#or maybe he’s in the dark about it but can’t shake the feeling like he’s always on the outside

[dc418writes]

Trial & Error

Summary🪄: Joel tries to help you get some rest

🚨: no outbreak!Joel, minor age gap (reader is late 20s, Joel is mid 30s), AU with no Sarah (pls don’t hate me 🫣) pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: this is my submission to @beefrobeefcal ‘s Married Joel Sat on Me challenge (please check out the other works and/or submit your own if you’d like☺️!), and I hope you guys like what I came up with✨

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Although my writings are imagined with a black reader, anyone can read and enjoy😌*

“Baby,” Joel drawls in that deep voice smooth like silk that always makes you melt, “you should be sleeping.” His lips sweetly press against your forehead after carefully tilting your head back so your doe eyes would be on him.

He wasn’t surprised to see your silhouette through the front curtains as his black pickup pulled in the driveway. The living room illuminated with flashes of blue as you watched something he couldn’t quite tell - if he had to guess, probably one of baby Morgan’s favorite shows you tended to play so she could calm down.

It had been a bit of a habit now with your newfound insomnia. And having to take care of a sick five-month-old while being under the weather yourself didn’t help.

“I’m not tired though.” Even upside down, it was obvious to see the exhaustion in those pretty features that had him addicted from the first time he saw you. The darkened puffiness under your eyes. The dull look to your usually bright skin.

“But you need sleep. The past couple days you’ve only been gettin three, maybe four hours.” Although calm, you could feel his concern. Knew he was stressed that his two girls were dealing with things he couldn’t seem to help with. Especially not with this new house taking up all his time.

“I don’t know what else to do.” You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as he sits beside you draping his arm around the back of the dark sectional. Any other time, his overall presence along with the warmth emanating from his wood and leather scented skin would have you relaxed enough that you could easily find rest. Now it was just one of a long list of futile attempts.

“Wanna try those sleep gummies again?”

“I think my body’s used to it since it didn’t work that first night.”

His deep hum rumbles under your fingertips on his sternum. “Tea?”

You shake your head, “Being sick made me all tea’d out. Plus I think the chamomile’s gone.”

“Could always try warm milk?,” he suggests with a slight grin. He already knew your answer, but he loved watching your cute, button nose crinkle in disgust.

“I’d rather be knocked over the head,” you answer making your husband deeply chuckle. “Let’s face it, this is just how things are for now. I’ve tried pretty much everything.”

Joel wasn’t one to easily accept defeat though thanks to his stubborn nature.

“I uh was talkin’ about it with a buddy on the job. He mentioned something about a..weighted blanket? Said it works for his kid so I tried to find one at the store, but the lady said they’re all out for now.”

Tilting your head up, a soft smile curls along your lips meeting Joel’s cocoa gaze focused on you. It shouldn’t be anything surprising at this point of your relationship, - being together for three years and married for two - but you can’t help how your heart flutters at how caring he could be. If a certified cure was revealed today or tomorrow, you know he’d make a way to be the first in line.

Leaning forward, you peck his lips once before moving to his bearded jaw, “Thank you for trying.”

His mouth finds yours again easily sliding your hips, with his thick hands, to sit across his lap making you giggle between each nip and press of your lips against his. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to check again. Try that other store across town too.”

As if feeling left out from all the love, Morgan first whimpers then cries from her nursery just off from the living room. You mentally groan dreading how long it’ll take to get her back to sleep.

“I got her,” Joel states leaving a last kiss on your forehead. “You try to rest.”

“No it’s okay, I got her. Plus I’ll have to check her temp-,”

His hands only tighten on your hips preventing you from standing. “Baby I can do it. Relax.”

“What if she’s hungry?”

“I can warm a bottle.”

“I can at least help though,” you pout trying to wiggle free. Instead, you’re manhandled to lie down with your husband sitting on your lower back and butt pressing you into the plush cushions. Turning your upper body as much as you could, your eyebrows slightly furrow in shock and amusement while Joel just crosses his arms as if you’re now permanently part of the furniture. “J-Joel! Wha-?”

“Ya left me no choice. It was the only way I could get you to stay.”

“By crushing me with your big ass?!”

You could be so dramatic. “Hey, this big ass is your fault,” he laughs. “Fillin’ me up with all that food and pastries.”

Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. His once toned abdomen now a pleasant pouch and thighs a bit thicker causing him to go up a size in his jeans - and even then they still hugged tight.

Not that you minded. You loved Joel’s new ‘dad bod’ just as much as his more slender form. Sometimes even more as you watched him get ready for work or walk around in his sweatpants as he carried and played with Morgan. If it wasn’t for your current situation, you might even be pregnant with baby number two you were so attracted to him.

“Sure, it’s my fault and not that burger and fries you get every day for lunch,” you playfully huff trying to shimmy your way from his hold.

He slightly tilts his head from left to right knowing you had a point, “Alright fair.” Eventually, you finally submit to the fact you weren’t leaving letting your arms extend in front of you. And dare you say, it even began to feel comfortable. “Now, if I get up I trust you’re gonna stay here?”

“Yes seeing that my back is broken,” you reply rolling your eyes. That earns you a warning - yet always playful - smack to the back of your thigh as he stands now leaving you to the cold, open air. “Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

The softest of smiles forms of your lips rolling onto your back to watch him happily stride to tend to his baby girl. “Hey love bug! How ya feelin huh?” Her cries instantly silence into hiccups as soon as she’s lifted to lie on his chest. She even babbles as if having a full conversation while he presses the back of his hand to her forehead. “No fever that’s good.”

A certain, familiar smell clues Joel to what the issue is though. “We gotta get this diaper off you babygirl,” he states moving to lie her on the changing table. “That’ll make you feel better right?” It’s like she understands every word reaching her chubby arms up with a short giggle. They grow into excited squeals as Joel takes turns blowing raspberries onto her bare stomach and tickling that spot under her chin between cleaning her up with baby wipes.

Such a daddy’s girl through and through.

It takes maybe ten minutes more of coos mixed with rocking and bouncing before Joel has her asleep again; carefully lowering her into her crib for the night. ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ playing on a low, constant loop from her star projector to make sure she stays that way as he eases out her room and shuts the door behind him.

His ebony eyes are trained on you now padding the short distance to the couch and leaning over your body. That one curl at the top of his head tipping forward. “Alright, your turn princess.”

You only lift your arms with a smile letting him lift you over his broad shoulder to carry you down the hall to your shared bedroom. Luckily you’re already in your pajamas when you gently flop against the brown comforter. He leaves you to get comfortable - shifting under the covers and wiggling to find that sweet spot - while he discards his clothes in the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

In a few minutes, he’s appearing through the misty doorway with wet almond strands still trying to dry and a pair of black boxer briefs over his hips. The little “ooh” that slips from your lips as he slides into bed makes him furrow his brows in confusion while you twist to lie on your stomach reaching back to pat your bottom. “I got an idea.”

“Yeah?,” he smirks wetting his bottom lip. “We definitely haven’t tried that before.”

“Jesus, get your mind out the gutter. I mean crush me again,” you laugh.

Although he scoffs in faux offense, he still does as you say positioning himself so half his body covers yours and long leg nearly straddles your back. His nose mere centimeters from yours blowing steady streams of air as you practically share your pillow. “What’s your plan here?”

“Well, until we find one, I was thinking..maybe you could be my weighted blanket,” you shyly explain. “I know it’s probably dumb, but earlier-,”

“Worth a try,” Joel winks closing the small gap to peck your nose then lips. His fingertips tracing soothing lines back and forth along your neck.

For a while, you both just lied there talking about your respective days or whatever came to mind. Around one in the morning, Joel could see your blinks become slower and slower until it was an apparent struggle to keep your eyes open. Your words even beginning to slur and answers sound like adorable nonsense.

You hadn’t even realized you eventually drifted off until the next morning when you were woken up by Morgan’s cries through the monitor. The sun shining a bright golden hue through the crack in the curtains.

A note on the nightstand is the first to catch your attention - clearly written by your husband from the tilted and slightly mushed together handwriting - making you tiredly smile.

‘Glad to see you got some rest xx’

[knivestothroats]

In The Woods Somewhere + Professional//Victim Crossover AU

@victimeyez and I like to play with our OCs together like dolls. We came up with a number of ways Tommy ends up with Fletcher but this is a "my mom sold me to one direction" type AU where Fletcher buys Tommy to basically replace Buck.

CW: long term captivity/human trafficking, withholding food (in past), physical violence, burning, dubious consent sort of, guns in places they shouldn't be

read In The Woods Somewhere here || read Professional//Victim here

Scene 1

Tommy hadn’t experienced a thunderstorm in years.

It rained sometimes when he was on his way to a client, but having lived in a basement for the last five years, he had forgotten their intensity. How loud the incessant, arrhythmic rainfall echoed down from the roof. How lightning could suddenly illuminate the whole room in a flash. How he could feel the house shake with the roar of thunder. Or maybe it was just him shaking. He felt like a dog on the fourth of July. 

It was stupid, after everything he’d been through, to be afraid of the weather.

A bright flash through the window again, followed shortly by a crack of thunder that he could feel in his chest. They were getting closer together. 

There’s no way Tommy could sleep. He was sitting up in his bed in his new home, knees to his chest with his arms wrapped around. 

As much as he loathed Caius, he did provide comfort at times. It was twisted, but it was something. Fletcher… he wasn’t sure about. They had been more reserved so far, treating him with a sort of casual amiability. But Tommy was well aware how Fletcher reveled in inflicting pain. He just hadn’t figured out yet when and why they shed the wool to become the wolf.

Another flash. Tommy tried to brace himself, but he still jumped at the thunder.

Tommy swung his legs off the bed. He stared at the door for a second before going through into the hallway. It was still strange to not be locked in.

He walked gently down the dark hallway. He knew where Fletcher’s room was - they had pointed it out on his first day with a strict do not enter.

Tommy stood outside Fletcher’s bedroom door. He rubbed his hands over his arms. 

This was ridiculous. Going to Fletcher for comfort? Like a child waking up their parents after having a bad dream? During a thunderstorm of all things. He should just go back to - 

Flash. Crack.

Tommy knocked on Fletcher’s door. He tried to listen for movement over the sound of the rain. They probably hadn’t even heard him over the din. Maybe he should knock again, or maybe he should go back - 

Fletcher opened the door, wearing just a t-shirt, gym shorts, and bed head. They squinted at him in the dark.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of Tommy’s mouth. “I, um. I can’t sleep and, um…”

Fletcher was silhouetted as their room lit up. The thunder followed so quickly behind, rumbling through the house, that Tommy didn’t have time to count. 

Fletcher saw Tommy flinch hard, drawing his shoulders up by his ears.

“You’re scared of thunder?”

Tommy felt his face redden, in spite of himself. He should be incapable of embarrassment at this point, after all the humiliation he was put through, but he just felt childish.

“Alright, come in,” Fletcher said with a yawn, moving aside to make way. “Don’t try to kill me in my sleep.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, perking up. He took a hesitant step into the room. “Can I, um, do you mind if I share the bed?”

“Yeah I assumed that was what you were asking,” Fletcher grumbled, shutting the door behind him.

Fletcher took their side first, and Tommy took the other. He laid stiff in the bed, making sure they had a gap between them. Tommy had wondered if sharing the bed would come with a cost, putting himself in a vulnerable position within Fletcher’s grasp. But Fletcher had turned their back to him, sleeping on their side.

He was still on edge. Was sleeping beside Fletcher really better than being alone?

There was a flicker of lightning, followed by a grumble of thunder. Not as loud this time, but enough to make Tommy nervous. 

Tommy turned on his side as well and carefully scooted over until his back was brushing against Fletcher’s. He held his breath, but they didn’t react. 

Tommy could feel their warmth seep into him. He let out a slow breath. It was definitely better than being alone.

~

Fletcher had managed to tune out the storm into white noise, but they were a light sleeper, forever on edge. They opened their eyes in the darkness, listening to Tommy murmur and shift in his sleep.

Fletcher rolled over and draped their arm over Tommy’s middle.

“Shhh,” they hushed gently.

Tommy’s shirt had ridden up, and he whimpered when Fletcher made contact with his skin.

Fletcher tensed up at the noise. Tommy was definitely asleep, but that whimper was perfect. They wondered if he practiced it for his clients. It was difficult to resist the urge to wrap their arm tight around him and squeeze, trying to elicit the sound again. 

Fletcher moved their hand over Tommy’s bare torso. They could feel his ribs too distinctly beneath his skin. Caius and the others probably had him skipping meals. Whether to keep up his waifish victim aesthetic, to keep him weak, to punish him, or just from neglect.  Fletcher figured he would put on weight quickly here. He was going to need to, if he was going to keep up with the work Fletcher had for him to do around the lodge. 

~

“Get up.”

Tommy gasped awake as a hand jostled him from his sleep. He looked around quickly, getting his bearings, and saw Fletcher leaning over him.

“I’m getting up, you can’t stay in my room alone,” Fletcher said.

“Oh,” Tommy rubbed his eyes. “Right. Okay. Thank you… for letting me sleep here.”

“Uh huh,” Fletcher said. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“Mm, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay… do you want me to make your bed?” Tommy offered, trying to show his gratitude.

“No,” Fletcher said flatly. They gestured to the door. 

“Right, sorry.” Tommy hurried out of the room. “Um, would it be alright if I took a shower? Or do you want me to wait?”

“All yours, bud,” Fletcher said, closing the door shut behind them. “Just don’t take too long. You want to get the breakfast while it’s hot.”

~

Tommy turned the water up as hot as he could stand. It staved off the chill that seemed to linger in the lodge. He allowed himself a few moments to just stand under the stream after he had washed, but Fletcher had told him not to take long, and he didn’t want to push it.

Tommy dried and dressed quickly, scrunching his hair with the shirt he had slept in and finger-combing it out of his face. He made his way to the kitchen, which was already calling his name with rich, savory smells.

Fletcher was standing at the stove, stirring one pan with a spatula while another sizzled away next to them. 

“What smells so good?” Tommy asked, trying to peer into the pans.

“Onions and bacon, mostly,” Fletcher said.

“Do you need any help?” Tommy offered.

There was a pop, pop as a pair of bagels sprung up from a two-sided toaster.

“Yeah, grab those bagels for me and add butter and cream cheese. There’s plates in that cabinet, silverware in that drawer.”

Tommy moved swiftly to do as he was told. 

When he had plated them, Fletcher carried over the first pan.

“Okay, get out of my way.” 

It was said lightheartedly, but Tommy still leapt back.

“Just take a seat,” Fletcher nodded to the kitchen table. “It’s ready.”

Tommy sat down and watched as Fletcher assembled the plates, but their body was blocking his view. It wasn’t until they set his breakfast down in front of him that he was able to take it in. 

Scrambled eggs with multicolor peppers, strips of bacon, a sausage, and the bagel he had prepared.

He couldn’t believe how much his mouth was watering.

“It’s veggie sausage,” Fletcher said. “I only had a couple left. Oh - you want coffee?”

Tommy looked up at them wide eyed. Fletcher had told him on the first day that he could help himself to food in the kitchen, but he had been too afraid to touch their coffee maker. Even when there was a pot already made, he had been too anxious that he wasn’t supposed to take any.

“Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?” Fletcher asked, getting a mug from the shelf. It was designed to look like a can of Campbell’s tomato soup. 

“A lot of sugar and cream,” Tommy said. “Please. If you don’t mind.”

Fletcher heaped two spoonfuls of sugar into the mug and then looked in the fridge. 

“Mm, I just have oat milk right now.”

“Okay, that’s fine, thank you,” Tommy said, even though he had never tried it before.

Fletcher splashed some into the mug before pouring the steaming coffee on top. They gave it a stir and set it down in front of Tommy.

Tommy hadn’t touched his food. He stared at the spread before him, not quite believing it was really for him.

Fletcher settled down across the table with their matching meal and began to eat.

“I don’t know where to start,” Tommy said in a small voice.

“Eggs,” Fletcher provided.

Tommy scooped up a forkful of the scrambled eggs and took his first bite. 

It wasn’t just peppers, there were onions and cheese mixed in as well. The texture was perfect - they weren't dry or runny. 

“Wow,” Tommy said. He followed it with a long sip of coffee. It wasn’t as sweetened as he would have made it for himself once upon a time, but it was hot and rich and maybe the best cup he’d ever had.

He might actually start crying. 

“The secret is cream cheese,” Fletcher said, gesturing to his eggs with their fork. “And to scramble it in the pan. How’s the coffee?”

“So good,” Tommy said. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Fletcher started to pile their eggs and bacon onto the bagel. “How often were you being fed before?”

“Um, twice a day, usually,” Tommy said. “Sometimes… less.”

Fletcher nodded. “Figured. You need to start increasing your caloric intake. I need you to do work around here and I don’t want you passing out after an hour in the garden.”

Tommy took a bite of the bagel. The layer of butter under the cream cheese felt so indulgent. 

“If it means I get to eat like this every day, I am more than happy to oblige,” Tommy said.

“Well, I’m not cooking every meal for you,” Fletcher said. “But I want you to eat.”

I want you to eat.

Even if it was to work him like a dog, it was so much better than being worked like a dog on an empty stomach. Despite Fletcher’s generally cold aloofness and passing threats, despite having been the victim of their bloodlust in the past, Tommy felt oddly cared for.

He took another bite of the eggs and hoped he could get Fletcher to teach him how to cook like this.

Scene 2

Fletcher had their sleeves rolled tightly up above their elbows. On their hands they wore black disposable gloves. Tommy watched as those hands deftly sectioned the chickens into pieces, their well-sharpened knife effortlessly cutting through the flesh. 

