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xbellaxcarolinax · 9 months

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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greatooglymooglyyy · 2 months

Text

My Tears Ricochet (Matthew Sturniolo)

contains: verbal argument, cheating allegations, crying, breakup, no happy ending, 1.5k words

a/n: honestly i'm sorry for this one. ouch. i said it alr but im not doing a part 2 for this one b/c i don't wanna lmao, the song is how writing this made me feel lol, requested by @nicksmainbitch and i took parts of an anon request

“We need to talk.”

I look down and study the message for maybe the hundredth time since Matt sent it an hour ago. Taking a deep steading breath, I kill my car engine and finally open the door. I’ve been sitting in his driveway for ten minutes now and it’s getting pathetic but I couldn’t help it. There’s nothing I hate more than a cryptic message, especially from Matt.

I use my key to let myself in the house, kicking off my shoes at the entrance, and pause when I notice how quiet it seems. Either Nick and Chris aren’t here or something is very wrong but my gut is leaning towards both. I pull out my phone to check their location but my heart drops when I realize all three of them aren’t showing up on Find My Friends.

Okay. It’s fine. Probably just a glitch. It has to be. I take the stairs two at a time and rush into Matt’s room, finding him with his head down at his desk.

“Matt?” I say quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder that he immediately jerks away from like I’ve burned him.

He lifts his head, spinning the chair around my way, and the look he gives me is like a stab to the heart. Because in all the years I’ve known Matt, in all the years I’ve loved him, he’s never looked at me like he’s looking at me now. Like he can see right through me. Like I’m no one at all to him.

“How long?” He asks calmly, his voice like a brewing storm. “Just tell me that. How long have I been a fucking idiot for?”

I stare back at him silently for a minute, caught between confusion and indignation. “What are you talking about?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head before he tilts it up to the ceiling. “Listen. Tell me the truth. If you tell me the truth, I can try…” He stops and clears his throat like the words have jammed there. “I love you enough to try to get over it. But, if you lie-”

“What the fuck are you accusing me of, Matthew?” I snap, cutting him off. I feel the anger rising in my chest and blink away the hot tears that are beginning to gather. If Matt and I had one thing going for us, it was trust. We’ve never touched each other’s phones, never questioned stories. We just believed in our bond. But I can feel that trust starting to crumble around us and I don’t know what to do.

Matt grabs his phone from the desk and thrusts it into my hands. “Here. Your side piece must have gotten tired of waiting.”

I look down and skim the drama page he has pulled up, my jaw going slack. Someone has been sending in “proof” that I’ve been cheating on him. There are text messages with time stamps and they’ve even included pictures of me sleeping.

I look back at Matt and find him watching my reaction with his eyes low. “These are obviously fake-” I start but Matt stands up and walks past me to his closet.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought too. Until I saw the pictures. Go ahead and tell me that’s not your tattoo.” He’s breathing heavily now and I can tell he’s trying not to cry. “One more chance. Tell me the truth. Did you fuck him?”

“Matt. Please.” I walk over to him and spin him around to face me, feeling his body tense against my touch. “You know me better than this.”

I step closer and draw him to me, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he lets me. He buries his head in my hair and breaks down. Deep body wracking sobs. So I just hold him, not knowing what to do or say. I can’t prove I didn’t send a message and I have no idea where those pictures came from or how to show him they must be old. So I’m stuck.

When he finally calms down, he pulls away from me and walks back to the desk. He drops down and slouches, defeated. “Oh my god.” His face is contorted with pain and I’m not sure if his expression or words make me sicker. “I thought you were the one.”

I stand there helpless for a minute, tears streaming down my face before I finally speak. “I can’t make you believe me. You gotta do that on your own.”

When he says nothing, I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and gather up my belongings. Before I turn to leave, I yank his house key off my chain and place it on his desk without meeting his eyes. As soon as I put my hand on the doorknob, I want to fall to my knees and cry but I push down the feeling and swing the door open.

I wait for him to say something, anything when I leave. I wait for it all the way down the stairs. I’m still expecting it when I reach my car, and I pause and listen for him to chase after me, to fight.

But he doesn’t so I drive home, drop into my bed and cry. And when he still doesn’t the next day or the next, I force myself to get up and figure out a new normal.

********************

It’s unusually cold for Los Angeles the night he comes, two months later. When I hear his voice spill through the callbox, it takes everything I have not to let my knees buckle. I’ve spent every day of the last couple of months trying to avoid hearing it at all costs.

He speaks again, begging to be let in and I buzz him up without thinking. I run to throw on some sweatpants and then stand with my arms crossed, trying to prepare myself to see his face.

It doesn’t work. Matt walks through the door like a wrecking ball and I’m caught in his wake. He stands awkwardly near the door, shifting from foot to foot.

“What are you doing here, Matt?” My voice sounds exhausted even to me. All the work I’ve done putting myself back together and here he comes toppling me over again.

“I just…” He trails off and begins pacing. “It was your ex. That fucking loser. The picture was old and he-”

“I know.”

“-fucking edited those texts. The motherfucker hit me up trying to-” He pauses finally registering what I said. “What do you mean you know?”

“He called me a few days after we broke up trying to get back together and I finally remembered the picture,” I say, not letting myself look away like I’m dying to.

Matt freezes at this, staring at me in disbelief, before he pulls out a chair from the table and flops down. “But… why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“How did you expect me to do that? Go to Apple headquarters and ask them to unblock me? Email Laura?” I seethe.

“You could've come over. You should have! It changes everything-”

“It changed nothing for me. I already knew I didn’t fucking cheat on you.” My voice cracks slightly but I shake my head. If my mom taught me one thing, it’s to never cry over a boy to his face.

Matt says my name so softly I almost don’t hear it and I cut my eyes back to his. “What do you want me to do? I will do whatever you need to fix this.”

I huff out a humorless laugh at how much I wanted those words and how empty they sound now. “You don’t get to do this to me.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll go.” He says and I believe him. I don’t think he’d even hesitate.

“I can’t.” Matt stands and advances quickly toward me but I stop him with a hand on his chest. “But, it doesn’t matter. I don’t trust you.”

He winces, clenching his jaw. "I thought you fucking cheated on me! I thought you were throwing everything away.”

“So you threw it away first.”

He raises his voice now, anger and conviction mixing in his tone. “No! I thought all of that and I was still going to stay. That’s how much I wanted you. That’s how much I love you.”

“Then that’s the difference between me and you.” I breathe out a shaky breath, stepping closer to him. “I don’t think that’s love at all.”

His breathing stutters as he moves backward, studying my face. “So that’s it?”

I force myself to shrug. “I think it’s been it. Since the day I walked out of your house crying and you let me.”

He nods again slowly, whispering a quiet "I'm sorry", before turning and heading for the exit. But before he leaves, Matt pauses looking over his shoulder. “Do you think we got this right somewhere in the multiverse?”

I smile weakly, blinking back my tears. “God, I hope so.”

He returns my smile with a sad one of his own before he opens the door and steps out of my apartment for the last time.

When the door clicks shut, I hold my breath and count to five until I’m sure he’s far enough away. Then I let go, dropping to my knees and finally letting myself fall apart.

taglist:

@sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper

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hysteria-things · 3 months

Note

CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE LITERALLY ANYTHING FOR NATE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 (preferably smut) BUT IM LITERALLY BEGGING PLEASE (no rush💗💗 love ur work)

SINFUL DESIRES (part one)

read part two here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it feels like every day there’s a blowout between you and nate. however, something changes when all of a sudden he’s knocking at your bedroom window.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, teasing, some praise/degradation, pet names (pretty), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy!), stomach bulge, possessiveness, cream pie, ROUGHHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,172

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is low key toxic LMAO but it’s okay cause nate’s a cutie patootie.

thank you anon! hope you like it❤️

for some reason when i listened to this song it make me think of this fic, even though i would never picture him like this at all😭

tap tap tap.

“you cannot be fucking serious.” you curse softly, placing your phone on the bed as you get up and head over to the window.

it’s no secret that you hate nathan doe, and he hates you too.

your parents are close with his, but nate has always been a little shit.

ever since you two were kids, he’d pick on you. you’d understand that it was friendly banter since he’s, y’know; a boy. boys do that.

but it was never like that with him.

you unlock your window and open it, staring at the boy squatting on your roof. he’s in a t-shirt and gray sweats, his hair damp from showering.

“are you kidding right now, nate?”

“can i come in?” he asks, already making his way through your window.

you roll your eyes. “i mean, you already are.”

he stands in the middle of your room with his hands in his pockets, looking around. “what do you want?” you groan.

he snaps his head toward you. “what? can an old friend not visit?”

“you hate me.”

he raises his eyebrows and glances down your body. “i didn’t see you at the game today.”

“i’d rather die than go to a lacrosse match,” you say. you guys are standing across from each other, and it’s weirdly comforting. you two would be trying to fight right now, but even if you were you’d be too tired to.

“what do you want, nate?” you repeat, this time more harshly.

“why do you always have a fucking attitude?” he snaps.

there it is.

you scoff. “stop with this nice act. i shouldn’t have even let you in.”

“yet, you did!” he says with a high voice, taking his finger and pointing upward.

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you squint your eyes at the boy. you should’ve pushed him off of your roof when you had the chance.

