Where’s Johnny?” 

Logan sighs, hands on his hips, “Listen, kid. Do you want a ride or what?”

That gets you moving. Crossing the last few steps in front of him, your hands mirroring Logan’s as you peer up at him.

“Kid? What happened to honey?” You coo, as your head tilts, “Or baby?”

His jaw works, tongue trapped between the sharp edge of his teeth. A scowl that’s visible even through the frame of his glasses.

“Just get in the fucking car.”

The ride is short, when Logan’s driving. A short temper and a lead foot do a lot in the busy New York traffic. 

You end up early, the limo idling in the parking garage beneath the hotel. Tucked away in a back corner as Logan argues with one of the attendants - or you assume, with the way his lips pull back over his teeth. 

The sharp gesture of his hands, one lifting to rake through his hair, messing up the tufts.

Before he opens the door, leaning against it.

It’s unfair the way it frames him - shins to chest, your head turning so you don’t stare.

“They’re still getting set up.” Logan growls, “Guess we’re early. Said they need another thirty minutes, at least. Maybe an hour.”

He leans then, a lift of his brow as he waits for your call. 

You can think of a lot of ways to pass the time. But you’re not about to voice any to him.

Going elsewhere - a cafe, even back home - feels pointless. Not enough time to do anything meaningful, not with how you’re already dressed so nicely for the dinner - an elegant dress, heeled shoes. Makeup and hair done just the way you like it. 

Your shoulder lifts. “I’m fine waiting.”

Logan fixes you with a long look, as you drag out your bag - root through it for your planner. Making notes as the door closes. 

Muffled conversation, before he’s climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Your eyes meet twice in the rearview mirror, as the radio plays, winding through sounds. Stevie Nicks, The Stones, Elton John. 

The drum of his fingers against the steering wheel, to a tune that only he can hear. Logan’s cigar and lighter are still tucked in the back console, from the last time you were in the limo.

If he wants it, he can come get it himself. 

But he has more willpower than you, even if his patience wears thin. The music bumped up, when one of your legs crossed over the other. 

Inches of fabric tugged up at your thigh, baring skin.

That weight settles over you again, though his head does not turn your way.

Eventually - you cannot help but to voice the question you’ve been carrying. To slice through the silence and tension, thick in the air. 

“Are you going to give them back?”

That gets his attention - the slightest turn of his head. The flicker of an eye that dips across your legs, so quickly you almost miss it.

“Give what back?” He rasps, and your eyes roll.

“You know what, Logan.”

There’s the slight narrowing of his eyes, the barest hint of a smirk, “Mm. Don’t think I do, princess.”

The teasing nickname sinks into your skin, curling in your belly. He’s going to make you say it - spell it out for him. 

You don’t have the same level of bravado bolstered by soft hum of alcohol in your veins, but you still know that something changed, that night in the club.

Your teeth grit, but you hold his gaze, “My panties.”

“That’s what you call those?” His eyebrow arches - a hint of a dimple, “Wasn’t much there, sweetheart.”

The low husk of his voice weaves through you, sending your nerves alight. Encouraged by the back-and-forth volley - how he shifts, granting you his full profile.

“Well, they’re my favorite,” You push - arms crossing just beneath your chest, and you swear his eyes dip again, “What do you need them for, anyways?”

His laugh fills the space - rough and low as it drifts back to you. 

“Your favorite, huh?” The peek of his tongue between his teeth - avoiding your question, “You’re telling me that’s what you wear under all those pretty dresses?”

For a long moment, you hold his gaze. 

A shift of your hips, as your legs uncross. Letting your knees spread - thighs falling open for the briefest second. 

Letting him have a peek at the red silk beneath, before you primly cross your ankles, tucking them against the seat. Your voice pitching low, sweet as honey. 

“Come back here and find out.”

His jaw ticks. 

For a moment, you think you’ve pushed too far. A lead weight left behind, as the embers in your belly start to snuff out. 

But then, there’s the gritted out “fuck it”, as he moves. 

The car goes silent, as his keys slip from the ignition. The creak of the car door - it feels like it takes him an age to cross the steps from the driver’s seat, back to you.

Anticipation palpable, as the door opens. As he folds himself into the backseat - so different than the times before. 

Now, he crowds your space - caging you in. Making up for the days he’s spent apart. 

Despite the seats in front you of the space feels small with him in it, your pulse spiking as the door is tugged shut behind him. 

A heartbeat passes, before you’re meeting him - closing the space. His back pressed against the blue velvet as his hands find your waist, guiding you to him.

Your own tugging at the fabric of your dress - rucking it up to your thighs so you can straddle him. Shins pressing into the seat, as you press down flush against him. 

There’s the click of the door lock, before his mouth tips to yours. A rough sound in his throat as you pick up where you left off - your hands smoothing over the soft fabric of his dress shirt, up to his shoulders.

His slipping from your waist down to your ass. Palming you, tugging you closer until your core rocks against the front of his jeans. 

A hand slipping to cup the back of your head. Keeping you close as a tongue licks across your lower lip, then further when you part. Swallowing your moan as heat floods through you, as you let him deepen the kiss.

As you feel how he stiffens beneath you, trousers pulling tight as your core nudges against the thick curve.

“You need it that bad, baby?” Logan rasps, as you inhale a breath, “Makin’ it really fucking hard to do my job.”

Chasing your mouth, bringing it back to his. It makes you smile, the way he groans when you grind down. 

“Supposed to be keeping an eye on me,” You coo, “Doesn’t this make it easier?”

There’s an inhaled breath between clenched teeth, “Not when I’m too busy looking at you. Driving me crazy, sweetheart.”

Fingers trace against your bare thighs. Beneath the hem of your dress as you moan. The pad of his thumb ghosting against your slit again, low hum as you whine his name.

Letting your hands wander. Tracing over the bulge in his pants. Your palm flattening against him, fingers mapping the curves. 

He growls out a soft warning, “Don’t start what you can’t finish, princess.”

The rough tone of his voice makes you shiver, your fingers flexing, “Should be saying that to you.”

There’s the peek of his teeth as he grins, voice pitching lower. 

“Just trying to warn you, honey.” He croons, “I'm the best there is at what I do, and what I do best isn't very nice.”

Your mouth finds his jaw, as your fingernails tap against the silver buckle, “I know. Why do you think my father hired you?”

He makes a rough noise in his throat, when you tug at his shirt, fingers skating against the bare skin beneath. 

“That what this about?” There’s a sharp edge to his voice now, as your eyes flick back up, “You tryin’ to get back at daddy?”

That makes you scowl. Fingers stilling as your eyebrow arches - pushing yourself back so you can fix him with a look, “What do you think?”

His lips are parted, breath heavy. Those hazel eyes darkened with lust, as he traces the edge of your panties. Slipping beneath soaked-through fabric, tracing against your slick folds. 

“No,” He rasps, “She’s beggin’ for it. Isn’t that right?”

A smirk that turns sharp, as your lips press to his. Mumbled against your mouth, “Know this is all for me.”

“For you.” You agree, as he circles your clit. A slow pressure of his fingers, as your hips cant into his touch. 

Need pulses inside you, low in your belly. That urge to taste him battling with the desire to rut against his fingers. See if he’ll give you more, like last time. 

All too aware of the minutes that tick down. That you’re running on borrowed time, not enough left to do everything you want. 

“Don’t tease, Logan.” You whine, when he keeps up the slow swipe against your skin.

“Tease?” He laughs, tongue peeking out against his lips, “You were the one trying to take someone home. Did you already forget?”

“S not how it went',” You pant, “I remember telling you I didn’t want him.”

He hums, eyes flicking down to the wet peek of your pussy, “Mm, and I remember how sweet you felt coming around my fingers.”

“That, too,” Your breath hitches, “And I remember saying I’d get on my knees for you.”

“Is that what you want?” Logan’s eyes darken, “Still want a taste, baby?”

There’s a whine caught between your teeth. Nodding, as you carefully slip off of his lap and down to the floor, arranging your skirts around you - settling between thighs that inch wider.

Watching the way his hand drops to palms himself, the rough “fuck” that slips from him that sends your heart racing. 

Logan’s always been a big man, but he looks massive when you’re on your knees. The carpet scratches against your shins as you shift - eyes already greedy, fixed on the thick curve you had rubbed yourself on. 

Watching the slow flex of his fingers - the glint of silver on his belt buckle.

The slow unzipping of his trousers, and you swear your mouth waters as all that skin comes into view. Nothing beneath but the dark trail of hair. 

And for the briefest second your eyes flicker out the tinted windows. An unconscious check towards the door set into the parking garage wall, checking before you allow yourself this. 

“Hey. You’ve got time, baby.” He coos - bringing you back, “I’ll keep watch. Keep your eyes right here for me.”

And they do - dropping back down without thought. 

His cock still trapped beneath the fabric, but you can see the vein that travels down from his abdomen, the heavy curve that finally springs free when he lifts his hips.

You can barely bite back the moan of want, your eyes widening. He felt thick beneath your palm but it’s nothing compared to now. The heavy bob of his cock - velvet soft skin that flushes at the glossy tip.  

How his fingers curl around, the lazy flick of his wrist as you shift in front of him. The slight sway as your head follows, a deep flutter in your thoughts as you wonder just how much you’ll be able to take.

Underestimating, in your daydreams. Your lips eagerly parting, as you lean forward. 

His tongue clicks. 

“Greedy girl.” Logan coos, “Hold on. Thought you said you wanted me to show you.”

At your moan he shifts, thighs spreading. Voice pitching low.

“Open.”

Your head tilts - offering your mouth, letting your tongue rest against your teeth. 

Letting him feed his cock to you - tasting the salt that leaks from the head, when it taps against your lip. The low groan that shoots right through you, as he inches into your mouth.

“That’s it.” He husks, “You can take it.”

Your eyes are fixed on his as your jaw opens wider, as he sinks further inside. Fingernails biting into your palms as you try to listen.

“Pretty fuckin’ mouth,” Logan pants, “Good girl.”

A stifled groan, as your head bobs. The eye contact breaking as yours flutter shut, lips closing around him as you start to suck.

You can hear each of his breaths like this, in the quiet car. Rough murmurs of something sweet, held back between clenched teeth.

“Keep going, sweetheart.” He coaxes, thick fingers leaving marks in the velvet - grooves that your own will trace later, on the way home. 

Resisting the urge to bury them in your hair, to urge you down the rest of the way. To palm at your tits, wrinkling the pretty fabric. 

Letting you explore on your own. Letting him slip down your throat until tears prick in your eyes. 

That thin sense of the outside world still keeps you tethered. The mutual knowledge that he can’t use you like you’d both like - until spit drips down your chin, messy and slick, from where it pools on your tongue.

You’re content to trace each vein, instead. To feel the weight as you suck - eyes opening to gauge his expression when your hands finally slip up.

Once bracing on a thigh, the other curling around his base. Stroking what doesn’t quite fit, as he sucks air in through his teeth.

He’s handsome, always. Beautiful like this - eyes burning in the beam of vapor lamp light that streaks through. The pinch of his furrowed brow, but so unlike you’ve seen before.

Looks like he wants to devour you. To tug you up to his lap, bury himself in your wet cunt instead.

You wish he would - another squirm as your thighs press together.

“Feels so good, baby.” Logan rasps. There’s a shallow lift of his hips now. Chasing the rhythm of your hand, the soft suck of your mouth.

The muscles in his thigh flexing beneath your palm, filth slipping from him as he chases the building pressure in his belly.

“God, I want to fuck you,” It’s growled out, and you whine with want, “Been dreaming about tasting you again.”

Again. The taste of your slick on his fingers, pressing against your tongue as he kissed you. An image of his face between your thighs sends a dull throb of need, as you moan around him.  

Logan inhales, as you start to speed up, “Know you need it, honey. Bet you’re soaked through, aren’t you?”

Another whine buzzes around his cock, as he groans, “Take care of you tonight. I’ll, fuck-”

His fingers nudge yours out of the way, fisting around his cock. The other catching your chin, easing you off him. A string of spit connecting you, until it breaks. 

“Shit.” He hisses out, as the tip bobs against your parted lips, “Keep just like that, princess.”

Logan’s thumb presses at your chin, as if there’s anything that would make your move.

Too focused on the way his eyes glint. Honey-gold in the stream of artificial light. The hiss of breath when your tongue peeks out further.

“Gonna take it all, won’t you?” He husks. Tone almost desperate, “Nice and wide now, don’t wanna mess you up.”

You know he’s thinking about it, you’ve thinking about it as well. Running mascara and a lipstick-smeared mouth. 

There’s a rough groan that almost passes as your name, as his hips hitch. Muscles flexing as he spills white ropes across your tongue, with a ragged moan.

“Good fucking girl.”

Your eyes keep on his, as he jerks himself empty. Letting his release pools on your tongue - a soft groan as he shifts, slipping his cock deeper into your mouth.

Eyes finally closing as you suck, his thumb leaving your chin to catch the start of a drop, smearing it across your lip and back between them.

Feeling how you swallow around him. Tongue teasing at his slit, until you’ve taken every drop. 

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes. 

The tension weighs heavy, as your mouth slides from his. 

Logan’s mouth is just beginning to tip towards yours - when there’s the slam of the side door. 

A mutually shared expression, as you begin to scramble. 

Your time is up. 

He stalls for you. 

Grilling the head of security for as long as he can - lip curled as he runs through a list of questions, the picture of professional concern.

It’s all bullshit - they don’t know what they’re doing. Not that it matters - he won’t be more than an arms-length away from you for the rest of the night. 

His fingers tugging at his tie, knotted quickly and too tightly for comfort. The puff of smoke through his cigar, snatched as he slipped from the backseat. 

Unable to help the tilt of his head when you slip from the backseat of the limo - his hand already extended to help you out.

A low throb behind his ribs at the smile you flash his way.

Never would have guessed that his cock was just down your throat, if he hadn’t known better. That you’d taste like him. 

All the evidence neatly tucked away. Hair tidied, your dress tugged back into place. 

But there’s little things he catches. 

A fresh swipe of gloss over your slightly-puffy lips. The color matching the sticky ring around the base of his cock, one that will linger for hours. 

Pupils that still are blown wide and dark. The arousal that clings to you like perfume, heady and sweet. 

The way your eyes flick over him, hungry. A fleeting second before you’re pulled back into your world - a practiced smile curving your lips. 

“Showtime.” You mutter as you take his arm. Following, as he leads you inside, “How do I look?”

The edges of his lips pull up, his voice a low murmur - something just for you to hear.

“Beautiful.”

thank you so much for reading! I keep getting little ideas for them, so I think this is going to be another mini-series (with 4 currently planned parts in total) 💖

[wireddless]

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

[gremlingottoosilly]

College Student!Reader that has no clue how to pay back their debt after borrowing money to pay for tuition and basic needs X Mafia!Konig

The economy got so bad, local students are forced to become wives of crime lords, more at 11. No, but literally. You had no idea how to pay it back - you went into college with a dream and a somewhat normal understanding of the job market. Then AI crushed everything down, made you suffer through 3 years of unpaid internships for companies that cut their staff in half, and you graduated with student debt and a useless CV. Oh, and mobsters on your tail, ready to sell your liver for a high profit unless you could pay everything back with interest...which you obviously couldn't. Konig, honestly, is way too busy to deal with every poor student who got money from him. They are usually pretty compliant, signing another contract to work for him for 80+ years or sell their organs and their bodies for either prostitution or drug runs - but Horangi told him this one was kinda cute, and they all remembered the shitshow that was his latest lover. Girl got so invested in his business that she decided to overthrow it - so, no mafia-connected pussies for him now. Only pure, innocent civilians or uncaring sex workers. But, heavens, you really are cute. Cute, and willing to keep your pretty mouth shut so he can kiss it. You're too desperate to get rid of your debts to actually question why he chose you out of all options - you're simply along for the ride, letting him take care of all your needs in exchange of your soft body warming up his bed. Konig would never tell you that his deep-seeted insecurities will never allow him to date an actual model or an idol, but he is all to ready to get a normal girl and worship her like a goddess in his weird domestic fantasy. You can make him burnt breakfast one morning, and he will forgive half of your debt immediately. Being his sugar baby is kinda nice, as long as you don't mind his face pressed in your stomach every time he gets a nightmare, and the way he'd take you with him to a fancy mafia club, and then will spend all evening never talking to anyone and making you host all social interactions...but at least the sex with him in the middle of VIP section is great. The way he pours whiskey down your tits and sucks it off your nipples is a bit weird, but you'd take anything before he stuffs you with his monster cock and makes you forget all about the degree you got. What was it again? Cocksucking scienes? Introduction to dickometry?

[theostrophywife]

devil eyes.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: devil eyes by hippie sabotage.

author's note: this spicy fic is in collaboration with my darling @writingsbychlo. make sure you check out hide and seek. we've been scheming for weeks and i'm so happy to finally share this fun little story with all of you. keep an eye out for some cheeky cameos 👀

The cardinal rule of Gryffindor House was plain and simple—never ever make a bet with the Weasley twins. 

Anyone stupid enough to do so either found themselves out a pocketful of galleons or worse, owing Fred and George a no questions asked favour that the pesky redheads could cash in at any time. 

Unfortunately, you were a little more than tipsy off of a bottle of firewhisky and bet one of the twins, Fred? George?—you couldn’t remember which ginger you’d sold your soul to—that you could easily outfly him on the pitch during a quidditch after party. After a violent hangover, the annoying git actually showed up outside of your dorm with a Firebolt in each hand. 

“Let’s see those skills in action then, Y/N.” 

On a normal day, you might’ve managed it. You were smaller and lighter than Fred, which gave you an advantage in flight, but as your head pounded and your stomach churned, you knew there was no way you were getting on that bloody broom. Though your house motto was all about being bold and brave, you weren’t reckless enough to risk it. 

Instead, you settled for a favour. 

In hindsight, you probably should’ve just stuck to death by eating shit on the quidditch pitch. It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into a stupid tiny little costume that bordered on exotic dancer more than scary witch, but it’s not like you had much of a choice. You had a debt to settle. Fred made sure to remind you of that.

While the rest of your housemates headed to the Forbidden Forest, you were busy preparing for the vital role that your ginger overlords had assigned to you for the night. Since it was Fred and George’s last year, the twins were determined to solidify their status as Hogwarts legends. What better way to leave their mark than throwing a huge rager in the forest? Thus, the All Hallow’s Eve Fest was born. 

As far as your professors knew, it would be a small festival to celebrate the season complete with carnival games, enchanted rides, and cornfield mazes. All harmless fun. But the student body knew that the Weasley twins had something far more devious up their sleeves. 

From what Fred told you, the night would be full of secret passages, elaborate tricks, and actors and actresses who would add to the whole allure. You were to be one of them. Tonight, you were playing the part of a seductive sorceress who ripped out the hearts of unsuspecting men. 

You were practically made for the role, Fred joked. 

You threatened to resort to method acting and grabbed at the front of his shirt with every intent to rip his heart out of his chest. Luckily for him, George came to his rescue and tore his twin from your grasp before you could inflict damage. 

“See you at the Forbidden Forest at seven sharp,” Fred called as he tossed the costume at you. “Don’t be late, Y/N!” 

At half past six, you almost considered skipping the event altogether, but that would mean owing the twins yet another favour. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sighing, you tugged on some fishnet tights and slipped into a pair of high-heeled boots that laced all the way up to your thighs. You placed a hand on your hip, frowning at your reflection in the mirror of the prefect’s bathroom. 

“Are you trying to scare the masses or seduce them?” 

You turned around to find your friend Chloe perched up against the sink, smirking as she raised a brow at you. 

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” you said as you snatched her tube of lipstick and painted your lips with a fiery red shade. “Know any men who wouldn’t mind having their hearts ripped out?” 

She chuckled, swinging her legs in the air. “A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first. Save the curly one for me, though.” 

“You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase of yours, then?” 

Chloe smirked and blew on her freshly painted nails. “He’s got until midnight to find me.” 

“What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 

“Let’s just say that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house’s name and let him slither in.” 

“At least one of us is having fun tonight.” 

“Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.” 

You smirked in the mirror as you put on the final piece of the costume. The gold mask fit perfectly over your eyes and truly completed the sinister seductive sorceress part that Fred cast you as tonight. 

“I like the way you think.” 

The promise of mischief and chaos helped to put a little pep in your step as you and Chloe parted ways. You didn’t even recognize the Forbidden Forest as you stepped foot into the haunted woods. There were colourful tents set up all around the clearing, some containing mirrored mazes and others promised fortunes readings. The combination of red lights and creepy fog gave the demented looking carnival an eerie feel. As much as you hated to admit it, the twins have really outdone themselves tonight. 

After running through the spell that conjured a hyper realistic heart that you’d be ripping out of unsuspecting victims all night, Fred directed you towards the east side of the forest. 

“Remember, it’s not a good night unless someone’s pissed themselves out of fear,” Fred reminded you for the thousandth time. 

“You’re a sadist, Forge.” 

Fred placed a hand over his heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Y/N.” 

“Piss off, yeah?” 

He chuckled. “I’d tell you to act scary, but you’ve got that down pat.” Fred cocked his head, examining your costume. “Although, would it kill you to show a little more leg?” 

“It won’t kill me, but I might kill you.” 

Fortunately for Fred, George plucked his twin away from your murderous clutches to start greeting their guests. By the time it was half past seven, the clearing was full of your fellow students. Despite your initial reluctance, scaring the absolute piss out of people was actually a lot of fun. As Fred predicted, you had a natural talent for it. 

The first group that wandered into your neck of the woods consisted of your fellow housemates. Dean and Seamus led the pack while Ron and Harry followed close behind. The Chosen One was as pale as Peeves. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though he might vomit at any moment. Leading the rear, Hermione shook her head and marched forward. Neville matched her pace as he nervously darted through the twisted roots choking up the forest floor. 

You waited until their group passed through the twisted willow tree before jumping out. Dean screamed in surprise while Seamus scrambled away from you. Thanks to Fred’s little trick, your hand went right through Finnigan’s shirt which caused him to shriek in terror. With a twisted smile, you yanked the hyper realistic heart out of his chest and cackled in delight. 

At the sight of the beating organ in your hands, Neville nearly passed out. Dean hauled Seamus to his feet while Ron and Harry hightailed it out of there. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the boys. 