Tommy had to let his eyes drift away. He watched Fletcher’s arms instead. They tended to hide their form under layers, but every time they rolled up their sleeves, it revealed their muscle tone. Tommy wondered why they didn’t show it off - most people would. He noticed as well, as he watched, that Fletcher had some lighter lines on their skin - old scars haphazardly slashed into their arms. He imagined them getting into knife fights. He imagined them holding someone down by the throat with both hands, arms tensed, as their victim clawed at their skin to no avail.

Fletcher moved the chicken pieces into a bowl of marinade. Spice bottles were cluttering the counter around it. 

Fletcher covered the bowl and set it aside. They cleaned up, discarding their gloves and disinfecting their work space. 

Tommy had been tasked with washing the potatoes he and Fletcher had harvested from the garden. Fletcher had asked him to take his time, making sure each one was free of dirt in the divots, as they wouldn’t be peeling them. He was worried, when Fletcher turned to him, that they would be angry he hadn’t gotten through the whole crop, but they merely began to take from the clean pile and start cutting them into chunks. 

“When you’re done with that can you go through the green beans and just make sure to snap all the stems off?” Fletcher asked.

Tommy nodded. “Sure.”

They had picked the beans together as well. It felt nice to be doing something actually productive for a change. 

When they were done, Fletcher dumped the potatoes into a big pot of water but didn’t light the stove. They sighed, looking at the clock and chewed their lip a moment.

“I should’ve started this earlier. I’m already starting to get hungry,” Fletcher said. “I just want everything to be done at the same time.”

Fletcher shook their head like they were hoping the thoughts would fall into place. They took a baking sheet and returned to the chicken, laying the pieces out.

“I’m done,” Tommy said from his spot at the table with his bowl of beans. He swept the stem pieces into his hand and got up to dump them in the trash.

“Ah-ah!” Fletcher waved their hand at him, causing Tommy to stop abruptly. “Compost.”

“Right, sorry.” Tommy ducked his head.

“Just give the beans a rinse and then you’re done for now,” Fletcher said. “I’ll call you back when it’s ready.”

It was a while later when Fletcher called Tommy back into the kitchen. He was sitting out on the back deck, just feeling the sun on his skin and listening to the birds, when Fletcher opened the door and leaned out.

“I need your help,” they said.

Tommy jumped up and followed them in.

“I forgot to make fucking gravy,” Fletcher growled. “I just need you to mash the potatoes for me while I whip this up. And just shake the pan with the green beans occasionally to move them around.”

The kitchen was hot now, and Tommy quickly shrugged off his sweatshirt before taking over the potatoes. Fletcher was mixing ingredients when there was a thud above them, followed by an indiscernible shout, followed by, “Fletcherrrrr!”

“Jesus Christ,” Fletcher rolled their eyes. “Okay in like two minutes you need to take the chicken out of the oven and check it. 165. Don’t forget to shake the pan.” They rattled off instructions as they marched out of the kitchen. 

Tommy kept an eye on the clock, rolling the beans in their saute oil. They looked kind of brown? He looked closer, not wanting Fletcher to come back and find them burned. Hm, no, he was pretty sure it was whatever they were being cooked in. Balsamic maybe? There were chopped onions in with it as well, and those similarly looked a little brown but not burnt. 

He checked the clock again. Okay, two minutes. Tommy looked around the counter, seeing the thermometer but no oven mitts. There was one pot holder laying out, and he folded the towel hanging off the oven door to go with it.

The tray was heavily laden with the chicken, heavier than Tommy expected it to be. He tried to adjust his grip so it didn’t tip backwards, but his adjustments shifted his fingertips off the towel. 

Tommy quickly pulled his hand away from the heat. Now holding the tray with one hand, it began to go sideways. Instinctively he tried to catch it, only serving to touch the hot metal again. This time, his brain - desperate to keep him from making the same mistake a third time - drew back his hands completely and the tray clattered to the floor, scattering the chicken. 

Tommy’s heart leapt to his throat. He dropped to his hands and knees and picked up a piece of chicken, dropping it immediately.

It’s hot, it’s all fucking hot, he berated himself. He started using the towel to scoop up the chicken. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he piled it back onto the tray. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears he didn’t hear Fletcher’s footsteps. It wasn’t until he saw their boots that he looked up.

As if they had materialized before him, summoned by his fuck up, Fletcher stood glowering down at him. They held a bloody rag in their hand from whatever they had been dealing with upstairs.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “I’ll… I’ll…” Fix it? How was he going to fix it?

Fletcher closed their eyes and dug the heel of their palm into their temple. 

“Do you have any idea the amount of effort that went into this dinner?”

“I know, I’m sorry-” Tommy started again.

Fletcher cut him off. “You don’t know. I had to drive an hour and a half just to get these chickens. Every time I have to leave the lodge it’s a fucking ordeal. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but there’s not much around here. I can’t run to the grocery store without making a day of it. I can’t order fucking take out to fix this. You do know how long this took me today to put together.”

“I do, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Fletcher reached down and slammed Tommy’s head against the cabinets. 

“Stop fucking saying you’re sorry! I know you’re fucking sorry! What happened?”

Tommy held his head, trying to blink his vision back after it whited out.

Fletcher crouched down on their haunches and grabbed Tommy by the front of his shirt, giving him a quick shake. 

“Hey! What the fuck happened?”

“I, uh, I burned my hand…” Tommy said, keeping his eyes low. He held back another “sorry.”

“You burned your hand?” Fletcher repeated unsympathetically. “Where?”

Tommy glanced up at them and hesitantly opened up his hand to them. Fletcher grabbed his wrist with more force than necessary.

“You think this is a burn?” They snarled. “I’ll show you a fucking burn.”

Fletcher took Tommy’s hand and pressed it down against the still hot metal pan.

Tommy screamed and Fletcher allowed him to jerk his arm away. He cradled his hand to his chest, tears escaping from his eyes.

Fletcher stood again, looking down on him.

“Don’t bother getting up. You’re going to be scrubbing the floor.”

Fletcher turned around to storm off, only to see the three trainees leaning around the doorway to observe.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Fletcher snapped.

One held up their hands and made themself scarce.

“Does this mean there’s no dinner?” Another asked.

“There’s potatoes,” Fletcher grumbled. Then they suddenly turned back and dashed to the pan of green beans, taking it off the heat. They inspected the vegetables, ignoring Tommy sniffling on the ground, trying to scoop up the chicken with one hand. “Yeah, these are fine. There’s also green beans.”

Scene 3

Tommy had experienced more types of pain than he could count, but burning was usually off the table to clients. Too much deep tissue damage. It was scary to think that his hand may never be the same. And if it was to recover, it was going to do so at the slow, agonizing crawl of natural healing. 

Tommy did his best not to flinch as Fletcher applied the cream to his burns. He just had to suck air between his teeth and not complain. 

“How’s it feel?” Fletcher asked once they had finished wrapping the gauze. 

“It stings,” Tommy said pitifully. “It feels like I’m still being burned. Do you think… do you think it’s going to be okay? Eventually?”

“Well, if you want to give me the information of that doctor you used to see, I’m sure he can give you a magic healing potion or whatever the fuck. Once I decide you’ve suffered enough.”

Tommy’s stomach flopped. He would take a burn any day of the week if it meant he never had to see Sam again.

“Please don’t take me back to him,” Tommy begged softly. 

Fletcher raised an eyebrow, but said no more on the subject. They peeled off their gloves.

“Then here’s how it will go. It’ll hurt, and then it will blister, and then the blisters will pop. You have to keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected. If you find yourself unable to do simple tasks because you can’t use one of your hands, you can come find me…” Fletcher took his chin in their hand. “And beg for my help.”

~

Tommy slept with his hand cradled against his chest. There was a brief moment of peace when he awoke before he began to feel the throb of the burns. 

He kept his arm close to his torso as he walked to the kitchen, trying to think of what he could make for himself. Surely he could manage a bowl of cereal with one hand.

The box was easy enough. Tommy got the milk from the fridge. Oh yeah - oat milk. He held the container between his arm and his side, twisting the cap off with his good hand. Looked like milk.

He thought about pouring some into a glass to try, when Fletcher walked in, carrying dirty dishes to the sink.

They glanced in Tommy’s direction, then away, saying nothing. 

“I can-” it came out quiet and hoarse. Tommy cleared his throat and tried again. “I can wash those.”

“Can you?” Fletcher asked without looking back at him. 

“Um, I can, well, I can try…” Tommy offered. 

Fletcher turned to face him now, leaning back on the counter. “If you drop something, and it breaks,” they said, “I am not going to be happy.”

Tommy paled. “Is there - is there something else you would like me to do?”

“Not really,” Fletcher said. They walked out of the room. 

Tommy wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. They hadn’t told him not to do the dishes, just not to break them. And if he misinterpreted their response as a no, and they came back to find that he hadn’t washed them, they might be angry.

His strategy for washing dishes with one hand was to lay them in the sink, scrub them there with one hand as best he could, and then move them into the stream of water.

It took longer, and was more awkward - they kept sliding around - but he was able to do it.

When Tommy found Fletcher next, they were out behind the lodge chopping wood. He watched them raise the axe over their shoulder and swing down on the log, cleaving it easily in two. 

“Do you want any help?” Tommy called out, keeping his distance.

“No,” Fletcher called back, setting up the log again.

Tommy hesitated. “Is there anything you would like me to-“

“What the fuck did I just say?”

Chop.

Tommy left them alone the rest of the day. He kept to his room, trying to give Fletcher space now that they had made it clear they didn’t want him around. For a while he tried to read, but he struggled to find a comfortable way to both hold the book and flip the pages. He ended up pacing the floor, filled with anxious nerves that urged him to do something.

He had been having such a… if not good, unquestionably better time here than he’d had with Caius and the rest. This was a bad turn. It didn’t have to be like this. He just had to make it up to Fletcher somehow; get back in their good graces

He had tried to make himself useful around the house without much success. It was true that what he could do would be limited while his hand was injured. Which meant he had to rely on other skills to make himself useful.

~

Everyone else had gone to bed. It was just Fletcher sitting on the couch, illuminated only by the fluctuating light of the TV screen. They had a beer in one hand, resting on the arm of the couch.

Tommy approached slowly, tugging on the hem of his shirt with anxiousness. Fletcher didn’t acknowledge him, even when he was standing in front of the couch. He kept to the side enough not to block their view.

It was only when Tommy lowered himself to his knees that Fletcher said, “What?” without taking their eyes off the screen.

“I’m really sorry about the dinner,” Tommy said. His stomach rippled with anxiety.

“I know,” Fletcher said flatly. “You’ve said.”

Tommy swallowed. He hesitantly leaned in and nuzzled his cheek against Fletcher’s leg.

Fletcher finally looked down at him.

“I would like to make it up to you.”

“How’s that?”

Fletcher said it flatly. Disinterested, still annoyed. There was no flirtation nor cruel amusement in their voice. 

Tommy swallowed. Was this a bad idea? Or was he not making it obvious enough? Most people would jump on him at the mere suggestion. 

Tommy put a hand on Fletcher’s knee and ran in gently up their thigh. Not far, not overstepping. Just trying to give them the right idea. He looked up at them with his best wet dog expression.

“Okay,” Fletcher said. 

They set their beer down on the end table and shifted their pose, spreading their legs a little more. Tommy dutifully shuffled in between.

Nothing you haven’t done before, he told himself. It’ll be better afterwards. 

“Close your eyes.” Fletcher said. And once he had, “Open your mouth.”

Tommy opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out a little. He waited, listening to Fletcher shift on the couch. Probably opening their pants. A click, that must’ve been their belt buckle. 

What entered his mouth was too big, too hard, too metallic. 

Tommy’s eyes flew open as the barrel of the gun forced his jaw wider. He tried to pull back, but Fletcher snatched a fistful of his hair and held him in place. 

Tommy whimpered that beautiful whimper, but it was more rounded, more frantic.

“Breathe through your nose,” Fletcher said.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and followed the order. He tried to breathe deep and slow through his nose. He tried to keep his tongue down as far as he could, to not gag and to not taste the oiled metal.

“I want you to look at me now.”

Tommy slowly opened his eyes. Fletcher was staring down at him impassively.

“Don’t try this shit with me again.”

Tommy couldn’t nod, so he did his best to make an “Uh huh” noise. 

Fletcher withdrew the gun. Tommy doubled forward and hacked. His mouth was left with an awful taste.

“Don’t spit on the floor,” Fletcher said. They picked up a magazine from the cushion beside them and slid it back into the gun. “Go.”

Tommy clamored to his feet and ran off. He managed to get to his room and close the door before fully breaking down into sobs, sliding down to the floor.

He had just been trying to make things better.

~

Tommy cried himself to sleep. Nothing new. He had just hoped to break the habit. 

He shuffled into the kitchen in the morning, and froze when he saw Fletcher sitting at the table, nursing a mug of coffee.

Tommy dropped his gaze quickly. He tried to decide quickly whether he should leave now, or grab some food and then leave. 

“Hey,” Fletcher said. It was softer than Tommy expected. “Sit.”

No running now. Tommy drew out the chair across from them and sat down, still avoiding their gaze.

“I recognize… that I have been harsh,” Fletcher said.

Tommy slowly lifted his eyes towards them, trying to read their expression. Was this a trick? Was he supposed to tell them he deserved it all? Was he supposed to believe them, and be lulled into a false sense of security?

“I didn’t give you a concussion, but, you know, the head can be tricky. And your hand…” They looked for the words. “I try to - I want to keep you in working condition. Nothing that’s going to really put you out of commission for a while. So that probably won’t happen again. Not to your hands. And the gun…” Fletcher ran a hand over their face. “The gun was a lot. That was uncool of me because, you know, gun safety rules.”

Tommy’s mouth was hanging slightly ajar. Was this an apology? At least, as close as Fletcher could get to one? He had expected something closer to, I recognize I’ve been harsh, but if you behaved I wouldn’t have to do these things.

“I know how it feels to have a gun on you,” Fletcher continued. They were the one to look away now. “And I… forget, I guess. That most people aren’t used to it. Can’t shake it off.

“Look, I’m not… not gonna say it will never happen again, but it probably won’t be this bad most of the time. Plenty of days will go by without incident, I’m sure. But I am… a violent person. I have violent tendencies, and I get angry. And I’m not trying to curb these tendencies because I enjoy indulging in them. So…” They tapped their knuckles on the table and shrugged. “That’s the situation. We’re square, for now. So you don’t need to be skulking around anymore. And… nevermind, I was going to say something mean.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably. “About last night?”

“Yeah.”

“What, I’m not your type?”

Fletcher chuckled. “I was going to say when I want to take sexual advantage of you, I’ll let you know; you don’t have to initiate.”

“Right,” Tommy muttered, looking down again.

“I’m joking,” Fletcher said. “You can tell from my lighthearted expression.” They pointed at their face, purposely putting on a grumpy look. “Anyway, I’m planning my lesson for today. Might have to throw you around a bit for the demo. Nothing personal.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Okay, um…”