“i’d watch that mouth if i were you, y/l/n.” he now points at you. “it can get you into big trouble.”

your next two words were meant to be in your head. “make m—”

in one stride, nate pulls you in by the throat and smashes his lips on yours. you would think you’d want to pull away but no. you kiss back with hunger.

he pushes you against your bedroom door, not breaking the kiss as he lifts the bottom of your band tee to push his fingers inside your underwear.

he pulls away to make eye contact with you as he starts to rub your embarrassingly wet clit with his fingers. he smirks when he realizes this is all from him.

you fight every fiber in your body to not give him the satisfaction of giving you pleasure. not even a lip bite or a buck of the hips, even though you want to.

so. fucking. bad.

he continues to rub at a decent pace. “why so quiet now? cats got your tongue, pretty?”

“don’t call me that, asshole.” you spit back. “i hate you.”

he chuckles under his breath. “seems like it.” he mocks.

the heaving of your chest gets faster when you feel the knot start to form in the pit of your stomach. you curl your hands into fists that are on your sides when you feel wetness drip down your inner thighs. nate scans your face until he figures out what just happened. “came already? my fingers weren’t even inside you. that’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“shut. up,” you say through gritted teeth.

you look down at his sweats without thinking, seeing the imprint of his boner as clear as day. he leans to your ear and takes his hands out.

“feel how hard it is, pretty?” he jolts his hips into your clothed pussy. “it’s all because of you. i can never stop thinking about you, you know that? you’re engraved in my mind and i hate you for it. i always get off to what you’ll look like wrapped around my cock.”

your bottom lip quivers from his words. you don’t know what to say; the only thing you can think about is what you need. you need him.

he starts sucking a mark into your neck while untying his pants and pulling them past his thighs.

he lifts you, your legs dangling at his sides. he moves your panties to the side and starts to enter you slowly.

you pinch your lips together when you feel him all inside of you.

he groans at the feeling. “better than i’ve imagined.”

his thrusts start small but he gradually gets faster to the point where he pulls back and slams back in. you bite back your moan.

“so stubborn,” he whispers, taking your bottom lip out from your teeth with his thumb.

one thing to keep in mind is that your parents are sleeping just across the way, but you can’t seem to hold it in any longer.

don’t do it… don’t do it… don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit.

“oh, god, nathan!” you cry out, immediately covering your mouth.

“there she is,” he says. he somehow makes himself go deeper.

“fuck, nate. fuck!” your noises are muffled by your hand.

you look over his shoulder at the window, realizing you never closed it. even though your room is on the second floor, people can still see and hear you.

nate turns his head to see where you are looking at and smirks. he takes your hand off of your mouth.

“don’t hide your sounds. i want everybody to know who makes you feel this good.”

you whimper and look down, seeing how he fills you from the bulge in your tummy with the movement of his thrusts. your mouth drops slightly at the sight. “see how well i fill you up, pretty? see how good you take my cock?”

you whimper again and grip his shoulders, dragging your nails down his upper back. “how long has it been since you’ve been fucked this good?”

“a l-long time.” you moan in pleasure as he hits that spot inside you. “right there, right there! please don’t stop.”

“whose is it, y/n?” he starts. “whose pussy is this?”

“y-yours, nate. it’s all yours.” you cry out. “i need to cum. please let me cum for you.”

you keep blabbing out nonsense as he fucks the living daylights out of you. “gonna cum inside this sweet cunt so you know it’s mine. you’re all mine, pretty. don’t ever forget it, yeah?”

“yes. yes!” you repeat. “i’m all yours. all yours, nathan.”

he kisses you as he spills every drop inside of you. you soon after gush around his dick, legs shaking and toes curling as you do so.

he sets you down and holds you by the waist so you don’t stumble over from all of the stimulation. he holds you in a tight hug and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

then, the light in the hallway flicks on and you hear footsteps.

“y/n!” your dad bellows. “what the fuck is going on in there?!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby

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arysbruv · 3 months

Text

Can we be friends?

You were a relatively newer student. You normally kept to yourself but you always dreamt of being friends with the main trio, especially with the infamous Suguru Geto. Yet, he always seemed to hate you, even when you openly showed you felt the opposite.

Pairings: suguru geto x f!reader

Warnings and whatnots: fake friendship, Geto still being mean. Geto low-key being jealous but denying it because it’s geto. Use of the term monkey (by geto ofc) Not proofread! Maybe will make a part 3? Geto being oblivious to his feelings.

Chapter 1: Are we still friends? <;- read first! Chapter 2: [currently reading] Chapter 3: sorry, not sorry Chapter 4: green looks good on you. Chapter 5: Runaway Chapter 6: Burn.

Your eyes widen at the text you had received last night. After the whole ordeal yesterday, you had quickly collapsed on your bed and fell asleep, not bothering to change your clothes or check your phone.

What a big mistake.

Your fingers hover over the screen as you read the text message over and over again. It was real. You weren’t dreaming.

You needed to respond.

y/n : hii, sorry I didn’t see your message last night.

y/n : yeah I’m free today at like 2-3 pm. why?

You breath out a sigh, as you put your phone down, thoughts racing through your head faster than an F1 car.

The sound of your notification rings through the room, causing you to quickly seize your phone.

Suguru 💔 : meet me at the cafe at 2:30.

Suguru 💔 : I need to talk to you about something.

You weren’t sure what to do. You quickly answer, agreeing. You flop onto your bed, eyes staring onto the ceiling on top of you. Confusion filling you.

What the hell did he want from you?

Insufferable. Annoying. Wasn’t that what he called you? He didn’t want to be near you anymore right? Then, why was he randomly messaging you to meet him.

It all confused you. You punch your bed, frustrated. You didn’t know what to do. Did you really want to meet him again, alone? He said meet him, not him and his friends, meaning he would be alone.

You grimace and grumble, why does he have to be so damn confusing! You sit up, rereading the message again.

2:30 in the afternoon.

You sigh, standing up, stretching your body.

Annoyance replaces the frustration as you realise what you had just agreed to.

What in the world did you get yourself into?

You enter the cafe, hands fidgeting on your bag. You scout out the long black-haired man.

You eventually spot him near the corner, reading a book. Blood rushes to your face as you observe him. You curse your body for having a reaction to seeing him like that. Yet, it made sense.

He looked well-groomed today. His hair tied back into a man bun neatly, one strand freed and covering part of his face. He was entranced by the book, not bothering to look up at you, who was staring at him from the door.

“It’s rude to stare.” He suddenly voices out, pulling you out of your catatonic state. You look away, embarrassed for getting caught staring.

Right. He was still an asshole.

He looks up, closing his book and putting it on the coffee table in front of him. He gestures for you to sit in front of him, which you hesitantly agree to. Like normal, his eyes carried no emotion. It was impossible to read him and understand what was going in that head of his.

“What’d you call me here for?” You say, taking a seat in front of him. Your tone civil as you try your hardest to hide your still prominent feelings for him.

He gives you a smirk. Ugh! Was he trying to lead you on?

“I think we both know that we aren’t exactly on the best of terms.” He says, leaning in front. “So, I want to fix that and befriend you again.”

Huh.

He wanted to befriend you… again. Did you hear that right?

You stare dumbfounded at him. Was he being serious.?You purse your lips, looking at him uncertainly.

“Why do you randomly want to be friends with me again?” You say quietly, unsure of what he was getting at. Surely, there was something that he needed.

“Look, I uh… I think it would be better for us to be friends again. You’re a good girl, and I think that you’re a nice friend. Thus, I don’t want to have to lose you because I made a mistake with my words months ago.” He says. “Besides, Shoko needs another female friend.”

You continue to stare at him. What he said made sense, and this was definitely an optimal chance to get back into the friend group, but something felt off.

“But… You don’t like me in general.” You state plainly, tilting your head at the man in front of you.

His eyes widen as he hears you say that, his mouth opens slightly, before he quickly closes it. To be completely honest, he never thought you would be so blunt on pointing out his faults and disdains. It was true he didn’t really fancy your presence but he thought he kept it secretive enough. Not to mention, he thought you would accept his friendship in a heartbeat with no issue. Isn’t that what you wanted? To be close to him?

You stare at him expectantly. You know you had hit the nail as he stayed silent after your statement. Yet, to know that he actually didn’t like you, it hurt.

“I can’t say that you’re entirely wrong but…” He leads, the first few words already stinging your heart. You didn’t know why you thought wanted he would reject your words and say that you were wrong. You should’ve known better than that.. “I think it’s better for the whole class that we at least pretend to be friends. Shoko and Satoru desperately miss you for some reason.”

You stay silent, the words ringing through your head before you finally process it after a few seconds. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“So… can we be friends?” He asks, looking you in the face, the look that always caused you to blush.

“Fine by me.” You say, standing up, trying to quickly leave the cafe before it became obvious on the fact that you still somehow had a crush on that curse eater.

He, thankfully, let you leave.

You stood outside of class, staring at the door. It was the first day of school after agreeing to be friends although fake with Suguru Geto.

You know you had to enter soon, but the prospect of seeing him again and having to talk to him was nerve-wrecking.

“Why are you staring at the door?”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning back to see the man you were trying to avoid behind you. He looked at you weirdly, tilting his head.

“I- I was just thinking…” You say, looking in front indignantly.

He raises an eyebrow at you before opening the door, ushering you inside.

Satoru and Shoko were already in the classroom. They smile at the both of you and wave you over to sit with them. You, gratefully, take a seat beside Shoko. As per usual, you stay quiet, listening to them talk and squabble. You started zoning out as their discussion continued on.

“Well, what do you think y/n?” The mention of your name snaps you back to reality. You look at Shoko who had called you.

“I’m sorry- I was blurred out, what did you say?”

“Since the school break is happening soon, we wanted to go on a roadtrip around Japan. Though, it’s either that or we do something else. So… what do you want to do?” Shoko explains.