“Well, they lasted longer than I thought they would,” she said. “Stuck out here for the night, Y/N?” 

“Unfortunately,” you replied as you vanished the dry blood with a quick spell. “Anyone you want me to scare the absolute wits out of tonight, Mione?” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t have any scores to settle.” You nodded, wishing her a good rest of the night. 

Hermione bid you the same and started to follow the direction that the boys fled to. Before she disappeared through the thicket, a familiar, drawling voice called her back. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden girl.” 

Draco Malfoy appeared in the clearing. There was skull makeup on his face, but the shock of platinum blonde hair gave away his identity almost instantly. He stalked towards Hermione with that arrogant aristocratic smirk, completely oblivious that you were lurking in the dark. 

“All alone in the woods, little lion?”

Hermione’s gaze flickered towards you. A smile curved against her lips as her honey eyes glimmered with mischief. “On second thought…” 

The golden girl hadn’t even finished the rest of her sentence before you yanked Draco by the wrist and pushed him up against the weeping willow. The blonde blinked, his silver eyes full of surprise and terror as you raked your nails along the column of his throat. The red varnish looked like blood against his pale skin.

“All alone in the woods, little serpent?” 

Draco steeled himself. “And who are you supposed to be?” 

You smirked. “I’ll be whoever you want, darling.” Malfoy shivered as you pressed a palm against his chest. He leaned into your touch, his heart beating erratically underneath your fingertips. For Godric’s sake, he was truly making this way too easy. “As long as you give me your heart.” 

Never in his life had Draco Malfoy looked so terrified. The colour drained from his face as you reached through his perfectly tailored button down shirt, fingers slipping through the expensive silk material. You laughed maniacally and caressed his cheek. 

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.�� 

Without warning, you yanked his heart out of his chest. Draco stared in utter horror as blood dripped from your fingertips. The tell-tale heart pounded in your palm,  the mess of flesh and tissue covering your arm with carnage. To Malfoy’s credit, he didn’t scream or flee like your housemates. Instead, the Slytherin appeared rather impressed. 

“The spell work’s not bad.” Draco said with a smirk. He lifted your palm and examined the heart. “A word of advice, though. I would’ve turned the heart black. It would’ve been more realistic.” 

Just as you rolled your eyes, a deep, husky voice pulled your attention away from the blonde. 

“Who even knew Draco Malfoy had a heart?” 

You turned to find a gathering of serpents in the clearing. They were all wearing matching skull makeup, but you could clearly tell who each male was. The gang of Slytherins were pretty infamous and easily recognizable. The curly headed one had to be Mattheo Riddle. His gaze darted through the trees as though he expected someone to appear out of the thick fog. You had to hand it to her, Chloe had the Slytherin eating right out of her hand. 

The one beside him stood a little bit taller and though his face was smeared in the same white and black paint, there was no mistaking Enzo Berkshire’s lopsided grin and soft hazel eyes. Flanking either side of him was Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, the it-couple of your year, which only left one other serpent to account for. The male that had spoken earlier had to be none other than Theodore Nott. 

You turned your attention back to him, squinting in the faint light as he prowled towards you. Theodore was considerably taller than the rest of his friends, but not in the awkward scrawny way that most boys his age were. He was slim yet strong, sculpted by years of playing quidditch. The makeup only accentuated his high cheekbones and his ridiculously sharp jawline, but it was his eyes—those dead, cold eyes that had half the school swooning over him that gave you pause. 

Theodore grinned as you released your hold on Draco. He cocked his head, arrogance and swagger radiating off of him in waves as his eyes roamed your body. There was something unsettling about his gaze—Theodore’s eyes were neither green nor blue, but rather some undiscovered shade that reminded you of watercolours bleeding into each other. 

The manner in which he ogled you was shameless. He drank in your tight corset, the fishnet tights, and the thigh high boots like you were a painting on the walls of a gallery, pinned up for his viewing pleasure. You held your head high, completely undeterred by his stare. Besides, two could play that game. 

You schooled your features into indifference. “Who are you supposed to be? The Pumpkin King?” 

Theodore flashed you a charming smile that you had no doubt made the rest of the student population swoon. “I’ll be your Jack if you agree to be my Sally, sweetheart.” 

As slowly as possible, you dragged your gaze from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Theodore smirked as you surveyed him just as he had done to you a few moments ago. Staying true to his Slytherin roots, Theodore wore a black suit and matching freshly pressed trousers, but the silk shirt underneath was maroon—Gryffindor colours. Your house colours. 

“Brave of you to wear rival colours.” 

“I thought you’d be happy,” Theodore drawled. “Better to hide the blood when you rip my heart out, darling.” 

“You think I care about making a mess?” you said with a smirk. “That’s half of the fun.” 

Theodore flashed you a smile that spelled nothing but trouble. “Oh, I think you’re just my kind of witch.” 

“Oi, Notty boy! If you’re done flirting, we’re heading to the mirror maze.”

Blaise was regarded with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

Hermione lingered by the edge of the clearing. She raised a brow in a silent question. You merely shrugged. Theodore Nott wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. 

“Give Longbottom my apologies, Mione. And a calming draught,” you added as an afterthought. “The poor bloke will need it.”

Your friend smiled. “Sure thing. Shall I tell the twins that you’re…indisposed?” 

“No, let my wardens sweat it out a bit.”

Hermione chuckled and waved you off. The rest of the Slytherins followed shortly after, leaving you alone with Theodore. You locked eyes for a moment before you spun on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction. The brunette stared after you in stunned silence before you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him. 

“Well, are you coming or not, Theodore?” 

The sounds of the leaves crunching below his boots indicated that Theodore had snapped out of his stupor and was catching up to you. He did so rather quickly, thanks to those long legs of his. One of his strides was equal to three of yours. It took little to no effort on his part before the two of you were walking side by side. 

“You know who I am, then?”

You shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell you and your cronies apart.” 

Theodore grinned lazily and cocked his head at you. He squinted against the faint light, no doubt trying to ascertain a hint of your identity from underneath the gold mask. 

“It hardly seems fair. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

You smirked at him. “I’m Sally, remember?” 

“Does that mean I’m your Jack?” 

“For the night, at least.”

He seemed content with that answer. “Where are we headed now, little witch?”

“The Graveyard.”

Theodore appeared slightly baffled, but brooked no argument as you led him through a thicket of trees. You chuckled at the sight of him following you blindly. “A strange girl just told you she was leading you to a graveyard and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I thought you Slytherins were all about self-preservation?”

“I have no intention of preserving myself tonight,” Theodore drawled. “Feel free to ruin me, Sally.”

“I suppose you think you’re rather charming, don’t you Jack?”

“I don’t think, darling. I know.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the lone tombstone in between the weeping willows. Theodore watched as you waved your wand and muttered an incantation. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, clearing the leaves until an ominous set of stairs appeared in front of the grave. 

Theodore peered over your shoulder. “I suppose you won’t be telling me what’s down there, will you Sally?” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll hold your hand in case you get scared.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Theodore took the jest to heart and slipped his hand into yours. You smirked as you intertwined your fingers. If he thought a little hand holding would bother you, then Theodore had no idea what he was in for tonight. 

“Lead the way, love.”

You led him down the steps, plunging into darkness the lower you went. Theodore took the opportunity to press up behind you and kept a hand on your waist as the two of you descended. He was so close that the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke assaulted your senses.  

A red hazy light flashed up ahead. The pounding music and excited chatter of your fellow classmates grew louder as you and Theodore were transported into the speakeasy. The bar was stocked with alcohol, shots and cocktails floating mid-air with themed drinks like Merlin’s Mourge-a-rita, Witches’ Brew, and Cauldron Colada. You hailed Parvati down who was apparently serving as the bartender tonight along with her twin sister. 

“We’ll take two El Diablos.” 

Theodore raised a brow, but didn’t protest as Parvati presented the shots in front of you. Your fellow housemate also floated a salt shaker and a bowl of limes on the counter. You sprinkled salt on the back of your hand and grabbed a lime wedge in preparation. Theodore did the same, minus the lime. 

“Bottoms up, Jack.” 

“Cheers, Sally.”

After licking the salt off of your hand, you clinked your glass against Theodore’s and knocked the drink back. The El Diablo certainly lived up to its name. The drink was a combination of tequila mixed with pepperup potion and topped off with a hint of cayenne. Needless to say, it had a bit of a kick. 

With a slight grimace, you bit down on the lime, which helped with the unpleasant aftertaste. Theodore caught your wrist and held your gaze as he directed your hand up to his mouth. He mimicked your move and sucked hard on the lime, his lips brushing your fingers as he licked the juice from where it had dribbled onto your palm. 

A shiver snaked down your spine. You may be a shameless flirt, but Theodore was definitely matching your energy. 

“I can’t believe the twins built a speakeasy down here,” Theodore said. He leaned in close so you could hear him over the music. “I’m almost impressed.” 

“I’ll tell my wardens you said that.” 

“You keep calling them that,” Theodore said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t mean that one of the weasels is your ball and chain in a literal sense, right?”

“Are you jealous, Jack?” 

He smirked. “I just want to know which twin I’m sending to the infirmary tonight.”

You chuckled. “I’m not dating Fred or George. I just owe them a favour. Speaking of which, I’ve got some men to scare. Be a good boy and wait for me here.”

Theodore shook his head. “Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m yours for the night, remember?” He toyed with the laces on your corset and pulled you towards him, your breasts pressing against the hard muscles of his chest. “I have a proposition for you, little witch.”

You quirked a brow, which made Theodore chuckle darkly. “Not that kind of proposition, principessa.” He twirled the lace between his fingers. “I say we terrorise the student body together.” 

“You want to help me do my job?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why not? We can be partners in crime.” 

You cocked your head. It certainly would be more fun to have someone else partake in your chore. Curling your fingers around his maroon tie, you pulled Theodore down to your level. His gaze flickered to your mouth and you couldn’t help the thrill that buzzed in your veins as you watched him swallow thickly. 

“You’ve got a deal, Jack.” 

As it turns out, Theodore was an excellent partner in crime. The two of you concocted a rather effective formula to inflict fear upon your classmates. The Red Room soon became your hunting grounds. In the creepy blood soaked maze, Theodore chased groups through the enchanted room while you lurked in the shadows. As soon as they thought they were safe from skull face, the groups were then led right into your trap. 

You could hardly count the amount of people you scared shitless tonight. 

Eventually the two of you returned to the bar for more drinks. You ordered another round of shots, which Theodore accepted without question. By the time you were six shots deep, the tequila had annihilated any sense of personal space between you. Theodore leaned down to take a sip of your drink. 

“Trying to get me drunk, love?”

“That depends,” you quipped back. “How many drinks do I need to plie you with until you agree to dance?” 

“With you? I’d say yes while stone cold sober.”

You grinned. “Come on, then.”

Theodore allowed you to guide him away from the bar and into the throng of your fellow classmates. It was total debauchery out on the dance floor. The music pulsed seductively as bodies writhed to the hypnotic beat and the red light bathed the crowd in a sinister glow as the alcohol loosened both limbs and lips. 

The warmth of the tequila made you feel flushed, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Theodore’s hands on your waist. With your back pressed against his chest, you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. You rocked side to side and grinded against him, which caused his grip to tighten. Theodore’s fingers dug into your sides as you wrapped an arm around his neck and arched your back against his chest. 

His dark lashes fluttered as your lips brushed against the column of his throat. Theodore shuddered when you nipped at his skin. A low groan escaped his mouth as he tried to chase your lips, but you dropped low to the floor and left him in a daze. 

Theodore caught your wrist and pressed you flush against him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to tease?’ 

“Do I look like someone who gives a shit about being polite?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You should know that I have a terrible habit of playing with my food.” 

Theodore smirked and fisted your hair between his fingers. “And you should know that I have no qualms about being toyed with. As long as you promise to devour me later, little witch.”

You brushed up against him and felt his hardness rub against you. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll get my taste of you tonight.” He inhaled sharply as you tugged him down to you. His eyes fluttered, fully expecting a kiss. “But before that, would you be a dear and get me another drink? I’m absolutely parched.”

A pained expression dawned on his handsome features. Theodore was fully aware of the little cat and mouse game you were playing, but he seemed keen to play along. If only to please you. 

“You’re killing me, bella,” Theodore said with a sigh. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, a promise of what was to come. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, yeah?” 

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a wink. “I might get impatient.”

With that, Theodore hustled back to the bar. You chuckled at the sight. Your amusement only grew as Chloe approached. As soon as she was within reach, you tugged your friend onto the dancefloor. She happily obliged, the moves flowing naturally. The two of you were known to bring the whole house down at countless parties. 

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?” 

“No, but he’s close.” Chloe shouted over the music, motioning to the bar where her boyfriend was currently standing. Mattheo, Theo, and Draco were talking in hushed whispers, looking rather serious. 

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.”

The poor Slytherin was chasing after some unsuspecting blonde girl who looked a lot like Chloe from behind. A mischievous grin curved against her lips as she watched Theodore weave his way back to you, toting a drink in each hand. 

“Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” you replied with a coy smile. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.” 

With a wink, Chloe slipped away just as Theodore returned. He handed you a drink and watched as you sipped it slowly. Theodore downed his cocktail in less than a minute and tossed his cup into the nearest trash can. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” 

“You promised a taste.” 

You smirked, chugging the rest of your drink and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Theodore watched intently as you set the empty cup down. “Come and get it, then.”

The words had barely left your lips before Theodore kissed you. There wasn’t a hint of timidness in the way that his lips crashed against yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth as he tilted your chin up to gently bite down on your lower lip. You gasped when he nipped at you, leaving your mouth open for his tongue to slide into. 

The taste of him was intoxicating as he massaged your tongue against his, licking the roof of your mouth before he kissed you sloppily, open-mouthed and positively obscene despite the crowd dancing around you. What started out as a kiss turned into a full blown make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Neither one of you felt a hint of shame as you shared another filthy kiss. With a groan, Theodore’s hands roamed along your back and squeezed when he reached your ass. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” 

You smirked, already equipped with a salacious response when your gaze caught on the clock behind the bar. It was nearly midnight and the twins had instructed all the actors and actresses to gather in the main entrance for the grand finale. Fred and George would have a fit if they found out you had abandoned your post. The twats would probably demand another favour out of you. There was no way you were going to shackle yourself to the Weasleys a second time. 

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get back.”

“I thought you were my Sally,” Theodore drawled. He looked slightly dazed, his curly hair dishevelled and his lips swollen from your kisses. “Not Cinderella.”

“I’m being serious, Nott. If I’m not back before the clock strikes twelve, I’ll have to owe the twins another favour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time. Besides, if we’re playing into this whole Cinderella fantasy then let’s skip to the good part and see if it fits and by it I mean me inside of you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, you were dragging Theodore out of the speakeasy. The two of you climbed the steps three at a time, nearly tumbling over one another as you raced up the stairs. The woods were dark and foreboding, but provided plenty of cover for your illicit activities. 

You tugged Theodore along by his tie and he pressed you against an oak tree, the bark biting at your exposed skin. You were kissing again in no time and the sounds the two of you made were downright lewd. Theodore reached for your mask, but you swatted his hand away. 

“The mask stays on.” 

He smirked. “I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but you seem to be an overachiever.”

“I aim to please.” 

Theodore smirked against your neck as he hiked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His hand wandered underneath your skirt and those deft fingers of his teased along your soaked core. 

“You’re so fucking wet, little witch.” You groaned as he plunged his fingers between your folds. “Such a pretty cunt too. Will you clench this tightly around my cock when I fuck you?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you whispered huskily. 

A stream of curses fell from Theodore’s lips, but not in a language that you understood. Italian, perhaps. Whatever it was, it sounded sexy as hell. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand into his trousers, feeling his hard length twitch in response. A choked groan rumbled through his chest as you pumped him between your fingers. 

You swallowed thickly. Theodore was long and hard, his cock almost too big to fit inside of you. But you always did like a challenge. 

Those watercolour eyes that had been pinned on you all night turned positively dark. The strange blue and green shade that you had grown familiar with was now swallowed by darkness, leaving Theodore with a gaze that would’ve rivalled Medusa’s. You felt it searing into your skin as you sank down on his length, biting your lip as he stretched your walls. 

“Merda,” Theodore cursed. “So fucking tight. C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. I know you can take all of me.” 

You shuddered a breath as he pushed inside. Theodore watched with hungry eyes as you took him inch by inch. It seemed never ending. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. The stretch was an equal measure of pain and pleasure. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock and your pussy hugged around him as he throbbed inside of you. 

Theodore caressed your cheek. “It’s alright, little witch. I know you can take it. I’m yours, remember? Your partner-in-crime. So use me, dolcezza. You’re in charge tonight. Just set the pace and I’ll follow.”

The reassuring words encouraged you to slowly grind against him. Theodore hissed as you lifted your hips until only his tip was inside of you. His mouth was hot and needy against yours as you grinded down to take all of him again.

“Che cazzo,” Theodore murmured as he bottomed out.

The drag of his cock was delicious. He filled you to the hilt and pressed his hand on your stomach to feel his length buried deep inside of you. The tightness it caused made the both of you groan. You rolled your hips and set a steady pace, lowering onto his cock over and over again while you whimpered.

“Oh, fuck. It feels like you’re splitting me apart.”

Theodore groaned as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The heat of his tongue was everywhere, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would be a pain in the ass to cover, but you didn’t care as you continued to ride him.

“Salazar fucking save me, your pussy feels like heaven.”

Theodore chuckled darkly as you clenched around him. He untied the laces of your corset impatiently, freeing your breasts from the constraints. Theodore brushed his thumb over your hard nipples before taking one into his mouth. He watched with eager eyes as you moaned, sucking and swirling his tongue while you picked up the pace. 

“You look so pretty when you fuck me,” Theodore hummed as he flicked his tongue against your stiffened peaks. “Ride me harder, little witch. That’s it. Yeah, roll your hips just like that. Good girl.”

“Gods, I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth,” you said with a low laugh. “You’re always so quiet in class.”

“So we have a class together,” Theodore said as he thrusted upwards to match your pace. “I thought you sounded familiar.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite grasp it. I guess I’ll just have to pay extra attention to all the Gryffindor girls in my classes.”

“I’m a Gryffindor? How do you figure that?”

“Besides your entire personality? You seemed friendly with Granger and though you complain about the twins, I’d wager that you’re mates as well.” 

“Smart and handsome,” you said with a smirk.  “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jack?” 

Theodore smirked and thrusted sharply inside of you. “You have no idea, Sally.”

“I thought I was in charge tonight,” you said in a stern voice. 

“You are, but I think you could use a little encouragement. You’re holding back.” 

You circled your hips before lifting them and slamming back down. Theodore’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

“Does it feel like I’m holding back?” 

“I’m a patient man, but if you keep toying with me like this I might just have to fuck that attitude right out of you, little witch.” 

You tilted your chin up and smirked. “So do it.” 

All that bravado left your body as Theodore rutted into you. He drove his cock deep within you, stretching your walls until you were clawing at his back. Theodore grunted as you squelched and squeezed around his length. His pace was relentless and punishing, guiding your hips to bounce on his cock while you moaned in pleasure. 

“Oh gods, right there.” You cried out, burying your face into his neck. 

You inhaled his scent greedily and sank your teeth into his flesh. Theodore slowed his pace and chuckled darkly when you whined. 

“What’s the matter, little witch? Can’t take a dose of your own medicine?” 

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Keep going. I’m so close.” 

“Beg me, darling. Tell me how desperate you are. I want to hear those pretty little words.” 

Theodore halted his movements, his tip barely inside of you as he teased along your folds. He held your hips in place so you couldn’t sink down to take more of him. Usually, you were used to taking charge, but the way he put you in your place had you creaming all over him. Needless to say, you weren’t above begging at this point. 

“Please, I need you. Fuck me harder. Give me everything. I can take it. Every fucking inch.”

“Merda, you’re fucking filthy. Begging for my cock like a good little slut. Brace yourself, bella. Remember that you asked for this.”

A whimper fell from your lips as Theodore bucked into your cunt. His cock impaled you, splitting you apart and knocking the very breath from your lungs as he fucked you roughly against the tree. He squeezed your ass, keeping a firm grip to secure you in place as he jackknifed into you. 

“Oh gods,” you sobbed, raking your nails underneath his shirt and dragging red lines all along his back. Theodore hissed as you clawed at him, thrusting so hard that your teeth rattled every time he drove into you. “Fuck, it’s too much.” 

Theodore grabbed your chin harshly. “No, it’s not. You begged to be fucked, now take my cock like the perfect little whore I know that you are, yeah?”

You nodded. Words escaped you at the moment. The filth coming out of Theodore’s mouth aroused you in more ways than one. Who knew that the silent Slytherin fucked like a god?

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Theodore licked it away and chuckled as you whimpered. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Such pretty little sobs. Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward. You’ve been such a good girl for me and good girls get to cum.”

At that, Theodore rubbed your clit and pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic against your sensitive bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around him, making his hips stutter as the orgasm blindsided you. A scream echoed through the woods and it was only when Theodore covered your mouth when you realised that the sound had come from you. 

“Fuck,” Theodore cursed, dropping his forehead to yours. “Merda, I’m not gonna last much longer. Not when that pretty pussy of yours is milking me dry. Oh gods, I’m gonna cum—“

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as his body seized underneath you. Theodore bit into your flesh as he came, leaving a bruised purple mark on your collarbone. You had never seen anyone look as beautiful as he did when he lost control, lips parted, cheeks flushed, devil eyes rolling back as the orgasm thoroughly rocked him. 

The stillness that settled over the Forbidden Forest was almost eerie. The two of you looked at one another, dazed and confused as though you weren’t even sure who or where you were at the moment. Through all your romps, no one has ever put your body to the test like Theodore has. You could tell by his intense gaze that he likely felt the same. 

Theodore set you down gently. Compared to how rough he was a few moments ago, the contrast almost made you laugh. You heard the chime of the clock echo a beat later. 

Fuck. That only gave you a minute to sprint through the woods and make it back in time before the twins reached your clearing. You frantically re-tied your corset and straightened the skirts of your dress. Theodore was busy buckling his belt. 

“I have to go,” you said as you shrugged your robe back on. “I’ll see you around, Jack.”

“Wait, you never told me your name!” 