Fletcher was already up, carrying their coffee out of the room. “Get some breakfast,” they reminded him. “Three meals a day.”

~~~

hm i kind of thought our taglists would overlap more. good luck everyone.

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slighlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @aqua-blogging  @utopian819 @whumpinggoodtime @pretty-face-breaker

[miloformula123fan]

Hey! Could you do fic about Fernando Alonso x baker!reader from prompt? Tag me later! Thanks

of course darling. im so sorry it took me this long to get it out for you <3

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

and my masterlist is here <3

fernando alonso x baker!reader

“Hola, welcome to pan y amor, what can i get for you?”

“Your number?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh are you taken, my apologies. ”

“...no I’m not taken, just wasn’t expecting you to be so bold. How about you buy something and if you like it you can have my number and take me on a date?”

“I am not usually this bold, I apologise. Okay then, what would you recommend, mi sol?”

“Well, I mean, I have to recommend our natillas de leche, unless your allergic to something in them, then I’d try and think of something else.”

“Not allergic, though if my trainer heard how many of these I was eating.”

“Trainer huh?” as Y/N passed over the natillas. “so , you’re an athlete?”

“F1 driver, Fernando Alonso” he held over his hand to shake, after paying “i’m from here, so I like to come in and spend time with the locals”

“Oh, well I’m not the biggest f1 fan, but I’m sure happy to help the locals, maybe you could introduce me to F1.”

---

“Darling, I’m trying to make some brownies before the bakery opens, you cannot come in here and distract me.”

“Can I make something to help?”

“Do you swear that you will follow my instructions to a T?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, you can make some caramel slices. You need to grab almond meal, vanilla protein powder, rice malt syrup, coconut oil, peanut butter, and dark chocolate, did you understand that?”

“Yes chef!”

“Okay good. It needs to go in the fridge, and then you can work on the strawberry lemon scones and then when i'm working on the tiramisu you can work on the orange loaf.”

“You’re telling me that when i rock up before my girlfriend officially starts work to hang out with her, all that happens if I have to do unpaid work.”

“Well i can’t pay you a f1 driver wage, because i can’t afford it and also you are not an f1 driver equivalent baker. I don’t even know if it’s worth giving you these ingredients for fear that I cannot sell what you make.”

---

“Okay, welcome back to pan y amor, as you know we in Cogollo, are massive f1 fans, so we have made some pumpkin cream cheese muffins to celebrate Fernando’s 33rd win. We had a little birdy tell us that this was his favourite flavour, so here’s how we make it, as always the full recipe will be on our blog y si quieres ver esta receta en español, ve a nuestro perfil, donde repasamos exactamente la misma receta, pero en español, para que todos nuestros fans de habla hispana también puedan seguirla. We’ve started this recipe by preheating the oven to 175 degrees celsius, which is 350 degrees fahrenheit for our American fans. 

And as my boyfriend gets in the way, the pumpkin cream cheese muffins are gonna be made slower. He loves this flavour so he’d better get out of my way so I can make the muffins, si, comprendo?”

“Comprendo, capitan!”

Bien, bienvenido de nuevo a pan y amor, como ya sabéis, en Cogollo somos grandes fans de la F1, así que hemos preparado unas magdalenas de calabaza y queso crema para celebrar la victoria número 33 de Fernando. Un pajarito nos dijo que este era su sabor favorito, así que así es como lo preparamos, como siempre la receta completa estará en nuestro blog and if you want to see this recipe in english, go to our profile, where we run through the exact same recipe, but in english, so all our english speaking fans can also follow. Comenzamos esta receta precalentando el horno a 175 grados centígrados.’

'Okay call me delusional, but was that Fernando in this tiktok?'

'Why is fernando voicing a random bakery’s tiktoks?'

'this bakery is in his home town, so maybe he knows them'

'WHY IS THE BAKERY OWNER SO PRETTY'

---

i am going to apologise now because I doubt this made sense :)

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

[skzdreamer13]

Solace Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Peace Hyunjin Apocalypse AU. Paring: Hyunjin x OC (Sarah) Trigger warnings: Talks of Suicide, spooky descriptions(?)

It’s dark here. Only the silvery light of the moon lets us see faintly.

It takes me a bit before my eyes adjust. The floor is covered in a layer of dirt and mud. Others must have come in here when everything first went bad. 3 rows of shelves behind us with small white paper bags on them, the bags slumped over, deflated, as though waiting to be claimed, that won’t be happening. Cans of baby formula have fallen off the shelves and popped open, covering the floor. Pill bottles strewn about, no telling if they’d been thrown or just dropped in a hurry.

I should remember to grab some supplies before heading out. You never know when you’ll need cold medicine, pain meds, or a tampon. It would suck to have to have to bleed through the only clothes I own now.

We already did our rounds to make sure we are alone in here. We know where the exits are, only two, the one we came in and one through the back that leads to an alley between the two buildings.

Hyunjin, he says his name is, looking ethereal in the dim light. Crouched over his bag, hair falling forward to curtain his face as he looks through it. His bag looks light, must not be much in it. I can see him shift some clothes around and I hear the soft rattle of a bottle, medication maybe? He runs his bony fingers through his dark locks to see better, and pulls out two cans. He reaches out and offers one to me, the blue fabric bracelet that’s too big for his wrist sways with the motion. When was the last time he ate?

I shake my head and put my hand up to refuse, what if this is the only food he’s had in awhile? I can’t take that from him. He grabs my hand and places the can into it. Gentle, that's how his touch is. It’s quick brief, like second nature, as if he’s so used to touching me.

“You need to eat. Even if it’s only a little. Please. Eat.” He sounds so… concerned? I can’t understand why he cares so much about my well being. He doesn’t even know me, we only met 2 hours ago. Then again if I saw someone after all of this time being alone, I would also want to make sure they were okay and living.

It’s nice to be taken care of for once. I can’t believe he’s been here this whole time and we didn’t find each other. Wait. Has he been here this whole time? I guess I don’t really know, I know nothing about him, other than his name… and the fact that he’s made it this long. Who knows what things he’s been through or had to witness.

“Thank you.” I say lightly my voice barely above a whisper.

I look down at the can, peaches. I can’t even remember the last time I had peaches, I used to have them all the time. I pull the tab and open the can as quietly as I can, Hyunjin mimicking the motion. You never know what will set off the things that lurk. We sit diagonal to each other, slightly facing each other, but always able to see the entrance. I sit on one leg with the other bent in front of me, ready to be up and moving at a moment's notice. I look over at him and he looks as nervous as I feel eyebrows knit together looking at the door. It’s nice to know it’s not just all on me to be alert. At least not for tonight.

I sigh in contentment, I feel like I can breathe, even if it’s just for this moment. I slide my leg, which was bent, under me to sit cross legged. My bag in my lap as I rest my elbows on top of it and take a bite of the peaches. They’re as good as I remember them being.

Weird how in the back of this pharmacy, behind the counter for shelter from the completely windowed front of the shop, sitting on the floor with a stranger on a day in which I almost lost my life, eating a can of probably expired peaches, this is the happiest I've been in awhile.

I look up at Hyunjin to see him taking a spoon full of peaches in his mouth, frows burrowing and cheeks puffing slightly. I can’t help but smile, he’s so… cute?

He looks up, catching me staring. I avert my eyes back to my peaches. “What?” he asks, I can hear the smile in his voice.

I haven’t used my voice in so long, I don’t even recognise it. Talking to someone felt like something that would never happen again. I have had encounters, small ones, with insignificant people who always parted ways at the end of the day. But it has been so long since even my last conversation with a thinking person, since the last time I had company through the night. Not that we are spending the night doing more than talking. It has been… a while.

“Peaches are my favorite, you know?” I look up at him again, our eyes meeting. He smiles, and my breath catches lightly. He’s beautiful, I could watch him smile all day. I shake my head lightly and pass it off as though I’m moving hair out of my face. I need to calm my thoughts about the man in front of me, no matter how gorgeous he may be.

“I found them this morning, maybe I was supposed to find you too.” He says, eyes softening. And even though I’m at peace at this moment, I just have to know.

“Have you been here the whole time? In the city?”

He looks down, jaw flexing and nods. “I grew up here. I was with my brothers, but we got separated trying to leave the city.” he pauses, taking a breath, this is painful for him. I instinctively reach for him but stop myself. That would be too much, he doesn’t need comfort from a stranger. We’ll probably go separate ways in the morning anyway. I would just slow him down after all, another mouth to feed. Someone to look after. I don’t want to be a burden.

“I like to think they got out, and that’s why I haven’t seen them since.” he shrugs, looking down and playing with his food. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry…” he says, unable to hide the soft crack in his voice, as though he’s on the verge of tears. I had no intention of making him uncomfortable.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” I wrap my arms around myself lightly for warmth. “That’s your business, so I’m sorry for prying.” I pause debating whether or not to voice the insecurity that my brain feels. My feelings win in the end. “We’ll go separate ways in the morning. I won’t take advantage of your kindness.”

His head shoots up at that. Eyes glossy. “What?” genuine shock, his voice comes, with a crack that makes me wince, and he is a bit louder than previously. I look around in fear, and put my hand up to motion him to lower his voice.

“Listen, you saved me and I’m grateful. But why would you want to stick together? You don’t know me. I would just weigh you down anyway. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you killed.” I say matter of fact. Everyone around me either dies or leaves.I’m just going to get him killed, like I did mom. I can’t have someone else leave like Peter did. No one deserves to wake up to find that the only other survivor they have had contact with in 4 months, has abandoned them with no explanation and no goodbye.

I don’t want to watch this incredibly sweet person, who cared enough to save some stranger at the end of the world from ending it all. No one else would have done that.

“Do I get a say?” he asks voice quiet, reserved. His eyes searching mine. I look away.

“Why do you want one? What benefit do you get out of sticking around me?” A few seconds go by, completely silent, the only sound our faint breathing. “You literally know nothing about me, you don’t even know my name.” He hasn’t asked, I wonder if part of him is also scared of what getting emotionally attached means for him. It’s a mistake to care about people here.

“I won’t have to be alone anymore.” It's like all the air gets sucked out of the room. My chest is tight. I have been hoping that there are people still around, hoping to finally find my people to stick with, and every time something goes wrong. What if I get this man killed?

That’s when we hear it, the sound of broken glass being stepped on. Our eyes go wide. I put my can of peaches on the ground as softly as I can, as does Hyunjin. I slip my bag from my lap back onto my shoulders. I lean on the side of the counter that has been keeping us shielded from outside, from the floor to get some idea of what we are dealing with.

There are two. Both of them face their backs to us. Their breathing is fast, it makes them bounce a little. Every breath they take comes out as a wheeze or grunt. The sound of the glass under their feet is keeping them distracted, their moves jerky trying to find the source of the sound that bothers them. The one on the right turns slightly. It’s female in appearance, maybe what was once a woman in her 30’s. Her dress is a burnt orange but seems darker in the light and with all the caked on dirt and blood. I know what her eyes probably look like, they all look almost the same. Bloodshot, veiny, glossed over, no signs of life. Yet they move, as though the blood in their bodies still runs warm.

I didn’t hear them enter, I must not have closed the door all the way because unless they learned how to pull open doors, there’s no reason for them to have gotten in. Of course it had to be me. Always the one to put those around me and myself in danger. I should have done another round before settling in.

The only way out now is through the back door. I turn to look at hyunjin who is crouched behind the counter, back pressed up against it, bag in hand. I point to the back door. Going outside is a huge risk, but we can’t stay here anymore. It was a poor choice to stay in a place that’s entire front is windows, now we're paying for it.

He leads the way, slowly moving to go behind the tall shelves that hold medication. There are 3 rows of them and we’re past two when I hear a pill bottle rattle. Oh no. I look down, of course, I kicked it. We don’t look back, I know we’ve alerted the two inside the store and they’re going to alert more. We sprint to the back entrance. Slamming the door closed behind us.

Now out on the street, in the back alley of the pharmacy we are vulnerable. We can’t risk going out onto the main road, but staying in this alley isn’t any better. I can hear them. The ones inside bang on the door, desperate to be set free. But there are more I can hear shuffling on the street. I look up, there are fire escapes.

In a panic I grab Hyunjin’s arm and pull him, “The roof.” I say no room for argument, and we start to climb.

When we get up to the top, we search the whole roof, it’s empty. I make sure the door that leads inside the building is locked down tight.

When we’ve done our rounds we come together in the middle of the roof. At least we don’t have to be as quiet up here.

“Okay.” I say to him, he looks at me confused.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore either.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

If you'd like to be added to the Tag list just DM me and let me know :) ~Cecilia 🧡

Tag list: @intrikatie @zennnnny

[sortingwaves]

thoughts!! thinking that after some time passes with Pomni in the circus, she tries to teach Caine how to be more human in a way, or at the very least how to be more sensitive cause while no one can’t get physically hurt, the human mind can still break very easily

I feel like it would also encourage Caine not only to get everyone else’s meaning on what it means to be human but also expand on it himself

[ramonathinks]

HIGHEST BIDDER.

summary: tired of your virginity, you decide to auction it off — but you weren’t thinking it would be leader of the notorious group, onychinus who offers the most money of $10,000,000.

cw// 18+ virginity loss, soft sex, small plot but not really, pet names, slight? knife play, oral, she/her pronouns, choking, finger sucking, praise, dumbification, degradation, slight fingering, corruption kink( if you squint), female guided masturbation (? kinda? idk!), squirting, attempt at aftercare, the twins have a cameo. wc: 5.3k

tagging: @lvminy @kissxcore @sunasbon @preciousamethyst (hope it’s okay to tag you guys 🥹🫶🏾) @satorubi

You could only assume it was Luke or Kieran who had told Sylus where you were and perhaps what you were up to. Or maybe it was that damn crow, who insisted you stayed inside. But really, it didn’t matter who said anything because Sylus was grabbing you before a single hand flew up. 

“10 million.” His voice was sharp — a hint of anger, annoyance and frustration on him, it oozed off his body and with the dazzling ruby eyes of him staring everyone down… they got the hint that he was throwing around. He was pissed. Too pissed to hear what anyone else had to say. Power rolled off of him in waves everyday but it was obvious that this day, and this girl and this place was provoking him. 

The auctioneer's lips trembled in his presence. “T-ten million going at once.” He awkwardly scanned the room, not a cough of a mumble was heard. “Going twice.” Breads of sweat gathered around his forehead and he swallowed. “Sold!” He exclaimed, nodding his head rapidly in Slyus’ direction, guiding the both of you towards a secluded area.

He scoffed and tightened his grip on your body, it took him little to no effort to hand over his card and in a few seconds the transaction was completed; a portion for them and the bigger sum of the money going to you. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you briefly. 

You couldn’t help but feel like the stupidest person ever and perhaps at this moment… you were. Being stuck inside and with nowhere to go most days because of the claims of dangers awaiting you, it was tiring. Plus, you had urges, like anyone else – womanly and carnal urges, desires and fantasies. You couldn’t help yourself when Luke mentioned it in passing and Kieran slapped him on the head telling him to shut up about it; it was simply interesting and something Linkon City would’ve never allowed. 

You hated the silence. “Are…are you mad at me?” Walking out of the pale building and to the dark cold outside, moving close to his motorcycle. Looking around you think about how the tenebrific ambience that’s casted over this place, it really wasn’t the same as where you grew up, time moves differently here, almost. 

“You went into the N109 Zone alone, potentially putting yourself in danger and you want to know if I’m mad at you?” He speaks with a hard tone, his touch scorching hot against your arm, his touch addicting. “Of all the times to be reckless…” He does a heavy sigh, followed by pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He’s handing you a helmet and putting his own, sitting down and waiting for your arms to wrap around his waist before he drives off. The wind rushes through you swiftly and no matter how many times you’re on his motorcycle, you can’t help but to feel fear course through every fiber of your body. 

Time always seemed to move faster when you were with him and it moved especially fast being on his motorcycle, he drove dangerously and it always led to you clinging more closer to him than you realized. 

Upon making it back, you jumped off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet, shaking your hair to make sure it looked halfway decent. 

Stepping back inside of the Headquarters of Onychinus, Luke popped his head around the corner and you mustered up the angriest glare that you could make him cower away. You could hear him and Kieran chattering about something. “No use in being mad at them, you brought this on to yourself.” Sylus told you, ushering you into his room.

You just sighed, sitting with your legs crossed on a singular chair that was near a small table in the room. The air felt more tense and uncomfortable than the other times you were here and you couldn’t help but to think of how for once you wished that Mephisto was here so that you wouldn’t be alone with him, not with this temper he clearly had. “Listen Sylus, it was a stupid thing and I know that—”

Lightening wasn’t as quick as him when he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. Nothing with him was ever warm and inviting, always hard and even a bit mean but luckily not forceful. His tongue licked at your lips and you complied with no hesitation. His tongue felt hot against your own, it sent flames up your body and you could feel everything in the pit of your stomach and to your throat. When he pulled away, he looked at you and from the way he smirked… you knew you looked out of it. Your eyes alone felt heavy and your knees were wobbling, too weak to stand. With your eyes on his, you watched the dazzling red become harder to look away from. 

The voices came strong and with a clear message: “fuck him… fulfill your desires…” they spoke to you and you both loved and hated the throbbing sensation that followed. You wanted to remind yourself that he was an enemy… it was too hard to do when he looked like he did and with a voice as deep and rich, it was almost unbearable. Yes, he was an enemy but you couldn’t lie to yourself; you knew the real reason you went to the auction was to make him jealous. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you react the way it does but it burns inside of you and to your very core. 

When the light from his eye dimmed and with rapid blinks you were back and felt more stable. “Your little mind always tells me more than your lips do. If you wanted me… I would’ve given you all of me with no hesitation.” It sounded like a promise and it swayed you, you leaned into his arms. “I can try to be gentle.” He whispered close to you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sylus,” His name trembles out of your lips. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make me…” You squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to make me feel good.” You felt too vulnerable in his presence but the truth slipped from your lips so fast as if you were forced to.

He looked as if something took over him, desire deep in his ruby eyes and you couldn’t look away from him, too turned on. “Take your clothes off.” His husky voice said above you. He didn’t move, just watched you shuffle your clothes off until you were in nothing but your panties; when you moved to take those off, it was then that he stopped you. “I’ll handle the rest.” He assured you before he laid you down — your head on his soft black pillows and your body rigid. 