“Come on y/n, say yes to the roadtrip! I’ll even pay for all your expenses!” Satoru adds on, giving you a pleading look. You smile at him.

“Sure… I wouldn’t mind.”

Satoru gives you the widest grin before hugging you. You laugh at him, accepting the hug. You glance at Shoko who rolls her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You live in that moment for a while. Not realising how Suguru was staring at your enveloped figure. Something inside him burned as he watched Satoru hold you in a tight hug. He shakes away the thought. It must be because Satoru is holding you. Satoru is his best friend, why would he want his best friend holding a filthy monkey?

The road trip was planned and scheduled. For the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of belonging. The plan was to sleepover at Suguru’s old house and leave early the next day. That was the reason you stood in front of Suguru’s house, your trunk in hand. You tapped nervously on the hard leather cover of the trunk as you waited for someone to open the door. Satoru and Shoko were already there as they were used to going to his house. You, were not.

The door opens, Suguru standing in front of you. Your breath hitches as you see him.

He looked beautiful. His hair down and in a comfortable black sweatshirt. His eyes looked tired but it was obvious he had been smiling as his laugh lines looked more obvious than usual.

“Oh. You’re here.” He says.

You give him a small smile. He stands to the side, letting you in. Before you could even take a look around, he grabs your shoulder, pulling you near. Your eyes widen as you feel his hand grabbing you back.

“Listen. I know we’re ‘friends’ and all, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t exactly like you. So, don’t get any wrong ideas okay? We’re just friends.” He says sternly, looking down at your face. His eyes softening for a second as he took a proper look at your face. He had never seen it that close before. He had to admit you were pretty but no. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not you, not after everything he had said.

You pull away from him, failing to notice how his eyes saddened as you remove yourself from him. Why did he feel that way? He didn’t like you.

“I get it man. We’re friends. I’m fine with that.” You say, glaring at him.

“Good.” He says, ignoring you as he brings you up the stairs to his room where Shoko and Satoru played UNO on the floor.

“y/n! You’re lateeee” Satoru drawls out, patting the spot next to him for you to sit down. You agree, sitting beside him as you watch him and Shoko play a game of UNO. Satoru, getting increasingly frustrated with losing, not knowing Shoko had been secretly passing you cards to hide.

“This game is rigged!” Satoru shouts out after his 11th time losing. “Let’s do something else!”

You laugh, nodding at him. Suguru’s hand twitching as he hears your laugh. He keeps quiet.

You all decided to watch a movie before falling asleep soon on the floor. It had been ages since you had this much fun. As you stare into the ceiling, the world around starts getting darker before eventually you fall into a deep slumber.

You awoke to the sound of something moving, you open your eyes, catching a shadow of man walking towards the door before closing it. You sit up, feeling curious on who had left the room. Your throat felt dry.

You needed a drink.

That was your reasoning. Surely there was no other reason for you to follow a shadow that was most definitely Suguru downstairs to the kitchen. You were just thirsty.

You quietly head down the stairs, catching a glimpse of Suguru at the counter of his kitchen, drink in hand. He looked so… broken.

Maybe you didn’t need a drink.

“I know you’re there.” He says.

Nevermind, you did need a drink.

“My throat… I wanted a drink…” You say softly, showing yourself. He looks at you, his eyes showing the distinct look of sadness.

He nods, pushing the jug of water near you and grabbing a cup for you. You poured the water in and took a sip. The air of awkwardness surrounding the both of you as you both stood drinking water.

“Are… Are you alright?” You ask, breaking the silence. He keeps quiet, taking a sip.

“I’m fine.” He says solemnly after a while. You knew better to fight him about it.

After a while, you left to go back to sleep, leaving Suguru all alone downstairs.

It enraged him. Why did you leave him? Why did you stop showing him affection? You were supposed to like him, not ignore him! You… You and your stupid laugh. The laugh that only happened near him but never because of him. The sincere smile that you gave others but not him.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair, why did they get it but not him?

He hated it.

He hated you.

He didn’t like you. No, you were supposed to like him. That’s how it was supposed to work.

You had to like him. He wanted your attention, your affection, your love. He wanted your all.

So, why weren’t you giving it to him?

Why were you making him give his to you?

part 3

#suguru geto #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

Text

Mine

Luke Castellan x Reader

Requested by: @officiallenalove like imagine the reader is like a daughter of Poseidon and we know he’s not around most of the time and she meets Luke and they like fall in love but she’s never known what healthy love looks like so it’s low key angsty but happy at the same time yk?

Summary: "You are the best thing that's ever been mine"

Warning: crappy parents, angst, self doubt

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

A/N Sorry this took so long I had a hard time choosing which lyrics/moments I wanted to write

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

Godly parents were always deadbeats. It was just a fact of half-blood life. But after spending years thinking I had no father, I was thrilled to have been claimed by Poseidon. It was naïve of me to think that just because he claimed me he’d be a good father just because I knew of his existence. I spent night after night praying to him, looking for some sense of guidance from him but never receiving anything. Eventually I learned not to bother with him or anyone else.

My mom had let me down enough times that I knew it wasn’t just gods that let you down. When she finally told me about my father she told me I’d be moving to a strange place. Not for my safety but because she didn’t want to take care of the daughter of the god that broke her heart. She complained endlessly on the drive over that my father never even bothered to offer her immortality, rather last she heard of him he was falling in love with another woman on Long Island.

She was dead to me after she dumped me at camp with hardly a goodbye. And then my father was dead to me when I begged for his help but received nothing.

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' / Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

Most of the other campers felt the same about their godly parents but it seemed like the only one who really understood was Luke.

“I mean, it’s like we’re nothing to them,” Luke ranted to me. We rant to each other a lot. “We’re just byproducts of their mistakes.”

“Gods, I hate men,” I groaned, lying back in the grass of the green. “Are all fathers this shitty?” I asked, looking up at Luke. I squinted into the sun as I peered at him accusingly. He moved his hand to block the sun from my eyes.

“I wouldn’t know from personal experience but I wouldn’t be this shitty,” he smiled cheekily down at me. He moved to lay back too, resting on his elbow. “I’d never abandon you.”

I could feel my chest tighten and I hoped it wasn’t apparent on my face. I just laughed, gently pushing his chest in a playful manner, hoping I was sparing him any embarrassment by making him think I thought he was joking. “You wish. You’d probably leave once the first diaper change comes.” I couldn’t even begin to consider loving him—or anyone—enough to feel abandoned by him. Thanks to my parents I felt more than enough abandonment.

He gave me a forced laugh as I sat up. “Yeah probably. I’d just be the fun dad.”

Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water? / You put your arm around me for the first time

Later that day I found myself sitting on the beach of the Long Island Sound. The ocean was always sort of a sore spot for me because it was just a reminder of my father but it still felt calming. Like I belonged despite my father’s indifference.

As I stared out into the sound, zoning out, I let my mind wander to the conversation I had with Luke. That wasn’t the first time he had tried to hint at his feelings and he was a great guy but I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t have faith that he—or anyone for that matter—wouldn’t just let me down. How could I trust I wouldn’t let him down.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the man himself. “Hey, can we talk?” he asked, coming to stand next to me. I just wordlessly gestured for him to sit next to me. He complied, taking a few breaths before looking at me. “I’m just gonna come right out and day it: I like you,” he rushed. “You don’t have to like me back or anything but I need to know that you know.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. I hadn’t expected his boldness. “Um…” I had to take a second to structure my thoughts. “Luke, you’re a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you but you don’t want me.”

“Actually, I do I just said it,” he chuckled, trying to release some tension.

I laughed with him. “No, I mean I don’t think I can give you what you want. I’m not the best with feelings and I’m not entirely convinced that you, and everyone else in my life, won’t just leave me when it’s convenient.”

“Hey,” Luke chided gently, throwing an arm over my shoulder to bring me closer, “I meant what I said I'm not gonna abandon you. And if you’re scared, that’s fine, we can take this slow. If you really just don’t want a relationship that’s fine. I’ll still be by your side no matter what.”

Tears pricked my eyes at how thoughtful and caring he was being. Fortunately he couldn’t see them because my head was resting on his shoulder. “Okay,” I agreed, “I want to try taking things slow with you.” His grip on me tightened as he held me a little closer, like he was so excited you just have to squeeze something.

Braced myself for the goodbye / 'Cause that's all I've ever known

Things were great for a few months. Every time I began to doubt our relationship, Luke was there to help me. Giving me constant assurances and telling me how much he loved me. So much so that I started to feel like a burden to him. Like I was just a task he had to get through every week.

“Hey,” Luke announced his presence as he entered my cabin, “I haven’t seen you all day, what’s up?” he asked, looking around the cabin.

“J-just a second!” I called from a storage closet. I quickly wiped my tears and steeled myself, willing myself to look normal. Realizing he’d be wondering why I was in the closet, I grabbed a random blanket from one of the shelves. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the closet with a smile. “Hey.”

His face immediately dropped. “What’s wrong?”

Curse my puffy eyes. “Nothing,” I answered. He approached me but I just slid past him, dropping the blanket onto my bunk. “Why?”

“Your eyes are all red. What’s wrong?” he asked again. Once again trying to touch me but I just backed away.

“Must be dust or something in the closet,” I tried to dismiss.

His face hardened. “C’mon, Y/N I know something’s wrong. I don’t want you to hide things from me. I want to take care of you.”

At his words the dam broke and all the thoughts and feelings I had been dealing with bubbled over. “I don't want you to have to take care of me!” A look of hurt appeared on his face and my heart ached for him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I do. I just don’t think it’s fair to you to have to comfort me whenever anything little happens. It’s pathetic,” I spat at myself.