But Theodore was too late. You were already gone by the time he looked up. He sighed and started making his way back to the festivities. The last chime of the clock indicated that it was midnight. He could only hope that you’d gotten back in time. 

Theodore paused as something crunched underneath his feet. He peered down at the forest floor and found something golden peeking out amongst the leaves. With a smile, he picked up the golden mask. 

It looks like his mystery girl left him a clue after all. 

Theodore would find his Sally. 

He’d make sure of it. 

Theodore couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited to attend class. 

After the All Hallow’s Eve party, he’d done everything he could to dig up information on his mystery girl. Theodore had even gone as far as to interrogate the Weasley twins, but as usual, the redheaded menaces were unnecessarily difficult about it. 

“Sorry, mate, but we don’t reveal the identity of our actors and actresses,” George said with a shit-eating grin. 

Fred nodded in agreement. “Confidentiality and all that. We wouldn’t want to go around spilling trade secrets. It’s bad for business.”

The weasels stayed mum even after Theodore offered them a ridiculous amount of money to reveal his mystery girl’s identity. Unfortunately, his desperation only served to intrigue the twins and the sadistic little gits seemed to derive pleasure in seeing Theodore grow more and more frustrated. 

“Best of luck to you, Nott,” Fred said with a little smile. “If you do end up finding her, you’ll need all the fortune you can get. She’s a feisty thing, that one.” 

“I know,” Theodore said with a glare. “That’s exactly why I want to find her.”

George chuckled. “Godric bless your heart.”

If the twats weren’t his main weed suppliers, Theodore would’ve punched their teeth in. Despite Fred and George’s general uselessness, he was in a good mood when Monday rolled around. Equipped with the knowledge that his mystery girl was in one of his classes, he made sure to pay extra attention to every Gryffindor girl. It was only a matter of time before he found her. 

“You’re smiling,” Enzo commented as he caught up to Theodore in the courtyard. “What’s happened? Did my cousin fall down the moving stairs again?”

Theodore snorted. “Even better, Berkshire. I’m going to find my mystery girl today and you’re going to help me.”

“How?” 

“You’re friends with literally everyone. Someone has to know who she is.”

“Hmm, come to think of it Mattheo’s girlfriend is good friends with a lot of the Gryffindor girls. I bet she’d know who it is.” 

“Good, let’s start there. Where is Chloe anyways?” 

“Probably in the Great Hall with Mattheo.”

The two of them headed over to where the rest of the castle was currently having breakfast. Enzo made a beeline for their usual table where Mattheo, Blaise, and Draco were seated, but Thedore didn’t follow. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chloe seated with a girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Theodore was sure that you had Charms together. More than that, you were wearing a red and gold tie. A Gryffindor. 

Theodore inched closer, skirting around the edges to listen in on the conversation. 

“How was your weekend?” 

Theodore froze. He knew that voice. It was husky and seductive and sounded exactly like how his mystery girl had when she’d whispered in his ear. 

It was you. 

It had to be. 

“It was good,” Chloe responded with a grin. “Really good.” 

“Mattheo found you after all, then?” 

“He did and suffice to say he liked the second part of my costume more than the first.” 

You laughed in response. Chloe leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about you? You disappeared from the speakeasy, so I’m assuming I’m not the only one who had an eventful night.”

“It was fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

You flushed, biting your bottom lip. “It was the best lay of my life.” 

Theodore smirked. So it wasn’t just him, then. The sex had truly been something else entirely. He had been confident that you must’ve felt the same way in the moment, but doubt crept in since you’d run off so abruptly. Now he had confirmation and it was satisfying as hell to hear you say it. 

“There you are,” Enzo said from behind him. “I brought Mattheo, so we can ask Chloe about your mystery girl.”

“That little witch of yours really put a spell on you, huh, Nott?” Mattheo teased. “Let’s go, then. Maybe my girl can help.”

Chloe looked up and smiled as Mattheo leaned down to kiss her. You glanced up at the exact moment that Theodore came into view. He clocked the way your cheeks flushed as your gaze landed on him.

“You know my boyfriend,” Chloe said. You nodded at Mattheo who shot you a polite smile back. “That’s Enzo and Theo. Boys, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet the boys.” 

Theodore took your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Hello, Sally.” 

You smiled back in return. “Hello, Jack.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, immediately taking stock of the situation. Mattheo and Enzo were slower to catch on, but luckily she ushered the boys away. 

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” 

You tried not to laugh as Chloe winked behind Theodore’s back. 

“I found you.” 

“So it seems.” 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said as he pulled out the golden mask from his backpack. Theodore’s intense gaze swept over you, cataloguing your features. 

“You kept it,” you said with a small smile. 

“I would’ve returned it sooner if you hadn’t left in such a haste after we—“

“Fucked in the woods?” 

You were amused to find Theodore blushing. “I was going to say hooked up, but I suppose that’s another way to put it. Anyways, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even give me your name.”

“Didn’t really think you wanted me to stay.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been about to think about anything else since that night. You’ve taken over my thoughts. It’s fucking maddening.” Theodore caressed your cheek and tilted your chin so he could look at you better. “My mystery girl. You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” 

“Well, you have the real thing now. It’s your move, Jack.”

Theodore shook his head. “No, not Jack. Theo. That’s the name you’ll be screaming from now on. After I take you out on a proper date.”

You raised a brow. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

The devilish grin on his face sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really going to turn down the best lay of your life?” Your eyes widened, which made him smile even wider. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people. So, what do you say?” 

“Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late, Theo.” 

Theodore winked. “It’s a date, Y/N.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

[wndaswife]

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own. 

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers. 

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground. 

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence. 

Y/N — that was your name. 

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective. 

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic. 

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about. 

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base. 

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N. 

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too. 

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you. 

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you. 

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later. 

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly  thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party. 

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together. 

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd. 

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you. 

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you. 

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing. 

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern. 

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends. 

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out. 

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer. 

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to. 

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material. 

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team. 

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them. 

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless. 

But with you, it was different. 

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now. 

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain. 

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet. 

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon. 

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes. 

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony. 

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you. 

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now. 

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with. 

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside. 

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you. 

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you. 

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.” 

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone. 

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face. 

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong. 

She hoped she would never be right.

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

i love you , its ruining my life!! // lorenzo berkshire x fem hufflepuff reader

playlist : fortnight - taylor swift

summary : lorenzo berkshire is so completely infatuated with a girl in hufflepuff , its ruining his life!!

y/n used , hufflepuff reader , ttpd was amazing, fluff

a/n : im the queen of slytherin boys x hufflepuff reader lets be honest ,also fortnight is a sad song but i did a different take on it bc fluff is just better !! LMAO

masterlist tppd series masterlist

its been three months since the very first time lorenzo berkshire saw you in class. he had never seen you before despite your presence being a constant since 1st year, and to say you hadnt gone unseen since was an understatement.

lorenzo berkshire has found himself in nothing but trouble since his little crush on you first blossomed , the very first time he saw you , that fateful day in potions - he had lost 20 points for slytherin in one lesson. and the reasons for his points deduction was simple , he just couldnt focus.

you pushed your hair behind your ear , he dropped his ink pot onto the floor , the loud smash interrupting snapes monotone first lesson back speech.

five points.

you laughed at something your male seat partner said , lorenzo clenched his fist so hard that he snapped his quill as the ink and snapped up feather made a mess of his desk.

five points.

you spoke to lorenzos best friend , theodore , making him misplace an ingredient into his cauldron that caused it to explode back into draco -his seat partner and friends- face.

ten points.

to say his friends and whole house were infruriated with him after that ,was an understatment - enzo had gotten them into points debt on the very first day. thats never even been done before!

but they were even angrier with him a few weeks ago.

it was the day of the highly anticipated , very first, gryffindor vs slytherin match of the year - and enzo bottled it because he was looking at you in the stands.

who could blame him! you were stood in the stands wearing a slytherin scarf with the number 13 on your cheek in green face paint , his number!!

the amount of quaffles he failed to catch and goals he missed completely because of his focus being elsewhere , became too much to count by the end of the match. that slytherin lost by the way.

but even when draco screamed in his face and theodore pushed him into the changing rooms , his mind couldnt leave your happy face as you watched him - and only him.

the most recent incident was when he sat in an exam , not writing a single word because he couldnt stop thinking about how you smiled at him and said hello to him earlier that day. he tried to play it off as hufflepuff friendliness but the red tint in your cheeks and beaming smile blocked out any thought of doubt - and charms knowledge.

that charms test was the first fail he has ever gotten at hogwarts.

all because of you and your pretty stupid smile!

as he stared down at his paper a week later with a horified expression and a sympathetic pansy rubbing his back , he decided enough was enough , he needed to get this off his chest.

so later that day he now found himself sat in the great hall , staring at where you usually sit , except the spot was empty.

his leg bounced under the table as he played with his hands and tie , loosening and re-loosening it every two seconds.

"lorenzo please stop." pansy begged with her head in her hands , trying to will the sound of lorenzos tapping foot to become white noise.

snapping out of it he stopped all movement and looked down with a somber sigh , maybe something happened to you? maybe youre avoiding him? maybe you hate him? maybe youre not hungry?

"enzo chill mate shes just walked in." theodore said looking at something - or someone - by the enterance to the great hall.

without sparing a seond enzo stormed over to you , grabbing your hand softly and stopping your walk to the hufflepuff table.

"please come with me," enzo said as more of a command as you nodded with concern and followed him out the hall and to an empty corridor.

he stopped you so you were stood against the wall and began to pace.

after many seconds of silence you began to question why you were there ,"lorenz-"

"i love you, and its ruining my life!!" he said loudly , stopping in his tracks staring at you , not with anger but instead despiration.

he now stepped forward as you stepped back and hit the wall , "ive lost points , matches , i failed my test for the first time ever!.....please. please say no and let me move on."

you stared up at him in complete shock , "lorenzo you dont know me-"

"i do. oh trust me i do , i know you prefer cats and like muggle classics as well as poetry. your favourite colour is yellow but you dont really tell anyone as to not be called a stereotypical hufflepuff. and...i know theres things i dont know but there is nothing else on this planet i want to learn more about, than you."

you began to beam your signature smile up at him , bringing your arms to wrap around his neck as he melted under your touch, "i failed charms too."

it was his turned to now be confused , "but charms is your favourite?-"

"there was this really handsome guy sat in front of me who i just couldnt stop looking at. he was distracting me."

lorenzo expression fell as his heart broke slowly , "w-who?..."

you looked at him teasingly , "seriously? you enzo!"

he let out a gasp of realisation as you pulled him down towards you for a kiss.

lets just say since that day you both got straight As! but thats not to say enzo doesnt still like to admire in lesson.

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight pt 2 | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: you leave a surprise for carmen at work that lets him know he's been caught watching your content & the aftermath that follows. she/her pronouns used!

contents: perv!carmy, mentions of anxiety, mentions of filming sex tapes, dirty talk, fingering, hand job, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, doesn't pull out (sorry he's possessive idk what to say). he also has this lil god complex over your other subscribers

word count: 4,587k

author notes: i had to cut a lil out bc otherwise this was getting lllooonngg. thank you for all the love on part one & i hope you enjoy this one too!! <33

part one

Carmen wonders what you think of this mysterious new account that keeps donating to you. Sending you small gifts. It's nothing too large - He's not trying to put himself into debt by any means. But it is his way of cosmically balancing the scale of viewing your content without you knowing.

Sometimes he lets his mind wonder and entertains the idea of filming with you. Letting all these losers who sit alone at night watching you get a glimpse of how good he could treat you. Your knees over his shoulders as he folds you in half, harsh and rough strokes pounding in and out of you. Sometimes you get smart with him - It's the nature of the kitchen. He thinks about you in that position whenever you pop off with some snarky remark. Pinned under him, two fingers in your mouth. "Put that pretty mouth to use for me. There you go, Baby." His fingers sliding in further, causing you to gag around them but you reach up to hold his wrist in place to let you know you're good. 

He’d fuck you until you can’t think straight, a moaning mess against his fingers as you’re reduced to coming around his cock with no warning. Orgasm shaking through your body and Carmen would just keep fucking into your sensitive body until he can’t take it anymore.

This becomes his new morning routine. Waking up 20 minutes earlier than he really needs to because he just knows he’ll be hard from dreams of you. It’s a bit of an obsession at this point in all honesty but he can’t help himself. He pictures you laid out against his bed sheets, sleepy and grabbing at any inch of him that you can. You’d just be able to relax and get fucked well to start the morning, he’d do all the work for the two of you. 

Any mental space not occupied by the restaurant is fully dedicated to you. 

———★–————————–

Carmen’s barely awake when he walks into the restaurant. His eyes still feel so heavy and there's a level of exhaustion that he just can't seem to shake in his bones. He's grunting acknowledgment at the team, doing a double take as he catches you grinning wickedly at the board in front of you. There’s a familiar pang of jealousy - What’s got you so entertained this year? He scoffs at his imaginary man he’s made up that’s vying for your attention as he heads into the office to work on this week’s orders. 

Except he’s stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of lingerie he just sent you last week folded neatly in the center of the desk. His heart drops to the bottom pit of his stomach as he steps closer and sees a packing order next to the set - His name and address under the billing information circled in a bright neon pink Sharpie. Carmen knows for a fact that he double, triple checked that this was supposed to be a gift and for his information to be excluded so what the fuck happened? 

He’s throwing his jacket over the desk just in case someone walks in before he can take care of this situation but he’s got to get a handle on you first. He’s embarrassed at getting caught. Imagining you must think the worst of him. Trying to justify it by at least he was sending you stuff, right? Cotton boy shorts he thought you’d look so delicate in and lacy pieces of barely there bodysuits he wanted to rip apart and leave stained with his cum. 

He's storming over to you now, ignoring the way Richie called out his name to join him for a smoke break. You hear him mutter out a "Okay then, Cousin. I'll just go fuck myself." That Carmen doesn't even acknowledge. All his attention fully focused on you. His words are coming off harsh as his body tries to process all the different emotions coursing through his veins.

"We gotta fuckin' talk."

The words hang heavy in the air and you find yourself entertained with how assertive he’s being. 

“Why’s that?” You’re looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. There’s anxiety practically rolling off of Carmy’s body and you’re gonna get to soothing him in a minute but you’re letting him sweat it out first. You didn’t mind that he saw your videos but you were a little pissed he didn’t bring it up. Half because you could have been putting him knowing to use, half because it did feel a little taboo for your boss to be trying to anonymously send you lingerie. 

“Nah, don’t play that shit right now. You know why.” His voice is harsh but you know he’s not angry with you. You can smell the combination of cigarettes and spearmint gum on his tongue with how close he is. His cologne comes into the mix and it’s heavenly in all honesty. He’s embarrassed for getting caught, worried he’s gonna lose one of his best chefs, and worried he’s upset you. Someone’s yelling that they need Carmen to sign for a delivery and your time with him is coming to an end for now. 

Normally your hand never dips below his shoulders or the top of his chest. Always friendly, light touches. This time your hand comes up to rest flat against his heart and you can feel it quickly beating. “Carmy - Breathe.” Your eyes don’t leave his as your hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing along the soft cotton of his shirt. Stopping only once you can feel the dip of his hip. “We’re okay. Go handle your restaurant, I’ll talk with you tonight.” 

You pat the back of your hand against his hip he’s being called for again, feeling a little dizzy under the intensity of his stare. He’s still nervous, knuckles turning white as he keeps a death grip on the line. “Carmen Berzatto, you’re fine. We’re fine. I promise you, okay?” Finally taking pity on him you give a warm smile, stepping back and breaking eye contact. “Go sign for the clams before we have to change tonight’s special and Sydney kills us.”

———————–★–———

Everyone’s long gone by this point of the night. Tina tried to convince Carmen to go home and get some sleep about twenty minutes ago but he made some excuse about wanting to reorganize the walk-in before tomorrow’s service. Really he’s just counting down the minutes until the two of you are alone. You haven’t been able to talk today - Too many listening ears around for Carmen’s comfort. In your defense, you just minded your business and kept on top of your station. 

But God he can’t stop admiring you from across the room. There’s less shame to it now that you know. Still anxiety, yes. But your comforting earlier has him… Hopeful? Hopeful for what he’s not sure. 

You catch him staring at one point during dinner service, risking a glance around the kitchen and throwing him a wink before turning back to work and deliberately giving him a small shake of your ass. To anyone else it would probably look like you were just swaying mindlessly. Not to Carmen though. You’re teasing him and it’s working.

Tina’s finally shouting out goodbyes and Carmen’s eyes are trained on watching as you walk towards the office. Any pretend task he was doing is quickly forgotten as he intently follows you. He’s played this situation over in his head a dozen times, even burned himself on the cigarette he forgot he was holding earlier.

He finds you standing by the desk, running your fingers along the edge of it and grinning. “What happened to my present, Carmen?” 

“Chucked it in my locker. Couldn’t risk someone findin’ them, you know?” It’s embarrassing enough having to answer to you, he couldn’t imagine trying to explain to the staff (or God forbid his sister) why there’s lingerie with his name on the desk. Carmen’s face is overheated and his heart is pounding. For all the hours he’s spent fantasizing about you, he’s never really considered this conversation until today. Typically he skips right towards fucking you however you’ll let him. But now he’s stuck face to face and trying to figure out how to acknowledge his actions. 

"You know I, uh -..." He's sputtering out, trying to figure out just how to defend himself, "You're very, very pretty if that means anything. Fuckin' gorgeous, honestly."

"Did you get off watching me?"

There's no going back now.

"Yeah, I did."

You're grinning at him now, stepping closer and Carmen swears the temperature in the room just went up by ten degrees. He's got his eyes trained on your face for the second time tonight. Hunting out exactly how you're feeling. What he doesn't expect is to feel a feather light touch along the waistband of his pants, nails scratching along his skin as you slide two fingers under the fabric. "Did you think about fucking me? Or did you think about me getting on my knees for you more?"

Carmy's starting to wonder if this is real. Maybe another daydream? For the time being he decides to stay with it though. Trying with all his might to sound as confident as he's mentally done so many times having this part of conversation with you in his head before. "Fucking you. Always thought how much better I'd feel for you than those little toys you use. Sometimes -" He takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and trying to build up the confidence to keep this going. He's still not convinced he isn't in some sort of trouble with you. "Sometimes I'd watch you play with your clit. Watch you whine and just knew how badly you needed me to be there."

Your hand slides lower now, fingers pushing through the patch of hair at the base of his cock. Carmen's breathing stops at the touch and you can feel him getting hard under your touch. "Really?" You hum, flattening your hand out and running it down his length. His hips twitch involuntarily as you cup your hand over him, middle finger dragging along his tip. "I've thought about you too, you know? Sometimes you get so fucking pissed off during a rush. I think to myself 'God, he needs to take that anger out' and wonder if fucking me out back would help calm you down. Letting you use me. Sometimes I think you'd walk away after you finish but I know you'd never leave me there all needy and not taken care of, right Carmy?"

He's shaking his head, his heart pounding and he's pretty sure he has never breathed his hard in his life. Labored and uneven while his cock keeps getting hard under your hand. He wants to kiss you, drop to his knees and lick you until you forgive him or decide to take pity and let him fuck you. But instead he settles for showing his need by rocking his hips up against your hand, letting out a broken little groan. "Never would just leave you back there. All I wanna do is - fuck - treat you right. Every night I think about how pretty you must sound begging for me."

You wrap your hand around the base of Carmen's cock, giving him a pleased grin when he fucks himself into your dry fist instantly.

"Do you think you deserve my pussy, Carmy?"

Another jolt of his hips. "No, no I fucking don't."

You lean in, just barely ghosting your lips against his. Carmen has given up all control and allows himself to be fully at your mercy. Your hand pulls back from his cock, sliding out of his pants and he's whining. Shamelessly whining. You're kissing the corner of his mouth, lips traveling down his jaw while you make quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You grab ahold of his hand, sliding it down the front of your pants and into your underwear. Keeping his hand flat along yours, you use your fingers to navigate his. Rewarding him with a quiet moan right in his ear as the two of you press down against your clit. "I'm so wet for you, Carmy. Been thinking about what you must feel like ever since I caught you watching me." Your hips are rolling down against your hands as you come back up to face him again, bumping your noses together and rewarding him with another moan when Carmen's hand starts to move on its own. Two rough fingers sliding down from your clit to between your folds.

"C'mon, Chef. Want you to fuck me just like you've been dreaming about. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, hmm?"

Something deep in Camren finally snaps and he’s ready to fully earn your praise. One hand comes up to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a deep kiss while the other hand focuses on teasing your clit. His tongue is licking into your mouth at the same time one of his fingers begins to push into you and the combination of sensations is heavenly. You’re moaning into the kiss, both of your hands coming to wrap around his chest so you can begin pressing your fingers into the muscles of his toned back.

He doesn’t let up - Tongue sliding along yours and his fingers messaging the back of your neck while his other hand pulls out of you. You’re whining at the loss as Carmy pulls back, his fingers coming up to lips as he licks you off of them. “Been dreaming about what you taste like.” He looks sinful - Blue eyes staring into your soul as he follows his early fantasy and pops his fingers out of his mouth. Index finger tracing over your bottom lip until you take the hint and let your jaw fall open. Carmen’s fingers slipping in and weighing heavy against your tongue. “Dream about you begging me to come all over this pretty face.”

You start to rub your thighs together as the heat builds in your core, finding yourself getting more desperate as time goes on. Carmen drops to his knees, making quick work of pulling down your jeans and helping you step out of them. He’s making sure you're balanced once again before looking up to realize you’re wearing a pair of the underwear he sent you. Carmy smirks to himself, realizing he’s played right into your little game.

You want to make some cocky remark but suddenly his face is between your thighs and you lose all train of thought. His nose bumps along your covered clit before he licks a strip up the soaked fabric. “Can’t believe how fuckin’ wet you are.” Carmy reaches up to slide the panties down your thighs, taking his time and keeping his eyes looking up at you while he does. You watch as the pair is stuffed into his back pocket and he begins to place open mouth kisses along your inner thigh. Lips exploring closer and closer but always just far enough away from where you need him.

Your hand comes down to lace in his hair, the other one reaching over to try and steady your shaky legs by gripping onto the desk. “Carmy please.” You give his hair a little tug, unsure of his pain tolerance but you’re rewarded with a guttural groan coming from below you.

“Fuck - Pull my hair again.”