You don’t know where the knife came from until it’s rubbing up your calf and moving its way up to your underwear, the cool metal piercing your skin just barely. Your breathing labored and measured, trying not to show your fear but it was failing you. “Stay still, I would hate to nick your pretty skin.” The knife tickled your thighs when he finally snipped open the front that held your secret possession.

He groaned at the sight, audible and bit his lips to contain himself more. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt. There was a smile so deep on his lips as he spread your lips open for him to see. “You ever touched down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes. “Show me.”

“H-huh?” You stuttered out. “I can’t just…” 

“Just show me what you normally do… when you’re all alone… in your room…under the covers.” He says it slowly, letting you absorb every word he says.

You’re bare and can feel just how comfortable his comforter set was. Your cunt wet and inviting but his eyes stay on yours, which makes it harder for you to breathe. “I just kinda just do…” Clumsily you spread your lips and simply slid your fingers around yourself, barely focusing on your clit but already overwhelmed. “But I can’t make myself cum, ‘m too sensitive.” His eyes transfixed on your fingers and pussy as you work yourself, your face contorting between pleasure and something else before you stop, heavily breathing. 

“Oh? No wonder you’re so unsatisfied, you don’t know your own body. Good thing I’m here to help.” He’s closer, sitting at the end of the bed yet so close to you. He spreads your legs and you can see a glimpse of excitement dancing in his eyes. He inspects you – stroking up your legs and inching his way up and down your thighs, ignoring how with every touch your breath hitches and your toes curl. “I haven’t even touched you that much and you’re already a mess.” He spreads you; opens you up and closes your folds again completely immersed in the gushy noises that follows.

“This,” Sylus says, spreading your sticky lips apart and his breathing getting heavier. “This is your pretty little clit.” He taps the bud with the rough pads of his fingers. “She sits right here behind these lips.” His fingers are lighting a fire and trailing it around your body. “Open these up again… and this,” you gasp, his fingers sitting right in the spot you never touch. “This twitching little hole? That’s where I’m going to fill you up.” He chuckles humorously, circling the hole and gathering the leaking wetness there, your hips rising on their own accord before he pulls away. 

“Now, your turn.” 

“But I—” You’re close to tears, wetness gathered at your lash line daring to fall. “I can’t, I don’t think I can do it like you.” You hated how needy you sounded and how clingy you were being. 

“I hardly did anything. Just simple touches, to show you where everything was. Pleasure points that you should follow. Did you want more? Did you like how I touched you, little one?” You couldn’t help but to gasp at the nickname, it filled your body with more wetness and he watched it leak down to his sheets. 

Your insides continue to flutter at the name and your face feels hot. “This is what you paid for right? Might as well get your fill from it.” You try to sound bold and intimidating but his demeanor just softens at your attempt. 

“As you wish.” He bends down and cups your cheek before placing a delicate kiss on your lips and you can’t help but to squeal a bit at the warmth that his lips bring you. His fingers brush your face before he moves his mouth down to your neck, licking a stripe before sucking on your skin. You can feel his lips curling into a smile at every noise you make. “I could do this all day… but where’s the fun in that? I’m sure you’ll make even better noises when I touch here.” Cupping the palm of his hand and gently slapping it against your core, your back arches and a whiny moan slips out. 

“See? So much better.” You hate the smug look on his face, his red eyes radiant in the dim room staring you down makes you self conscious and ready to hide yourself from him. “I’m going to put my fingers right here,” His breath tickling your core. “Then my tongue, okay?”

You just nod…unable to speak, he watches your face and holds his fingers up to your lips.“Put 'em in your mouth for me, get' em all wet…” Your tongue slides between them, saliva spilling out of the corners of your mouth. “Good girl,” he patted your head, ruffling your hair and you couldn’t help the feeling that took over you. Your mind was everywhere yet nowhere, just him… that was all your mind could think of and be consumed with. The praise had your body on a different kind of high.

He uses those same cool wet fingers to open you wider. Slowly dipping inside of you, circling your center and easing inside, making you tighten up. “Don’t clench, just relax. It’ll only hurt more if you do that.” You take a few deep breaths, allowing your chest to fill up and expand before a release. He spreads your lips and he just looks. There’s a hum on his lips before he kisses your clit; full tongue running across the sensitive area. Your back lifts and arches off the bed but putting his hand on your lower stomach – he forces you to take it. There’s a look in his eyes that’s daring you to disobey him and it makes your tummy flutter. 

He puts his full tongue against your clit and you try not to move but your body trembles. His fingers draw circles around your thighs, inching closer to your slit. It makes you realize that he was simply distracting you to alleviate the slight pain from when his fingers actually slipped inside. When they did, you gasped aloud. “Sly–us… please.” Your legs threatened to close but you forced yourself to keep them open and it took a lot out of you.

“Good girl.” He muttered, obviously appreciating your efforts. “So tight…” He tries to move his finger but you only flinch and groan, which makes him use two fingers from his opposite hand to rub lazy circles against your clit. That alongside your breathing helps your body relax and brings a lot of ease to you, opening yourself up. He slowly strokes your insides, taking his time to drag it forward and back, slipping it out before bringing it back inside. You can’t help but notice how eyes flicker from your lower half to your face occasionally but you don’t say anything. “Deep breath.” He tells you before he slips another finger in beside the other. 

You whine when he moves them both inside of you, your body rocking against his fingers with a circular motion of your hips. He opens them up before closing them again, you grip the sheets. He felt so deep inside of you with just his fingers… the real thing would be different – longer and thicker – you didn’t know if you were ready. “You’re overthinking aren't you? Just focus on how you’re feeling right now.” His eyes are on yours, his fingers curling inside of you so deliciously that you forget to breathe. When he takes them out, you feel incredibly empty, your hole clenching for more. You're huffing and shaking when you look his way again, he’s opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of you; playing with the slick that was there before he sucks them off. He slips them back inside, sliding them on your inner walls and pressing upwards – the pads of his fingers rubbing circles inside of your soft insides; which makes you squeeze his fingers tight. Rubbing your clit again to soothe you, he slowly curves them as he slips them out – you gasp at the feeling.

He grips your hips and forces you to slide down, his breath knocking the wind out of you when you feel it right by your slit. Your fingers tightly gripping the duvet in anticipation, awaiting his tongue. You gasp when his tongue circles over the hole, nudging there just a bit before he licks up a wet trail; moving back to your clit. He plants a small kiss on the pink throbbing bud, then another before he takes it in his mouth and sucks. His tongue moving around in shapes you can’t make out until you feel the hard S he craves in with his mouth, his head rocking against your legs. When the Y comes, he’s peeling back the hood of your clit and flicking the initial inside rapidly. He slides his face down before he finishes, he pulls your sticky lips apart and dives inside. The tip of his tongue sliding back and forth achingly and painfully slow, his head shaking to the sides when he licks upwards, curving his tongue to hit a particular spongy spot that makes your thighs shake. Your fingers now dig through his silvery hair, pulling when he does a harsh lick against your core. “Taste so good…” He mumbles, rolling your clit between his tongue.

The obscene noises that you hear comes from his mouth feasting on you – slurping, sucking and even the noises of his own groans. Groans that were akin to a dying man giving his last prayer, his groans were drowning out the sounds of your own moans. “I can’t take it–” Slushing sloppy noises are what drowns out your moans and pleads. “Sylus please…” You can feel your own wetness under your bottom and embarrassment floods through you, and at the right time his nose bumps into your clit and you grind into it more with a huff; nothing but useless babbling coming out of your mouth. Another lick causes your toes to curl and your body to twist and coil when a leaking orgasm passes through you; which doesn’t stop him from sucking everything that you have to offer. 

 His hair now disheveled from you tugging and pulling on it — his face sopping wet from your juices and you can’t help but look away from him, he sits completely upwards. “Look at me.” Your eyes back on his, biting your lip before you looked down at the bulge in his pants – it looked so big and your mouth ran dry. It was an accident and unconscious thing but you licked your lips while staring and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “You look really interested in pleasing me.” His brow is arched and his voice low. “This is going to be fun.” He said more to himself than you, standing and unzipping his pants. 

You were still completely naked yet he was clothed – almost fully – just his cock sitting out of his pants standing hard and proud against his stomach. This sight before you made you remember who was in power and just how much power you lacked. But wordlessly, you got on your knees. “You want it? Want my cock? ‘Can see how you’re panting for it.” He was truly condescending and knew how to put you in your place, but the way he made you cum made you see nothing but starlight and you wanted to please him.“Come and take what you want sweetie, take what you need.” You stared – 7 and a half inches of a tanned cock and two firm balls blocked your view of everything else – the tip leaking with white sticky precum dripping down. You trace your tongue up the sides, licking up anything you can to get the taste of him before you kiss the head; then you open your mouth around him and let your teeth run against the sides before you suck him in.

“Watch your teeth, kitten.” His nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes, his shoulders growing relaxed, you take what you can’t fit in your mouth in your hand and give it a few gentle strokes. “And be careful around the— thehead.” He says when your tongue runs a circle around the tip and one wet suck. His face relaxes for a second and you can’t help but to look him over. You knew he was good looking but right now with pleasure all over him, he looks a thousand times better. 

The heaviness in your mouth felt so foreign but you welcomed it, the masculine salty taste that followed when you bobbled your head back and the way your cheeks puffed out because of him; it felt good. Your saliva dripped on the floor beneath you, your technique sloppy but when Sylus gripped the back of your head, you felt like you were on cloud nine. He gently guided you, pulling you forward and back – letting your mouth take him as deep as you can, before he pulled you back off. He inches himself inside, you suck and swallow around him, hearing him groan above you sent your body into a frenzy. You choke a bit but he keeps a steady pace to train your mouth again, muffled moans erupt from you when he moves your head again, hitting a deeper spot almost reaching the back of your throat. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed and a whine slipped through your lips, his praise making your thighs clench together. When he finally pulled you off, strings of spit broke off from your mouth and his dick. “I’m going to come inside of you.” He tells you, but you can barely register what he’s saying too far gone on your high of being used. You’re smiling a dopey grin and he squeezes the sides of your face to make you look at him, your glossy eyes in a permanent daze. “That was only the beginning, are you sure you can handle the rest?”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” Your voice is trembling and hoarse as you speak. You wanted to feel him cum inside of your throat but maybe you were being too greedy, your body swayed. He lifted you up from the floor, your knees burning. You lay there, your eyes droopy as you wait for him, all you hear is movement and a zipper before he returns to you. 

“You belong to me, got it?” His hand wrapped around your throat. “Your body is mine to please, to fuck with… to do whatever I want with. And I don’t plan on letting you forget it.” His voice is hard and mean again, his jaw tense as he stares in your eyes.

“I knowww.” A whimper mixed with a whine comes from your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just sighs. Your body trembles and you sniffle, it makes him cradle your hand in his hands.

“You’re shaking, are you that scared?” He asks you gently, as if you’re a flower who needs tending to. Your eyes wide but say nothing. He laced your fingers together, his hands covering the both of yours in an iron grip. “It’s okay kitten, I won’t hurt you.”

You yelp upon feeling a cool sensation hit your lower half, him rubbing it more inside. He’s hovering over you, his beautiful face watching over yours as he slides his cock over your pussy, not daring to push it inside. He just moves his hips well enough that you’re gasping every time, his tip bumps your clit and you bite your lip, your nails ready to pierce his back. You lean into his touch and he kisses your jaw, trailing them down and gently nibbling at your collarbone, sucking on the skin. “Relax,” He says, playing with your wet folds, he starts to play with your clit again and you shiver. “I’ll be gentle.” Did Sylus truly know the meaning of the word? You’re wailing when he slides just the head in, barely. Easing a small bit of his tip in and fucking you just a tiny bit. 

Then you feel him nudging more inside of you – his head thick and the squelching noises of him moving in make you tense up, but he whispers in your hair to calm you down and then you’re sucking him in. Your voice is gurgly when more of him slides in, a new found warmth inside of you. “Still so tight…” A strained groan fell from his lips, you reached from him with tears in your eyes. Sylus didn’t move, he rubbed your hair but stayed there then he did a tiny jerk of his hips, the stretch makes you sob, but you know that he’s only barely inside of you and that there was more to come. He tells you to take a deep breath and you listen, not wanting to be in any more pain; he slips more of it inside, a thumb on your clit. He presses his thumb and does small circles around it – strangled sounds come out of your lips – he still hasn't moved. 

You look at him, you put his face in your hands and look in his eyes, telling him just how ready you are for this. He’s working his cock in slowly, inch by inch but he looks like he's scared to overwhelm you. When his pelvis meets yours you gasp…your hips buckle when he completely bottoms out, a sigh dying on your lips and tears free falling… it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to but the pain still lingered. Your eyes rolling back and you squeal, your fingers holding tightly against him. “Oh…oh… Sylus.” Panting – your eyes probably filled with hearts — as you look at him, lovingly.  The stringing stretch subsides when he does a small thrust, not too deep but enough to make you feel good. He pulls back and pushes himself back inside, watching your expression as you take him. 

He’s being as gentle as he can, you notice. His hips thrusting soft, just nudging the soft spots inside of you. He pushes inside of you again, the first painless thrust and you both moan. Your belly tenses when he speeds up and the noises of wet skin slapping makes your body heat up. He’s rocking his hips against yours, circling his hips clockwise in a way that makes you shudder. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, he fucks you a bit harder than before. The sound of his balls slapping against you is all you can hear – his strokes getting deeper as he slows down, you look down and see the strings of wetness coating his cock as he stuffs you full of it again. “God, feels so good inside of you.” His mouth slightly agape.

 A small squirt of wetness spills out of you as he thrusts inside, some of it under your bodies and some of it splashing upwards as he digs deeper inside of you. You’re squirming and squirting, eyes crossing over when you hear him say: “Marking your territory, kitten?” It only makes you gush more, squeezing around him. You can feel his deep chuckles as it vibrates from his chest to yours – he’s always mocking you but right now you could care less —the way your body feels has you ready to bend to his whim. “This little kitten and these sharp claws…” he hisses when you press your nails deeper into his skin, you dig them down his back. The long drag of his cock felt amazing against your walls, a small sharp thrust inside has you both grunting.“Clenching around me so hard.” He kisses the top part of your head and you relish in how caring he’s been, you almost forgot how any of this started.

“What’s my name?” His voice thick with a bit of annoyance, it was clear that he didn’t forget how any of this started. You felt full, lifting your hips trying to meet his thrust, his cock hitting spongy parts inside of you that made you see nothing but bright colors.

“Sy-Sylus!” Your eyes rolling back in your skull and your mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape as he’s inside of you, pure bliss in the form of the gentle thrusting of his body into yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” His teeth clenched and he’s squeezing your waist hard, staring at you… his ruby red eyes glowing in the dim room. His pace picking up faster, squelching plopping noises from the two of you grew louder.

“Youuuu. Sylus.” You admit, puffy pussy sucking him inside. “I belong to you.” He touches your stomach, gazing at it as he fucks himself inside of you. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” His hand on your throat. Grinding his pelvis against yours, your clit pulsing against him. He stops and slides out before he jerks back in, gripping your thighs.

“Sylus!” You’re breathing hard and feel him twitching inside of you when you say his name again.

“And you tried to give it away.” He slapped your cunt and you jolted, a small squirt coming out of you. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is muffled and tears fall; you feel so good and you can’t believe you made the stupid decision in the first place when you could’ve asked him to do this… to make you feel this good. Closing your eyes, you focus on the feeling. He’s stretching you out, squeezing your ass in both of his hands to further spread your body open for his pleasure.

“Eyes on me. Keep looking at me. Look at me while I touch you. Look at me when I make you cum.” Your eyes still closed and he sighs. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”  He gives a sloppy wet thrust pumping his cock inside of you. 

That simple statement made your eyes snap open, “Sylus please…please don’t stop!”  There’s a tremor in your voice and the bed creaks at the same time; your wet walls swallowing him deeper inside. “Please fill me up. I need it.” You’re babbling and the curve of his cock hits a new spot inside of you, the tip grazing your cervix just slightly… just enough to make you feel good and to gasp around him. 

It felt like he was going to devour you.

And you craved it.

So you let him. 

It was one last thrust that was your undoing as you both cum, your back arched and your body feeling completely boneless, wetness slipping out of you as he pulled away. Your body shaking, he kisses you and pulls you close to his bare chest. As you’re drifting to sleep you hear him whisper in the sweetest voice, “I truly do adore you.” 

But maybe you dreamt it.

When you wake, your body is covered in sweat and a heavy arm has you caged in. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and you feel wetness there too, you shiver. You slide from behind the arm and attempt to stand. “Fuck.” You mutter, looking for your clothes or for any clothes. You mentally slap yourself upon remembering that Sylus cut your panties as you rummage through his closet. You pull out a folded plain dress and slip it on, making your way out of his bedroom. You close the door gently so that he can stay asleep and you walk towards the main hall.

“Sounds like Boss really taught you a lesson.” You heard snickering and with a slight limp to your walk, you moved over to slap Luke’s arm.

“Looks like it too.” Kieran said, making you hit him too. “It’s not like we didn’t hear it, you two were so loud that Mephisto left and I swear before he left that he tried to cover his ears. I would’ve done it too, if I thought it would drown off the ‘Sylus don’t stop’ you kept moanin.” Mimicking your voice made you kick him in the shin, which he yelped at. 

“Both of you just hush. I-I’m leaving.” You make your way for the door as they trail behind you.

“So this is you attempting to sneak off?” Luke snorts, you know he’s rolling his eyes behind the mask.

“Yeah right, boss really isn’t letting you leave now.” Kieran chuckles.

“They’re right, you know.” For a split second your body is lifted in the air and slammed against the front of a hard naked chest and for possibly the millionth time today, your body felt hot all over. “You really won’t be leaving my side now.”

But you already knew that.

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[rbfclassy]

YOU'RE SUCH A PERV! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...pervy acts that the jjk men do

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, nanami, geto) x fem!reader, panty stealing, jerking off, spying on you, taking pictures/videos of you, groping you, not proofread

INFO...likes and reblogs are appreciated

GOJO