“Hey, no, you’re not pathetic,” Luke assured me.

“You’re not listening to me,” I insisted. “How can you possibly want to be with me when I do nothing but drain you?” I stared at him, waiting for him to realize that I was a leech and leave for his own sake. But instead, he just looked endeared.

“Y/N, you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. I don’t want you to ever think that you’re a burden to me. I love you and I love that I'm the one who brings you comfort. So please, just let me love you.”

My resolve broke and I went to him, letting Luke pull me into his chest. “What did I do to deserve you?” I cried into the warmth of his chest.

“I ask myself the same,” he returned, pressing a kiss to my head.

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lighting thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #Spotify

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mortytheestallion · 4 months

Text

let the light in

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, sex pollen, unprotected sex PIV, angst if you squint, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), rick being kinda mean, this fic is 18+ minors dni

A/N: this was a fucking beast of a fic i've been trying to wrangle for months. based on this ask

>> Come over.

>> Emergency.

> real emergency? or morty didn’t like your vat of acid emergency?

>> I’m not gonna ask again.

Rick usually enjoys messing with you too much. He’ll beat around the bush as long as he can because it drives you insane. He loves to dangle the unknown in front of you for as long as possible, right up until you just can’t take it anymore.

You don’t bother to rush over anymore. You used to fall all over your apartment, scrambling to find your keys amidst paperwork and weekly takeout. Cursing and throwing piles of clothes everywhere, just for them to be sitting nicely on the hook you never use.

Only for Rick to need the screwdriver two feet to the left of him.

“It’s important I don’t get distracted,” He would grumble at your obvious frustration, a self-important thank you as you hand it over and he sends you back on your way.

Asshole.

Or the time he’d let Morty’s ointment sit too long, and you had to help wrangle him back home. You seemed to be the only one who got bit, however, as Rick made it away unscathed. Typical.

You let out a sigh, uneasiness settles like a stone deep within the pit of your stomach.

You don’t have time to look up from your phone before a portal appears in the corner of your room. You pause for a moment, taking in the green glow and slight pulsing sound. It must really be an emergency if he couldn’t even wait for you to make the drive. It wasn’t long by any means, but you can’t ever remember a time he’s gone out of his way to portal you over.

Slight annoyance runs through you at the convenience he’s withheld from you all this time, but you push it away. This must be urgent. That doesn’t stop you from lacing up your shoes, slowly rising to meet the portal before the familiar falling sensation hits. You still haven’t gotten used to it.

The garage is dark, save for something that glows blue in the corner. It's not lost on you that the house’s defense barricades are currently in place.

Rick’s sitting low on the chair he keeps at his workbench. Slouched as he braces his arms against his knees, long legs splayed open.

His hair is even more unruly than normal. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and dried blood that mars his lower lip. His usual look of boredom adorns his face, yet the slight twitch of his lips betrays his cool demeanor as he looks you up and down.

Your instinct is to shrink away from him, but you hold Rick’s gaze. His signature lab coat is missing, his blue longsleeve is riddled with holes and burn marks. More dried blood makes it cling to his right side, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. His long legs are spread wide as he casually lounges there, he looks much more broad than usual.

“Are you okay?” Your breath catches, “I mean, is everything okay?” You curse yourself at the way your voice quivers under his unrelenting gaze. You hate that he has this effect on you.

“I got hit on Gearworld-” Rick pauses, as if weighing whether or not to divulge more information, “Idiots are testing bioweapons on non-gear life forms.” His brow quicks at your panicked expression, he lazily holds one hand up to signal he’s going to continue.

“I know this isn’t —uh, what you imagine when you slip those pretty little fingers into your pants at night, but I really need your help.”

Your eyes go wide at his request. Sure you’ve helped him on all kinds of different planets in all different kinds of ways, but never anything like this. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck at the implications of what he’s asking. You can’t help but bite your lip, it doesn’t slip past you how Rick’s hips buck in response to the small action.

You can’t find the words. Why now? Why me?

“Now—now or never, baby,” His voice breaks your trance, “I got a fucking problem here and if you’re not into it don’t— I’m gonna take care of this myself.”

“Why me?” You bite your lip, suddenly shy as you shift your weight. He lets out a groan, his spare hand dragging across his face in annoyance. Always the drama queen.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” You’re locked in a stalemate. His chest is heaving from whatever they’ve injected him with, although you have a pretty good idea by now. He looks at you like he’s hungry. It makes you lose your train of thought. He lets out a groan and a soft fuck. Pleasure shoots down your back and settles down deep in your spine, it makes you shudder.

““You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the way you ogle me? I had to pull you out of an alien hole for god's sake, because you were too busy watching me instead of doing what I told you.”

“You’re such a dick!” Embarrassment washes over you like a flood. The blood rushing through your ears is so loud as it carries the thump thump thump of your heart.

It’s so Rick to have known about your feelings before you did. Part of you wishes you could crawl inside your apartment and never leave again. You’d just have to get used to the 24 DVDs piled against the TV, and apparently salisbury steaks are back. You could make that work.

“Yeah I’m a dick with a problem so either get riding or get the fuck out.”

Fuck he’s mean. You hate that it turns you on. You like to think that under different, less dire circumstances he’d be nicer. You know he cares for you, he wouldn’t keep you around if he didn’t. It’s so sick. You’re watching him get better, be better, and yet he seems to revert back just when you need him the most.

You take a step toward him and he’s on you, instantly. His shoulders drop as rushes to get his hands on you. He huffs rucking your pants down your thighs. You kick your pants off the rest of the way, watching as he wastes no time to rip your lacy underwear off your body.

“Fuck it feels good to do that for real,” you quirk an eyebrow at his statement, but he ignores you in favor of sucking a bruise where your hip meets your thigh. His other hand trails upward, tugging on your shirt to indicate he wants it off. You comply quickly, letting out a soft moan as he bites the tender flesh spot he’s been nursing below you.

Rick always runs warm, handprints burning into your skin as he grips any piece of you he can get his hand on. You whine at the loss of contact as he uses his workbench you’re pressed against as leverage to bring himself back up to your level.

You squirm underneath him, the press of the cool metal against your back combined with his rough clothes against your front proves overwhelming as he takes your face into his hands.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning.

You go limp against him, allowing him to lick into the wet cup of your mouth. The metallic taste floods your mouth, he’s kissing you so hard his lip resplit. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you bite it and he groans.

His face is rougher, you realize, more than you imagined. Stubble rubbing against you as he makes his way down your neck sucking and biting. You can’t help the mewls coming from your mouth that he elicits, you can tell it’s fueling his ego as huffs below you.

His sweater itches against you, but the burn only fuels the arousal as it pools within your core, you whimper as his hand brushes against your front. Your soft sounds egg him on as he returns to your mouth, he gives your lip a rough tug with his teeth before plunging back in with his tongue.

Rick had always been rough with you, this was something else though. He shoves a knee between your thighs, groaning at how warm you feel against him. One hand reaches around to grip the back of your neck as the other catches the back of your thigh to bring your leg around his hip.

He grinds against you this way, holding you so tight you worry you might break in half. You sigh against him, desperate for any contact that allows pleasure to ripple through you as the rough material of his pants continues to catch against your clit.

Affection from Rick was so rare, you continue to drink in this feeling, relishing in being special enough to have him give you so much of his attention.

You let out a whine as he breaks the kiss, upset at the loss of contact. He sucks air in through his teeth as he leans back, taking a moment as his eyes rake over your body. You take this as an opportunity to explore him with your hands, taught skin supported by firm muscle bounces back against your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his pants, bulge prominent against the khaki adorning his legs.

You take the natural pause as an opportunity to push his sweater up indicating you want it off, he wastes no time to fulfill your request as he rips it from his body in the blink of an eye. Goosebumps raise on his skin as his bare form meets the cool air, Rick presses himself back against you seeking your warmth.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or-or are you just gonna—oh!” You squeal as he tweaks your nipple in warning, he gives into your request, nonetheless. You feel a slender finger drag down the length of your body. You lean forward to capture the corner of his jaw, biting softly to busy yourself as you wait for him to touch you.

Your heart leaps, a shudder makes its way down your spine as his fingers catch on your clit, giving his attention to where you need it the most. You’re already wet and warm for him, a low groan escapes his throat as he feels you.

He nudges a long finger between your folds, drinking in the sounds it pulls from you. He watches your expression intensely, the slightest indication of pleasure spurring him on as he seeks your validation.

You can tell he’s holding himself back, sweat beads along his hairline as he’s lost deep in getting you off. You wish you could reach out and smooth his furrowed brow, but you’re cockdumb on his fingers alone. You always thought it would be good with Rick, but you didn’t know it would be this good.

You buck into his hand as the arousal floods deep within the pit of your stomach, it's almost overwhelming how electric his touch feels.

He shifts underneath you, attacking the soft spot above your collarbone as he sucks the flesh tender. He removes his finger from your clit, choosing to run it through your soft slit instead. You moan loudly at the sudden shift in contact, he grunts in response, releasing your shoulder from his bite.

You open your eyes as he removes his hand, sucking in a breath as he brings it to his mouth and sucks.

You gush as he moans around his fingers, the sound vibrating through his chest as you watch him savor you. He releases them with a pop, a strand of salvia linking them back to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes those fingers into you, and you jolt at the sudden contact.

Your fingers are gripping the workbench so tight you’re sure if you looked down they’d be white. Your back arches as his fingers slide in easily to the knuckle.

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmurs, but you know he wouldn’t hear the answer even if you had one to offer him, eyes half mast watching his fingers pump in and out of the tight channel of your pussy. He slips another finger into you, and your arms give out at the wave of pleasure that assaults your senses.