So you do, getting a better grip at the base and giving his hair a good pull. You direct his head closer to your center and Carmen lets you until he finds himself buried into your pussy. His tongue lapping over your folds and completing a circuit around your clit before going back down to the base of your hole. He’s moaning your name into you, his hands coming up to grab ahold of your ass. Helping you stay balanced while making sure you can’t get too far away from him.

He’s pretty sure if you say his name again he’s going to come in his pants so he’s putting in as much effort as he can to keep you distracted. Delivered a sharp smack to your ass at the same time he sucks onto your clit. He brings his other hand back between your thighs, tongue still working against your clit while he traces you with his bare fingers. 

There’s a finger being pushed into you and you tug on Carmen’s hair once again as he quickly pushes another in, dragging them both along your walls and all he can think is how good you’re going to feel wrapped around his cock. “S’good, Carmy. So fucking good. Jesus Christ.”

Your thighs are clamping around Carmy's head and both of your hands fly to grab a hold of his hair as you feel your orgasm start to build up in your stomach. “Shit! Carmen please!” He doesn’t let up, sucking at your clit while his fingers continue to curl inside of you. No one has been able to make you finish like this before and you’re a mess of gasps and moans and hips jerking involuntarily. 

It only takes another minute of him stretching you out and licking you up for your orgasm to hit. A mess of curses and cries falling from your lips as the sensation falls over you. Your legs instantly go weak and Carmen’s quick to grab a hold of your hips to keep you upright. 

He’s helping you hop onto the ledge of the desk with a reassuring little “Relax, I got you.” Your thighs are shaking, whole body vibrating and you’re keeping your thighs apart to avoid any pressure on your overstimulated clit. Carmen’s so proud of himself at the sight of you trying to recover. He’s between your knees, pressing down his work pants and his boxers before haphazardly kicking them across the floor. Your eyes drag along his chest, over his tattoos, along the length of him that’s thick and beautiful and ready to be buried inside of you. 

His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, grabbing ahold and pulling it over your head. Your bra follows suit next. Both of your clothing is covering the floor of the office and you can't help but giggle at the mess made in Carmen's otherwise prestigious space. He's letting out a hum of appreciation at the sight of your breasts. Cupping one in each hand and letting his thumb drag across your nipples. "Fuckin' gorgeous. Been wanting to do this for so long."

There's a mouth wrapped around your nipple now, Carmen making quick work of sucking at it. Flicking his tongue across the hard nub. He pulls back, blowing a stream of cool air against your wet skin before switching to your other breast and repeating the process. You get to sit there and savor the feeling, playing with his hair while Carmen takes his time exploring your breasts. When he thinks you're just blissed out enough, he kisses a path up to leave a small hickey onto your soft skin.

You notice, of course you do.

But you don't complain.

Carmen wonders if you'll let him mark you up before you film anymore content. Wonders how many men will realize they don't stand a chance with you anymore and that you belong to him already.

There's another nip being delivered to the skin of your breasts before he comes back up to give you a warm smile.

Carmen’s leaning in to grab ahold of your jaw, kissing you gently while you reach out to grab ahold of him and get rewarded with a moan. Rubbing your thumb across his tip to collect a bit of moisture and lazily jerk him off.  He’d be fine with this and nothing else for the rest of the night. Getting you off and finishing wherever you ask him to but he knows that won’t be enough for you. For now he enjoys exploring your mouth. Getting to taste you and he wonders if you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You scoot towards the edge of the desk and wrap your free arm around Carmen’s neck. You’re both so hot to the touch. Hearts beating fast, breathing uneven. Needy and unashamed how obsessed with the other you both are. His hands start rubbing up and down your thighs as he gives you a second to recover from your orgasm. He’s got you smiling against his lips as you kiss him, giving a playful nip to his bottom lip. You can’t decide if you want him to use you while you’re still riding the aftershocks or obsessed with how he’s letting you savor the moment. 

Once your thighs stop shaking you wrap them around Carmen’s waist, dragging his body closer to yours. He’s chuckling at you, firm hands sliding down to grab at your hips and your ass, whatever he can get a hold of first. “Wanna watch you put me in. You do so good at fucking yourself in your videos, Baby. Wanna see you tease yourself with me instead of those fucking toys.” 

You drag the tip of him through your folds, teasing the both of you. Carmy’s giving up every ounce of control in this moment, all given to you. “So big. You’re gonna make me feel so good, Chef.” There’s a sound coming from deep in his chest, “Use my name.” Oh. You nod the best you can while being so close to him, giving a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m so wet for you, Carmy.” 

You’re sliding the length of him between your folds again, tapping his head at your own clit before bringing him to settle right against your hole. Your hand comes around to press on his ass, directing him to push in. It’s hard to tell which sound is coming from who but soon the small office is filled with broken moans as he starts to stretch you out. 

His first stroke is slow, both of you adjusting to the sensation. He’s sinking in inch by inch, thinking of whatever bullshit nonsense he can to keep himself from instantly busting when he’s barely even inside of you. His brain is glitching, trying to hold onto this one time he walked in on Fak taking a bubble bath to keep his orgasm at bay but at the same time you’re moaning his name and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and his balls feel so heavy and heavenly resting against you as he bottoms out and - 

“Carmen please, please.” Right, focus. 

He’s kissing you once again before rolling his hips. There’s his strong arms wrapping around your torso to keep you in place and you feel so warm and safe and full. You decide maybe Carmy deserves a little more shit soon for not burying himself inside of you the second he found your channel. “Gonna take care of you, Honey. Feel’s so good huh? Been dreaming of you wrapped around my cock and it’s so much better than I could have imagined.”

You nod and feel your body going limp, leaning your head down to rest your forehead on his shoulder while he starts to fuck into you. Each time you press a warm, open mouth kiss to his neck his speed picks up. The lewd slapping sound of his cock sliding into your wet pussy combined with his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. He’s bumping his shoulder up against your head, “Look at me? I wanna see your pretty face.” 

It takes all the strength left in your body to pick your head back up, “So much better than when I do it myself, Carm. Needed you so bad, so fucking bad.” He grunts, rewarding your praise with a sharp jerk of his hips as he brings his hand down to toy with your still sensitive clit. Your head falls back at the sensation so Carmen brings his free hand to grab your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. “Eyes on me.” He wants to make some empty threat that he’ll stop fucking you if you look away again but he can’t even pretend to want to step away from this.

His thumb stays on your clit while we keeps fucking into you at a steady pace. His lips ghosting over yours as you both get closer to falling apart. “You can give me another, Baby. Wanna feel you come around me. You can do that for me, yeah? Wanna be good for me don’t you?” Your nails drag along his back and something about the hiss it draws from his lips and the way his pace sputters at the feeling. 

You’re a blubbering mess in all honesty. Any facade from your videos of being cool and collected is long gone as Carmen chases your orgasm. Just whimpering out his name and pleas to the best of your ability until there’s one fateful stroke combined with your clit being brushed against that has you coming undone. Nails dragging into his back and he keeps your head in place to watch as your orgasm plays over your features. 

Within seconds you feel him start to pull out of you, presumably for his own release. “Please, Carmy. Wanna feel you fill me up.” Remember how Carmen’s become more religious since he started falling for you? In this moment he truly thinks God made you special just for him. 

His lips are crashing into yours, sloppy kisses meant for nothing more than to convey need being shared until you feel his body go stiff. Hips jerking on instinct as he fills you deep with cum. One of the thrusts causes some of the liquid, a combination of the both of you, to push out around the base of his cock and he stores that feeling for later. “Fuck you feel so good like this.” 

Carmen’s sensitive and getting soft but he can’t help a few more thrusts into your sloppy pussy. Savoring the way he’s been able to claim you as his. There’s a stray thought that he really does want to film with you one night, keep the camera steady on your pretty body as he defiled it.

He stays buried in you, not quite ready to pull out. Carmen’s analyzing your features from this close - The curve of your nose, how well your lashes frame your eyes, the sleepy little content smile on your lips. He’s fascinated by you. The feeling is mutual as you trace over his tattoos, rolling your shoulders back to help relax your body. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, both just soaking the other in. You finally look up from his chest to give him a sheepish girl, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. “So - Better than what you imagined?” 

Carmen’s laughing, the sound rumbling through his chest and warming up your heart. He looks lighter than he did when he confronted you this morning, a sparkle in his eye even. “Holy fuck, so much better.” You get another kiss from him after the admission, his hands coming down to grip at your ass. “Let's get you cleaned up and I’m bringing you back to my place for the night, yeah?” 

It’s your turn to grin, nodding enthusiastically and giving his bicep a squeeze. “Yes, Chef.”

[minhosimthings]

Sample Session || 18+

Synopsis: In which you ask your boyfriend for a semen sample

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader, non idol au

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (not for you at all) masturbation (male), spit as lubricant, praise, degradation, swearing, rough dom Sunghoon, sub!reader, reader wears pink lingerie, boob fixation, dirty talk eyyy, collecting semen in that tube because we medical students, mentions of Yunjin from Le Sserafim and Gaeul from IVE

A/N: this is my submission for @deluluriddhi's 500+ followers event which you can find here! Had a shit ton of fun writing this though so here you go babies!

Being a doctor has its advantages.

You get to help people, you get a shit ton of money (student debt sucks but hey), you get a hot boyfriend, you can correctly pronounce and know the meaning of choledocholithiasis.

Did I mention hot boyfriend?

Park Sunghoon. Possibly the hottest and the only surgeon-in-training you'd ever want to have inside of you all day long.

Of course the walls still speak of the times he railed you in the room where they kept the crp training dolls, but we don't speak about that anymore.

But one of the greatest advantages of having a Park Sunghoon, as you soon found out, was that he proved useful in a quest.

For a particularly awkward thing.

"Sperm samples?" Yunjin gasped, almost spilling her coffee on you, "we have to collect sperm samples?"

"For the last time, yes." Gaeul groaned, massaging her temples, Yunjin had been asking the same thing since the past hour.

"How on earth are we going to get semen samples?" Yunjin asked, turning to you for some reason.

"Alright ladies, time to seduce some men." Gaeul laughed, sipping her frappuccino.

"Y/N already seduced one." Yunjin groaned, deflating her body onto the table, "Hey, get some for us too will you?"

"Number 1, we need to have different samples, and number two how the hell am I gonna ask him?" You quizzed the girls, who looked dumbfounded.

"Maybe..you know." Yunjin began, and you realised she had the same face on as she did whenever she saw the extremely phallic design of the law building at your college, "Just do the oogey-boogey with him."

Gaeul's frappucino can spit out her nose, as she cackled loudly, garnering the attention of many people in the cafe.

"The oogey-boogey YUNJIN WHAT?" Gauel kept laughing, holding her stomach tightly, "Is that your way of saying that Y/N needs to seduce Sunghoon into somehow giving her his semen?" She said, when her laughter died down.

"Absolutely not!" You protested. The idea of seducing your boyfriend was...nice to think of but to actually have a practical session? You would have rather jumped off a cliff.

"Just ask him today, we have a holiday tomorrow, so incase the oogey-boogey indeed does oogey-boogey you have semen! Simple."

Gaeul's frappucino was subjected to being ejected out of her nose again, as she rolled over in fits of laughter.

This wasn't you.

This definetly wasn't you, Sunghoon thought.

His mind was racing at a hundred kilometres per the second, and his bag full of pastries for you was abandoned on the floor as soon as he saw what lay in front of him.

A reward for his hard work today? The thought of what he had done to deserve you was running a lap through his brain. You, in your pretty pink lace, with white trimmings, and pearls on your neck, the ones he bought you of course.

"Well hello there, gorgeous." He said, grabbing your waist in his arms, as he always did when he got back home. But this time, with a different purpose.

"All dressed up for me today?" He quizzed you, placing a kiss at the nape of your neck. It was pathetic how much the simple action made your hole so wet.

Sunghoon toyed with the pretty pink lace of your bra, kissing up and down your collarbone. God had you changed your perfume? It seemed so intoxicating to him. Your hands came to rest on his shoulder, as you nibbled the tip of his ear a bit, which made his dick throb inside his pants.

"Come on." He mumbled through his kisses, lifting you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist, which you did promptly.

The one thing that Sunghoon would have never expected was the various medical equipment that lay on your bed.

"Y/N." He glanced at you suspiciously, putting you down on your feet, "what's all this?"

You awkwardly cleared your throat and rushed over to the bed, picking up a tiny test tube and shoving it in your boyfriend's hands.

"Alright so I have an assignment and I need your help." You said, a bit more seriously than you had wanted to.

"Do you need me to get you pregnant or something?" Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darkening, "Cause I won't say no."

"Actually it's not that."

"Then what is it, princess?"

"Canihaveyoursemensampleplease." You mumbled, or more properly, to say, rapped.

"Y/N, proper sentences please?"

Sighing heavily to yourself, you gulped and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon again, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his pink lips.

"I need a semen sample for an assignment." You mumbled into his ear, albeit a but louder this time. Sunghoon smirked into your neck.

"That's it?" He asked, a cocky smile spreading on his face. His baby, needs a sample from him? He thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Yeah...it's fine if you say no though!" You panicked, looking at him with widened eyes. But Sunghoon only chuckled again and raised your chin to his level with his finger.

"How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?" He said, guiding you over to the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Sunghoon settled in nicely between the sheets, while you awkwardly sat at the edge, handing the tube to him.

"Don't want to join me baby?" Sunghoon asked, taking off his belt and his trousers, and pulling you in for a sudden kiss, by grabbing your face with his hands.

"You're a medical student too Hoon, you know I can't." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Alright, but do me a favour. Hold the tube in place for me will you?" He handed the tube back to you, and you bit your lip. Holding it in place. In other words, bending over to make Hoon see your cleavage.

"If that's what'll get you off, then fine." You grumbled, although your panties were getting wetter by the second at the idea.

Sunghoon leaned against the bedframe, relaxing into the sheets, holding his throbbing cock with one hand. He began to jerk off hard, his hand rising to the tip of the cock, where more fat drops of precum accumulate, feeling the alcohol of your perfume take over the body,

"that what you want, princess?” he spits on his cock and starts jerking off again while he speaks his hand doesn't stop, slow movements, up and down as if he wanted to feel the familiar sensation of your walls clenched around him. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, at the sight of seeing your tits, lined perfectly in your lingerie. The sight of it made him go mental.

His hand never abandons his cock, squeezing, going up and down without losing rhythm. Sunghoon began to feel signs of orgasm so he reduced the speed of his hand, waiting for what will come next.

Sunghoon thinks while squeezing his cock tightly, holding by the base his fingers massage the balls, he climbs his hand slowly and passes his thumb over the head of the cock dripping precum, spreading and with his eyes glazed, little moans escaping his lips. Sunghoon sits more centered on the bed, drops of sweat run down his hair, dripping and turning a trail around his neck, chest and belly, his body is so sensitive to touch that the drops of water seem to scratch while the sheets seem to hug him.

"Fuck—im close." He whimpered, eyes rolling back as the knot in his stomach broke and the next moment, his hand was drenched in cum, and you were holding a test tube filled with what you needed.

"Shit" Sunghoon fell back on the bed, while you happily inserted the semen into your carrier so that it stayed safe. You crawled promptly into the bed with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you so much Hoonie, I had no idea how I was going to get the-"

"What about my payment princess?" Sunghoon's whispered growl in your ear left you crumbling.

His touch left your skin burning in desire for more and before you could even catch a breath his hands grabbed your legs and you find yourself wrapped around his waist. Your hair was soft between his fingers and as he gently pulled it, you let out a little groan. 

"Hoonie–" you whimpered, feeling a blush creep up to your cheeks.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

Holding your waist firmly, Sunghoon flipped you over onto the bed with a rough thump, making you moan at the very sensation of his biceps touching your body.

"So wet for me already?" Sunghoon chuckled, removing your panties slowly, "You're so adorable."

"Shut up." You groaned, feeling embarrased again, "Hoonie, we ran out of condoms, maybe we should-"

"You're on birth control right?" Sunghoon pressed a kiss to your neck, making you mewl when his tip slightly touched your pussy, "You're not leaving this bed until the sheets are either drenched or until you've fainted."

His voice was rough as he lined himself up with your entrance as you panted in anticipation, fingers digging into his back when he finally entered you, moaning deeply at the feeling of your walls starting to clench around him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Sunghoon fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praises.

Discomposed, his voice thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Sunghoon rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs.

“That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned ass in quick succession.

 “Can’t you handle it, baby?” Sunghoon looked at you with pity, "Is it too much for your pathetic pussy?"

“I can-fuck, I can—handle it.” you whimpered. You clearly, could not handle it.

His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

"Hoon-I—ah FUCK!"

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

That unlocked something inside of him. While he still held you, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could reach, he slammed into you, forcing your small body to jerk in his arms with each thrust. He grunted and moaned, nearly panting, as he crammed himself inside of you.

It doesn’t take long for your next orgasm to build up, releasing it with a silent cry as you unintentionally dig your fingers into Sunghoon's back causing him to groan in your ear in pleasure. He keeps his thrusts consistent as you begin to leak around his cock and onto the blanket beneath you. There’s no doubt you’ll have to change the bedding later. 

All you could do was bury your head in his chest until with one more thrust, he pushed into you, unloading pump after pump of cum. Afterwards, he slumped down, slowly dragging his cock out of your stuffed cunt, leaving you empty and internally screaming at the intoxication of the burn.

"Shit-" Sunghoon plopped down on the bed, next to you. Both of your chests rose and fell in unison, as you managed to steeply catch your breath.

A moment of calm silence arose before-

"Does your professor need any more sampler or...?" Sunghoon asked, eliciting a laugh out of you.

"Nope, just the one." You chuckled at his unseriousness as he pulled you in for cuddles.

"You're changing the sheets this time Hoon."

"Damn it."

Bonus

"So you did the oogey-boogey with him?"

"Yunjin!"

[shrimpin-aint-easy]

Good afternoon my shrimping friends

I have fallen on really really really difficult times. I lost my job on august 16th, and despite being on my way out due to an extremely toxic and emotionally abusive work environment, I was hoping to get something lined up first. I legally can’t talk go into details right now, but I can say that a coworker who had it out for me for some unknown fucking reason threw me under the bus and effectively ruined my life, as well as putting my family in debt in over $30k in attorney fees. We’ve had to take out credit cards and I am beyond thankful my dad has good credit or we’d be royally screwed. I have been nothing but nice to her in the year and a half I’ve worked there, bringing her food and random little gifts that made me think of her. I can’t wrap my mind around how someone could be so conniving and fucked up to stab me in the back the way she did, I did NOT deserve any of this. She knew I am in a bad place mentally and financially, yet still chose to do what she did. I will hopefully be able to elaborate more in the near future. I have a court date coming up on the 6th, so we will see.

I have my car insurance due at the end of the month, but my phone bill is due now and it’s already on a payment schedule pushed out as far as i could make it. I’ve been doing survey apps to make a couple of dollars, it’s better than absolutely nothing. This has been the absolute worst year, it’s progressively gotten worse with each month. I’m so deeply depressed and I have never felt more worthless and alone in my life. But I’m trying so hard to remain hopeful. I have two job interviews this Wednesday, please wish me the utmost luck. If anyone has any suggestions to make a few dollars in the meantime please let me know.

Im writing this because im pathetically requesting if anyone is able to throw some change my way, I would be so forever grateful. I am no way expecting anywhere close to my surmounting legal fees but any little bit that I can put towards food, general necessities, my medication for the month, pet food, gas, etc. I plan to find another job before the end of the month but I’m absolutely desperate now.

I have a ko-fi, shrimpinainteasy

Cshapp - $metacat4

Vnmo- @sara-parkour

If you are unable to donate anything, I completely understand, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this. If you guys could share this, I’d deeply appreciate that just as much.

I’d be happy to provide any proof of whatever, I don’t even know, im sorry, my brain is mush. I’m so overwhelmed beyond words.

Again I’m really REALLY sorry to ask. Im so unbelievably desperate and so far in this hole of depression and financial debt, I don’t even know where to begin besides trying to keep my phone from turning off and staying on the road legally so I can find another job. I really wanted to refrain from begging for money online, but I need help so bad.