gojo loves to steal your panties and use them to jerk off whenever you’re not home or busy with work in another room. The way he got fixated on this was by accident, seeing your lace panties lying on the bed because you forgot to fold them from the clean laundry and gojo, for some reason, immediately got hard. He didn’t care if they were used or not, but just the thought that they’ve been on you, snug against your pussy. Before he knew it, he was using your underwear to help jerk off and boy did he cum a lot. He was left shaking, panting and bewildered by what he just did. It became addicting, and now he steals your panties to jerk off. “Satoru, have you seen my pink lace underwear?” You ask. “Mmm, no. Maybe they’re in the wash?” He shrugs. Little do you know he has them stuffed in his pocket for later.

TOJI

this man is big on physical affection when it comes to you. Previously, he would hate being crowded and clingy with his partner, but something about you changed that in him. Toji is big on groping you and I’m talking like eyeing you down like a piece of cake, thinking of all the nasty things he could do to you before his big rough hands are reaching out to grab your titties. His thumbs rub over your hardened nipples with a smug smile on his face. Sometimes he’ll scoot by you, hand on your waist before saying, “scuse me, baby.” Pushing his entire bulge against your ass. All you do is look at him with narrowed eyes while he chuckles. When you’re lying down he likes smacking and grabbing your ass. At this point it’s muscle memory for him. But sometimes he ends up getting horny, and he’ll pull his cock out and start jerking off right there in front of you, still groping your body. “Toji, what are you doing?!” Your brows furrow. “Shhh, just keep watching the movie, sweetheart.”

GETO

this man is so pervy like big time perv. He will record you and take pictures of you anywhere he sees fit. Sneaking a picture of your ass in the dress you’re wearing. Taking videos of you while you’re changing. Sometimes he’ll zoom in your lips while you’re doing your makeup so he can jerk off to it later. He has a whole folder dedicated to you. When y’all are having sex, of course geto has to be the photographer he is. “Lift your skirt up for me.” He snaps a picture of you bent over the bed, the skirt barely covering your ass. Whenever you give him head, he’ll make it a priority to cum on your face so he can take pictures of you smiling. Isn’t he the best? Also, he for sure records you while you’re taking a shower, even if the steam is fogging up the glass, he can still see the outline of your naked body and that’s enough for him. “We should make a movie. What d’ya say, princess?”

NANAMI

as sweet as nanami is, I feel like he would be the type to spy on you and secretly listen to you if you’re ever playing with yourself. He can’t tell if you do it on purpose or what because each time he comes home, the bedroom door is cracked and you’re fucking yourself with the toy he bought you. As we watches you from the dark, he loosens the tie around his neck as he hold back the urge to bust into the room and fuck you senseless, but he gets a sense of adrenaline watching you silently, seeing you lose yourself as you call out his name. He palms himself through his slacks before he finally can’t resist it anymore and starts jerking off to you, following your movements. He knows it’s wrong to do it, he feels like such a creep, but goddamn does he love how it feels, the rush is gives him. “There you go baby, cum for me,” he whispers as his eyes intensely watch how your legs shake.

repost from my old account

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[xob1tchs]

just thinking abt older miguel x younger reader (smut 17+)

age gap! dark concept!

𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚.

you’re his best friend’s daughter, who he watched grow from an awkward teen to a young woman.

until puberty hit, and everything changed. no longer wanting to be around miguel or your father, prancing around like you’re better than that – than hanging out with family.

you grew up much faster than he’d hoped you would and sooner rather than later he’s loosing you to parties and dumb college boys (not like you were ever actually his) that he obviously thinks aren’t good enough.

no more wanting to spend Friday evenings snuggled on the couch, watching a scary movie. no more splashing around in his pool, shrieking out when he tosses you from the ladder. it all came to a stop.

you smiling at him or wishing him a good day coming to a halt, and he begins hearing your father complain of your behavior almost everyday. he’s getting sick of it, wishing you’d just be a good girl again. he tried to tell your father that you need punished, but he’s not having it – he swears it won’t do any good. that you’ve grown up too much.

miguel isn’t oblivious to what a young woman in college does. he was your age once, he knows. knows that your frame filled out, and that your legs grew longer, eyes got shiner, pouty lips got poutier. he just tries not to think too hard about how other men know that as well. and don’t get miguel wrong either – he feels like a creep for staring too long, looking where he shouldn’t. you look up to him.

or atleast you did.

but he’s also not an idiot, and he knows that when he’s not looking at you – you’re looking at him. chewing your lip, thinking things you probably shouldn’t, because that would just be wrong. it would be so so wrong.

it’s miguel who knows that it will do good. a simple plan really, to catch you alone, corner you and scare you into being a better daughter. miguel knows he’s a scary guy, that not even you can see past.

a late evening, one where your father is working late, and you don’t have to study. miguel is going to do it then, slipping in through the front door quietly, padding up the stairs to your bedroom.

that’s when he sees you doing something you definitely shouldn’t be.

your bedroom door is cracked, because you think you’re alone, and it’s just enough for him to see you – pillow lodged between your thighs, face screwed tight in pleasure, hips jumping and squirming. Your shirt is longer than it should be, but it’s caught on the curve of your bare ass, revealing it to his wide eyes.

He knows he should just silently retreat, go home and try to pretend like this hasn’t happened, he really does know it. but he stays put.

in a trance, length growing hard in his boxers with every stupid little incoherent plead you let out, squeaking and whining. you’re begging into the air, please wanna cum, please please. frail frame shaking and twitching. he just can’t seem to stop watching, drool pooling at the back of his throat, swallowing thickly.

you gasp out, thighs clamping tighter around the pillow, clearly approaching an orgasm, but you force yourself to stop, chewing your bottom lip. miguel thinks for a moment that maybe you can see him somehow, but that thought diminishes when you toss the pillow to the floor, falling forward, pressing your face into the mattress, legs spread wide, ass high in the air.

he can’t breathe when he sees it – your soaking pussy, screaming for him, creamy and puffy as if you’ve been at for hours.

you slip two fingers in your hole, moaning out, toes curling. the noises you make when you start thrusting your small fingers in and out, gushy and obscenely loud, make him hot. sweat building at his hairline, cock twitching in his pants.

and as if it can’t get any worse, you say it. what he’d been imagining you do.

“miguel please, need it so bad mi vida” you croon, muffled by the bed sheets, but clear as day in his ears.

“hmmm what does my sweet girl need” he coos, clicking his toungue, sucking a breath between his teeth to suffice the nerves building in his stomach.

you pause, face twisting around to see him as he trudges into your room, glowering down at you with shame. your pussy clenches around your fingers, wetness seeping out around the knuckle, and you whine.

your fingers spread your folds, letting him see your greedy hole as his hands come to spread your cheeks, shuddering at the sight up close.

“want you to fuck me, want it so so bad”

he hums, fingers ghosting over your slit, flicking your clit “since you’re begging so sweetly” he smirks.

you behave better the next day.

𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚. severely unedited! pt.2 here

[pucksandpower]

Until Next Time

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Mycenae, 1208 BC

The sun beats down mercilessly on the marble steps of the temple. You stand at the top, your white chiton billowing in the warm breeze. Your eyes scan the crowd gathered below, searching for one face among the sea of onlookers.

“Where is he?” You whisper, your heart pounding.

A firm hand grips your shoulder. “It’s time, princess,” your father’s voice rumbles behind you.

You turn to face him, eyes pleading. “Father, please. This can’t be the only way.”

The king’s face is a mask of stone, but his eyes betray a flicker of sorrow. “The gods have spoken. We must obey.”

As he speaks, a commotion erupts at the base of the temple steps. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot Max pushing through the crowd, his face contorted with desperation.

“No!” He shouts, his voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd. “You can’t do this!”

Two guards grab him, restraining his arms as he struggles against their grip.

“Let me go!” Max yells, his eyes locking with yours. “She’s innocent! Take me instead!”

You start to move towards him, but your father’s grip tightens. “Don’t,” he warns.

“Max,” you call out, your voice breaking. “It’s okay. This is my duty.”

Max shakes his head violently. “No, it’s not! This is madness!”

The high priest approaches, his ornate robes rustling as he walks. “The sacrifice must be made,” he intones. “The gods demand it.”

You feel a chill run down your spine despite the heat. The priest’s eyes are cold as he regards you.

“Please,” Max begs, still struggling against the guards. “There has to be another way. Let me speak to the oracle. Maybe-”

“Silence!” The priest snaps. “The decision has been made. The princess will ensure a bountiful harvest for our people.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Max, listen to me. I need you to be strong.”

His struggles subside slightly as he focuses on your words.

“Remember what we talked about?” You continue. “About the stars?”

Max’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen in recognition. “The cycle,” he breathes.

You nod, forcing a smile. “This isn’t the end. We’ll find each other again. I promise.”

“No,” Max shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

The priest clears his throat impatiently. “We must proceed.”

Your father gently guides you towards the altar. You resist the urge to look back at Max, knowing it will only make this harder.

“Wait!” Max calls out. “Just ... just let me say goodbye. Please.”

The king hesitates, then nods to the guards. They release Max, who rushes up the steps towards you.

He reaches you, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life and every life to come.”

You lean into his touch, memorizing the feeling of his skin against yours. “I love you too. Always.”

Max’s lips crash into yours, desperate and salty with tears. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

Then rough hands are pulling you apart. Max struggles, but the guards drag him back down the steps.

“No!” He roars. “You can’t do this! She’s everything to me!”

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the altar before you. The priest approaches, a gleaming dagger in his hand.

“Oh great gods,” he begins to chant. “Accept this offering and bless our lands.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out Max’s anguished cries. You think of stars, of cycles, of promises of reunion.

The dagger plunges, and pain explodes through your body. As darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, you hear Max’s voice, raw with grief.

“I’ll find you,” he vows. “In the next life, and the next, and the next. We’ll be together again. I swear it.”

As your consciousness fades, you cling to that promise. This isn’t the end, you tell yourself. It’s just the beginning of a much longer story.

Your last thought before the world goes black is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and determination. Somehow, you know that this is not goodbye — it’s just until next time.

London, 1542

The heavy oak door of your chambers creaks open, and you look up from your embroidery, heart leaping at the sight of Max slipping inside. His eyes dart nervously around the room before settling on you.

“My lady,” he whispers urgently, crossing the room in quick strides. “We must speak.”

You set aside your needlework, rising to meet him. “What is it? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

He takes your hands in his, his touch sending a familiar thrill through you despite the gravity in his expression. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. I’ve heard whispers in the court ...”

Your breath catches. “What kind of whispers?”

Max’s jaw clenches. “Accusations. Terrible ones. They’re saying you’ve been unfaithful to the king.”

You gasp, shaking your head vehemently. “That’s absurd! I would never-”

“I know,” Max interrupts, squeezing your hands. “But the truth matters little when it comes to Henry’s jealousy. You know how he is.”

A chill runs down your spine as you remember the fate of the king’s previous wives. “What am I to do?”

Max’s eyes blaze with determination. “We’ll run away. Tonight. I have friends who can help us reach the coast. From there, we can sail to France or-”

The sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor cuts him off. You both freeze, staring at the door in mounting dread.

“Quick,” you hiss, pushing Max towards a tapestry-covered alcove. “Hide!”

He resists for a moment. “I won’t leave you-”

“You must,” you insist. “If they find you here, it will only make things worse.”

Reluctantly, Max ducks behind the tapestry just as the door bursts open. The king’s guards pour in, led by Thomas Cromwell himself.

“My lady,” Cromwell says with a cold smile. “I’m afraid you must come with us.”

You lift your chin, summoning every ounce of royal dignity. “On what grounds, Lord Cromwell?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Treason, my lady. His Majesty has evidence of your ... indiscretions.”

“That’s impossible,” you protest. “I’ve been nothing but faithful to the king.”

Cromwell gestures to the guards. “Search the room. Thoroughly.”

Your heart pounds as they begin tearing through your belongings. You silently pray that Max remains hidden and undetected.

“This is outrageous,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I demand to speak to the king himself.”

“His Majesty has no desire to see you,” Cromwell replies. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

One of the guards approaches, holding a folded piece of parchment. “My lord, we found this hidden in her jewelry box.”

Cromwell snatches it, his eyes scanning the contents. His smirk widens. “Well, well. A love letter, it seems. Quite damning, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “That’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before!”

“A poor defense, my lady,” Cromwell tuts. “Come now, we mustn’t keep the Tower waiting.”

As the guards move to seize you, Max bursts from his hiding place. “Stop!” He shouts. “She’s innocent!”

Cromwell’s eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “And who might you be, young man?”

Max stands tall, his gaze unwavering. “I can vouch for the queen’s innocence.”

“Can you now?” Cromwell’s tone is dangerously soft. “And how, pray tell, would you know such a thing?”

You see the trap too late. “Max, don’t-”

But he’s already speaking. “Because I’ve been watching over her. Protecting her. I would know if she had been unfaithful.”

Cromwell’s eyes glitter with triumph. “Watching over her, you say? How ... intimate. Guards, seize him as well.”

“No!” You cry out as the guards grab Max. “He’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary,” Cromwell replies. “He’s just confessed to an inappropriate relationship with the queen. That’s treason, my dear.”

Max struggles against the guards. “It’s not like that! I love her, yes, but we’ve never-”

“Enough!” Cromwell snaps. “Take them both to the Tower. His Majesty will decide their fate.”

As the guards drag you from the room, your eyes meet Max’s. In that moment, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. You’ve been here before, somehow. Torn apart by forces beyond your control.

“It’s happening again,” Max says softly, his eyes wide with realization.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “The cycle continues.”

“What are you two babbling about?” Cromwell demands.

Neither of you answer. What could you say that he would understand?

As you’re led through the winding corridors of the palace, Max’s voice carries to you. “I’ll find a way to save you. I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you call back, your voice catching.

“I kept the last one, didn’t I?” He replies. “I found you again.”

Memories flood your mind — hazy images of another life, another time. A temple, a sacrifice, a vow made in desperation.

“So you did,” you whisper.

The journey to the Tower passes in a blur. Before you know it, you’re being locked in a cold, damp cell. Through the small barred window, you can see the executioner’s block in the courtyard below.

Days pass. You pace your cell, alternating between fear and a strange sense of calm. This isn’t the end, you remind yourself. Somehow, you know it to be true.

When they come for you, you hold your head high. As you’re led to the block, you scan the crowd, searching for Max’s face. You spot him, restrained by guards, his face a mask of anguish.

“I love you,” he mouths.

“Until next time,” you reply silently.

As you kneel at the block, you close your eyes. You think of stars and cycles, of promises kept across lifetimes. The axe falls, and darkness descends.

Your last conscious thought is a mixture of sorrow and hope. This chapter may be ending, but your story with Max is far from over. In another time, another place, you’ll find each other again. The wheel turns, and the cycle continues.

Florence, 1633

The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across the cluttered study. You pace nervously, your skirts swishing against the worn floorboards. Max hunches over his desk, quill scratching furiously across parchment.

“Max,” you plead, “please reconsider. It’s not too late to recant.”

He looks up, his eyes bright with fervor. “I can’t, my love. The truth is too important.”

You move to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “More important than your life?”

Max covers your hand with his, his touch warm and familiar. “Some truths are worth dying for.”

“And what about living for?” You counter. “What about us?”

He stands, pulling you into an embrace. “Everything I do, I do for us. For a world where we can live freely, without the shackles of ignorance.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent of ink and parchment. “I fear those shackles are stronger than you think.”

A sharp knock at the door makes you both jump. Max moves to answer it, but you grab his arm.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “It could be them.”

Max’s jaw sets stubbornly. “If it is, hiding won’t change anything.”

He strides to the door and throws it open. A young man stands there, panting heavily.

“Master,” he gasps. “They’re coming. The Inquisition. You must flee!”

Max’s face pales, but his voice remains steady. “Thank you for the warning, Giovanni. You should go before they arrive.”

The young man nods and disappears into the night. Max turns to you, his expression grim.

“You should go too,” he says softly. “There’s no reason for both of us to face their wrath.”

You shake your head fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Please,” Max implores. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you because of me.”

“And I couldn’t bear to abandon you,” you retort. “We’re in this together, remember?”

A ghost of a smile touches Max’s lips. “Always.”

You help him gather his most important papers and instruments, working quickly in the oppressive silence. As Max secures the last of his writings, you hear the ominous sound of marching feet approaching.

“It’s too late,” you breathe.

Max squares his shoulders. “Then we face them with dignity.”

The door bursts open, and armored men pour into the small study. At their head is Cardinal Bellarmine, his face a mask of righteous anger.

“Apostate,” he intones. “You stand accused of heresy against the Holy Church.”

Max steps forward, his voice calm. “I stand accused of seeking the truth, Your Eminence.”

The Cardinal’s eyes narrow. “You spread dangerous lies. You claim the Earth is not the center of God’s creation!”

“I claim only what the evidence suggests,” Max counters. “The movements of the heavens themselves tell us-”

“Blasphemy!” Bellarmine roars. “You would elevate your flawed observations above the word of God?”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “My lord Cardinal, surely God gave us minds to seek understanding. How can the pursuit of knowledge be heresy?”

Bellarmine’s gaze snaps to you. “And who is this who dares to question the Church’s judgment?”

Max steps protectively in front of you. “Leave her out of this. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She defends a heretic,” the Cardinal sneers. “That alone is cause for suspicion.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, but you stand your ground. “I defend a good man who seeks only to understand the wonders of God’s creation.”

Bellarmine waves dismissively. “Take them both. We’ll sort out her involvement later.”

As the guards move to seize you, Max erupts into action. He grabs a heavy tome from his desk and hurls it at the nearest guard, then pushes you towards the window.

“Run!” He shouts. “I’ll hold them off!”

You hesitate, torn between fleeing and staying by his side. In that moment of indecision, a guard grabs you roughly by the arm.

“No!” Max cries out, lunging towards you.

Another guard intercepts him, slamming the butt of his halberd into Max’s stomach. He crumples to the ground, gasping for air.

“Stop!” You plead. “We’ll come peacefully. Just don’t hurt him.”

Bellarmine smirks. “A wise decision. Though I’m afraid it’s too late for leniency.”

As the guards bind your hands, you lock eyes with Max. There’s a strange, sad recognition in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I thought this time would be different.”

You shake your head, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “It’s not your fault. It never is.”