Every muscle in your body tightens as he angles his hand so the flat edge of his palm can press against your clit. He continues to curl his fingers against the spongy piece inside you, focusing on how your cunt pulses slick and hot against him.

“Fuck– Rick, I-I might, I’m gonna—” He can barely hear you, too distracted by the lewd he elicits out of you. There’s sweat beading along your hairline, he can feel your lowering muscles spasming as he twists and scissors his fingers.

He picks up the pace, you can feel yourself dripping against his hand, clenching as your orgasm rapidly approaches. He moans as you grip his forearm, nails digging into the muscle.

“Fuck!” You cry out as he fucks his fingers up, he twists his hand to press circles against your clit and you scream. You clench hard around him in soft, hurried spasms that make him choke on the groan he was about to let slip. He feels the rush of liquid that flows out of you as you burst across his knuckles.

He watches as you arch off of his workbench, shuddering as he pulls pleasure out of you in waves. He thinks he could come in his pants from this alone, the pollen coursing through his veins making him lightheaded. His skin is too tight for his body, limbs feeling as though he’s moving through molasses.

Every time you touch him feels like a douse of cool water. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that makes his vision blur. He wants to bring you closer, he’d bury himself inside of you, carve himself deep within your chest if he could. Every cell within his body is screaming, urging him to lick and suck and devour you.

“I can’t– I’m not gonna be able to be gentle with you,” you peer up at him, eyes wet from the intensity of your orgasm, “I won’t be able to take it slow.”

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze.

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

He barks out a laugh before curling his fingers you didn’t realize were still inside you. You cringe, at both the tender feeling and the loud squelch that emits from below you.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie, it’s gonna fucking fit,” Rick wastes no time undoing his belt, wolfish grin ghosting his lips. He lets out a deep moan and fuck as he pulls himself out.

You can’t help the noise you make at the sight of it, he’s thick and leaking. You wish you had more time, you’d love to take him in your mouth and make him see god. You take him in your hand instead, brushing your thumb along the top of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it. He thrusts into your grip impatiently, your fingertips catching every ridge and crevice along his length.

You gasp as a calloused hand reaches up in one swift movement to grab your throat.

He enters you with one swift movement, pushing your legs up to get a better angle, ignoring the way you groan as your back hits the wall.

You ignore the pain, blooming for him—sucking him in with your molten heat that nearly blinds him. You want to make it good for him. You want him to know that you can be good for him. You want him to come back after a particularly rough day and bend you over his work bench, or call you in the middle of the night purring for you.

“Fuck, Rick, oh my god,” your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. He responds with a heavy slap to your ass that lurches you backward, almost off of him before he slams back into you. His strokes are deliberate and powerful, he fucks you so hard he can hear it.

He fucks and fucks you, every slam of his hips making your lashes flutter. You’re shuddering around him, walls spasming as you cross the line into overstimulation. You let out a strangled cry, your second orgasm hangs in front of your face and you start to push back against him, desperately seeking release.

Rick’s jaw clenches, clicking from an old injury. He’s trying to control himself, but you’re burning hot and tight as all hell. He bites the inside of his cheek as you blossom around his length, throwing his head back as the loud slap slap slap of his hips keeps you dripping on his cock.

You allow yourself to drink in Rick’s distracted state, dragging a soft hand up and down the side of his body, relishing in the way he shudders and gasps at your touch. The idea that he’ll discard you after this, making excuses about not being himself or reacting to the effects of pollen hits you like a truck. It almost sobers you out of your cock-drunk state.

He draws you out of your spiraling with a strained gasp as your fingers find tender flesh, you hesitate before digging into the soft muscle with your nails. It pulls on your heartstrings to willingly inflict pain on him, but any remorse is instantly washed away at the way his dick twitches inside you.

“Sh-shit, do that again,” Comes that dark, gritting baritone as he releases his grip on your legs, choosing instead to wrap a calloused hand around your neck, quickening his pace with sloppy thrusts. Rick lets out an honest to god moan and you clench around him. He pulls out abruptly, and you whine at the loss of contact.

Hurt floods your features, anxiety clawing its way up your chest at the smallest sign of rejection. There's not enough time to ruminate before he’s back on you, sliding to the hilt. You hiss at the return of pressure, pain searing into you. Adjusting around him, you slide your nails down his back. He moans arching into your touch.

“I don’t–,” He’s interrupted as a particularly deep thrust hits something spongy within you and you’re writhing under him. He captures your jaw in his firm grip forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyes.

You look utterly fucked out. Tears leaking from the corners of your eyes make his cock twitch, he’s ready to come but he needs to tell you first. He needs you to know.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking long— ” Your eyes go wide, “I’ve wanted to hit this hot fucking cunt.”

Each of his words is punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession.

“I know I’ve been a dick lately—”

“Jesus, fuck, Rick, just shut up and fuck me!” You can’t take it anymore, god knows how he’s doing it in his state. Your outburst earns you a hard slap to your ass that he’s holding off the edge of the workbench, whimpering as his fingers dig into the burning flesh. Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you need it to be from him. Not from the Rick with aphrodisiac poison coursing through his veins.

The room is dense with the sound of wet flesh coming together again and again as he takes his thumb and rubs it over your clit in short, quick circles. His cock throbs inside you, you feel your pussy making room for him where you didn’t think possible, allowing him to carve you open and make you his. He grips your hips harder as you try to push away from him, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you. You–you wanted the Rick, baby, I’m gonna make sure it’s worth your while.”

His pace begins to chase something frantic, you writhe under him as he licks a hot stripe up the side of your neck. You’ve been reduced to nothing but high pitched moans, panting and shivering under him. Your pleasure crests until you feel you’ll explode.

And you do. Your vision goes black as your orgasm racks your body and you explode wet– nearly pushing him out of you as you shove the heels of your hands into your eyes because you cannot look at him right now.

“Fuck,” He rasps, “Goddamn, did you— you just– you’re–,” it just melts into a pile of sounds before he’s groaning sinfully, a last, hard thrust before there is the telltale sprouting of warmth within you.

You're drunk on him, absolutely fucked out as your walls still spasm around him. You yelp as he drops you back on the workbench before dropping down to his knees.

He ducks his head to slide the flat of his tongue through your folds, tasting the slick that drips from you. You shudder, clumsy hands tugging his hair, pulling him off you. You manage to prop yourself up on one arm, looking down at him.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” “You like it.”

His chest is heaving, cock rehardening already from where it rests above the waistband of his unzipped pants. It makes you cringe, he must be in so much pain.

If he is, he doesn’t let it show. It's something you’ve always noticed about him, the lengths he goes to hide himself from the world. From you.

He’s given you this, even in his own fucked up way he’s given you this. It makes your heart swell. Worry picks at you from deep in your subconscious, but you push it away for now. You want to give him something back, he knows how you feel but you need him to know.

It’s why you’re sliding off the bench, sinking to your knees as he rises above you.

“Damn, I would’ve fucking injected myself with that shit if I had known it would’ve gotten you here like this, for me,” He’s so fucking smug, stupid smirk gracing his lips as you take him in your mouth. You’ll wipe it off though, prove to him why he chose you.

Make sure he’ll always want to choose you.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez fanfic #rick Sanchez/reader #Rick C-137

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sh1-n0bu · 4 months

Note

can i request something?? can you do modern relationship with scara??

✿ 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖! ✿

characters: modern!scaramouche x nb!reader

warnings: modern au!!!, fluff, crack, my poor attempt at humor, scara has a bad relationship with his moms, written with high school au in mind, scara being bad at feelings, headcannon format, raiden shogun goes as raiden shino since shogun is a title rather than a name and all…

notes: when that one song u used to religiously listen to when u were younger and cringier suddenly comes rushing back in for a fic idea

oh dear gods, where do we even begin with this one?

tsundere to the max and we all know, his moms knows it, you know it, the entire school knows it, even the online friends he plays games with knows it

which explains on how you knew that scaramouche had a crush on you the moment he started showing small signs of it. waaaaayyyy before he even understood his own emotions and feelings and came to terms with it

safe to say, he is super easy to read. like, a motherfuckin open book that’s full of illustrations made for kids. at least, that’s how it feels to you anyways

has a bad relationship with both of his mothers and his older sister but at least he tolerates his older sister better than his mothers, which is a good thing. at least he has someone to turn to when something goes wrong

him, his mom ei and his older sister are carbon copies of each other alongside his aunt. the first time you went over to scara’s place to prepare for an upcoming exam, you almost got whiplash from just how many similar purple people were there

like… low-key concerning with how you easily mistook his mom ei with his aunt or his older sister with his mom ei

safe to say you made a fool out of yourself for the first few meetings with his family

his other mom, miko, is very… eccentric to say the least. teasing, sly, quick-witted, charming and charismatic. you and scara joke around that miko was a fox or a demon in her former life

his older sister, shino, is quite the sweetheart one the other hand. quiet, reserved, socially awkward and friendly if you go over how her normal face looks so emotionless and dead. reminds you of a soldier or a puppet with how shino is so willing to fulfill ei’s wishes or words to the T

his aunt, baal, is an absolute sweetheart. the ultimate sweetheart actually. such a sweet woman she is with her soft words, warm smiles and motherly affections. she offered you a hand-made cookie when you were about to leave simply because you were scara’s friend!