[wileys-russo]

in the blink of an eye (3) II a.putellas

part one part two

in the blink of an eye (3) II a.putellas

"alexia?"

your eyes almost fell out of your head in shock at the bewildered looking blonde stood at your front door.

you shouldn't have been surprised she remembered your old apartment given this is where the two of you first set down roots.

the place itself had been owned by your sister, rented out to you for next to nothing while you were drowning in student debt.

you'd kicked and fought and argued with natalia to charge you what she would a proper tenant, determined not to be a burden and take the handout, but your sister forever stubborn had dug her heels in and refused.

you owed a lot to natalia.

the two of you were always thick as thieves despite the fact she was five years older, if anything that just meant you idolized her more.

you had always looked up to her, wanted to follow in her footsteps and make something of yourself just like she did.

your sister had been drawn to helping others since she was a child, performing practice 'surgeries' on dolls and toys, giving CPR to your teddys and tending to and bandaging up every little scrape, bump, bruise or paper cut you'd had without a second thought.

which given your track record of being unable to sit still, instead found climbing trees, riding cardboard down hills and racing your bike everywhere without a helmet on, were not exactly few and far between.

right out of high school natalia had already been accepted into university on an early entry offer, and with impeccable grades and a resume of volunteering and community work near 4 pages long, it was to nobodys surprise.

she'd studied to be a paramedic, also with those same genes of being unable to sit still the thought of being stuck in a hospital all day long was not on the cards for her.

she'd met her husband on her first week of university, and you were the first person she told after he kissed her goodbye on the first date, something natalia never did.

you'd teased her for the way her cheeks flushed pink and she stumbled over her words, giggling like a school girl and giddy with delight it was a stark contrast to her normally rational and stern demeanor.

so maybe you'd known he was the one for her before she did.

you were her maid of honour at their wedding two years later, and alexia had been your date, in fact that was the first time the poor girl had been subjected to meeting your extended family and you'd been so nervous you downed half a bottle of champagne before even leaving for the ceremony itself.

you owed a lot to your sister.

she was, even if you refused to ever tell her so, a huge factor in why you'd pursued law so fiercely.

you could have dropped down to a part time degree to ease the mental load it took on you, but determined to show everyone that whatever she could do you could too, you pushed on.

you would make something of yourself and make her proud of you.

only now, now it was a shame you hadn't finished that degree. you hadn't graduated.

when you left barcelona for madrid you’d dropped down to a part time degree, doubling the time it would take to finish, choosing to fill your time wallowing in your own self pity party.

when your mami’s health had started to decline you’d missed exams, seminars, your first set of placement hours.

you’d fallen behind, the mountain you needed to climb to catch up growing bigger by the day as did the mental load that stretching yourself so thin between home and heart took on you.

so you’d deferred, pushed it right to the back of your mind which was already a mess with everything going on, not unlike that one drawer in everyone’s house where all the crap you never use goes, abandoned and lost but still there, somewhere.

and now you were back living under natalias roof, her handout. and even though you knew it wasn't true and that natalia was always proud of you no matter what, your sister now wouldn't ever be there to tell you so herself.

when you and alexia broke up you withdrew from everything, from everyone. you retreated inside the four walls of your own mind because with those up nobody could get in to hurt you again.

out of a cocktail of both guilt, fear and pain you pushed everyone away, fled to madrid and started over by yourself, changed universities, transferred your degree and started part time and rented a tiny little shoebox above a bar that thumped and pulsed and kept you up all night.

but you didn't care, didn't reach out for help when things went from bad to worse, because if nobody was close then not only could you spare yourself more pain but it meant you couldn't hurt anyone again.

like you knew you'd hurt alexia.

your sister had tried to pull you out of that shell, pushing on forward despite how many barriers you put up to try and slow her down. because thats not who natalia was, giving up when things got hard was not what she did.

but then she'd fallen pregnant and your mami’s health dropped and just like after that date all those years ago you were the first person she called, seven times before you finally picked up to be exact, and finding out the news began to change things.

your icy outer shell began to melt away. you'd come back home for holidays and birthdays, and then for weekends, and then just because.

when mariposa was born you saw a whole new side to your sister. she'd always been one of the most empathetic and caring human beings, and natalia was the best sister you could have asked for, however, natalia was made to be a mother.

your own mami was shocked at how easily she adapted, days on end without sleep seeming to not phase her as routines were cemented and bonds formed, and posie had been drowned with love and affection from the moment she entered the world as natalias daughter.

but now, now she was gone.

you wished you'd called her more, told her how much she meant to you instead of just assuming she knew, told her you loved her, how proud you were of her.

your sisters job as a paramedic had been to save lives, and yet within seconds her own was gone and there wasn't a single thing anyone could do about it, and that feeling of helplessness, it had broken you.

but your life and your feelings and your grief didn't matter anymore. your sister has entrusted you from the moment mariposa was born to be not only her tia

"alexia?" you repeated yourself as she looked like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, guilt in her eyes and mouth slightly agape ready to hurry out an excuse about why she was doing what she was, calves tense like she was ready to bolt in the other direction at the drop of a hat.

only really, alexia had no excuse, had no words.

at the sight of you up close and personal, a real living breathing person and not merely a haunted figment of her imagination, after it had been so long the girls mouth ran dry and her head drained like a bathtub of any and all logical thought.

"eh...hola?" the blonde managed out, jolting slightly as there was an ear piercing scream behind you and you moved to push the door closed a little more, clearly sheltering away whatever was going on behind you.

"hola." you replied back in shock, both of you just looking one another up and down, until the crying behind you grew louder and you seemed to snap out of the haze which had befallen you in your ex girlfriends presence.

"alexia i- lo siento now is really not a good time." you cringed as posie screamed again and there was a clatter where she threw her cup across the room, having an absolute meltdown over the fact you'd refused to let her have a chocolate muffin for dinner instead of the chicken and rice you'd cooked.

as much as you did struggle to say no to her and you really wanted to give her everything she wanted and more, you also knew part of your role as her guardian was to make sure she was eating right and staying healthy.

plus the three year old was already long overdue a nap, her normal schedule thrown off with the mid afternoon meeting with ana, and you knew if you pumped her full of sugar she'd not go down and the rest of the day would be a nightmare.

"i-no lo siento i should have told you i was coming. well i mean i could not have but i just saw you today and i do not have your number and i just-well i-" alexia struggled to string together a sentence and an ever so slight glimpse of a smile made its way to your lips.

"-and here you are." you finished it for her as the catalan blushed slightly and nodded. “lucky guess.” you forced a smile, and at the rosy pink flush tinting her tanned skin you had a strange feeling settle in your stomach.

it wasn't something new, but it wasn't something exactly all that familiar. it felt like someone was trying to tie up all your innards into a balloon animal, twisting and pinching and tugging at parts that felt both foreign and peculiar.

you couldn't quite make heads or tails of it but the one thing that was obvious was the cause of all these strange new feelings, was alexia.

though just like before you were yanked out of your haze by the sound of something smashing, head ducking around the door to see your niece had managed to kick away the top of her high chair and was stood up and screaming now.

"oye, vuelve a sentarte!" you yelled to her as she screamed and wailed unhappily, tiny face glowing red as you began to worry she might pass out as the colour in her cheeks grew brighter by the second.

"te odio tía! te odio!" posie screamed and your heart broke to see her so distraught and not know the right way to deal with it. however so focused on the girl you missed the twelve different emotions which flashed across your ex's face as she was sure she'd misheard what was going on inside.

tía?

"i-dame un minuto." you excused yourself quickly, the door closing back in alexias face before she could even process her thoughts let alone say a single syllable.

"mariposa. i am trying my best here nena! por favor you need to eat real food." you begged, grabbing her under the arms and trying to sit her back down though the moment you touched her she began to thrash and kick and yell.

"posie-" you grunted as her foot dug into your stomach and exhaled shakily trying to keep your head as calm as you could. but when nothing you said or tried worked, and with still finding your comfort ability with discipline, you went for plan b.

giving her what she wanted, rewarding her bad behaviour. but you were a bleeding heart on your worst days and when she started to cry for her mami, you crumbled.

"vale! you can have the muffin posie just stop crying and screaming! and we do not kick and hit people!" you yelled, the girl falling silent for a moment as you exhaled when she rag dolled and went limp in your arms.

but it would seem you let your guard down too soon.

you hissed and almost dropped her as her little teeth sank into the flesh of your hand, grunting in pain and placing her down on the floor where she stomped her foot and her eyes welled back up with tears.

"bebita-" you inhaled sharply and squatted down to her height, lowering the volume of your voice and readying yourself to soothe her.

but it was too late, the damage was done and with another yell that she hated you she took off, little feet thumping against the floorboards and you winced as her door slammed.

and people thought only teenagers did that.

you knew what your sister would do, which was to not even have gotten into this situation in the first place.

mariposa had been a near perfect baby, hardly ever crying, hardly ever throwing a tantrum.

of course there were times she would become grizzly or overtired or upset, but natalia always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, she always knew exactly what everyone else needed from her.

but you, you were clueless.

you knew rationally what you should do, go after her and check in on the three year old who'd just locked herself in her room in a fit of emotional turmoil.

but selfishly just needing a minute for yourself you sank to the floor with your forehead pressed against your palms, blocking out everything and everyone for just a brief moment of reprise, a glimpse of delusion that this wasn't your reality now.

if you stopped for just a second you could convince yourself you were simply babysitting.

natalia and her husband were off having some well earned alone time together, a date perhaps they'd have called it because your sister was always telling you that just because you got married not to let the romance or the spontaneity of the relationship die off for a routine.

but you never did get married, you couldn't even handle an engagement. and you weren't babysitting, your sister wasn't away on a date, she was never coming back, and you needed to swallow that pill and stop deluding yourself.

so with a deep inhale through your nose and a shaky exhale from your mouth, you pushed yourself up to your feet and forcing them one in front of the other made your way through the carnage of your apartment and toward posie's room.

thankfully it didn't have a lock, however you struggled to open it, hitting it lightly with your shoulder as something was clearly blocking it.

finally wiggling it open enough for your body to slide through you realized it was your nieces blanket, and your heart broke at the sight of her toys and bedding all flung around the room.

because though you could stop and take a moment and process your thoughts and emotions, the reality was that mariposa was three years old and didn't quite yet that ability.

you supposed it was your responsibility now to provide an environment where she learned, and where you set a good example.

great job you were doing of that so far.

you were drowning and struggling to tread water enough just to keep your head from going under all together.

"oh mi amorcito." you sighed quietly, your stomach twisting with guilt seeing your niece had clearly exhausted herself, slumped down in the corner buried in a small mountain of her softer toys with her favorite teddy clutched in a death grip to her chest, thumb of her other hand jammed in her mouth and passed out asleep.

quickly hurrying to re-make her bed you very gently picked her up, not even breathing as you feared you'd wake her, but she slept on soundly as you carefully tucked her into bed, resisting the urge to just lay down with her and hold her so tightly, and to never let go.

kissing her forehead you brushed her hair out of her face, just staring at her for a moment in adoration.

up close she really looked so much like your sister, her mami.

the downward slope of her little button nose, the dimples in the corner of her mouth where she smiled, the little cowlicks in her fringe.

materialistic objects aside, mariposa was really all that you had left to tether you to natalia. your sister clearly trusted you even if you couldn’t work out for the life of you why, and you knew that even if you couldn’t see her anymore, that she was looking down on you and on her daughter.

and you’d never been so determined in your whole entire life, not to let her down.

with a soft smile you tucked her in a little tighter and slowly backed out of the room, leaving the door just ajar and exhaling a deep breath you’d not even realised you were holding.

then as you stared at the semi destroyed living room, food and toys and parts of the high chair flung all across the room, it clicked.

alexia.

“hijo de puta!” you cursed in realization, hurrying back to the front door and tugging it open, not surprised but maybe just a little disappointed to find not a soul in sight.

then again it has been easily a half hour since you slammed the door in her face, perhaps even more. had she really even been there in the first place?

given the lack of sleep you were currently navigating, delusions and apparitions certainly weren't off the table.

with a sigh and what seemed like the millionth shake of your head just that day, you softly closed and relocked the front door, rubbing your temples to soothe the splitting headache you felt coming on before it had even arrived.

you wanted nothing more than to sleep. to simply curl up into a tiny little ball under the covers, creating a little cocoon just like when you couldn’t have been any older than posie. just holding yourself and sleeping until all of this went away, or perhaps until they invented a time machine.

but you now had responsibilities and needs and a little human that relied on you that were far far more important than any of your own, and you’d be damned if you let a single other bad thing happen to that little girl, or to taint the legacy of your sister which mariposa held in her tiny little fists.

so with a nod and shifting your mindset you set off, picking things up and placing them back where they belonged, trying to create even a false sense of organisation and like you absolutely knew what you were doing.

however you were interrupted before you even had much of a chance to begin, knocks sounding at the door as you had an armful of toys and frowned in confusion.

you prayed to every god you knew that it wasn’t ana with a surprise drop in, but normally off the record she let you know when she was coming.

though having learned how the system worked from your time in law school you knew that if someone found out it would mean a change of caseworker.

and you couldn't afford mistakes like that, you would make this work, you had to.

dropping the armful of toys in the little basket where they normally lived you hurried to the door, flicking the deadbolt off and peering out the little peephole, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at who looked right back at you.

"alexia?" you repeated yet again, the blonde stood back in front of the door with a paper bag tucked under her arm and a tray of two coffees in hand, rubbing the back of her neck with an odd look on her face.

"oye, you uh you seemed like you may need this." the girl smiled awkwardly holding up the trays of coffee and you almost threw up that after all of these years she still remembered how you liked yours.

always iced, two sugars, oat milk.

in a different time there would be a teasing remark on her rosy pink lips about how she never understood no matter the weather it was always an iced coffee, your strange aversion to warm beverages of all kinds forever amusing to her.

you almost lay in wait for her to hold the tray above her head, tap her lips with her free hand and demand a kiss in thanks before she'd hand over the caffeine held hostage.

many a time you'd been far too grumpy and simply tried to tackle it out of her grasp, not in the mood for her games but that usually just resulted in her effortlessly holding you off with a smug little smirk.

or ever so occasionally...the two of you would end up on the floor and doused with coffee, a pause of silence before one of you would crack and laugh, holding your stomachs as you'd just laugh. and laugh, and laugh and laugh, until eventually you'd both roll into one anothers arms, giggling and exchanging words between the meeting of your lips. words which were normally poking fun at your impatience.

you wondered if she had found someone else to laugh with now.

"i-gracias." you exhaled with a slight smile, subtly pinching your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt to make sure you weren't having some sort of sleep deprived manic episode and conjuring her up in your mind.

because subconsciously you don't think she ever left, not really, and it wasn't for a lack of trying to kick her out of your memories and your head on your behalf, that was for certain.

"do you...want to come in?" you winced at how forced it sounded, a flicker of insecurity and doubt in the footballers eyes for a second.

"maybe this was a mistake. lo siento i just saw you and-" alexia struggled to string her words together, cursing inwardly for how tongue tied you still had her.

if the girl was really really honest with herself, you still had her wrapped right around your little finger.

"-and here you are." you finished for her once more, alexias stomach flipping at the soft smile sent her way. "you came all the way here, you brought coffee. please, come in." you spoke a little more sure of yourself this time, opening the door a little more and moving aside.

"you are sure?" alexia questioned, hovering right in the door way. "no, are you?" you rebutted as she opened and closed her mouth before shaking her head and returning your smile, stepping inside.

"i do get dibs on whatever is in that bag though." you joked with another small smile as she placed the coffees down on the kitchen counter and you locked the door again, trying to bait yourself into a false sense of security that this wasn't a terrible idea, and a bizaree one at that.

only as you turned back around you realised the state your apartment was actually still in, the same fog from before having hazed your mind in the presence of your ex.

"oh dios mio. uh just give me a second!" you blushed with embarrassment and rushed around, shoving things away and kicking them into corners, desperately trying to pull the cover back over the hot mess express your life really was.

"no no alexia por favor you do not need to-" you begged as you noticed alexia had grabbed some paper towel and started to clean the table where the remains of posie's lunch had been flung across it.

but a firm look from the older girl stopped you in your tracks and you knew better than to try and argue with her, mumbling a quiet thank you as a silence fell between the pair of you.

it wasn't exactly comfortable, but it certainly wasn't as tense as you'd have thought as you finally put away the last of the things scattered across the living room, well as best as you could anyway.

"lo siento i do not mean to-it has been a day." you admitted with a small sigh, accepting the coffee alexia held out to you as the pair of you took a seat at the table across from one another, purposefully avoiding making any actual eye contact.

"so, how are you?" you broke first, swallowing your mouthful of coffee and stirring it absentmindedly. "bien, y tú?" alexia answered as you nodded. "bien, bien."

"really?" "really?"

at your shared thought you both looked up and blushed as your eyes met, a small smile curling into your lips as you sipped on your coffee. "i mean it has been a long time ale." you admitted as the footballer hummed.

"almost four years."

"look alexia you heard the screaming, and you saw me at the cafe. i am sure you have questions, just ask them." you encouraged, the girl feeling your eyes burn a hole in her forehead.

"she is very cute, the nena." alexia started, still scrambling to try and piece together any logical thoughts as her heartbeat pounded in her ears like a freight train.

"mariposa, but we call her posie." you smiled, glancing behind you to the bedroom where you knew she was soundly asleep. "she is not always that loud either." you attempted to joke, wincing at the painful awkwardness of your delivery.

"is she yours?" alexia blurted out, her mouth and her brain missing a step in which they communicated about what the other was doing, a short bark of laughter leaving your lips at her forwardness.

"no, she's natalia's." you answered and alexia couldn't even begin to describe the odd sense of relief which flooded her body. "oh i did not-the woman you were with, i thought-" alexia's brain finally kicked in at that point and she clamped her mouth shut again.

"you thought?" you tried to coax the rest of the sentence out to her but it would appear under lock and key as alexia shook her head with a polite smile. “nothing, sin importar.”

“you thought she was mine.” you realized a split second later, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. the blush which returned right to the catalans cheeks across the table from you all the confirmation you needed.

"you thought ana-oh no, no no." you shook your head firmly, not missing the ever so slight flash of relief which flickered through alexia's eyes like a lightning strike, there one second and gone the next.

"there is a lot to explain." you sighed, dragging your hands down your face tiredly. "you do not have to, por favor i did not come here to interrogate you." alexia promised, hand starting to just inch toward yours before she stopped herself, immediately shoving it down into her lap with a frown.

"i want to." you pushed a little firmer as you caught your exes eye and she paused before nodding. "where to even start?" you laughed humourlessly, running a hand through your hair and looking off across the room.

"the woman i was with, her name is ana, she is a social worker with child services." you began after a moment. "she is in charge of the...well the investigation, into if i am the best full time carer for mariposa." you continued, alexia listening attentively to your every word.

"natalia-" you squeezed your eyes shut, looking up to the roof and as she suddenly put the pieces together alexia's heart shattered.

"oh. no por favor you do not need to-" "está bien." you quipped shortly as alexia fell silent again and you took a very deep breath.

" they went to the movies, out for dinner, a normal night. i was home for the weekend and i babysat posie, to give them some time together." you continued, swallowing the sob which sat poised and ready to strike.

"they were driving home-" you paused and exhaled shakily, looking back up to the roof as tears brimmed your eyes and you quickly wiped them away.

"there was a man who was very drunk, he was driving, fell asleep at the wheel and swerved into the other lane where a truck was coming." you inhaled sharply as you felt a sharp stab to your side.

"the truck also swerved, lost control and went into the other lane and...and drove right into them. they were both killed on impact." you forced out, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on your breathing.

you weren't sure how long that horrible silence lasted, but alexia didn't even trust herself enough to breathe, worried of what you might think and ignoring every urge she had to climb across the table and take you into her arms.

"when mariposa was born, i was named as not just her tía but also her godmother. natalia's husband, he has no family around. my mami, she is too old and her arthritis is too bad to look after herself let alone a child." you revealed, steadying yourself slightly now as you glanced up and chanced a look to your ex.

"so posie lives with me now. but it is all temporary until we have family court and i can legally adopt her, which is why child services is involved, why i was meeting with ana, why i moved back here. barcelona is all posie has ever known, where natalia....was. i will not rip her away from what little anchors she has just for me. and i will not see her live with strangers. i will not fail her, i will not fail natalia." you whispered, swallowing with a determined nod that alexia matched.

"please do not say you are sorry. i-i have had enough of the pity alexia, of the sympathy. por favor i cannot take any more!" you cut her off before she even began, the apology dying in the older girls mouth as her features softened and she nodded.

another silence fell, suffocating and awkward, as alexia wracked her brain for where to go next, what to say next.

"can i, can i say something?" alexia asked hesitantly as you nodded this time, finger tracing circles against the cool plastic of the coffee cup in your hand.

a habit which had alexia practically feel the ghost of your touch across the back of her hand, the place where your fingers used to absentmindedly touch and poke and trace when you were anxious.

"i know it has been years but, i owe you an apology." alexia swallowed the hardened lump in her throat, nearing the edge of the cliff of her comfort ability, ready to dive headfirst into what was likely going to be a very awkward conversation.

"i should not have pushed you, about the engagement. i should not have left that night. i should have waited, listened, i was selfish. i would like to say i was just young and hurt but...i would be lying if i said i have not regretted it for many many years." alexia forced out, pushing the straw around her cup as her eyes were trained down to the tabletop.

"oh alexia." you sighed out, a pained smile on your face and a storm cloud of emotion brewing behind the surface of your features, only visible through your eyes which alexia looked up and found herself lost in.

"i should have listened to you, heard you out. you do not need to be sorry, you were ready to take that next step and, and well i think i was just scared of what that meant. overwhelmed and nervous, but i should known it only came from a place of love, of your love for me." you admitted, both of you falling quiet as you just stared at one another, the longing look you gave one another maybe saying more than any words could.

"i still love you." oh alexia could have kicked herself in the head at that, the words tumbling out from her lips before she could clamp them shut, the panic which flooded your face having her wish the floor would suddenly swallow her up.

"ale-"

"oh dios mio, lo siento mucho! i just-i just meant i still have love, for you?" alexia tried rapidly to backpedal, but any attempts she made would be just as useful as trying to shove back the toothpaste of her words back into the tiny tiny tube of her mind.

"alexia. i do not think you have ever really left my mind but-" you paused to sigh deeply, sinking down into your chair as you carefully thought out your next words.

"-but my life is a mess right now ale, un desastre. i can barely care for myself, meet my needs. everything i have needs to go to posie and making sure she stays with me and has the best life possible it is the least i can do for natalia and-" you were shocked into silence as a hand reached out, a slender finger wiping the tear which threatened to fall from the corner of your eye, one you hadn't even felt coming but alexia saw long before it appeared.

your skin tingled at her touch and her thumb ever so lightly traced the curve of your jaw before her arm was pulled back and she gave you a small smile and a nod of understanding.

"i know, you do not need to explain yourself to me." alexia promised, still nodding as you found yourself joining her, jolting slightly at the scrape of her chair against the floorboards and you hurried to stand as well.

you watched as her eyes flickered around the room for a moment, landing on the paper bag of pastries which was now likely cold and still untouched.

her head turned again and she grabbed the whiteboard marker off your fridge, tearing off a section of the bag and scribbling something down.

as she moved again your feet followed with a mind of their own to the door where alexia now hovered, fist clenched tightly around the small scrap of brown paper in her palm.

"i know you, and i know that you are struggling with this. and i know that you would rather send yourself under and push mariposa up to float. but there are life rings you can reach out for, help that there is no shame in taking." alexia spoke firmly but not unkindly as you quickly used the back of your hand to wipe away another tear which threatened to fall.

"i will always have love for you. and if you need a friend, i am always here. if you need help, i will always be there. please do not drown yourself for the sake of your pride amor, you need to look after yourself to be able to look after posie, sí?" you found yourself nodding at her words, feeling her slip the piece of paper into your hand from her own.

"so take care of yourself, if not for anyone then for her, and for your hermana. natalia would be so proud of you, no matter what. she chose you, she knew posie would be best in your care. she chose you! you could never let her down." alexia's voice dropped to barely above a whisper as all you could do was nod and within seconds you were melting into her tight embrace.

"please look after yourself, call me if you need me, en cualquier momento." her lips softly kissed your cheek, lingering there for a moment with one final squeeze of your smaller form against hers, and then you blinked, and she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

did i say this would only have three parts? yes.

did i lie? …yes.