Bellarmine looks between you, confusion evident on his face. “What nonsense is this?”

Neither of you answer.

You’re led from the study, through the torch-lit streets to the forbidding walls of the Inquisition’s headquarters. As you’re separated and thrown into different cells, Max’s voice carries to you.

“I’ll find you again. I swear it.”

“In this life or the next,” you call back, your voice breaking.

Days blur together in your dank cell. You’re questioned relentlessly about Max’s work, about your involvement. You reveal nothing, clinging to the hope that your silence might somehow spare him.

When they finally come for you, you know it’s not good news. You’re led to a small courtyard where a pyre has been erected. Your heart sinks as you see Max already tied to the stake, his face bruised but defiant.

“Heathen,” Bellarmine proclaims, “you have been found guilty of heresy. Do you repent your sins?”

Max’s eyes find yours in the crowd. “My only sin,” he says clearly, “is loving truth more than dogma.”

The Cardinal’s face darkens. “Then may God have mercy on your soul. Light the pyre.”

As the flames begin to lick at Max’s feet, you can’t contain yourself any longer. You break free from your guards and run towards the pyre.

“No!” You scream. “Max!”

He looks at you, his eyes full of love and sorrow. “Until next time, my love. We’ll get it right someday.”

The guards grab you, dragging you back as the flames engulf Max. His agonized cries pierce the air, but his gaze never leaves yours.

As the light fades from his eyes, you feel a piece of your soul shatter. But deep within, a tiny spark of hope remains. This isn’t the end, you tell yourself. It can’t be.

Somewhere, somewhen, you’ll find each other again. The wheel turns, the cycle continues, and your love endures beyond death itself.

Atlantic Ocean, 1912

The grand ballroom of the Titanic thrums with life, an orchestra playing a lively waltz as couples twirl across the polished floor. You stand at the edge of the crowd, your gloved hands fidgeting with your beaded gown. Your eyes scan the room, searching for one face in particular.

“Looking for someone?” A familiar voice asks behind you.

You turn, a smile lighting up your face as you see Max, dashing in his tailored suit. “There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

Max grins, offering you his arm. “Even on a ship this size? Never. Though I must admit, I did take a wrong turn or two.”

You laugh, taking his arm. “Well, I’m glad you found your way eventually. I’ve been dying to dance with you all evening.”

As Max leads you onto the dance floor, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. You’ve danced with him before, you think. In grand halls and humble taverns, across centuries ...

“What’s that look for?” Max asks, pulling you from your reverie as he places a hand on your waist.

You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing. Just ... happy, I suppose.”

He beams at you as you begin to waltz. “As am I. Being here with you, it feels ... right. Like everything’s fallen into place.”

You nod, leaning into him slightly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

As you dance, the world seems to fade away. It’s just you and Max, moving in perfect synchronicity. But the spell is broken as a violent shudder runs through the ship.

Max steadies you as you stumble. “What was that?”

Around you, other passengers are looking around in confusion. The music has stopped, the musicians exchanging worried glances.

“I’m not sure,” you reply, a sense of unease growing in your stomach. “Perhaps we should-”

Your words are cut off as a ship’s officer bursts into the ballroom. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We’ve struck an iceberg, but there’s no immediate danger. As a precaution, we ask that you all put on life vests and make your way to the boat deck.”

A ripple of nervous chatter sweeps through the crowd. Max’s grip on your hand tightens.

“We should go,” he says urgently. “Now.”

You nod, allowing him to lead you through the increasingly panicked throng. As you make your way through the corridors, the ship’s list becomes more pronounced.

“This is bad,” Max mutters, helping you navigate a particularly steep section. “Much worse than they’re letting on.”

You reach your cabin, quickly donning life vests over your evening wear. As you step back into the corridor, you’re met with a tide of frightened passengers.

“We need to get to the boat deck,” Max says, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “Stay close to me.”

You push through the crowd, the ship’s groans and creaks growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally reach the deck, chaos greets you. Officers are struggling to maintain order as passengers clamor for spots in the too-few lifeboats.

“Women and children first!” An officer shouts over the din.

Max turns to you, his face pale but determined. “You need to get on a boat.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Not without you.”

“Please,” he begs, cupping your face in his hands. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

A memory flashes through your mind — Max saying those same words in another time, another place. Always trying to save you.

“And I couldn’t bear to leave you,” you insist. “We stay together. No matter what.”

Max’s eyes search yours for a long moment before he nods. “Together, then.”

As the night wears on, it becomes clear that there won’t be enough lifeboats for everyone. You and Max help where you can, assisting women and children into the boats. The temperature drops, your breath visible in the frigid air.

“I think that’s the last one,” Max says as you watch the final lifeboat disappear into the darkness.

You look around the rapidly tilting deck. Those who remain are a mix of resigned, terrified, and in denial.

“What do we do now?” You ask, your voice small.

Max takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “We face it together. Like we always have.”

As the ship’s stern begins to rise, you and Max make your way towards the railing. The screech of twisting metal fills the air as the Titanic starts to break apart.

“Max,” you say, your voice trembling, “I’m scared.”

He pulls you close, his arms strong around you. “I know. But remember, this isn’t the end. Not really.”

You look up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you feel it?” He asks. “The familiarity? Like we’ve been here before?”

As you stare into his eyes, flashes of memory assault you. A temple in ancient Greece. A Tudor court. A Renaissance study. Always you and Max. Always torn apart.

“The cycle,” you whisper.

Max nods, a sad smile on his face. “We’ll get it right someday. I promise.”

The ship lurches violently, and you cling to each other as you’re thrown into the icy Atlantic. The shock of the cold water drives the breath from your lungs.

“Max!” You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water.

“I’m here,” he calls back, swimming towards you. “Hold on to me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, your limbs already growing numb from the cold. Around you, the cries of other passengers pierce the night.

“It’s so cold,” you murmur, your teeth chattering.

Max holds you tighter. “I know, love. Just stay with me.”

As the minutes tick by, the cries around you grow fewer. You can feel your strength ebbing, your grip on Max weakening.

“Hey,” Max says, his voice hoarse. “Stay awake. Look at the stars with me.”

You force your eyes open, gazing up at the crystal-clear sky. “They’re beautiful,” you manage.

“Just like you,” Max replies. “In every life, in every time.”

You smile weakly. “You always were a charmer.”

“And you always saw right through me,” he chuckles, the sound turning into a cough.

As your vision begins to dim, you summon the last of your strength to speak. “Max? Promise you’ll find me again?”

His lips, blue with cold, press against your forehead. “Always. In this life and the next, and all the ones after.”

The cold fades, replaced by a spreading warmth. As consciousness slips away, your last thought is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and the promise of reunion.

The wheel turns. The cycle continues. And somewhere, in another time, another place, two souls prepare to find each other once more.

Washington DC, 1968

The air is thick with tension and the acrid smell of tear gas. You stand at the front of the crowd, your hand tightly gripping a homemade sign that reads “MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR.” The chants of the protesters around you swell and ebb like waves crashing against the shore of the Lincoln Memorial.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Max pushing his way through the crowd, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it.”

Max reaches you, his hand finding yours. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Though the police barricades nearly did.”

You squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. This feels ... important. Like we’re on the brink of something.”

He nods, his eyes scanning the growing crowd. “I know what you mean. It’s like the whole world is holding its breath.”

As if on cue, a new chant starts up. “Hey, hey, LBJ! How many kids did you kill today?”

You join in, your voice blending with the thousands around you. Max’s deeper tone resonates beside you, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chill.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion at the edge of the crowd. You stand on tiptoe, trying to see what’s happening.

“What is it?” Max asks, concern etching his features.

“I’m not sure,” you reply. “It looks like ... oh no.”

A line of police officers in riot gear is advancing on the crowd, batons at the ready.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens. “We should fall back. This could get ugly.”

But you stand your ground, shaking your head. “No. We can’t let them intimidate us. We have a right to be here, to make our voices heard.”

“I know,” Max says, his voice tight with worry. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

As the police line gets closer, tensions in the crowd rise. Someone throws a bottle, and it shatters at the feet of an officer. In an instant, chaos erupts.

“Disperse immediately!” A voice booms over a megaphone. “This is an unlawful assembly!”

But the crowd doesn’t disperse. If anything, the chants grow louder, more defiant. You feel Max tugging at your arm.

“Come on,” he urges. “We’ve made our point. Let’s go before-”

His words are cut off by a loud bang. For a moment, you think it’s a firecracker. Then you see the tear gas canister arcing through the air.

“Gas!” Someone shouts, and panic ripples through the crowd.

Max pulls you close, covering your mouth and nose with his bandana. “We need to move, now!”

You nod, coughing as the acrid gas begins to sting your eyes. Together, you push through the panicked crowd, trying to reach the edge of the park.

But the police are closing in from all sides. You see batons swinging, hear the cries of pain and anger from your fellow protesters.

“This way,” Max says, pulling you towards a gap in the police line.

You’re almost there when you hear a scream behind you. Turning, you see a young woman on the ground, an officer standing over her with his baton raised.

Before you can think, you’re moving towards them. “Stop!” You yell. “Leave her alone!”

“Y/N, no!” Max calls after you, but you’re already out of his reach.

You throw yourself between the fallen woman and the officer, your arms outstretched. “Please,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “She’s not a threat. We’re peaceful protesters.”

The officer hesitates, his baton still raised. For a moment, you think he might listen. Then you see his eyes harden behind his visor.

“I said disperse!” He shouts, bringing the baton down.

You close your eyes, bracing for the impact. But it never comes. Instead, you hear a grunt of pain and open your eyes to see Max in front of you, taking the blow meant for you.

“Max!” You cry out as he crumples to the ground.

You drop to your knees beside him, cradling his head. “Max, can you hear me?”

He groans, his eyes fluttering open. “Are you okay?” He asks, his voice weak.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “I’m fine. Why did you do that?”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”

Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “You idiot,” you say fondly.

The moment is shattered by another round of tear gas canisters landing nearby. The acrid smoke billows around you, making it hard to breathe.

“We need to get out of here,” you say, trying to help Max to his feet.

But as you stand, you feel a sharp pain in your side. Looking down, you see a growing red stain on your shirt.

“Y/N?” Max’s voice sounds far away. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You stumble, your legs giving out. Max catches you, lowering you gently to the ground.

“Oh God,” he says, his face pale with shock. “You’ve been hit.”

You look down again, seeing the bullet embedded in your side. The pain is distant, almost unreal.

“It’s not so bad,” you try to reassure him, but your voice comes out weak and shaky.

Max presses his hand to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “Help!” He shouts. “We need a medic!”

But his cries are lost in the chaos around you. The world seems to be fading, growing dim at the edges.

“Max,” you whisper, reaching up to touch his face. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re going to be fine, you hear me? We’re going to get through this.”

You smile sadly, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you. “We always say that, don’t we?”

Max’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Every time,” you murmur, your strength fading. “We always think this time will be different.”

Understanding dawns in Max’s eyes, along with a deep, aching sorrow. “The cycle,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. “But it’s okay. We’ll get another chance.”

“No,” Max says, his voice breaking. “Not again. Please, Y/N, stay with me.”

But you can feel yourself slipping away. The pain is gone now, replaced by a spreading warmth.

“Find me again,” you breathe, your eyes starting to close. “Promise me.”

Max’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “I promise. In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

As consciousness fades, your last thought is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and the weight of lifetimes. The wheel turns, the cycle continues, and somewhere, two souls prepare for yet another chance at forever.

Monaco, 2024

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. You’re curled up against Max, his arm draped protectively over your waist. The steady rhythm of his breathing is a comforting constant, one you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

A gentle weight lands on the bed, followed by a soft meow. You open your eyes to see Jimmy padding across the duvet.

“Morning, Jimmy,” you whisper, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. He purrs contentedly, settling down in the small space between you and Max.

The movement stirs Max from his slumber. He blinks sleepily, a smile spreading across his face as he focuses on you. “Good morning, schatje,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Morning, champ. Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do with you by my side.”

As if on cue, another weight lands on the bed. Sassy makes her presence known with a demanding meow.

Max chuckles, reaching over to pet her. “Good morning to you too, princess.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I think someone’s jealous of all the attention Jimmy’s getting.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Max says, scooping Sassy up and placing her on his chest. She immediately starts kneading, purring loudly.

You watch them with a fond smile, a wave of contentment washing over you. “I love this,” you say softly. “Just ... all of this.”

Max turns his head to look at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Me too. Sometimes I can hardly believe it’s real, you know?”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s like ... we’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“Lifetimes,” Max agrees, a hint of something ancient in his gaze.

You both fall silent for a moment, lost in memories that feel more like dreams — flashes of other lives, other times, always reaching for each other but never quite able to hold on.

Jimmy stretches, breaking the spell. You laugh as he nearly pushes Sassy off Max’s chest in the process.

“Alright, you two,” Max says, gently moving the cats aside. “I think it’s time for breakfast.”

As if understanding his words, both cats leap off the bed and head for the door, meowing insistently.

You groan, burying your face in Max’s shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know they won’t let us rest until they’re fed.”

“True,” you sigh, reluctantly sitting up. “I suppose we should get up anyway. Don’t you have that interview today?”

Max nods, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, in a couple of hours. Nothing too intense though, just a quick chat about the next race.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, stretching. “Want me to make coffee while you feed the furry overlords?”

“Sounds perfect,” Max says, getting up and pulling on a t-shirt. He pauses at the door, looking back at you with a soft smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, the same feeling you get every time he looks at you like that. “You might have mentioned it once or twice,” you tease. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

Max crosses the room in two quick strides, pulling you into a deep kiss. When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless.

“I love you,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You cup his face in your hands, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I love you too, Max. Always have, always will.”

A loud meow from the hallway breaks the moment. You both laugh, the spell broken but the warmth lingering.

“Duty calls,” Max says with a wink, heading out to tend to the cats.

You make your way to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker and pulling out mugs. As the rich aroma fills the air, you can hear Max in the other room, talking to the cats as he fills their bowls.

“There you go, Jimmy. Easy, Sassy, there’s plenty for both of you.”

You smile to yourself, struck once again by how perfect this all feels. It’s not just the quiet moments like this morning — it’s the way Max lights up when he talks about racing, the pride in his eyes when he brings home another trophy. It’s the way he holds you after a particularly rough day, or the sound of his laughter when you’re goofing around together.

Max joins you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you pour the coffee. “Smells amazing,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck.

You lean back into him, savoring the moment. “The coffee or me?”

“Both,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You turn in his arms, handing him his mug. “So, what’s on the agenda after your interview?”

Max takes a sip of coffee, thinking. “Not much, actually. I was thinking maybe we could have a quiet day in? Watch a movie, order takeout?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, your smile widening. “I’ll even let you pick the movie this time.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Even if it’s another racing documentary?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Even then. Though I reserve the right to fall asleep on your shoulder if it gets too technical.”

“Deal,” Max grins, pulling you close for another kiss.

As you stand there in the kitchen, coffee in hand and cats weaving between your legs, you’re struck by a profound sense of rightness. This is what you’ve been searching for, life after life. This quiet, domestic bliss with the man you love.

“What are you thinking about?” Max asks, noticing your thoughtful expression.

You smile, leaning into him. “Just ... how happy I am. How perfect this all is.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “It really is, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if I’m dreaming.”

You pinch his arm lightly, laughing at his mock-offended expression. “Definitely not dreaming.”

“Good,” he says, his voice soft and sincere. “Because I never want to wake up from this.”

As you stand there in the morning light, surrounded by the life you’ve built together, you silently thank whatever force has finally allowed you and Max to find your happily ever after.

The wheel has turned, the cycle has ended, and at last, your souls have found their home.

[sillyblues]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: miguel tells you how annoying you are

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: last and second part of annoying is here!! thank you so much for the huge support yall broke my app my notifications weren’t loading properly lmao THANK YOU! this was supposed to be just a short one but here we are with a part two and a bit bigger word count m’gonna need rest and need more time for the preggo fic

part 1

Wordlessly, you left the team. You returned to your own Earth and did your own thing again. There was a slight tinge of unfamiliarity, knowing that you might never work with other spider people, your friends, again, but you forced the feeling down.

Miguel’s outburst haunted you wherever you went. Even as you fought villains that disturbed the peacefulness of your home, even as you mingled with the other civilians and hung out with your friends, even as you laid down in the comfort of your bed, his words would constantly echo through your head, and they would threaten the fall of your tears every single time.

If Miguel thought you were annoying, what about your other friends? Do they think you were bothersome as well? Maybe, you bitterly thought as you brought your knees to your face. Maybe the civilians don’t like you as well. The thought of the people you treasure and care for so dearly, the people whom you devoted most of your life to save, the people whom you risk getting hurt every day for, hating you, left you breathless.

More tears fell, and you gasped. The ache in your heart was too much to bear and seemed to sting your entire being. You clutched your chest as you laid sideways on your bed, pillows and blanket long scattered on the floor. You tried to muffle your cries, but it was useless, as they still vibrated through the room of your apartment.

Oh, god. Please don’t hate me. Don’t hate me, please. Don’thatemepleasedon’thatemeplease—