yes, you cried to the amount of kindness and scara made fun of you for it

you would never peg someone as mean, introverted and arrogant as scaramouche to be friends with the popular, soccer kid from school did ya’? well you are wrong because scara and childe are best friends!!! as childe claims

the ginger-head made a bet with scaramouche saying that you two’s friendship won’t last. cue scaramouche and his over competitive ass coming over and latching himself to you to make sure that your friendship would last

AKA childe’s plan to make scaramouche realize his feelings and come to terms with it has officially started!

likes to occasionally play video games such as wuthering waves, minecraft, resident evil, silent hill etc etc. hates first person shooter games cuz it’s so not his style and he hates the annoying boys that he comes across during the game

will never say it nor mention it but sometimes he plays those ‘using not a single part of your brain’ type of games like playing as dentists or doctors. hell, he even likes to play dress up games from time to time. he just loves the aesthetics and the different designs of the clothes, itches that inner aesthetic lover part of him. but he will NEVER mention it or be caught playing it. scaramouche would rather die

something tells me that his music taste would be more leaning into electronic or scene music. odetari, 6arelyhuman, kets4eki — you name it. sometimes, enjoys those gentle and soothing sounding anime openings too

he has sanrio plushies. more specifically, hello kitty ones

had an obsession with the cute white cat growing up and he never grew out of it

the moment he first found out that you like plushies or pink things or sanrio related things, he knew he gotta gift you anonymous sanrio gifts on your birthday or on special occasions. it was his early stages of courting you

was absolutely appalled when he was found out because whaddaYA MEAN HE LIKES SOFT AND THOSE STUPID PLUSHIES AND SANRIO RELATED THINGS?! NUH-UH, YOU MUST’VE SAW A DIFFERENT PURPLE HAIRED, BOWL HAIRCUT HAVING GUY CUZ SCARAMOUCHE WOULD NEVER LIKE THOSE STUPID THINGS!!!

he aint fooling anyone

takes his relationship slow since he has some big trust issues yet also attachment issues. pick a struggle tbh

had a panic attack after he officially, finally, after years of crushing on you, like literally acting like your boyfriend years later when he asked you out on a date because woohoo!! he asked you for a date \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ but also shit, what type of a first date would you like ლಠ益ಠ)ლლಠ益ಠ)ლ

yeah, he had to do something he hated the most. ask his moms and sister for advice

after a lot of talk, discussions, secretly stalking your social profiles or you in general to see what you would like, scaramouche decided to take you out for an arcade date

you two had fun, he was glad you had fun, played bunch of different games together and even managed to win a cute matching plushies and keychains!! kuromi for him and melody for you. he was so glad that you liked it but he won’t say it out loud

walked you home after your first date, to your front door and bid you good night and “hope you had fun tonight, idiot” chu!! on your cheek before making a mad dash back home

the type of boyfriend who would lovingly bully you

“why the fuck are you wearing that? it’s making your stupid face look cuter than normal”

“who in their right mind would choose the green one? yellow looks better on you. no, the soft pastel one, not the bright one you idiot”

“you wanna die? who said i was ever gonna stop loving you after you turn into a roach? i’m gonna keep you in a special glass case until you change back dumbass”

yeah… just say you love them already, scara

your contact name on his phone is literally my idiot٩(╬ʘ益ʘ╬)۶

would lovingly call you names as he leaves soft kisses on your face

“you’re a fucking idiot but it’s fine, you’re my idiot”

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hearts4court · 6 months

Text

Praise!kink with James Potter.

A/N: I’m totally not behind on kinktober and am low key rushing to finish it before December!🙈 Also this blurb is based off a convo i had with my fav moot. i actually hate this though, especially because of how short it is.

Kinktober Masterlist!🎃🦇

Pairing: James Potter X fem!reader.

⚠️smut under the cut!!⚠️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please— please baby— no more teasing.” James pleaded with you, eyes swelled up with tears.

“Aw.” you cooed, “But Jamie, teasing you is so fun.” you say with a slight grin on your face. “Tell me what you want.”

“please— baby, please— need you.”he gasped as you teased his cock with your mouth.

Sucking on his tip and listening to his moans had you practically drooling. “Such a good boy, Jamie..”you teased, causing his head to fall back and him to let out a loud moan.

“shit— i might have to win more quidditch games if this is the reward i get.” he said with a soft chuckle, which received a small smile from you.

“Fuck— so good, princess—“he whined. you cooed, looking up at him,”Don’t cry, Jamie..”you say with a soft giggle, making him let out a soft laugh, as tears ran down his face from overstimulation.

Don’t copy, translate or repost any of my work w/o my permission.

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noowayybroo · 6 months

Text

Give the dog a bone (Part 2) (NSFW)

Characters: Dogman!Leon Kennedy, F!Reader (Part 1 is SFW GN! Reader)

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS: Smut and NSFW, Young people DNI. Dogman Leon. Dead dove IG?? p in v. Porn with some plot. Reader is female (sorry) breeding, pregnancy mention, (these tags might be all wrong I havent started writing yet) Leon and reader are initially friends / colleagues. Set after RE4. Lazy writing because I'm too busy and hate writing no cap. dogman anatomy. Hunnigan exists but is irrelevant. Nipple/ breast play / suckling. F Receiving oral. this fic is really slow and boring, shower, Leon washes, you, then you guys fuck. It's like slowburn but like it's not a burn just a bemusing fizzle. ..... knotting. LEON GETS A BIT MEAN AT THE END BUT HES STILL KINDA GENTLE AND ITS NOT EXACTLY CONSENT BUT I THINK IF READER SAID NO HE WOULD STOP LMAO YOU FEEL??? some name calling like "slut" toward the end, mention of puppies and brain numbing and stuff.

SORRY GUYS ITS A LONG ONE I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE SO IT JUST GOT LIKE LONGER N LONGER AS I PANICKED.

I feel so gross for writing this. I'm so happy you don't know who I am.

Rushing under the shelter of your roof, you fumble with your keys in the lock so you can move to make room for Leon on the doorstep. Leon hadn't had an umbrella this time, and the both of you were sopping wet, not able to run home fast enough.

Panting, you finally stumble through your own front-door, Leon crowding onto the doorstep behind you to cower from the rain. You turn back to face him, and your eyes are snagged by his own piercing ones as they gaze attentively at you. Cold rain soaks and matts the short fur on his ears, and drips down his dark fringe onto his face as his wide eyes only leave you to search your hallway.

Recently, Leon had taken to breathing heavily through his mouth when physically exerted. His jaw lazily hung open, revealing unusually sharp teeth and what seemed to be a much longer tongue as he panted. Occasionally, it would flick up to lick at his lips or fangs, but he was bashful about the matter. Catching your gaze, he slams his mouth shut and seems to bully himself into breathing through his nose.

He looks away, too, glancing past you into your home, desperately avoiding contact with your possibly judging eyes. His lids hang low as he adjusts to the bright light you flick on and his ears sit low to his head. Now you're aware of his tail, you can see it straight though his sweat-pants, though he may try hide it. The thick, bushy, and perhaps a little damp appendage clings to his leg in silent apology as he awkwardly glances between you and the interior of your home.

He eyes the space in which your hallway becomes a room; a place he'd never before set foot. There's a subtle hint in his eyes. They're almost pleading, puppy dog eyes as he gazes at this uncharted territory, but he refuses to look you in the eyes, as if he wouldn't dare ask you to allow him into your space. Rain hammering just centimetres behind him, still splashing at his back, you decide it'd be rude to just send him on his way now. Besides, you could do with some company. He wasn't just man's best friend now, he was yours.

laugh rn

"Leon, I don't want you getting sick." His ears perk up, head tilting to the side again and mouth slightly ajar. With the warm light from your home flooding past you, you probably did appear slightly angelic to him in this moment. His mouth opens, just as he's about to protest to save face, but you cut him off. "You don't have an umbrella, and we don't have work tomorrow. Why don't you come in and dry off?" His alert expression eases a little and he gives you a sheepish smile, bowing his head a little.

"You sure? It's fine, I really can just go-"

"Leon, come here." you giggle, stepping further into your home after you've kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat. Your words his command, Leon eagerly follows you, but makes sure not to move far from the door until he's removed his shoes and hoodie, placing them respectfully. Shy and gentle in his actions, his posture is bowed again, watching you nervously for any signs of discomfort. He was aware of the position he was putting you in. He knew he could scare, or even worse, hurt you, and he was very careful to prevent it.

You'd seen, over the last few weeks, Leon's tail slowly become more long and bushy. You'd watched the ears on his head darken a little in colour, and you'd noticed his nails and hands appearing a little larger and stronger over time. Whilst there were some changes in mannerisms and his personality you could pick on, there were things you simply did not know:

As he sat with you, Leon could smell you. He could identify your emotions and even that you were about to get ill before it hit you. He could hear your heart quicken and slow in different situations. He felt so connected to you now, he felt so nosey, because he could sense things he wasn't meant to be able to pick up on. He knew things he wouldn't dream of asking you. Leon swallows thickly as he watches you. His newfound primal senses kept him on his toes. He began to see you more of a partner, though he tried to fight it. Whilst his change kept him fearing virginity, a gnawing part of him identified you as the one for him.

You were the one he wanted. He wanted to test his new senses on you. He wanted to display his newfound strength to you, to impress and protect you. He wanted to be close to you. He wanted to use his newfound lust to please you. Woah, woah stop there. He shakes his head and looks away from you, face blank. He wasn't going to just take you. Sure, he wanted you, but he was no monster. All you had to do was say no, and he'd leave, tail tucked between his legs. Just the thought had him cowering in the corner.

Lost in his thoughts, in your scent, in your home, Leon realises how wrong all of this is now.. He can't have these thoughts about you, his friend. His best friend. This must be such a betrayal to you. It would terrify you, wouldn't it? You'd hate him. He should leave now and never let you find out how he feels.