[artemiszy]

PRETTY THINGS | Gyutaro X Reader

Gyutaro x Oiran!Reader

"When an angel appears in the life of a boy who has been hurt his whole life."

WARNING. Violence, blood, minor character death, open ending. FEMALE READER

Gyutaro was an ugly child, from a young age he was able to recognize this. His sick mother who constantly tried to kill him before he could even leave her womb because he was an ugly child; the way citizens in the streets looked away in disgust in his presence and some threw stones at him because he was an ugly child.

And ugly children never have a good place in this world.

However, this could still be used to one's advantage. He began to use his appearance to mess with people, and he enjoyed seeing them afraid.

But he still recognized that he was an ugly child.

He still knew that no one but his little sister would look kindly on him; with pacience; and much less with love. And he had already accepted, everything was fine, he could continue surviving as a debt collector with attempts to at least be able to make Ume have something close to a dignified life.

If only they had been born into a higher hierarchy, maybe people wouldn't care that he was so despicable.

During another of his countless attempts to find something to survive, Gyutaro was once again mistreated. He received a black eye from a vendor who accused him of stealing eggs, something that was confirmed when the adult man shook the boy in poor condition and from his tattered kimono fell one of the eggs, which broke upon contact with the floor.

There were women in the distance laughing at the boy who, despite being beaten, would not release the eggs at all. It was his and Ume's dinner! They hadn't eaten in days!

— "Now... I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little shit!" — The furious man raised his fist again.

Falling to the ground, Gyutaro just waited for the next blow, something he was already used to, it wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

But the next blow never came, instead he heard a voice.

— "Stop this!"

It was a soft and peaceful voice, despite being loud, something that caught the attention of the salesman who stopped beating the boy. When he looked at the owner of the voice, Gyutaro's mind stopped, seeing a girl as beautiful and charming as the jewels that he would never be able to even touch. She was the same age as Gyutaro, her silky (h/c) hair was loose and she wore a simple light lilac colored kimono.

— "Stop this!" — The girl walked towards them with firm (e/c) eyes. — "Look at his condition!"

— "He stole from me! That's what this little shit deserves!" — The salesman growled. — "Go away if you don't want to get beaten too!"

The young girl's eyes went over Gyutaro, who was on the floor panting with blood running down his nose, she seemed to understand his situation when analyzing his appearance. He was poor and those eggs could be a necessity to survive.

— "If that's so..." — She sighed and removed a bag from inside the sleeve of her kimono. — "They're just eggs... that should be enough." — She took two coins from the bag and threw them to the man.

— "Huh?!" — The man raised his eyebrow, grabbing the coins. — "What you—"

— "There's your payment! Now go away." — The girl looked at the adult angrily.

Without saying anything else, the man growled softly and just accepted the payment, leaving in silence. Gyutaro quickly looked at the eggs stored inside his kimono and they were still intact, he sighed with relief knowing that he wouldn't need to eat insects again to survive.

— "Everything is fine?" — One of the girl's hands reached out to him.

Her hands were delicate and small, having a great contrast when compared to Gyutaro's calloused and dirty hands.

He felt a little remorseful about holding the girl's hand in front of him, as if he would contaminate her. She was beautiful, god, she was so beautiful. Why was a pretty child like her worrying about an ugly child like him?

— "I... I can get up by myself..." — Gyutaro murmured, getting up with a little difficulty.

Gyutaro felt surprised when the girl's hands grabbed one of his arms to help him get up.

— "Why are you helping me?" — He held himself back so as not to appear so aggressive. — "Do you want something in return by any chance?" — He clicked his tongue. — "I can't give anything back...!"

— "Hm?" — Her big (e/c) eyes blinked. — "I don't want anything in return."

— "Then why did you help me?" — Gyutaro closed his fist tightly. — "I... I don't need charity!"

— "That man was hurting you a lot and intended to hurt you even more." — She replied, seriously. — "You couldn't find any means of survival with your broken limbs, don't you think?"

Gyutaro stopped for a moment, she was right.

— "Your lack of response only proves me right."

Seeing that he had no choice, he let out a sigh. — "Thank you..." — He lowered his head. — "I really didn't want my little sister to go hungry another night..."

The mention of his little sister seems to have surprised the girl. She quickly removed the small bag from before again and took out about six coins, placing them in Gyutaro's palm.

— "Use it to buy food." — She said, leaving Gyutaro surprised again.

— "Huh?!" — He widened his eyes. — "Why are you still helping me? If you want something, just say it at once!"

The girl snorted. — "I already answered you, I don't want anything in return!" — She clicked her tongue. — "You seem like the type of person who isn't used to acts of kindness."

She was right.

In silence, Gyutaro nodded.

The girl's face seemed sad but she looked at him kindly. A look he had never received before from anyone other than his sister.

She continued. — "My name is (Name)."

— "...Gyutaro."

— "I hope to see you around, Gyutaro-kun." — (Name) smiled and left waving.

Gyutaro remained in the same place, motionless and in complete silence, watching the beautiful girl's silhouette disappear from his sight. He put the coins in a pocket of his kimono and then looked back in the direction in which (Name) disappeared.

He wished he could see her again.

(...)

— "(Name)!" — A woman with a chubby face threw huge fabrics of different colors and prints on top of the girl. — "Clean it up!"

The girl just bowed and went to the back garden of the pleasure house so she could clean the kimono fabrics. Being an oiran's apprentice, she still had a lot to learn, and cleaning for her 'older sister' under the order of the lady of the house was one of them.

(Name) never bothered about it, except when Aimi-oiran yelled at her because of delays or other trivial matters that the apprentice never cared much to hear about.

One of those brief moments of reverie was when (Name) felt something not very hard hitting the back of her head as she rubbed the fabrics inside the bucket of water.

That is, at that exact moment.

(Name)'s eyes narrowed and she removed what hit her from the top of her head, seeing a small bag of coins. Still with the object in hand, the girl stood up and looked back over her shoulder, seeing Aimi-oiran standing under the engawa corridor, staring at the younger girl with a serious expression.

— "Stop what you're doing and go buy food!" — Demanded the oiran.

Aimi-oiran was wearing a pretty kimono, even though she was disheveled and it was still daylight. (Name) just nodded with a small bow and let another apprentice in the house finish her work with the sheets.

Outside, the district was busy as always, and (Name) was careful not to be robbed at that time of day.

The girl walked calmly towards the place where she knew she sold what Aimi-oiran liked to eat, looking around and having some glimpses of what was happening in the district during that moment; some sellers shouting, people talking and even fighting. There was also smoke from something that smelled good coming from somewhere.

In a more isolated area of ​​the district, where there were few people. (Name) caught the eye of a little girl not so far away, who seemed to flinch and look away quickly when she noticed the oiran apprentice saw her.

The little girl had white hair and blue eyes, wearing a tattered light pink kimono. She looked at the boy next to her who had his back to (Name) and started to pull his arm and say something.

What (Name) could hear because the girl didn't seem discreet at all.

— "Onii-chan, look! Is that the girl you talked about?" — The little girl shook her brother's arm as if she wanted to get his attention as quickly as possible.

— "Huh?" — The boy looked confused and looked over his shoulder at (Name), less than a second later he turned his full attention to his sister. — "UME!" — He shouted in a whisper, trying to silence his sister. — "Be quiet...!!!"

— "But look!" — The girl, Ume, got excited and pointed at (Name). — "She has the same beautiful (e/c) eyes you described!"

(Name) felt confused for a moment but was surprised when she realized that she knew that boy.

— "Huh? Gyutaro, is that you?" — She approached.

Gyutaro seemed to stiffen. Beside him, Ume perked up even more.

— "Are you (Name)?" — Ume practically jumped in front of her with an excited smile. — "Onii-chan couldn't stop talking about you!"

— "Ume!" — Gyutaro turned around with teeth grinding. — "I already told you to be quiet!"

— "He kept saying how a pretty girl appeared like an angel and— HMMF!"

Ume's speech was cut off when Gyutaro covered her mouth with one of his hands. Then looking at (Name) with his typical dead fish eyes, but he seemed pleasant when looking at the girl in front of him.

— "My bad..." — He said, Ume struggling furiously to take his hand away from her mouth, but to no avail. — "Sometimes my little sister can be a little silly..."

— "It's been a few weeks since we've seen each other." — (Name) gave a pleasant laugh. — "So... this is your little sister?"

Ume finally managed to take Gyutaro's hand away from her mouth, and looked at (Name) with an excited face.

— "I'm Ume! When onii-chan talked about you, I really got excited!"

— "You are adorable." — (Name) smiled and passed her hand on the top of Ume's head, who let out a happy laugh.

Gyutaro seemed happy to see the two together.

— "You are very beautiful! Are you an oiran?" — Ume asked.

— "Actually, I'm training to be one. Maybe next year I'll become one."

— "Cool!" — Ume became even more excited. — "I'm going to be one too, you know? Everyone says I'm very beautiful!"

— "Oh yes, you are." — (Name) nodded with a gentle smile on her face. — "Maybe you'll be my kamuro one day."

(Name)'s words seemed to cheer Ume up even more.

— "I liked her, onii-chan!" — Ume started shaking Gyutaro's arm once again while pointing at (Name). — "I liked her!"

— "Okay, okay, Ume!" — Gyutaro grumbled. — "I liked her too." — He accidentally let go, and the moment he turned away with a grunt, but his little sister could notice the blush on his face.

— "Onii-chan!" — The little girl's eyes widened and she laughed happily. — "You are in love?!"

— "What?! No! Ume, be quiet before I shove rocks in your mouth!"

But Ume just laughed, which caused soft giggles from (Name) as well.

(...)

As the months passed, Gyutaro would secretly show up to visit (Name), sometimes bringing Ume with him. Sometimes they would sneak out in the dead of night to wander the streets of the districts and get some interesting things, like enough coins to play at festivals.

Even after they both reached adolescence and (Name) finally became an oiran, which made access to her even more difficult. But even so, Gyutaro kept going to see her.

And during one fateful night, Gyutaro smelled blood while climbing outside to (Name)'s room.

Upon jumping into the room and putting his feet on the tatami, Gyutaro felt extremely uneasy when he didn't see (Name) just a faint light coming from the other side of the fusuma door. Cautiously, he followed, inwardly fearing what he might find.

The boy didn't feel surprised or scared when he saw a man's corpse sprawled on the mat with a pool of blood pooling in it. The guy appeared to be middle-aged and had a knife stuck in his throat, along with an expression of horror on his face, despite being already dead. Gyutaro had seen dead bodies all his life, one more wouldn't make a difference. But he still felt extremely uneasy when he saw a dead body in (Name)'s room.

With her back to the corpse and also to Gyutaro, closer to the wall, (Name) gently brushed her lips red in front of a mirror.

— "...(Name)?" — Gyutaro called her.

She took a while to respond, but when her voice came, she put the brush down on the table and spoke softly.

— "It's over."

— "What's over?" — Gyutaro approached, and noticed how (Name)'s bloody hand was shaking, despite her calm posture.

— "I killed this man. They will find out soon."

Gyutaro let out a tired sigh and bent down in front of (Name), making her turn towards him. — "Tell me what happened."

— "This man... he wanted to marry me." — (Name) informed.

Gyutaro felt relieved that the bastard was dead.

She continued. — "But... it got worse every night. He kept coming back and coming back, it was scaring me..." — She practically spat. — "And then... he tried to take me by force, when I refused once again."

— "(Name)..." — Gyutaro brushed away the strands of hair stuck to the girl's forehead, who was sweating coldly as she stared blankly at the corpse behind the boy. — "Why didn't you tell me? I could have dealt with this bastard on the streets!" — He grumbled.

(Name) let out a melancholic sigh. — "It wouldn't work... he was a samurai. I didn't want to put you in danger. But it's too late now. They'll come soon and discover the body, and I'll be killed for my crime."

Gyutaro's eyes widened in fierce fury.

— "That won't happen!" — He grabbed (Name)'s hands.

— "It's nothing to do!" — The oiran whimpered. — "Get out of here while there's still time. Bad things will happen to you if they find you here!"

But Gyutaro didn't move, instead, he pressed (Name)'s bloody hands against his own chest and walked closer, his gaze becoming determined, as if he had spent his entire life preparing to utter the words he was about to say. .

— "Then come with me."

(Name)'s wet eyes widened with furrowed eyebrows and a confused look on her face.

— "...Huh?"

— "Run away with me." — Gyutaro asked once again. — "Let's get out of here and never come back. With the money I got from collecting debts and you from your job as a courtesan, we could get out of here. Me, you and Ume."

(Name) remained silent, staring at Gyutaro without a certain expression for him to identify, perhaps just surprise.

— "(Name)... I love you." — Gyutaro finally let go, holding the girl's hands even more firmly against his chest. — "I love you and I have loved you since the day you appeared like an angel in my life, everyone has always judged me but not you. There is nothing I love more in this world than you and my sister, you two are everything to me. And that's why I I need to tell you this, even though you might not feel the same way."

Gyutaro considered himself ugly and repulsive, his whole life he was judged by other damned people and treated not even worthy of pity.

He expected (Name) to rip her hands out of his, slap him, and then scream and accuse him of killing that man. However, Gyutaro was surprised when that girl's delicate, blood-stained hands grabbed his face on either side and pulled him into a kiss.

A kiss that seems to have lasted an eternity, and Gyutaro would stay in it for another eternity if he could.

When the two separated, (Name) ran the thumb of her left hand across Gyutaro's cheekbone, wiping away a single, solitary tear that fell from his eye. The boy not even caring about the blood on his face.

Gyutaro stood up, holding the same hand that (Name) used to wipe away his tear.

— "I'll go down first, when I'm down there, you jump and I'll hold you, okay?"

This had been in my drafts for over a year, so why not?

[entitled-fangirl]

I hate you.

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!reader

Summary: the reader and the prince hate each other so much, they might just love each other.

Warnings: makeout session, choking, talks of death, brief talk of sex, Aemond is his own warning

Masterlist

...............................................................

When Rheanyra was still believed to be the heir to the throne, Cregan Stark sent his only sister to become the betrothed to Prince Aemond. 

But both the Prince and the Flower of the North were too headstrong for their own good. 

Like the North, she was gruff and determined. She held the characteristics of her brother in the way she carried herself. 

Now, Aemond was a cold man.

But luckily she was used to the cold. 

They made things work, as most unhappy couples do. Perform marital acts, be strong leaders for the nation. 

Until the day King Viserys died and Aegon took the throne. 

For the small crack that divided the two, it had quickly become a ravine. 

She stood for the North. The oath her father made to Rheanyra. Wherever her people went, so did she. 

And Aemond would not move from his brother's side. 

It made things difficult. 

But nothing had separated them more than this. 

…

"What have you done?" She asked, standing from the chair with her book long abandoned. 

Aemond stood in the doorway of their chambers. He cocked his head to the side with a furrowed brow and a calm voice, "Whatever do you mean?"

Her nostrils flared, "You left to speak to the Baratheons. You return. It is a long journey. Vhagar has not been fed in days." She took a step forward, "Why not?"

"I do not believe it is of your concern what my dragon does. Since when have you cared so deeply for her?" He calmly asked to change the subject.

She let out a breath, "You've done something."

"Do calm yourself, my lady."

"Do not tell me what I must do, my Prince." She muttered with a clenched jaw. 

He studied her and let out a soft hum, "Wolves don't hunt alone, and yet here you are."

Her brow furrowed, "Because you've kept me in the dark."

"You may be in this castle, but your loyalty is far from the greens."

"Your loyalty remains to your brother," she reminded him. "As does mine to my own."

His eyebrows raise and he lets out another hum, "I suppose you're not wrong."

"So, tell me what you did?"

He let out a sigh. His pushed his shoulders back and his stature become more like a soldier at the reminder of his actions. "Vhagar has been fed."

She felt her eyes water, "Who?"

His lips pulled into a smile, "It is no matter." His hands came up to his eyepatch, pulling it off and holding it in his hand, "The debt has been paid back in full."

She stared at the patch in his hand, but her mind was running with questions that she knew he would not answer. 

Finally, her voice was a quiet whisper, "You're a monster."

His head cocked at her and an amused grin pulled at his lips, "I am only a man."

"What. Have. You. Done?" She asked again. 

He doesn't respond verbally. His eye narrows on her with his grin.

She huffs and pushes past him to leave. 

He chuckles lowly, "Did I say we were done speaking?"

She pauses mid-step with her back to him, "I did not think you had to. You do not continue to talk when you're done speaking, do you?" She turned to look at him slowly, "By your lack of answers to my questions, I do believe you haven't truly even begun to speak to me. So, yes. I do believe we're done speaking, my prince."

"And where do you intent to flee to?" He asked amused. 

"Somewhere I may find the answers I am lacking."

He took slow steps to her, "What better place than at the source?" He gestured to himself.

She let out a soft chuckle, "I do believe that perhaps I was wrong earlier."

He began to near her, a mere foot distancing them. "How so?"

Her lips pulled into a smile, "You're not a monster, are you?" She closed the distance between them and her voice softened, "You're just a boy."

His eye flashed with anger and his hand grabbed her throat. He merely held her there, not squeezing but a reminder of the power he held over her. 

She let out an initial gasp, but her smile only grew, "Have I angered the dragon?"

"And here I thought the wolves of the north were cold. No," he mused, "You're quite full of fire."

She held her head higher in pride, giving him more access to her neck.

"And you will be full of fire when this dragon is done with you," He nearly growled. 

She huffed, "If you weren't my prince husband-"

"-Then what?" He asked amused. 

"I'd blacken your fucking eye." She threatened. 

Aemond's eye flickered from her eyes to her lips before crashing his lips onto hers. 

She grunted from surprise, but soon responded. One hand moved to the hand on her throat, the other to the back of Aemond's neck. 

He smirked in the kiss, and wrapped his free hand around her, pulling her flush against his chest. 

She pulled at the hair at the back of his neck, and he let out a groan. 

She barely pulled away with a whispered pant against his lips, "I hate you."

"I know you do, darling," he whispered back. 

His hands quickly began to tug at the laces of her dress. 

Her hands pulled at his tunic. 

And the two hated each other all night.

..............................................................

[gremlingottoosilly]

Mafia!Konig X Sex Worker/Prostitute!Reader pretending like she's constantly not there at the brothel whenever she hears him coming

You aced the art of hiding from him. Unfortunately, Konig is still the most paid client at your brothel and, at some point, even a fine establishment like yours, will stop listening to your wishes and finally push you in his hands. The manager might be a bit disappointed that such an elite prostitute is gone from this line of work forever, but at least they would lose Konig as a client - and with this guy, he always brings in more trouble than money. Although he has paid three times more than your debt already. You were trying to avoid him, but everyone else at the brothel was ratting you out - no one wants to deal with an angry mafia boss when his favorite girl is not around, and especially not when he thinks that she is with another client. He paid for you to be blocked from any other guy - as much as you hated it, since the manager didn't pay you even half of what Konig gave. You're a bird inside a fabric-padded cage, and Konig is your silent observer, waiting for you to finally break and ask him to get you out of this place. Maybe, it won't be so bad. Yeah, he'd clip your wings and make you stay by his side at all times - but he would also pay you more than any of the assholish clients you had. Maybe your freedom was cheaper than you thought it is. Konig always pays for the whole night, always drags you out of the place - it's usually not in the policy, with how careful the place treats its best dolls, but he can pay upfront and make a week of your payments in just a few hours. He never stays for the whole night, however -- too busy, you guess, never staying too long after he fucked you once or twice. He pays for the whole night and let you stay at the fancy hotel room he got for the two of you, with breakfast service in bed included. On good days, you can almost pretend to be a spoiled princess who has servants at her beck and call. On bad days, you feel like a sacrifice for some unruly god of war. Spread open on his bed and then fed grass-fed cuts of beef and some expensive grapes. You feel stuffed during those days - both figuratively and literally. Sometimes you really wish he'd stay - but the most he gives you is a quick hug, desperately clinging to your body before his mind catches up to him and tells him to stay away.

[naeverse]

Lapdog

🐩staring: NerdMiguel x QueenBee Reader

💗 preview: “Damn, sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter chuckled, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter, which only made your smile broaden.

“It does…doesn't it?

🌸Summary: You, Queen Bee, have been desiring a little assistant for a while—someone who can fetch you things, do your work, assist you in any way possible, and just make life much easier. However, after witnessing a surprising occurrence with one of the lamest students on campus, Miguel O'Hara, you believe you've found just that, and maybe something even better...

💗rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🐩tw/cw. Blackmail, Caught in the act, College AU,  Demeaning, Desperation, Dirty talk, Dominance, Handjob, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Ownership, Public Masturbation, Power Differences, Praising, Public, Sex toys, Vibrator, etc…

🌸Word count: 9k

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

Small, quiet whimpers escaped the lips of the burly man to your left. His head lowered in an attempt to hide as he diligently tackled your college work. His large, left hand trembled while he solved long math equations, expressions, logarithms, and whatever else the packet held. You shifted your gaze from the four-eyed male to two others seated at your booth.

Peter B. Parker, the captain of the football team and the golden boy of the school, sat across from you, alongside his girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, or MJ, who was the editor of the college newspaper. They cuddled up against each other, with MJ on his chest and his arm wrapped around her.

The two were considered your "friends" at the university, forming the famous clique that instilled fear and envy in the entire student body. However, between the adored football jock and the news girl, you, on the other hand, were a much bigger deal. 

Everyone knew your name, and if they didn't, you were seen as an utter disgrace due to your cluelessness.

You were known as the university's queen bee.

Everyone loved or hated you; you didn't care. Any attention was welcome. You were the leader of the notorious sorority house of baddies, with a rich family that could drop and sue anyone with the drop of a hat. You could control the student body in masses with just a word, and had everyone, even the staff, wrapped around your pretty, manicured finger. 

Whatever you said went, and don't you fucking dare think otherwise; you'd be an idiot to challenge the queen. Having the ability to turn any person into a complete nobody, withering away in debts and charges, kept everyone in their place.

But you wouldn't exactly say Peter and MJ were your friends, just students at college who possessed a certain kind of power that was highly useful to have in your corner.

Peter and his kind, sweet persona solidified bonds with other universities and the dean themselves. He was the face of your campus and was hella popular.

MJ headed the media, and whatever she said or wrote in the newspaper or the college blog was believed by everyone on campus, even if it was false.