“[Name]?” the familiar voice momentarily halted you in your weeping. You slowly rose a bit, supporting yourself on your arm and looked towards the source of it. Peter’s worried look greeted you as he crawled himself out of your window. 

“Oh, [Name].” you wavered at his heartbroken voice. He immediately rushed in to hug you. He sat on your bed beside you and embraced you. He rocked you back and forth, one hand on the back of your head that leaned into the crook of his neck, and one hand caressed your back.

“P-Peter, I ca– I can’t,” you hiccupped, and with shaking fingers, you gripped his suit tight. You felt your heart would burst with the way it was beating so fast and hard, ringing in your ears. “I can’t— I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay, [Name]. I got you. I’m here, okay?” his voice was slightly muffled by the top of your head, but you could still hear him. “I want you to listen to me. Stay with me, yeah?”

You tried your best to respond, but it felt like your body wasn’t listening to you. He pulled back a little and held your face in his hands. You look at his eyes full of undisguised concern overflowing, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hate you too. You gathered what was left of your little strength and nodded weakly.

“Can you tell me three things around your room?” you try to look around as you cling to his arms. You looked away from his eyes and looked around you. Your old lampshade provided you with dim lighting in your dark, cold room. Your messy books were in disarray on the table. You saw a mirror. You saw yourself and how miserable you looked. Your face was wet with tears, and your eyes were red. You also saw how Peter looked at you with such solicitude, and you want to cry all over again.

“Um, lampshade.” You said and winced at the painful scratch in your throat and your hoarse voice. “Books. Mirror.”

“Good job. You did well. Can you move three body parts for me?” you unclasped your hands from his arms and tried to clench and unclench them. You wiggled your head out of his hold, embarrassment starting to creep onto you being seen so sticky and so wet and such a mess. It was fortunate that he understood and he chuckled. You were silent for a moment, and you didn't know what else to move so you settled on headbutting Peter.

“Ow! Of all things, really? Can't believe this is what I get,” he grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. You giggled at his exaggerated expression and unknowingly to you, your tears had stopped flowing, and only hiccups remained.

“Are you feeling better, [Name]? You can talk to me, my shoulder is vacant for you. Or do you want me to just stay quiet? Because yeah, I can do either. Just tell me what to do,” you chuckled even more at that. “I’ll even give you a pass for laughing at me.”

Seeing Peter comfort you like that, there was a sense of relief wash over you. It was obvious he was being genuine with you and if he wasn't, he most likely wouldn't even have the patience to sit with you and let you cry on him.

“It's nothing, um, it's just that,” you sighed as you weakly played with your fingers. The words are lodged in your throat, and you slowly breathe out. He looked at you with encouragement to take it slow, to breathe and you did. “I found out people at the headquarters think I talk too much and they didn’t really like me. Then I made Miguel mad, and I learned how I was annoying him. He probably hates me. And, uh, it got me thinking, what if you and Jess and Hobie think the same way? What if everyone thinks the same way?”

There was an urge to cry again, but it felt like you had cried it all out. There was none left for you to cry anymore.

“Wow, I knew Miguel was all bite and no bark, but I didn’t expect he’d bite that deep. What the hell is wrong with him?” the genuine disbelief made you sputter and chuckle. 

“First of all, whoever doesn’t like you is automatically wrong. I mean, who could not like you? You literally make everyone’s day. Jess loves gushing with you about her husband, and Hobie loves talking about how his punk stuff and fighting the literal government which I think it’s really pretty cool of him don’t tell him that he’s going to tell me I should do it as well and I just can’t,” he said. “And I love talking to you because you’re funny and so positive you just know how to make me cheer up. Besides, I’m talking too much now, aren’t I? Always have been. But did you think I was annoying?”

“No! I never once thought you were one.” You replied without a beat.

“Exactly. Us either. Look, [Name], everyone loves you. Trust me when I say that.” He said with confidence and finality that you had no choice but to believe him,

“But, Miguel..”

“He's stupid. I know. Don’t mind what he said because it’s all bullshit anyways.” He grins. “Lyla told me what happened. I’m not taking his side because what he said is just wrong and I get you, you know? Having to hear all of that hurts. But from the bottom of my heart, I think Miguel did not mean what he said. Like, all the pent-up stress got to his head and boom, it suddenly burst out. I’m not saying that it was a valid reason, no. I just wanted to let you know that he doesn’t truly think you’re annoying, you know?”

“Besides, from all the time I knew him, I had never seen him genuinely enjoy his time with someone nor mope so bad when you didn’t come to the headquarters anymore.” He said with a deadpan expression at the end.

“Pfft, really?”

“Yes, really.”

There was a pause, it wasn’t awkward but it made you appreciate him more for coming here for you. He smiled at you and you did too, leaning on his shoulder for support. He hugged you sideways, one arm rubbing the side of your arm and you closed your eyes.

“I missed you, [Name]. We all did.”

“...I missed you all too.”

.

.

.

The decision to come back to the headquarters was a bit hard but you took it slow with Peter’s support. He never rushed you nor forced you to come back which you really appreciated and when you did return, you were sure you didn’t regret it. Jess and Hobie immediately latched onto you, they hugged you tight and told you how much they missed you so bad. They asked you how had you been, if you were alright, if were you hurt, and all that. Seeing their sincere worry for you, you smiled hard enough to hurt your cheeks and slowly you were going back to the old, happy you.

What changed right now was that you avoided Miguel. When you first returned to the headquarters, Miguel was there a bit far away from you. You could feel his earnest gaze at you and you looked at him briefly. The bags underneath his eyes seemed to be bigger and you wonder if he had gotten a bit bigger too. A reminder of his words rang instantly through your head and you breathed deeply silently. You quickly looked away as soon as you laid your eyes on him and that remained true for a couple of weeks.

During the briefing of your missions, he would look at you expectantly as if you would stand beside him like you always did. But you usually stood nearby Hobie who was at the entrance of his office. Sometimes you stood beside Jess and Peter which was a bit near him but not quite so.

“You’re not gonna be near him?” Hobie once asked as he lay down on a flat surface. He nudged his head in Miguel’s direction who was looking at you a couple of times as he talked about the mission details. You smiled bitterly. 

“Aight, guess I got more time to catch up with you, huh?” the tip of his lips lifted up, “Wanna leg it and come join the protest in my home?”

“Oh no.” you silently snorted.

“What? It’s fun and we’re doing the right thing, you know.”

“Hobie, are you listening?” Miguel’s voice interrupted you both. You look away, not yet keen on looking at him.

“Yes, big boss. Ears open for you, don’t worry about me,” he stretched his arms before he folded them to lay his head on his clasped fingers. You wondered why he hadn’t called you when you weren’t really listening to him as well. Maybe he targeted Hobie on purpose to make you feel uncomfortable? You bit your lip. No, that can’t be. Peter said Miguel didn’t hate you and you trusted him so despite the voices haunting voices once more, you decided to believe in him.

Sometimes, you two would meet outside the building on his favourite Mexican stand outside the building. Maybe it was a habit formed over the time you knew him that you would buy him his empanadas. Now that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him just yet, you bought some for yourself. You could not deny that you missed buying his food, only to eat half of it yourself.

“Ah, it’s [Name]! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Mrs. Flores exclaimed as soon as she saw your walking figure towards her. You two have gotten close a bit back then and has since then insisted you to call her ‘Abuela’. “Have you lost weight? You’ve gotten smaller since I last saw you!”

You didn’t think you did but before you could deny she was immediately cooking some empanadas, “Just wait, I’ll cook some for you, okay? No need to pay.”

“Abuela, thank you, but I can’t accept this without payment. Please, let me pay,” you opened your wallet and took some money but she wasn’t having it.

“No! I told you I don’t need any money! Do I look like I need some, huh? Don’t make me angry,” she threateningly pointed her clamps at you. You just sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness was stronger than any villain you had fought. Suddenly, a figure crept behind you and you paid it no mind, figuring it was some other customer but the voice surprised you.

“Buenas tardes, Señora. Lo de siempre por favor.” You looked at Miguel in reflex. He wore a plain white shirt and trousers and oh, he was so close to you. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but hesitation dripped from him so you took the opportunity to look away and stepped to your side to create some distance between you.

“Oh, ¿es tú novio, [Name]? ¡Lo sabía! Why didn’t you say so? He’s been the one buying empanadas instead when you were gone.” You choked on your own saliva and embarrassment immediately crept up your cheeks. You coughed it out as she side-eyed you. Miguel was silent and you wonder if he wasn’t going to clear this misunderstanding up.

“You had a fight, didn’t you?”

“No, Abuela, he’s not my boyfriend—”

“He isn’t? ¡Qué hombre más estúpido! Are your eyes not properly working? What are you still waiting for?” she snorted at him. The bubbling noises from the oil fill the silence as you didn’t really know how to respond in this situation. 

“Well whatever, you will fix it, won’t you?” she glared at him. In that moment, you felt loved once more and you were starting to truly believe that those who said you were annoying were wrong. You bit your lip. You did not deny to yourself that you were expecting to hear his answer.

“I will.” He replied with such determination and resolution as he looked at you. Your heart throbbed, you saw how much he wanted to fix things right with you and you didn’t know how to feel. Glad? Happy? But you also felt upset at yourself because you almost wanted to smile just because of that and it felt like you were too easy in forgiving him even though he hurt you so much. You quickly dismissed the confusing feelings down and when Abuela gave you the empanadas, you hurriedly slipped some bills while you took the food and almost ran off.

But everything would have to come to an end, including this avoidance of yours of him. You sorted out your thoughts, and your feelings, each day as you avoided him like a plague after numerous encounters because you feared that if you saw him one more time, you would burst out and say things that you didn’t mean like he did. 

On the day that you decided to finally stop everything and just talk to him, you were beaten to it by Miguel. You were looking through the windows in the building and stared at the beautiful blue skies and the white clouds that decorated it. The flying cars and the mega train running vertically were like the birds and the beam of sunlight back in your home and you were reminded of the differences you and Miguel had. 

“[Name],” his voice was so soft, so unlike the tone he had the day he yelled at you. You admit you had gotten comfortable with the pain you felt since that day that you still wanted to evade his gazes and attempts to reach out to you. But the rational part of you, the one that grew from the pain, knew you had to meet his eyes this time. To let him reach you this time. And so you did. You looked at him, you looked at his eyes that were looking at you so desperately, so hesitatingly.

“Can we talk, please? Just the two of us,” he said but to you, it felt like he pleaded with the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw was clenched, awaiting your words that seemed like it would decide his fate.

“Okay,” you breathed out and he did too. The crease on his forehead slowly thinned out and his shoulders moved back. You knew that if someone different saw Miguel like this, they would think he was normal and that he wasn’t acting differently. But you knew better. Despite the tough shell he portrayed, there was a man vulnerable just like you. You just had a soft shell.

You two went to his office and the door closed behind you two. He asked Lyla to not let anyone enter for at least a while so nobody would disturb you both. She saw you and waved brightly at you. She then nodded and finally disappeared.

“Before you say anything, can you honestly answer this one question I have? Just one, please,” you asked him, nerves started to creep onto you and you wanted to look away so bad but you have to search for the truth in his eyes. You have to know his answer to your question.

“Sure, yes. I’ll be honest, I swear.” He promised you.

“Did you ever really think I was annoying? That all I do was nothing but cause trouble for you?”

“Never.” 

“Liar.” You were disappointed. You were not as stupid and oblivious as others thought of you. There was a part of yourself that knew that you were bothering them. That you were bothering him. But you couldn’t help it. You cared for him and if talking too much, if bothering him would make him distracted from the grief and the pain he had from Gabriella then you would gladly do it.

“No, I wasn’t lying, [Name]—” you looked away. He couldn’t even be honest with you. Were you that unworthy of honesty? That was all you had asked. You clenched your fist and let your nails dig into your palm. “Listen to me, please.”

You start to walk away.

“[Name], por favor,”

You were nearing the exit.

“I— fuck it, yes! I didn’t like you because you were so annoying. I hated you.” You immediately looked back at him. Disbelief was obvious in your face and tears fell from your eyes. You felt a sense of betrayal at this. If he hated me so much, then why did he let me so close to him? Were you just a show to him? Were you entertaining? He was approaching you and strength had left your legs from the shock at what he said but you remained still.

“I hated the way you talked so much I felt like I was losing a part of myself because I wanted to know more about you and listen to you talk. I hated the way you know so much about me. I felt like you could see through me and I was so scared that you would hate me if you knew what I truly am. I hated the way you cared for me like no other because I cared for you too and I was so terrified to lose you too. I hated the way you’re so reckless, you don’t care if you get hurt as long as it’s for others.” He stopped in front of you and tears were also coming out from his eyes. “I hated the way you captured my whole attention whenever you’re there by my side because I can’t look at anything else anymore. I can’t work properly anymore. I can’t think properly anymore and– and I, oh fuck.”

What?

“You’re so annoying because you distract me so much. I hated you because I fell for you and you’re all I could think about and I just don’t know anymore,” he shakily breathed out. His figure was so big but at this moment, you felt like he was so small. His tears ran continuously like a furious stream and you were sure yours were too.

“When you left, it didn’t feel right anymore. I missed you talking to me. I missed you eating my food. I missed you annoying me. I missed you so much it hurts.” His voice turned hoarse and you finally moved. You caressed your hand on his cheeks and he leaned his face against your touch. “Lo siento, [Name]. I really am. Es la verdad, por favor créeme. Por favor…”

“Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried out as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. But you couldn’t really blame him. Because he was the same as you. Despite his flying cars and vertical running train and your birds and beam of sunlight, there was still the same blue sky and white clouds. Despite his tough shell and your soft one, you two were just as vulnerable as the other.

“I’m sorry, don’t hate me please…” he croaked out and gripped onto your suit tight. You leaned back a bit to hold his face in your palms. His face was wet, his hair was a mess, and he looked so haggard. You lean your forehead against his.

“I don’t, I promise. I could never hate you and I hate you for it as well,” you giggled amidst your tears. 

Really, he was such a stupid man and you were so annoying.

tag-list: (i'm sorry if i wasn't able to tag you!) @nxrdamp @um-well @nanasdumbworld @myconglomerateromance @sleepyamaya @harlekin6 @bittersw33t-lotus @saturnknows @miggyoharaswife @innergardentoadpony @asobriquet @mimooyi @misscaller06 @sciencethot @vainillasmil157 @just-a-mothboi @katsukiswrld @zukiizuks @cumbermovels @bigmood-myman @momos-peaches @lunrai @saint-chlorine @themoonsaynotocircus @deputy-videogamer @brittney69 @armins-ocean-seashell @galadrien02 @ranp01 @witherfag @eileen201804 @daryldixonh0e @chinglewingledingledong @mystar-girl57 @lorarri @poopoobuttsy @scarletsloveletter @mimimarvelingmarvel @tfygcdy @skulfan1 @roryrose327 @gamersansblog

[sttoru]

toji never celebrates his birthday and thus learned to treat it as any other regular day. well, until you came into the picture and did the unexpected.

☀︎｜tags. dom!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut mixed with fluff & sprinkle of angst. implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji late 20’s /early 30’s) implied size difference, p in v -> unprotected, cowgirl position, toji actually being a soft dom kinda, praise mixed with tiny bit of degradation, slight corruption kink, dirty talk / teasing, biting, creampie, reader gets called ‘princess, little girl \\ pretty, innocent, small'. not beta read. happy bday hubby!

“i told ya — fuck jus’ like that — not to buy or do anythin’ for me on m’birthday.” toji’s head lolls back against the pillow while his rough palms explore every inch of your gorgeous body. the word ‘birthday’ rolls off his tongue in a bitter manner. the assassin never celebrates that dreadful day, as he calls it.

he’s never found it to be worth remembering. his family couldn’t care less about that day when he was a child, so why would he?

but, that changed when you came into his life. toji flinched when he heard a loud ‘pop!’ sound upon opening the front door to his apartment. he was used to those noises being one of danger and thus swiftly reached for the spare weapon in his pocket. . . only to notice you standing behind the door with a party popper and a homemade cake.

the older man froze in place for a good few seconds, though was quick to realise the situation and relax. after the initial shock died down, you excitedly dragged him off to the living room to show him the presents you bought.

toji's first reflex was to scold you for spending money on him. he had never gotten anything for his birthday—it was weird to finally receive something from someone who actually cares for him. it somehow made him feel guilty as well. was he worth spending money on?

toji’s impressed reactions when unwrapping the presents showed you exactly how foreign the moment was to him: he’s never opened any gifts before. that much was even more evident after witnessing his inexperience in peeling off the tape from the boxes.

eventually, after opening around seven gifts, toji got to unwrap his final present. the present which was you.

the way you innocently yet seductively whispered words of affection in his ears made his mind go blank. even if it were simple ‘i love you’s and ‘happy birthday’ wishes. the red dress you had on and how your figure looked in it made everything ten times more sexual to the assassin. anything after that was a complete blur. his body moved on its own and yours followed right after until you finally landed on top of him — riding him.

toji’s half-lidded eyes couldn’t get enough of the sight he's witnessing. maybe his birthday wasn't such a bad day after all; the loving memories you're currently creating would surely outbalance the negative ones.

you shake your head at toji’s earlier sentence and tighten your grip on his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his skin and leaving faint red marks. you almost can’t talk due to the overexertion—your hips continuously rising and falling back down for the sake of your lover, “i- mph, wanted to get you all those things. you deserve them, toji.”

the view of your small body trying its hardest to not give in to its need of an orgasm made the assassin dizzy. his large hands settle on your waist and his eyes watch your every move from behind his black bangs. toji silently hisses as he feels your tight cunt clenching around him, “. . . f-shit. easy there.”

your pretty face is his weakness. especially when your usual innocent look gets replaced by one filled with carnal desire. toji can easily get off to the idea of him having that effect on you—his words, body, looks and actions that corrupted your every being in intimate moments like these.

“such a sweet thing,” the dark-haired man coos, brushing the stray locks of hair away from your face with his index finger. his other hand rubs up and down your inner thigh, each time getting dangerously closer to your clit, though never getting a single touch in. the scarred corner of his lips twitch in an amused grin at your whines, “oh? want me to touch you there, princess? that what ya want?”

you nod without a second thought. you were trying your best to hold out for as long as your body allowed it — desperately wanting to reach your climax at the same time toji was going to — but the idea seems impossible the longer this continued.

your boyfriend grins smugly, raising his eyebrows before entirely removing his hands from your body. his arms rest behind his head as he reverts to simply enjoying the view of you riding him so well. toji can never not be mean to you. your little pouts only drive him to tease you more and more, “hm, well, ya see - i thought you were gonna spoil me today, not the other way around.”