Despite his hesitance and nerves, something within Leon rips his thoughts away from rationality as the scent and warmth of your home bombards him. Door now closed behind him, you surround, and he can't help but sniff the air. Addicted to the information that flowed into him. He could tell what your last few meals had been. He knew where your bedroom was, he could smell your exhaustion, and he could sense your confusion as you watched him stand, pressed against the door, turning eagerly, looking around, and consuming the smell of you. Then, his brows furrow as he notices your glare and he freezes.

Eventually, you get him to follow you into your home. You lay some warm blankets down on the couch and get things ready for a comfy night in as Leon explores your home. Before you can finish, though, you decide you have to make him more comfortable. With some encouragement, he removes his sweatpants and shirt and you replace them with the largest set of pyjamas you have. He's grateful, his fluffy tail wagging and standing to attention as you tend to him and dry it off.

Just as you're patting Leon's face dry, something comes over him, and he shakes his head hard, flinging water all over you and nearby parts of your home. He goes still, eyes wide, realising his mistake.

"Y/N, fuck, I am so sorry-" he stammers, reaching out to place his hands on your shoulders to ground one of the two of you. His hands are wet too and further soak you, and upon realising this he jumps away, tail cemented to his legs as he backs away, eventually calming down to the sound of your soft giggles and insistence that it is in fact alright.

You leave Leon on the couch with some snacks as you'd both eaten at work, and after popping to your room to freshen up and get dressed yourself, you return to him. His eyes never leave you from the second you leave your room to that when you sit next to him on the couch, just touching. His gaze was so prompt, so intense that you wondered if he'd somehow been watching you while you were in your room.

Hours pass of you watching your favourite films, as Leon had insisted he wouldn't have it another way, and the both of you have drifted significantly closer to each other over time. The sky was pitch black outside, and, whilst it had stopped raining, there was no way you'd send him home now. No, you were going to be a little selfish, you thought to yourself as Leon leaned up against you, snuggled into your side, nose buried in one of the blankets from your bed as he held it to his face.

His tail had been non-stop wagging for hours, eyes wide as he watched the screen, occasionally glancing back at you, checking up on your expression. His ears sat flat to his head, content, and he only freed his face to give a gentle yawn. You'd never been this close to Leon before, but even now, you thought something else had changed about him. Maybe it was the soft whimpers and whines he very quietly gave off or the way he juddered and shook with excitement beside you. Perhaps it was his smell... It definitely was strong, but not unpleasant.

Perhaps it was the way he lifted his head as you thought, ears perked up and turned to you, as if he could sense you thinking about him. He watches you, face only inches from yours as he sniffs the air softly. This time, he doesn't glance back at the screen, he just watched you, eyes locked onto yours until you duck away bashfully.

"S-sorry..." he mumbles, realising his mistake before leaning his head down on your shoulder like your very own pet dog might do. His face is almost touching your cheek, his breath hot on your neck as his gentle huffs turn into intrigued sniffs. He proceeds to investigate you further, squirming a little to get closer to you, one arm holding you close as he more-or-less lays on you.

You certainly notice the change, his warm front pressed up against you, pinning you down slightly. Yet, glancing down at his face makes you feel as though it's all unintentional. He seems so content and happy, in a world of his own, gazing up at you as if you'd just given him a home. "L-leon.... are you alright?" you whisper softly, watching as, again, his ears stand to attention.

"I'm... I'm uhhh..." he mumbles, lost in his thoughts, or lack thereof, as he almost purrs deep in his throat. He's half way through yet another greedy, deep breath of your scent when he realises that maybe you're not enjoying this as much as he is. His eyes shoot open and he scrambles to use his arms to relieve some of the weight on you "I-I'm sorry... Are you alright?" "I'm fine" you whisper, gently cupping his face, trying, and succeeding, to soothe him "just tell me how you feel, please?"

He pauses for a moment, eyes fluttering shut either to allow him to think, or in response to your touch. He nuzzles into your hand for a while before humming "I think I'm really hyper..."

Before now, throughout the night, you and Leon had been talking about his changes. He'd opened up to you a little about how worried he was. Before Leon went to Spain, you'd spoken to him about his issues with dating.

He told you that, to his dismay, many of the women who approached him were either spies or simply deterred by how busy and dangerous his work was. He had confided in you that now, now he was somewhat freakish, now he had the mind of a dog, and the partial anatomy of one, nobody would approach him.

You could do nothing but simply assure him that that was not the case. You told him he was wonderful, you reminded him that he was a hero, and you assured him that anybody who got to know him would swoon in an instant. And then, the conversation died there.

Until now.

There was a short silence once Leon, with your guidance, had slowly relaxed back against you. "Y/N?" He sighs softly against you.

"....Yeah?"

"W..." there's a silence again, but you know not to push him. Instead, you gently pat his shoulder, soothing him into visibly easing up. His muscles relax over you and eventually, he speaks again "Would you...?" he whimpers, burying his face in your side to hide his pretty eyes from you.

"...Would you... like me?" he whispers, hands instinctively cupping you as he wraps you into a firm hug "Would you... mind me?" Taken aback, you pause for a moment.

Was he asking if you'd date him, despite his condition, hypothetically? Sure you would, he was your best mate, and you kinda liked him. You didn't believe he had a bad bone in his body. So, you decide to be honest, thinking nothing more will come of it. You gently continue to pat his head.

"Yeah, Leon, of course, you're the best" you hum absent-mindedly. Again, it's not like you were lying, but you didn't really expect him to go for you. You just stayed honest with the hopes of making him feel a little better about himself. And... perhaps it worked, because suddenly, he shuffles further up you, tail thumping loudly against the couch as he begins to nose into your neck shyly. He nuzzles into you, sniffing softly, thrilled, tickling your neck and making you giggle.

"h-hey!" You exclaim shyly, "quit that!" you try and pat him to encourage him to leave off, but he only gets more insistent and playful.

"Y-you mean it?" he chuffs into you ""You like me?" his words are a muffled mess, disappearing into your jaw as he noses further along it. Once you give in, confirming with a gentle nod and a breathy 'yes', it's all over. He's on his knees above you, pinning you down chest-to-chest. Occasionally, his tongue darts out slightly, puppy-lapping at your skin, soon becoming a trail of hungry, loving kisses as he approaches your ear.

He moved so quickly, nipping your lobe softly, playfully before burying his head into you bashfully. He snuggled close, happy, soon becoming restless again and leaning away to gaze in awe at you. The black of his pupil devours all that innocent blue you're so used to seeing stare back at you so often, and the red flush in his cheeks is oh-so-pretty.

You feel strange. Guilty, almost. You knew something was affecting him but it's not like he was drunk or anything. This change of heart was permanent, it'd live with him forever, and so, probably, he wouldn't try and take it back in a hurry. Just to stop him doing so even if he tried, you grin mischievously "Yes, Leon. I like you." you laugh.

He dives into you, kissing your lips with soft insistence until you let him in, at which point, the taste of you drives him crazy. Greedily, he licks into your mouth, repeatedly alternating again and again between sweet kisses and hot, needy groans as he devours you. He rests his weight on his knees as he leans over you, hands caressing your sides lovingly, softly squeezing and feeling whatever he can reach, loving the sensation of you.

You thought it'd be absolutely gross to have a grown man lick you. All of your instincts, and probably all of your friends, would tell you that is NOT how you kiss, and that this man has no skill. However, this man was Leon Kennedy, and... something about it in this scenario just felt right. (He was a dogman now LMAO)

You sigh, in much more of a cuddly, wholesome mood than his energetic, frisky one. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him close. He groans softly again as you begin to kiss him back, massaging his back and scalp with your hands and writhing your body into him.

More desperate, whining a little, he cuddles into you, gyrating hips moulding with yours in desperate search of friction. Leon moves on instinct above you, gentle but persistent as he unknowingly moves to feel as much of you as possible.

Large and strong hands roam your smaller form beneath him, one gently kneading the soft flesh of your breast through any clothing that remained, whilst the other cupped your face with intimacy. He couldn't take it anymore, being nestled in your warm neck where he couldn't see you. Sitting back on his haunches, his weight on your hips, Leon admired the sight of you below him, still unable to tear his hands from your soft breasts.

Realisation hits him eventually, and his heavy lids and blissed-out expression suddenly fade a little.

"Oh my God, Y/N" He whines, throwing his head back, sighing as he looks back down at you again. "I'm so sorry, you're just so-" Despite his words, he can't seem to break away from you, one hand still kneading at your flesh, teasing at your nipple, the location of which he's deduced from your breaths and sighs. He takes one of your hands in his and holds it close to himself, treasuring your touch. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't ask you-" he blabbers out, clearly feeling guilty.

His insistent squeezing stops for once as he waits for a reply, pleading eyes watching you with bated breath. He fell still, heavy breaths parting his lips, thick tail stilled and resting on your leg. You knew Leon would take 'no', for an answer, at least you really hoped he would, but really, you just wanted to see how far he'd go.

All it took was your soft smile and another nod, before his face lit up, eyes wide, ears perked and tail beating at your legs. He buries his face back into your neck, softly kissing and nibbling and licking at any exposed flesh. His body-weight cages you once more. Smothering warmth. An arm reaches down to position your legs, encouraging you to wrap them around him as he presses his core into yours greedily.