Not that anyone would know...

Peter, MJ, and you were at the top of the food chain at your university; no one else mattered and was worth the time.

So why the hell was this lowlife sitting at your booth?

Miguel O'Hara, known as the nerdiest of the nerds on your college campus, sat beside you at your usual booth in Mama's diner, your clique's hangout spot.

To be fair, you didn't classify Miguel as such; more of a loner because he didn't look like a nerd. His body was covered in bulging muscles that contrasted greatly with his quiet persona. He had a towering height that rose above most of the football team, and he got attention from girls.

Or, well...

Girls gave him attention, not like the guy minded them.

He kept to himself, always having his nose stuck in a book. To make him even more of a dork, he worked at the school library. Due to his elusive nature and  how hard he was to categorize, the loner had gained a distasteful reputation; many students on campus hated him as a result. 

Was he a jock due to his bulging muscles, a bad boy due to his mysteriousness and constant desire for solitude, or was he a nerd for always being found reading, and whenever he spoke, only intellectual things came out?

He was a tricky case.

And not one you cared about until today…

You never would have paid the introverted male any attention if it weren't for you, this morning, stumbling into the library in search of someone to do your homework. Instead of finding a lowlife in waiting, you found something much better…

You found Miguel in his office, located at the far back of the library, moaning and jerking off under his desk. To make matters worse, AirPods adorned his ears, blocking out any awareness of your presence. You even leaned over his shoulder to discover that he was clearly watching porn.

He was definitely an amateur...

But a needy little thing he was...

The sight before you was an honest gold mine, something that would be perfect for MJ to post on the school blog as you captured a video of the surprising occurrence.

It was hard to fathom how much his reputation, if he had one, would plummet once the entire school got a look at this. But then, being the cunning queen you were, you had a better idea for that video…

You decided to use it as a means to have an around-the-clock assistant that would come running at your every beck and call, at any given time. It was a great idea, especially with the lowlife not being unpleasant to the eyes. 

So now here he was, being a good little puppy for you and doing your homework, except...

It didn't seem like your associates were too pleased with your puppy’s presence.

You met Peter's gaze, his amber eyes furrowed in confusion as he glanced from you to the muscular loner and back again. "Okay, why the hell is he here?" he finally asked after a while of just staring at the two of you. A smirk spread across your lips at his question. "I believe you have eyes, Peter. He's doing my homework," you simply said with a sly grin, continuing your subtle movements under the table, which only made the geek clench his pencil even more.

Peter and MJ recognized that look on you, that sneaky smile you wore whenever you were up to no good. But this time, they couldn't quite put a finger on what it was and how it involved the four-eyed freak.

MJ looked between you and Miguel as well, her cherry lips pursing. "Why here, though?" she asked, her head still resting against Peter's chest. "Most of the time when we meet at Mama's diner, we gossip, we talk about deep stuff. We can't do that with him here," she acknowledged, motioning to Miguel in the corner, who seemed very focused on solving a long ass math problem.

You couldn't help but look over at him as well, taking in the sight of his heavy breathing and faintly red cheeks, before looking back at your associates, who still wore expressions of confusion and discomfort. You huffed, giving them a fake pout. “Come on, Miguel won't utter a single word to anyone...

Now, would you?”

You asked, turning to look at the large Latino, his amber orbs covered with a pair of black eyeglasses as he remained silent, adamantly trying to avoid eye contact. You scowled, giving him a tight squeeze, followed by a deep stroke making him jolt. His eyes briefly rolled, his mouth stammering, trying to find his words. “No… I won't.” He said so low and deep you had to lean in to hear him.

You could visibly see him struggling, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried painstakingly to control his breathing. You grinned, watching him return to work on your math packet like a good little puppy. “See? He can be trusted.” You explained with a smile, continuing your tantalizing play on the nerd, which only made the Latino male suck in a breath and grip his pencil tighter.

You swore you thought the wooden tool would snap in two any second now…

“Fine, but what made you want to bring him of all people?” Peter asked next, turning your gaze onto him. “He holds no power at our Uni. He’s useless to us.” He said with a chuckle, running his fingers through his girlfriend's red hair. You chuckled at his belief that the four-eyed male was ‘useless’; 

Currently, he was everything but…

“You know how much I wanted my own little assistant for some time.” You replied with a smirk, tracing Miguel under the table, feeling your fingers begin to become further coated in his essence. “As in someone who can fetch me things, do my work,

Satisfy my every need…”

You abruptly squeezed Miguel once more, a sudden audible groan passing his lips, gaining everyone's attention. Peter and MJ glanced over at Miguel with raised eyebrows before just brushing it off as the geek having one of his weird moments. 

Subtly, you shot the dweeb a glare, making his ears redden and clear his throat. He flicked his pencil around in his thick fingers, beginning to erase a mistake he made due to your harsh grip before you turned back to your associates with a nonchalant smile.

“Damn, sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter chuckled, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter, which only made your smile broaden.

“It does…doesn't it?”

You whispered, glancing over at Miguel, who was trying not to acknowledge your gaze, seeming to be very interested in the ways of Calculus II. 

“Aww… Peter, you know me so well.” You thought with a small grin, continuing to stroke the trembling male. You could feel the dweeb strain underneath his black jeans, enjoying how greatly he was trying to hide his pleasure. With your thumb, you brushed over his sensitive tip, making him whimper loudly, despite his effort to suppress it by biting his lip.

You shot him another stern look, slightly relieved to hear a groan of annoyance from MJ at the same time. At her outburst, it drew your attention over to her to see she was looking over at the workers in Mama's diner who were diligently working in the kitchen area of the diner. “Gosh, we've been sitting here for 20 minutes, and our order still isn't here.” She whined, crossing her arms over her chest like a pouty child in the grocery store. 

“Come on, baby, it should be out in a little bit,” Peter whispered, trying to comfort her. You couldn’t help rolling your eyes at her dramatics. MJ always did this to get attention, Peter’s attention in particular, who you’ve noticed was staring at you a lot more than usual upon entering Mama’s diner today.

You met MJ’s blue eyes, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “Actually, why don't you two go check it out? See what's the hold-up?” You proposed, glancing over at Miguel to see his defined Adam's apple bob at your words, his nervousness only exciting you further.

Oblivious to your proposal and the fact that you, the queen, said it, Peter and MJ nodded and slid out of the booth. You watched in the corner of your eye as they walked away from your table and towards the front of the diner. 

‘Now the fun can begin…’

You thought, a wicked grin spreading across your glossy lips. With them gone, you wanted nothing more than to have some fun with your new puppy. You turned in your seat to finally make eye contact with the panting male, and you couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.

The dweeb’s coffee-brown curls were plastered to his sweaty forehead, his amber orbs hooded behind his glasses while his grip on his pencil was slowly loosening. Breathy moans escaped his parted lips as his hips thrust softly into your hand, his eyes rolling with each of his movements.

Upon the two leaving the table, it seemed the nerd had completely dropped his facade, showing just how needy he was.

You laughed, glancing down to see the mess he was making in his black jeans. A small wet patch gradually soaked the zipper and crotch of the denim. “I knew you didn't finish in the library.” You teased, continuing to stroke him. He grunted, shifting in the booth to better angle himself into your clenched palm. “I couldn't…You interrupted me.” He replied hoarsely, making you raise an eyebrow. You abruptly gripped his cock at his response, making him whine.

“I interrupted you?”

You scoffed, not believing the balls on this nerd. “You have more mouth than I thought, Miguel O'Hara.” You hissed, releasing him and drawing down his pants, exposing his huge member fully. His hooded eyes instantly snapped open, deep pants passing his lips. “What are you—what are you doing? Someone could see.” He exclaimed through stammers, his amber eyes blown in a mixture of lust and worry as they looked all around in fear of someone being near.

You rolled your eyes at the nerd’s empty concerns. Your clique's favorite booth was positioned in the back of the diner, completely secluded. Of course, you’ll take precautions; you wouldn’t want someone to capture the sight of you having fun with a loser like him, so the idiot was fine.

Not that you cared at the moment...

“I honestly don't know what you're so worried about. You didn't seem concerned about someone seeing you when you were jerking off this morning.” You taunted, earning an angry growl from him, his cock twitching a little at that recollection. “Mierda, I didn't know anyone was there. The library is always empty in the mornings.” He said in a low voice, his tone rough and holding so much spite in it.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his anger, as if he could do anything about it. His massive body was stuck on the inside of your booth, his well-endowed cock and balls out on display.

He was completely vulnerable to you…

Your eyes trailed him, taking him in slowly, and to your surprise, you found yourself licking your lips at the sight.

Even though the dork was a lowly peasant at your school, carrying his stupid little textbooks and allowing the jocks to beat on him when he had the muscles and height to beat their asses ten-fold.

He had an impressive cock…

It was fully erect, sticking straight up into the air with a small patch of dark brown, coarse hair sitting atop his dark shaft, trailing an irresistible line up under his beige sweater. His cock was long, girthy, and definitely above average, with a brown, angry tip dripping with precum, begging to be tasted and played with.

During your moment of ogling, his large, veiny hand hastily covered the oddly magnificent sight, snapping you from your trance. You glared up at him, taking in his flushed cheeks, coffee-brown curls that hung over his framed eyes, and his attempt to cover his enormity between his legs with his hand.

“Move.” You sternly said, your tone showing just how annoyed and furious you were. You crossed your arms over your white-clad chest, awaiting the loser to obey, but surprisingly, he did no such thing. Miguel simply clenched his jaw, averted his gaze from you, not at all listening to the order you’ve just given him.

Your glossy lips pulled into a snarl, not remembering the last time someone would dare be defiant towards you, but it seemed this nerd, loner, whatever the hell he classified as, was something different…

He knew who you were, yet he was disobeying you, talking back, and worst of all…

Not submitting.

You’ve met many infuriating individuals, but he had to take the cake.

Your jaw clenched, trying to keep your composure and remind yourself that you needed him around because you were a hair's breadth from reaching into your bag and grabbing your phone to do the unthinkable. You cleared your throat, sliding so close to him that you could feel the heat of his bare, thick thighs against yours under the short, expensive pink skirt you adorned.

You brushed a strand of his coffee-brown hair behind his ear, noticing how he flinched slightly before leaning in close.

 “Move your hand, or I'll make sure to send that little video of you jerking off to MJ. I think she’ll enjoy posting that onto her little blog for the whole college to see.”

You whispered into his ear, the threat striking the nerd greatly. A wave of satisfaction rushed through your being when he turned to face you, his amber eyes narrowed in rage, but a hint of fear evident in them as well. “You wouldn't,” he said, calling your bluff in a rough, breathless voice which only made you laugh.

“You must really be living under a rock on campus if you think I’m bluffing,” you chuckled darkly as the nerd gulped. “Now…” you began, glancing down at his shielded hand over what you desired. “Unless you want the entire college to know how much of a needy little puppy you are, you will move your damn hand and allow me to do whatever I please.” You sternly said, looking down at his trembling hand and then up at him.

You found it utterly adorable how he tried to keep your hardened gaze, but he would learn that when you want something, you’ll get it no matter what.

He cursed softly, running a frustrated hand through his messy coffee-brown curls. He captured his bottom lip in his teeth and reluctantly moved his hands, placing them on either side of him on the booth’s cushions. You smirked at his obedience. “Good boy,” you praised in a teasing voice, patting his head like the doggy he was; however, he yanked away. You scoffed at his defiance.

‘It seems my puppy needs more training. No worries; he���ll submit if he likes it or not.’

You thought, casting your eyes down to meet his painfully hard and erect cock. Biting your lip, you wrapped a hand around his base, feeling how brick and sticky it was in your palm.

But before granting your puppy the sweet release he desired, he had a lesson to learn…

You harshly gripped his shaft, earning a loud groan to escape his throat. “I'm very pissed at you. Want to know why?” You asked, squeezing his cock even more, making him hiss. He clutched the cushion of the booth in his large hands, clenching his jaw once more. “Why?” He said through gritted teeth.

"Why? You nearly got us caught with those outbursts, idiot," you spat, finding a rhythm and stroking him roughly under the table. His abundant precum allowed you to smoothly run your fist along him. He groaned, his head falling back against the booth.

"Maybe... you should f-fucking stop then," he said through pants, which only made you giggle. "Oh, I'm just finishing what you started in the library, puppy," you said with a fake pout.

"And here I thought you liked getting off in public places."

Miguel moaned softly at your words, his cock twitching in your hand in response. You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh? Don't tell me that's the truth," you teased with a soft chuckle, knowing you'll surely have some fun with that hidden kink of his in the future.

However, no response was heard from him, defending nor agreeing with your proposal; only the occasional low moans and groans escaped his lips. You snarled, pressing your thumb into the crown of his tip, eliciting a rewarding jolt and a Spanish curse to fall from his lips.

"If you won't respond to that, then answer this," you hissed, nose scrunched up in disgust as you continued your stroking. "You act all big and tough when you're alone with me, yet you curl up into a little ball when others are around," you stated with a smirk. "Why is that?"

"Because you don't fucking scare me," he said angrily with a steady voice. You scoffed in amusement, your eyes roaming over his bulging muscles through the sleeves of his beige sweater—the fabric appearing strained. "And others do?" you retorted with a snicker, causing him to growl in annoyance and look away. "It's not like that."

"Oh yeah, then what is it?" you inquired, purposely quickening your pace on his shaft, stroking him faster and pressing your palm into his length, the desire to see him lose control driving you. He whined and whimpered uncontrollably, his large hand landing on your thigh, gripping it tightly through your skirt, urging you to slow down.

You sighed heavily; Miguel was so frustrating. The dweeb's mouth constantly spoke of defiance and disrespect, while his body contradicted him each time—his hips steadily moved in sync with your palm, and his member twitched in your hand. It seemed even he was confused about what he wanted, but being the sweet master you were, you'd assist him in discovering his true desires.

But first, he had to be taught to fix his attitude because he was really pissing you off.

You brushed the pad of your thumb over his tip, intensifying his pleasure with every jerk of your hand. "I don't like your attitude with me," you said angrily, smacking his hand off your thigh and grabbing his chin.

You roughly turned him to look at you, his eyes dazed behind his black glasses, and his lips parted. "I hold the power of your entire reputation in my hands. I can get your big ass kicked out of this damn college just by showing the dean that video of you," you warned, looking at his face in complete rage.

"Do you fucking understand me!?" you exclaimed, your nails piercing into the underside of his chin. Your eyes glared daggers at him as you continued to slide your hand up and down his trembling shaft.

He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as his hand landed on your wrist, deep groans continuing to pass his lips at your movement. "Y-yes, fuck," he moaned, biting his lip. "Yes to what?" you demanded, seeking clarity. With your thumb, you caressed in small circles around the crown of his tip, a smirk spreading across your glossy lips when his grip on your wrist tightened. "Yes, I-I... understand," he said, his deep voice sounding rather airy and breathless.

"Good boy," you whispered, tilting your head at him and glancing down to see more pre-cum sprouting from his tip, dripping down his shaft and coating your hand. Miguel growled. "What do you even want from me?" he asked through trembles of pleasure, his cock twitching in your fist. Your smirk broadened, turning your attention from his cock to the four-eyed male, his chin still resting between your manicured fingers.

"You heard that conversation between Peter, MJ, and me, did you not?" you inquired with a raised eyebrow, making him heave a trembling sigh. "Lapdog, right? That's what you want?" 

"Indeed," you chuckled, releasing him. He whimpered, his thighs quivering, as heavy pants passed his lips. He rubbed his chin, pressing his backside into the leather cushions and breathing heavily. You reached over him, grabbing a few napkins from its container to clean your hands, feeling Miguel's eyes on you all the while.

When you met his gaze, you weren't surprised to see the sight of anger and irritation, but what did surprise you was the hint of curiosity found in his intense gaze.

'Was the dork interested in being your puppy?'

"Why?" he finally asked after catching his breath. You laughed, turning to him with a wicked grin. "The better question is... 

Why not?"

You replied with a snicker. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed once more. "And you want me to be your damn lapdog?" he asked, full of spite and rage, his amber eyes appeared redder than usual, but it didn't faze you. "Yes, or that video goes out to everyone," you said with a grin, your eyes lingering along his body. "And I think everyone would be rather shocked to see what you've been hiding under all that ugly clothing," you chuckled, motioning down at his massive and still very hard cock.

He snarled, looking away from you and out the window beside him. A silence fell upon the two of you as you simply took him in—his defined cheekbones, broad nose, thick neck, and massive body covered in a hideous beige sweater, black jeans, and white Converse.

'Goodness, this is going to be fun. The most fun I've probably had in years.'

You thought, faking a pout and leaning towards him to press your plush lips against his ear. He jumped slightly at your closeness, making you giggle as you ran a hand over his chest, tracing his defined pecs and abs through his sweater.

"Come on, puppy. Don't be so mad; you might even enjoy it."

You teased, and to your anticipation, his cock throbbed in response. He groaned lowly, your chest covered in a white crop top pressing into his arm. "It’s not like I have a damn choice," he retorted, his voice still resonating with fury. 

"Well… get used to it."

You uttered, licking a stripe across his sharp jawline and enjoying how he shuddered at the feeling. You then pulled away, his amber eyes following you like the needy puppy he was.

"Now, every doggy needs a collar," you uttered with a smile, causing him to scowl. "I’m not wearing a damn collar."

"So quick to assume, puppy," you laughed, only seeming to enrage the geek even more. "Stop calling me that," he growled, causing you to sigh, finding it rather annoying how he still believed he held some type of control here. 

He'll learn sooner or later.

"You’ll grow to love it, puppy," you emphasized, turning from his faltering glare to rummage in your $500 Prada bag, fishing out a toy you purchased just for your little doggy. When you acquired it, you turned to him, twirling the dark blue and red crystallized ring in your fingers. Miguel's eyes followed it, his chest heaving in confusion and disdain, but his cock pulsated in desire and curiosity.

He could scowl and glare at you all he wanted, but his body gave him away, every single time.

“What the fuck is that?” He snapped, once he regained his composure, his amber eyes looking from the ring to you through his black eyeglasses. You chuckled, running your fingers along the ring. “After our little run-in at the library this morning, I bought my new puppy something special.” You explained, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The geek looked perplexed for the first time.

 It was a cute look on him…

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fun. I promise...” You giggled, glancing down at his dark cock, still twitching in desire. You then held your hand out to him, the large ring resting in your palm.

“Now…show me how much of a good doggy you can be and put this on…”

“Ugh, they are saying it's another 20 minutes.” MJ groaned, climbing into the booth right after Peter. You heaved a sigh in irritation; Mama's diner was never this backed up. It was rather annoying to think you all would have to wait just for three measly milkshakes.

“So, what’s the two of you been doing? He looks like he’s about to fucking faint.” Peter joked, glancing over at Miguel, whose bronze face was covered in beads of sweat. His amber eyes trained on the packet of math work once more. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know. The math problem must be stressing him out.” You said with a smile, subtly glancing over at your phone that rested beside you on the booth, the vibrator app pulled up on the screen that was already at level 2.

The ring that you had bought for your new puppy was nestled around the base of his cock, right over his balls, stimulating both of his sensitive areas. You gave him the benefit of the doubt to cover himself; you weren’t a total meanie.

You just needed him to know his place, as it seemed he kept forgetting.

So you decided to seat him in front of two of the most popular students at your college with a pulsating vibrator around his cock. 

What better way for him to learn...?

"Okay…" MJ trailed off, brushing off the situation as nothing. "Umm, what even is his name?" She asked, talking about Miguel as if he wasn't even there. At her inquiry, you turned to your puppy, giving him a soft pat on the head. "Tell her your name," you said sweetly, noticing the subtle glare from him. "Miguel," he responded in a gruff voice without looking up from the packet.

"Your full name," you added with a smirk, wishing to further annoy him. The dweeb’s jaw clenched at your persistence. "Miguel O’Hara," he growled, hastily returning to solving question 24 of your math packet. MJ looked between the two of you, taking in the interaction before leaning across the table, her blue eyes set on you.

“Seriously, what are you up to with him?” 

She asked in a hushed tone like no one at the table could hear her as her red eyebrows furrowed in concern. You scoffed, not believing that she would dare to ask you such a thing.

“Why the hell are you questioning anything that I do?” You spat angrily. “The fucking dweeb is just doing my damn homework,” you said, your eyes glaring into hers.

Perhaps, the load of hair upon MJ's head was the cause of her forgetfulness. Regardless of the culprit, the redhead better keep in mind how much you love fixing her mistakes and kicking her back into line if she oversteps.

You've done it to so many others, she'll be no different…

“Hey, hey, settle down,” Peter said, trying to calm the situation between the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick, it could be sliced with a spoon, let alone a knife.

“There's nothing wrong with what Y/N is doing,” Peter said, placing a hand on MJ’s shoulder and pulling her back towards his chest. MJ sighed, giving you an apologetic look. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” You rolled your eyes, dismissing her as you met Peter’s eyes that also looked between Miguel and you. “Although, I must say…” He began, and to your surprise, settled his amber eyes onto Miguel.

You smirked, loving to see how the aroused geek would handle this, your eyes trained on him. Miguel, noticing the lack of conversation, hesitantly looked up to be met with six eyes staring back at him.

“How the hell are you so…massive?” Peter asked with a chuckle. “You don’t do shit except read, play chess, or whatever else you nerds do.” Peter jested, causing everyone, except Miguel, to laugh. Your eyes were trained on Miguel as he glanced over at you and back at Peter before clearing his throat. “Genetics.” He mumbled, returning back to writing out the parametric formula to solve the equations he was on.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, the introverted male’s words not seeming to have reached his ears. “What did you say? Speak up, man.” He laughed, causing Miguel to clench his jaw once more. His pencil halted upon the paper as he casted his amber eyes up to the jock. “Genetics. That's all it is.” He repeated in a louder tone.

“So, you are telling me, you do not work out?” MJ asked in surprise and awe, her blue eyes roaming over his body. You were certain she was checking your new puppy out.

You growled, oddly, shooting a glare at her.

You didn’t know what was with her today, but MJ was working your last nerve.

MJ, thankfully, shut up after your look, but your puppy answered anyway. “A little,” he replied, twirling the pencil in his thick fingers nervously. You couldn’t help but gaze at him—his massive musculature snug under his beige sweater that seemed to hug him in all the right places.