“t-toji! tha's mean. . .” you huff, bottom lip trembling. your arms circle his neck and your upper body leans forward to rest against his chiseled chest. you stop your hip thrusts and instead grind against his pelvis, trying to stimulate your clit on your own.

toji clicks his tongue, but figured it was best to leave you be. he didn't want to be too rough on you today - you had been nothing but sweet to him the entire night. you had blessed him with his first, proper birthday experience as well.

“aww, my little girl ‘s pouting,” the older man snickers and his hands return to their place. he allows you to grind against him, the sensations being amazing for him as well. the tip of his cock almost reaches your cervix from the current angle and your bodily fluids smear all over his thighs and lower abdomen, “shh shh, ‘tis alright.”

your needy whines and moans are music to his ears. toji rubs your lower back and pats your ass every now and then, squeezing the soft flesh gently just to hear another whimper spill from your lips. there was no way you could hold back now. especially when your bodies were rubbing together and you could feel toji’s defined abs and hardened muscles underneath you.

“toji - nngh - can i? wan' — wanna cum.” your small hands tighten their grip around his broad shoulders. you earn a low, breathy chuckle from your lover. the increasing sensations in his lower stomach were an indication to how close he was to his orgasm as well. he wasn’t going to deny you any further.

toji sighs in content and presses a soft kiss to your temple, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. it was a rare occurence to see that vulnerable and affectionate look in his piercing green eyes. the little smile plastered on his face only added to the soft and intimate atmosphere.

. . . well, toji wouldn’t be toji if he wasn’t going to add catch you off guard in any way or form. your eyes widen and your body jolts forward as he suddenly starts putting work in—his hips ramming into yours from below, the skin-to-skin sounds resonating throughout the room once again. it was like the wind got knocked out of you for a good second, “fuck! w-wait, toji! tojitojitoji!”

the older man holds tightly onto you — cradling you in his arms as he lightly lifts your hips to have free reign over the pace and movements of your two bodies — thrusting up into you over and over. he lets out a series of small, silent groans as he feels his climax nearing;

“shit, yeah - ‘m gonna stuff this pussy of y’rs full, princess.” toji's callused fingers curl around your hip bones, using them as leverage to increase the intensity of his thrusts, “think you can take it all?”

you mewl and nod again and again. you’re on the brink of tears when the waves of pleasure reach their peak. your eyes roll back and your body convulses, legs shaking and squirming during those few seconds of pure bliss. your adorable babble in the form of toji’s name was all your lover needed to push him over the edge—

“fuck. ‘m gonna cum,” toji groans and firmly bites your shoulder to hold back any more noises when he finally decided to let go. a choked sob leaves your lips the instant you feel the hot spurts of cum seeping into your senstive cunt. the older man continues to thrust in and out sloppily, riding out his orgasm and fucking his cum deeper into you at the same time, “so good — i love you s’much.”

you smile exhaustedly at the love confession from your boyfriend. toji’s grip on you loosens up after he completely emptied his balls deep inside your cunt, his jaw finally unclenching. he plants a few wet kisses along the bite marks on your shoulder in attempt to soothe the pain.

you catch your breath as you rest on top of toji's body. he didn't put the slightest effort into pulling out of you — even as a tiny puddle of your mixed juices stains his skin.

“i love you too, toji,” you reply and earn another lazy kiss to your forehead. he rubs the back of your head and massages your plush thighs in a tender manner. nothing could make this moment even more perfect, you thought to yourself.

you smile as you pull your head back to look into toji’s eyes. he was already looking at you — admiring your gorgeous looks as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. you capture his lips in a delicate kiss, “happy birthday.”

[luveline]

I can’t remember if you’ve done one yet of Jack being jealous of the new baby not because of his dad’s attention but because of readers!

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Aaron says, hands on Jack’s shoulders where his son sits at the kitchen table, “I forgot to tell you, I got you a present.” 

“What kind?” Jack asks, used to presents by now. There’s been books, crayons, and enough toy cars to fill his parking garage to the brim. 

“What kind do you think?” 

He likes when his dad speaks like that. Aaron’s a peppy dad, he says everything in an altered bubbly tone that makes Jack smile, but his best voice is the soft one. Lightly teasing. He hugs Jack with one arm from behind, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair momentarily. 

“A big one?” Jack asks. 

“Sort of…” Aaron smiles. “Do you want me to go get it?” 

Jack’s about to say yes with a laugh, his excitement like a warm flame just below an outheld hand, but he stops when he hears a familiar gurgly sound and your loving laughter. 

“I know, baby.” That’s your voice, tired and soft as his father’s. “You’re exhausted. Let me give you a little squeeze before you sleep, hm? You’ll cry yourself awake if I don’t, you get all those trapped burps.” You laugh to yourself.

Jack sighs and turns back to his drawing. “Okay, dad,” he says, clearly monotonous. 

Aaron frowns behind his head. “Okay, buddy. It’s in the den.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“Jack,” he says, and not a lot else. 

Aaron can’t wrap his head around it. Jack was so, so excited for Noah. He bragged to everyone at school that his step-mom was having a baby, that he’d have a little brother, and that they were all moving into a big house with a nice yard to play soccer. Jack and Noah Hotchner, best friends since the minute Noah was born. Or, that’s what you and Aaron hoped for.

It started well. Jack is gentle, and he’s understanding; he realised the baby would need extra care, and he’s done nothing but kiss and cuddle his new brother whenever they’re together. You got him a sound machine and some custom fitted earplugs for the long nights of crying, you never put Noah before him if you could help it. Aaron even pencilled in an hour of Jack time each day, but it isn’t working anymore. Jack’s just sad. 

The present is a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand pieces of guaranteed time spent together, but Aaron doesn’t have high hopes. 

He takes the two short steps down into the den to meet your eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he mouths. 

You pat the baby’s back. “Well, I might have a suggestion.”

He couldn’t want to hear it more. “Tell me.” 

You hold his baby (your baby but his more urgently, the feeling an ache in his chest and hands) still as small and curled as a rabbit against your chest. Noah’s legs twitch in his onesie, his dark hair short where it brushes your lips. “I think maybe Jack misses me. I miss him, and I’m the grown up. I feel like I barely see him even though we’re living in the same house.” 

Aaron pauses, resting the jigsaw puzzle on the sideboard.

There’s no point in underselling the importance of you in Jack's life. You’re integral to Jack’s happiness, and Aaron can’t believe he hadn’t thought of your suggestion before now; he’s amazed by his own ego. Of course Jack misses you. You spend half your life nursing, which is half a life away from you he didn’t feel before.

“That’s what it is,” Aaron says. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He takes Noah from your arms, settling him on the slope of his chest. “If it isn’t, we might be out of answers.” Aaron rubs Noah’s back with delight. It’s nice to see a solution to Jack’s upset in sight, and nice to hold the baby while he’s in a good mood. “Seriously, honey. I think you’re right.” 

“What are we gonna do if it isn’t me?” 

“Give this one back?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry, I’m kidding!” He gives Noah a little soft kiss. “Just kidding, beautiful. You’re all mine.” 

You take the jigsaw and give him a smile that borders shy. If his arms weren’t full he’d take your wrist in his hand and hold it for a while, but there’s stuff to do. You emerge from the den to the kitchen and Aaron follows. 

“Jack.” 

Jack immediately spins in his seat. Aaron doesn’t need to be a profiler to know your theory is correct. The change in Jack is unmissable. 

“Y/N,” he says, hiding his hope poorly. 

You show him the jigsaw. “I know it’s supposed to be your time with dad, but maybe it can be time with me instead? What do you think?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” You pop the jigsaw in front of him without crushing his drawings. “Can we? I miss you.” 

“I miss you!” he says. 

“Yeah?” You brush his hair back. “You do?” 

“I do, I want to do the puzzle with you! Can we do it?” 

Your smile is part relief, part love. You hook a chair with your ankle and pull it under you as you sit, fingernail already scratching at the plastic wrap on the puzzle to pull it open. “We’re gonna do it right now.” 

The puzzle is a lot of pieces, you’ve barely completed the frame when it’s time for everyone to head to bed, but, reluctant, you and Jack sit at the table where Jack’s climbed into your lap for a ‘better view’, and you’ve wrapped your arms around him, occasionally loosing an arm to direct him to a right piece. The baby put to bed, Aaron pretends to pay more attention to cleaning the kitchen than he’s truly doing, finding himself leaning against the counter with a sterilised bottle in hand as you stroke Jack’s hair. 

“You know I love you?” you ask quietly. 

“Duh. You tell me all the time.” 

“I don’t want you to forget.” 

“I don’t.” 

Jack snaps a puzzle piece in to place and preens at your murmured, “Good job. Maybe we can try to do some of this every night you’re home?” 

Jack doesn’t cry, but it ties Aaron’s heart into a knot anyways when he turns into your chest to hug you tightly. “Okay,” Jack says, voice muffled by your t-shirt. 

You pat his back. His hands scrunch up like he’s worried you’re gonna pull away. 

“Can I get in on this?” Aaron asks. 

“No,” you both say. 

“Please?” 

Jack rubs his cheek into your collar. He doesn’t want to share. “No, dad. It’s not your time.” 

He supposes he does get you every night. “Fine. I love you, though.” 

“Love you too.” 

[naomiarai]

— desperate !

╔. ■ .═══════╗

sex with your enemy

╚═══════. ■

➤ PAIRING — jake × fem! reader

➤ GENRE — pwop, slight fluff, (but literally no plot), kind of fwb? e2???

➤ WARNINGS — dom!jake, sub!reader, jake is kinda mean (?), manhandling, degradation, unprotected sex, backshots, kissing. lmk if i missed anything.

➤ WC — 1.3k

➤ AUTHOR — not proofread. i had a jake brain rot idk what happened but i put my SOUL into writing it even though it’s quite short. but again idk how i feel about it.

“I fucking hate you!” you shout, your voice shaking with anger as Jake drags you into an empty bedroom. The door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing in the small, dimly lit space.

Jake clicks his tongue in response, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah? You always seem to fucking forget that when you’re sitting on my dick” he retorts, venom dripping from his words. His grip tightens on your arm, and in one swift motion, he lifts your skirt, his touch rough and demanding.

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of fury and desire swirling inside you. “You’re such a jerk” you spit out, your voice wavering despite your attempt to sound resolute.

Jake’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “Maybe. But you like it, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and taunting. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite your anger.

You struggle against him, but the resistance only seems to fuel his determination. “Let go of me” you demand, though even you can hear the faltering in your voice.

His hand moves from your skirt to your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. “Say it again” he challenges, his tone daring you to defy him. “Tell me how much you hate me”

“I do!” you whisper, your voice barely audible as his touch ignites a fire within you that you can’t control. “I hate you”

Jake’s laugh is a dark, hollow sound. “Liar” he murmurs before his lips crash against yours, silencing any further protest.

Your hands come up to push him away, but they falter, instead grasping the fabric of his shirt. His kiss is punishing, demanding, and you respond with equal fervor, anger and desire intertwining until you can no longer distinguish one from the other.

Jake chuckles when you pull him even closer, his tongue slipping into your mouth, intertwining with yours. Saliva starts to pool at the corners of your lips, creating a wet, heated mess between you. He pulls away, breathless, his calloused hands gripping your ass possessively. “Just like all the others, ready to spread her legs wide for dick” he rasps, his voice dripping with a mixture of disdain and lust.

His words ignite a flare of anger deep within you, your eyes narrowing as you retort, “And you’d stick your stupid dick inside any fucking hole that presents itself” The tension crackles between you, electric and charged. His gaze darkens, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he pulls you even closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is that what you think?” he growls, his hands roaming your body with a roughness that leaves you breathless. ”That I’m just some mindless animal looking for a place to stick it? When you were practically fucking Heeseung out there? You have no idea what you do to me”. The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine, your body betraying you as heat pools low in your belly.

You struggle to maintain your composure, your own hands clawing at his back in a desperate bid to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t flatter yourself” you hiss, though your voice wavers. “You're nothing special”

His laugh is dark and humorless, his grip tightening on your flesh. “We’ll see about that” he murmurs, before capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air.

You melt into his touch again, cursing at yourself for doing it so easily. Jake’s hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, yet somehow the sensation of his touch makes your skin tingle. He pulls away from your lips, his breath hot and ragged, and you see the flicker of raw desire in his eyes. In one swift motion, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cold, hard surface of the nearby table.

The unexpected pressure against your body sends a shiver down your spine, your pussy throbbing and pulsating with need. You can feel your arousal soaking through the delicate fabric of your white thong, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “So fucking wet already” he murmurs mockingly, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hand lifts your skirt, exposing your soaked underwear to his hungry gaze.

Your breath catches in your throat as you decide to push his buttons, a dangerous game that excites you to no end. “Heeseung probably has a bigger dick” you whisper, your voice dripping with defiance and mischief. The words hang in the air, a clear provocation meant to stoke the flames of his jealousy and possessiveness.

Jake's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh almost painfully. You can feel the tension radiating off him, a mixture of anger and arousal that makes your heart race. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Is that so?” he growls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Then let me know if he fucks you like this”. He zips down just enough for him his cock to spring out, tip red and angry, leaking precum

With a rough tug, he tears your thong away, the sound of ripping fabric mingling with your gasp. His hands spread your legs wider, positioning you perfectly for him. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

Jake thrusts into you without warning, filling you to the hilt in one hard, punishing stroke. The sudden invasion makes you cry out, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless. He sets a relentless pace, each thrust deep and forceful, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“You like that?” he growls, his voice harsh and breathless. “You like being fucked like this? Like a slut?” His words send shivers through you, the degradation only heightening your arousal.

“Yes—god” you gasp, barely able to form the word as he continues to pound into you. “Jake p..please! —hnng”

His hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in quick, tight circles. The combined sensations are overwhelming, pushing you toward the brink of ecstasy. You can already feel your orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap. One of Jake’s hand grabs at your asscheeks, spreading it open to sink how cock in deeper, causing you to let out a string of moans.

“Mmhm— right there! don’t stop” you moan out with a string of moans. Jake laughs at you meanly, “Stupid slut, look at you going clueless now” he says but you’re too out of it to give him an answer.

“Cum for me” Jake commands, his voice rough with his own need. “C’mon, aren’t you desperate to milk this cock baby?”

His words are your undoing. With a strangled cry, you fall over the edge, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jake follows soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his release, spilling into you with a groan.

For a moment, the world is a blur of sensation, the intensity of your shared climax leaving you both breathless and trembling. As the waves of pleasure subside, Jake pulls out of you slowly, his hands gentle now as he helps you stand.

You turn to face him, your legs still shaky, and meet his gaze. There’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability that makes your heart ache. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both catch your breath.

In that moment, you realize that despite the intensity, despite the games and the jealousy, there’s something deeper between you and Jake. Something that goes beyond the physical, something that might just be worth exploring.

But for now, you’re content to just be in his arms, savoring the afterglow of your shared passion.

[misstycloud]

Shapeshifter x fem.reader

“Please stop.” You whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

The creature crouched down to your level and whispered in a soothing voice- it didn’t have the desired effect, though. “Why? Don’t be scared, I would never hurt you. There’s no need to be so frightened.”

“….just leave me alone..”

“No I can’t do that. I love you (Y/n). You’re everything to me. You don’t understand the depth of how much I need you.” He- it- pleaded.

You scoffed despite the inner turmoil. “Well, feelings not mutual.”

He sighed and shook his head slowly. “Why can’t you understand? I just love you so much.” He caressed your hands while staring straight into your eyes. It felt like he was unveiling your soul, like you couldn’t hide from that look, no matter what. “I,” he started, “can be whoever you want me to be. I can be whatever you wish.”

Suddenly, he started changing. It was like something was alive underneath his skin, that wanted to move and reshape the shell it was inside. Slowly, but surely, its features morphed into someone else.

This new shape was clearly tall, even when he was still couching. He looked a little rugged, wi the jet black hair and also at as equally dark grey eyes. He was muscular, too.

“Would this be better?” He asked in a deep voice, tilting his head in wonder. “Would you like someone like this- someone who can protect and care for you? Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to get into a bar fight to defend your honour.”

You looked away and shut your eyes.

“I see.” He said. “So this is not your type, then?”

Once more, you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones. And against you better judgement, you glance his way again.

This time, he was not as muscular. In fact he was quite thin, but still tall. Messy brown hair shot in all directions, coverering his forehead, it almost shielded his face entirely from view.

“Or is this better?” He gave you a dorky smile. “A nerd? Someone who can relate to your interests and become just as engrossed in them as you. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could talk for hours about the things we like.”

You shook your head hastily. Rejecting his suggestion.

“Or maybe not.” He sighed.

The sound of flesh moving followed and you looked away, not wishing to see the peak of the gruesome transformation, before facing him again.

This new body was considerably shorter than the previous two. It was one of a mousy young man, appearing to be in the beginnings of adulthood.

“If you like being the one in control, I wouldn’t mind. I think this form would fit for that, you see. I’d be nice to be dominated by you. You wouldn’t have to hold back from anything, you could be completely in charge if that’s what you desire?”

You remained silent.

“I take that as a ‘no’, then.” He stopped for a few seconds, thinking, then the smile retuned. “Wait, I can’t believe I didn’t think this.”

Suddenly the young man disappeared and a woman took his place. She was gorgeous by all means. Her long blonde hair flowed in waves down her back. Her curvaceous form would have any person staring.

“I apologise. I should have asked if you would prefer a woman instead, my mistake. Now, finally, is this desireble?”

“I told you to stop. I don’t want any of this- I don’t want you. I don’t want to be near you. Leave me alone, please.” You cried in desperation. Hoping it would be able to push away the creature for good. But you knew it was a foolish dream for it to become bored with you.

The woman hushed you and took you into her arms. “Shhh, shhh, it will all be fine. No need to worry about anything. You’ll be good, I promise. I will take care of you.” She tried comforting you by patting your back like a mother consoling her crying child. “And don’t worry. It doesnt matter how long it’ll take, but I will find the right form eventually. You will just love it~.”

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