His biceps bulging, his hardened pecs defined, and you could even sneak a peek at his abdominal muscles pressing against the warm fabric. You bit your lip, the desire to get him out of that ugly sweater filling your being until you shook off the thought.

The damn dweeb was making you forget your title and your reputation…

But you couldn’t lie. 

The geek was exceeding your expectations…

Not only was he impressive for being at the very bottom of the student hierarchy and having the ability to make you feel all hot and bothered, but despite his cock being heavily stimulated by the vibrating ring, his voice didn't waver or falter.

Your puppy was tougher than you thought…

‘We’ll see about that.’

With a click of your phone, you raised the vibrations from a mere 2 to a 5. Instantly at the change, Miguel jolted in his seat. You watched with a look of pure innocence on your face as Peter’s eyebrows furrowed.

He snickered, eyeing the glasses-wearing male across from him at the table. “Man, you are weird as heck, but I’ll let it slide,” he said with a smile, glancing over at you, his eyes full of admiration. “If the queen here can put up with your presence, which is rare,” Peter snickered, “I’ll be willing to open a spot on the team to see how you do,” he proposed, which shocked you.

It was hard to get on Peter’s football team, yet he was practically giving it to Miguel, the most disliked male at school, on a silver platter.

You couldn’t help but feel a little angry at that, slowly becoming a bit possessive over your new puppy.

But thankfully, Miguel said the words for you. “I-I’m not interested,” he uttered, clearing his throat and clenching the pencil tightly in his large hand. You smirked, watching Peter’s eyebrows rise in shock. He glanced over at MJ, who had become quiet after your glare.

“This dude is really turning down my offer, babe,” he said, nudging MJ, who snapped out of her trance to turn her blue eyes onto Miguel. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Actually…” you said, instantly drawing their eyes on you. “It’s better if he didn’t. I’ll lose my new lapdog, and we wouldn’t want that… Isn’t that right?” You asked, running your manicured fingers through Miguel’s coffee-brown hair. You watched his jaw clench and a subtle blush spread across his lips.

Seems as if he's starting to like the name or you claiming him…

Indeed, Miguel was a naughty one…

Peter’s stunned expression instantly changed at your words. He cleared his throat, giving you a nod. “Of course, but the offer still stands,” he offered once more, looking over at you as he said it.

You gave him a small smile before MJ sat up in her chair with a grin, the color restoring back into her being after you rightfully snuffed it out. “Since the workers are taking so long, let’s play a game. Never Have I Ever, anyone?!” she exclaimed, a smile adorning her cherry lips.

You grinned, liking the idea, before a thought came to your head, causing you to heave a sigh. “Normally drinks are involved. We don’t have any,” you commented, instantly MJ reached into the pocket of Peter’s red and blue varsity jacket, pulling out his metal flask. His eyes widened in shock before he laughed, shaking his head. “Damn, I thought you didn’t know about that.”

“I know everything, baby.” MJ giggled, placing the metal flask in the center of the table. You smirked, glancing over at Miguel, who had his arms crossed upon the table, his head lowered over the math packet. He was panting, and his thighs were trembling next to your own. He wasn’t writing anything as he seemed like he was just sitting there.

But you knew what your needy puppy was up to…

He was enjoying himself, relishing in the sensation from the vibrator ring you had bought him. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

While Peter and MJ discussed the rules of the game, you leaned in close to Miguel, pressing your glossy lips against his ear. “Are you enjoying your little toy, puppy?” you inquired, causing him to suck in a breath. “Ay cono, turn it off,” he panted, whispering to you in desperation. He turned his hooded eyes onto you, and you met his gaze with a sly grin. “Why? You like it,” you whispered back with a small giggle, watching his ears redden and a vein bulge from his forehead as he tried to suppress his anger.

“So no, it’s not coming off anytime soon,” you told him. “Now, you'll play this game with us and finish my work later.”

“I don’t want to fucking play,” he growled, making your forced smile falter. You subtly reached over to your phone, turning the vibrations up from level 5 to 7. Miguel's voice caught in his throat, his hand landing on your thigh once more. You could even faintly hear the buzzing in his jeans that was slowly making the geek lose his composure.

His large palm covered your smooth skin as he gripped it tightly while he quivered. He cursed under his breath, beginning to softly pat your thigh to call a truce. You watched him with a smirk, loving how he was writhing and squirming in his seat, knowing you were the sole cause of it. “I-I’ll play,” he whined, lowering his head to hide, his amber eyes on you over his arm. You smiled, lowering it back to a mere 5.

‘Don’t piss me off,’ you mouthed, turning back to Peter and MJ to find they were, thankfully, still talking. 

You didn’t want to hear what any of them had to say when it came to Miguel and you, especially from MJ.

“The dweeb is going to play too,” you said, hastily gaining everyone’s attention. “Awesome, do you want to go around as ages? Whoever is the youngest goes first?” MJ suggested. “I think the oldest should go first,” you said with a wicked grin, knowing everyone would choose the latter since you, the queen bee, said so.

If your intuition was correct, which it always was, you sensed Miguel was older than the rest of you. His demeanor and rough look showed his maturity, and you couldn’t help but become a little aroused at the assumption.

“Fine. I’m 23,” MJ said, glancing over at Peter next. “25,” he replied, soon looking at you. “24,” you smiled before finally setting your eyes on the trembling male. His amber eyes shifted from all of your eager gazes. He cleared his throat, tanned cheeks a soft red. “26.” His voice, like usual, was deep and rather low, but you heard his answer loud and clear.

You were right...

The muscular geek was not only a disobedient lowlife, but he was older than you. ‘How fun?’ you thought, looking him up and down beside you. It made everything even sweeter.

“Well, you go first,” Peter said, motioning to Miguel with his head, his dark brown hair swaying with his slight movement. The dweeb gulped, merely sitting there for a while. It was for so long that you pondered if he had even played the common game before until he finally spoke.

“Never have I ever fallen asleep during a movie,” he muttered, keeping his gaze on the table.

'Of course, a boring one, like I thought.’ You groaned, nudging his arm. “Come on, that shit blows,” you said with an eye roll. “We want something steamy, hot…” You whispered, reaching over to caress his thigh under the table. He gulped, clenching his jaw and landing his large, calloused hand on yours to cease your movement. “Fine…” he said, turning to look at you in particular.

“Never have I ever walked in on someone without knocking.”

Miguel asked with a sly grin that surprised you greatly, and left you angry as hell. You growled, hearing Peter and MJ begin to discuss their answers. “Gosh, I walked in on one of the guys with their girlfriends in the locker room,” Peter sighed as MJ didn’t have an unfortunate occurrence happen to her, but not like you cared about either of them at the moment.

You glared at Miguel, his taunting smirk and stupid glasses adorning his face, the desire to slap them both off overwhelming your being.

You turned to see Peter already taking a swig of the metal flask, a grimace on his face after the drink. “Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have chosen the strong stuff,” he commented, glancing up at you. “Now, what about the Queen bee? Walked in on one of those baddies at your sorority house?” He inquired with a chuckle. You looked over at Miguel, his eyes narrowing as he watched you take the flask, gulping down a large mouthful of the liquor.

As Peter said, the shit was strong, and it took everything in you not to cough, suppressing the urge by clearing your throat. “No…” You replied, placing the flask back on the table and subtly looking over at Miguel before meeting your two associates' curious gazes. “Then what happened then?” MJ asked, deeply intrigued.

“Well, I walked in on someone jerking off.”

You noticed beside you, Miguel’s entire body became rigid on the booth; his hand squeezed yours under the table in a rather desperate way. He was begging you with the slight touch to cease any further words.

How cute…

You smirked at the feeling, loving how you had the dweeb filled with anxiety and nervousness about whether you'll spill his deep secret or not.

But you're only a bitch when you want to be…

“That’s all you get, though.” You laughed, causing cries of frustration to erupt, although you didn’t miss the sigh of relief that passed Miguel’s lips even though he was the one who called your bluff and dug his own grave.

“First round, and it seems Queen Bee and I are tied on who’s paying for our order.” Peter laughed, causing you to roll your eyes. “If it ever gets here,” MJ added with a groan.

“Even more of a reason to continue playing,” Peter said with a smirk. “But it seems as if it’s my turn, being 25 and all.” He said, sitting back against the cushions of the booth, humming in thought. “Ah, got one.” He commented with a grin.

“Never had I ever used a mirror during romantic intercourse.” He asked, his amber eyes looking around the table.

Of course, being the fun queen bee you were, you took the flask. “I mean, if you haven’t, you are missing out.” You grinned, taking another swig of the strong liquor, feeling the satisfying sting in the back of your throat when you placed the container back on the table. You could feel the heat radiating from Miguel’s body at the mention of you doing something so naughty.

You wouldn’t mind doing something like that with him only when he was ready…

A small blush spread across MJ’s cheeks at the erotic question. “I’ve always wanted to do it.” She said, bringing a smile to Peter's lips. He snaked an arm around her, caressing her arm as he spoke in a sultry and seductive voice. “Oh really? We can always try it after-

“Oh my gosh. Get a fucking room already.” You interrupted with a snicker, eyeing the two lovebirds. “Okay, okay,” MJ said with a giggle, eyes turning to Miguel who hastily dismissed it with a head shake.

Of course, the fucking dweeb doesn’t know how to have fun.

With you, he’ll know nothing else; you’ll make sure of it.

“Well, it’s your turn now,” MJ smiled. Finally, it was your turn, instantly thinking of a proposition that could really reveal some deep secrets about Miguel.

Something he's been hiding…

You sat back in your seat, pondering your answer when your eyes met Miguel. Just the sight of the massive male was making your brain sprout with ideas. Who knew how helpful he could be with just his mere presence?

Why not reward him for the assistance?

Subtly, you sat up, turning the vibrations up to a 7 while starting your round.

“Never have I ever had a sexual encounter in a public place and secretly liked it.”

You proposed, glancing over at Miguel, who was losing it. He gritted his teeth, lowering his head to try to hide his fluttering eyes and heavy pants, but your associates’ words surprised you. “Gosh, both of us,” you heard them say, drawing your attention from your puppy.

“Yeah, we did a vibrator challenge on each other, and we went to a mall,” Peter said with a smile and a head shake. “It wasn’t enjoyable with the many people around at the sudden bursts of pleasure, but overall…it was fun,” MJ added, snuggling into Peter’s chest.

You slowly nodded, retaining the idea for further use and glancing back at Miguel, who was shaking. You felt his hand on your thigh once more and soon his soft pats, as if he was a wrestler trying to tap out of the ring.

But you weren’t a merciful referee; he could endure it a little longer…

You leaned in close to him, pretending to reach down to pick up the pencil that had accidentally rolled off the table due to his squirming. “Lift your head and play the damn game,” you spat harshly into his ear as he frantically shook his head. “Fuck, I-I can’t,” he whined breathlessly. “Mierda, I’m close. I-I can’t,” he repeated, only making you smirk.

“Be a good puppy, hold it, and play the game, or I’ll raise it to the highest level,” you told him sternly, your fingers finding the pencil in the leather cushions. You soon rose, a smile on your lips as you placed the wooden tool onto the table. “Miguel, how about you?” you inquired in a sweet voice, the lovebirds finishing their swigs of the flask. “Done anything fun in public and secretly enjoyed it?” you asked, curious about how he'd answer and respond.

Like a good doggy, he lifted his head as you commanded. His dark, hazy eyes looked between the three of you before simply reaching over and taking a swig of the flask.

“Fucking hell!? The nerd knows fun!” Peter commented with a laugh, while the rest of you looked on in astonishment. Miguel placed the flask down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Explain,” you urged, nudging him with a kick under the table. He jolted, shooting you a subtle glare, causing you to raise an eyebrow, reaching over for your phone when Miguel gave you a gentle squeeze of desperation. “Okay…” he began, exhaling and trying to regain his composure while holding back his release and being heavily stimulated.

“I was getting a-a handjob under the table…i-in a diner similar to this,” he said, making you smile, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “T-The girl was fucking rude and mean, but h-had skilled hands. Very skilled hands.” He gulped, avoiding your eyes while he spoke. “But t-that’s pretty much it. I liked it...Who wouldn't," Miguel said, looking down at his lap and leaving the table speechless.

You didn’t know whether to be flattered, angry at his description of you, or apathetic. A burning desire in your gut to simply drag him to the bathroom of Mama’s diner and see just how good his cock would feel inside of you.

But overall, the geek had surprised you with his answer, this being the only time he had spoken his mind and said his true thoughts since he sat down at this fucking booth.

“Damn, sounds hot,” MJ said, making you turn your attention from your loyal puppy to her. “Wish I had the guts like that rude girl you described. I could never.” She said lowly, bringing a wave of pride over you. Her compliment only fueled your already replete ego.

After the steamy encounter that Miguel explained to the group, it was now MJ’s turn. However, just when she was about to speak, her phone pinged with a message. She glanced down at the glowing screen, her eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Oh my gosh, babe, we have to go. I’m needed at the university.” She quaked, turning her blue eyes upon you. “I’m so sorry to pause the game and leave so early.” She apologized, hastily standing up from the booth alongside her ride, and boyfriend, Peter.

“I can only assume it's for the newspaper, so I’ll let it slide,” you told her as she thanked you, swiftly scurrying past and exiting Mama’s diner. Peter watched with a chuckle, tucking his hands into his red varsity jacket, standing beside you at the table.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing you around, Queen Bee,” he smirked, suddenly taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You raised an eyebrow, a smile forming upon your glossy lips. Prior to pulling away, he held his soft lips upon your skin for a moment longer and gave your knuckles an affectionate caress with his thumb, meeting your eyes. “Call me anytime.” He whispered, giving you his signature charming smile and wink that made every person on campus faint and die on the spot before leaving behind his girlfriend.

You couldn’t lie; you were a little shocked at Peter’s forwardness.

You’ve noticed his interest in the great Queen Bee—who isn’t—but he had a girlfriend, and unfortunately for him…

You don’t like to share…

Many whiny groans and the sound of loud buzzing brought you from your thoughts as you turned to look at Miguel in the corner to see something even more astonishing than Peter’s previous advances.

Miguel was panting, breathing heavily with his head pressed against the back of the leather booth. His black denims were drawn down, revealing his strained cock and the beautiful red and blue vibrator ring around his base. His eyes rolled uncontrollably behind his glasses, his mouth agape while he rambled in a blend of Spanish and English.

You could only make out the English phrases and words he uttered, which mostly were pleas and begs, all desiring one thing and one thing only.

“Please—ay cono. Let me cum. Please, let me cum."

He implored incessantly, his words so full of need and desperation. You could tell he was slowly losing it; the pleasure was blinding him, and he was only at level 7. You were hoping to try the highest level on him, but maybe another time…

You didn’t want to completely ruin your new puppy…

You leaned towards him, running a finger over his sticky tip, tracing patterns across it. He whined and squirmed in his seat at your touch. “Aww, you want to stop playing already? I wanted to try level 10.” You told him with a fake pout. He frantically shook his head, gasps of air passing his parted lips. “Goodness, no. Please, I-I can’t take any more.” He begged so perfectly that you almost allowed him to.

Well,

Almost…

“I’ll let you cum on one condition,” you proposed, taking his chin in your fingers and turning him to meet your eyes. His eyes fluttered, his hands found your wrist, grabbing on tightly to stabilize himself. His face was flushed, his defined cheeks a rosy red, and his forehead covered with beads of sweat. He looked adorable, practically begging you with his hooded doe eyes to allow him to cum. You smirked, caressing his chin.

“Tell me you are my little puppy and sweeten the deal with a cute little bark.”

You giggled, eliciting a growl that came out more like a groan. “A-Are you serious?” he panted, making your smile only broaden. “Very, and I’ll only raise the level of the vibrator if you don’t,” you said with a grin, loving the look of defeat that covered his face. “Shit,” he cursed, looking away.

“No, eyes on me.”

You sternly said, hastily yanking his chin back towards you. He clenched his jaw, making eye contact with you once more. His amber orbs were full of anger, but his desire to be relieved of the vibrator and finally be granted his satisfying release led him to speak what you wanted.

“I-I’m your… l-little… 

Puppy.”

He uttered reluctantly through shaky moans as you waited patiently for the best part of his whole confession. He growled, shaking his head. “I’m not barking.”

You huffed, giving him a stern look. “Do I have to threaten you again about that video? How about I take that little vibrator and give it to the dean instead?” you said with an evil grin. “It has your… essence all over it. Wouldn’t be hard to discover it’s yours.” You cackled. He scowled, gazing up at you through breathy moans. “You are s-such a bitch.”

“Are you sure? You are looking more like a bitch than me right now,” you spat with a laugh, piercing your nails into his chin. “Now be my good little puppy and bark.” You demanded once more, eyes trained on his furious and flushed face.

You watched Miguel resist you as hard as he could. He put up such a fight, remaining silent to disobey for a good while, but just like any wild dog, they break, they snap...

They submit.

So, it didn’t take long before the most satisfying sounds filled your ears.

“Woof…Woof.”

A wave of satisfaction overcame you, akin to taking a refreshing sip of a chocolate milkshake on a hot day. Your glossy lips pulled into a smile, feeling completely overjoyed as you stared at your official new lapdog. “Gosh, I’m going to have so much fun with you,” you promised, caressing his chin affectionately. Miguel’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and his entire face turned red; even his cock frantically throbbed around the pulsating ring.

Like a dog wagging his tail, he seemed to like that idea very much...

You wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking him at a fast pace while the ring continued to buzz against him. “Be a good boy and cum for me,” you whispered. “Make me proud, puppy,” you told him, kissing along his jawline and earning a loud groan to erupt from his throat. His hips left the seat, meeting your fist with each thrust upwards. “Oh yes. Fuck,” he cried through closed eyes.

The leather booth began to creak loudly at his frenzied movement, his cock sliding in and out of your palm, completely slick with his precum. You could feel how powerful the vibrations were on his sensitive shaft whilst he continued to fuck your fist.

“Shit, shit, I’m cumming,” he groaned, before a loud guttural, deep moan erupted from deep within his chest, his thick, muscular thighs quivering. Veins bulge along the underside of his abdomen upon his climax, and with one final thrust into your hand, he shot his white, creamy load.

And the four-eyed male just kept impressing you over and over again.

His release seemed to be endless. More and more of his seed dripped from his slit, coating your hand and the buzzing toy. The vibrating ring and your fisting only seemed to milk him completely, causing him to whimper and whine uncontrollably, continuing to paint his shaft, your hand, his beige sweater, and the leather seats in his essence.

When he was finished, you took in the huge mess he’d made with a grin. “Look at what you’ve done,” you purred, grabbing a few napkins to clean your hands. Miguel didn’t respond, only babbling softly, his words unintelligible.

You laughed at his thoroughly satisfied expression, finding it utterly adorable how fucked-out he looked. You relieved him of the vibrator, turning it off and removing it from his swollen shaft, the toy completely coated with his sticky fluids. 

You smirked, eyeing the white-coated ring; it was so enticing that you couldn't help but bring the toy to your mouth to give it a taste. Like savoring the sweetness of honey on a wand, you ran your tongue along the vobrator, humming in ecstasy.

Your eyes fluttered at the taste. His seed was different—something you couldn't quite put into words, but an essence you'd definitely want more of in the future, something you had to taste straight from the source.

After sucking the ring clean, you placed it into your bag and slid closer to Miguel. His eyes were still closed, his chest heaving up and down while his body spasmed—small tremors spreading through his massive being.

You turned his face towards you, a finger resting under his chin. His eyes fluttered open to meet your satisfied gaze. “I’m happy you enjoyed yourself, puppy,” you whispered, an airy chuckle passing his lips at your words. “I had no choice… 

So I might as well enjoy it,” 

He muttered breathlessly, his response made you even prouder. Your little puppy was understanding the game—the fun. You couldn’t help but love the dork even more.

You leaned closer to him, your nose brushing against his. 

“Finally… you are starting to get it,” you uttered, pressing a rough and searing kiss to his mouth. Miguel, completely exhausted and shocked, instantly lost the fight, giving you control.

You devoured his mouth hungrily, his plush lips feeling just right and tasting even better as your tongue entered his parted lips. He groaned, kissing you back, but not enough to dominate nor challenge you, which you adored so much.

You kissed him until you were satisfied, sucking his lips until they were pink and swollen, and tasting his mouth with your tongue. You then pulled away from his enticing lips, both of you panting heavily. You looked him over with a smirk, patting his head and running your manicured fingers through his coffee-brown hair, and to your satisfaction, he didn’t pull away—either from weariness or pure enjoyment, it seemed your puppy had accepted his role. 

But you couldn’t be so sure…

You smiled, sliding out of the booth and picking up your $500 Prada bag from the seat. His amber eyes were full of confusion as he looked you over. You met your adorable lapdog’s gaze, standing before him in your lavish clothes—a white crop top, pink Gucci jacket, skirt, and heels.

You gave him a sly grin, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Clean yourself up and have my homework done by 10. 

I want you at my sorority house tonight,” 

You smirked, watching his tanned cheeks turn a deep red. Your eyes took him in one last time, taking in his little mess, his flustered and stunned expression, softened cock, massive body, and those dorky glasses.

 All of that and so much more was yours now.

All yours…

“See you then,” you giggled, blowing him a kiss, and turning on your pink high heels, leaving the dork flabbergasted.

You swung open the door of Mama’s diner, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the bustling streets of Nueva York. You put on your pink heart-shaped shades, the evening sun beaming upon your face, as an unshakeable smile adorned your glossy lips.

You were excited, no, delighted. 

You had discovered something better than a measly assistant that you had desired before. 

You had a permanent peasant, a puppy who was none other than the outcast of your college—the student at the bottom of the student hierarchy and hated by all was officially yours. 

And you couldn’t wait to have so much more fun with your little bitch boy, Miguel O’Hara.

Your new lapdog...

A/N: I enjoyed writing this soo much!! 😆

I hope u guys enjoyed it as well, I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 but...idk 🤔😏

But hope u guys liked!! 💗💗

P.S: Part 3 of 'A Fate Worse Than Death' would be up next week, my apologies, I just had to write this one. 😌

<3 Taglist:

~@oscarissac2099

~@powerful-niya

(Let me know in the comments if you'll like to become a part of the taglist! ❤️)

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)