Throwing a blanket over the both of you to keep you warm, Leon proceeds to work his way gradually down towards your breasts, leaving goose bumps and saliva in his wake. Initially, he tries to nuzzle at your garments, absent-mindedly willing himself beneath them, but when that doesn't work, he has to tug them down, pouting and grumbling until he finally removes them in order to proceed. Despite his desperation, the movement is smooth and caring, and he further tugs the blanket over you to keep you warm.

The further Leon lowers himself across your body, the more needy and whiny he becomes, drunk on you. His face never leaves your hot skin, breath and lashes tickling you as he glances lovingly between your body and face. Once Leon reaches your breasts, deft and large hands finally reach them once more. He traces the edges of them before kneading them together, toying with them, admiring their unique shape and softness. He gropes and admires them before longing kisses become needy suckling.

He groans deep in his throat, body collapsing onto yours as his lips latch onto one nipple, tongue tracing over the sensitive bud. Eyes fluttered shut, Leon hums and whines as he kneads your flesh absent-mindedly, only responding to you. Depending on your precious sounds and expressions, he either works harder on you, slows down, or switches nipples entirely until you're sighing and writhing deliciously below him.

Leon seemed like a master to you. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and whilst slightly rough, did not hurt you at all. He was loving, and you believed just how much he wanted you with every desperate grind of his hips against you. He was perfect and sweet, even when desperately horny.

In his head, however, he was a nervous wreck. He loved this, he loved you, you enthralled you, just by laying there, and each time he glanced up at you, his body shivered with excitement. You were perfect, and whilst his usual introverted self would like to observe you from a safe distance, afraid of upsetting or hurting you, his mind had become more feral, more primal. He wanted to please you, to impress you, all because he loved you. Undeterred by his painfully hard cock, he continued to worship you, part of him afraid you'd never let him do it again.

You squirm against his hips, just getting comfortable, but it reminds Leon that much, much more interesting parts of you exist. With some soft, parting kisses to your breasts and a breathy "Fuck, you're so perfect" he moves down, gently kissing and gripping at your stomach, until he's on his knees at the far end of the couch, a little further from your spread legs. Carefully, he removes your underwear, sliding it from each leg respectfully, and after gently nudging your legs to allow him access to your core... nothing happens.

Curious, you lift the blanket a little to peak at Leon. His face is blank, jaw ajar as he stares longingly at your pussy. A long tongue hangs from his startled face as he takes deep huffs of your scent. Transfixed, he doesn't seem to have noticed you watching him, nor does he register the thick glob of drool that's made contact with your couch.

He's well aware that he never asked you for your permission. He never asked how far this could go, however, something within him drew him to you. You smelled so good, you looked so good, and, he wouldn't admit it but you were the first pussy he'd eaten (he worried you'd probably decipher this instantly through his lack of skill.) To you, though, it seemed as though Leon might not want to do this afterall. Concerned, you gently reach to pat his head, hoping to focus his gaze back on you, but instead, he takes this as confirmation.

Like a salivating dog being told 'Eat', he buries his face into your pussy, ravenous. His thick tongue licking an apprehensive stripe from top to bottom, and instantly, his eyes light up. Leon screws his eyes tight, returning to eagerly lick at you, each breath a moan as he shoves his face as far as he can into you. He doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making of himself, or about you, lost in a world of his own as he begins to devour you.

Leon snuggles close, tail thumping hard against the couch as his ears stand to attention, absorbing any sounds you make. Licking into you now, he eagerly slurps up your juices, alternating between lapping at your folds, slick with his saliva, and giving gentle kisses and nudges to your clit (which he's just remembered was a thing.)

You can't help but release breathy moans as Leon consumes you, his hands now softly grabbing and kneading at your soft thighs, sometimes pulling away to kiss and nibble at them. Your sounds and small movements, grinding shyly against his face, only egg him on, and before long, a calloused thumb finds your clit, resting there for a while before rubbing small, fast circles, sending you reeling into his touch. You can feel Leon breathe a smirk onto you as he continues to lap and suck, swiftly building a pleasurable warmth within your belly.

Peering up at you, Leon senses your release and begins to work harder, the couch beginning to sway a little as he grinds and humps down into it desperately. His groans and whines vibrate deep within you, working with each hot and heavy breath to please you.

Eventually, that tightness into your core becomes intense enough to have your back arching, and in response, Leon's hand leaves your thigh to softly caress your stomach, soothing you. Seemingly a master of multi-tasking, he continues his skilful ministrations on you until your release. A hot buzz of pleasure rushes through you, eyes screwed shut as you shake and moan beneath him. Leon, panting heavily, slows his movement, still lovingly sucking and licking at your pussy, occasionally toying with your clit, until you come down, stilling in his hold.

You feel warm and sweaty, gross. You know the couch is probably coated in slick, and if not, definitely in his saliva. Expecting Leon to desperately come up for air, or part with you, you're surprised to feel him rest his warm face on your stomach, gazing up at you lovingly as his tail brushes over your legs repeatedly. He rocks the sofa with his excited, playful shivers as you smile down at him, a little nervous.

He licks his lips, entirely black eyes staring back at you. You feel a little guilty, seeing how coated he is in you, and not even his new long tongue can seem to clean up the mess you made. Leon doesn't seem to mind.

"How do you taste so good?", he rasps, large hand lifting your blanket nonchalantly so he can get a good look at you. His question has you squirming awkwardly, trying to close your legs, but finding them innocently pinned down by his weight. Absent-mindedly, the dogman pins his head up on one arm to gaze at you lovingly, whilst, his other hand mindlessly toys with your clit once you take hold of the blanket for him.

Shocked, you let out a small squeal and tell him to leave off, which, eventually he does. Apologetic eyes turn to dumbfounded ones as you suggest maybe helping him out. He stutters a little before finally finding his words. He seems surprised you'd even mention performing any sexual act on him.

"Y-Y/N -", he breathes, shocked, "You don't have to do that... it's fine. I-"

"Leon, it's alright. You helped me so maybe I can-"

"I already came...."

"...Are you sure? I want to-"

"Twice..." he groans, letting his head fall against your belly in shame, hot breath fanning you again as he lets out a long, miserable sigh. Lost for words and surprised, all you can do is gently pat his head as he lays there, motionless, seemingly mulling things over. You feel the need to reassure him. I mean, honestly, you were more than flattered.

"Is it normally that easy for you?" You choke out. Okay, that was NOT what you were meant to ask. Leon raises his head, eyes meeting yours, defeated. "I mean- wait look, Leon, I'm flattered" you chuckle "There's nothing wrong with it... Let's chill for a bit and then we can get cleaned up..." You soothe him, gently rubbing his ears, running your free hand through his hair.

In all honesty, you were spent, more than satisfied. You wouldn't mind chilling with him for a few hours, maybe sleeping together. Leon seemed utterly defeated too, the second you started toying with him, his head fell back onto your belly, resigning there, basking in your warmth and touch. A few minutes later, he lets out a wide-mouthed puppy yawn, exposing his sharp teeth, and that devilish tongue to you once more. Maybe you should both go for a wash now, he seemed tired.

"...Could go again..." a lazy, sultry mumble makes its way to your ears.

"...again?", you cock an eyebrow down at him, somewhat impressed by his stamina. "W-wait... eat me out again?" You don't know if you're ready for that-

He looks up at you, tilting his head as if debating what to say next. His face scrunches up and he almost cringes at himself before whining, "Gotta come again..." there's a short silence "I-if that's okay with you-" And then he shuffles backward and nuzzles his face into your cunt again, surprising you.

"Woah, woah, no no it's okay!" you shuffle away, breaking free of his weak hold and lifting his head to look at you "Let me help you this time, Leon." In response to your words, his eyes drift away, avoiding contact with yours. His face becomes a little more red, and his voice a little shaky.

"I don't think it's a good idea, actually.... M-maybe we should get you washed first..." Leon was acting a little strangely now, clinging to you needily, but refusing to look at you, just like a dog who'd done something wrong. This was the first time he'd taken his eyes off of you, but he was still fidgeting. He shook slightly, as if overcome by some great surge of adrenaline. He continued to sniff the air every now and then, looking away shyly. He knew you knew he could smell you. He was ashamed to be obsessed with you.

He kneels before you, ready to get up to give you space. "I don't understand why, Leon. Why are you so nervous about it?" You ask softly and his whole posture falls. His shoulders go limp as he looks back at you, crushed. After a moment of stillness, he stands up properly, ensuring he doesn't disturb the blanket atop you, keeping you warm.

"Look... I'm not a human anymore" He warns, gruffly. His gait becomes serious as he peers down at you. "It might not be safe." Suddenly, Leon's gone from loving, pussy drunk puppy to safety obsessed, matter-of-fact guard dog. His tail is still behind him, but authoritative in its stance, and his ears are stuck up and guarding. Half way between the two, your eyes glue themselves to the mess he's made on his shirt, almost entirely soaked through with your essence. And he doesn't seem to care at all.

"We can try-" you sit up eagerly, only to be met with Leon pinching the bridge of his nose, looking away and sighing.

"You don't get it. I've changed. E-even eating you out made me feel... strange. A-and my cock, it's-" you cut off his rambling by standing before him, naked. It's clear he wants it. You can tell by the freakishly large bulge and wet patch in his pants. You can tell by the way his eyes soften and his lids droop as they settle on your form. What a pervert.

His stammering is cut short as you approach him, and, once you reach him, you tell him sternly, "I don't care what's changed about you, Leon, I love you. So now, we're going to go and have a shower. And then, we're probably gonna fuck." Mouth hanging open, Leon can only blink at you. He swallows hard once you reach him, wrapping your arms around his neck and staring up at him oh-so-enticingly. He can't help himself. Cheeks burning, he leans down and gives you a soft, hungry kiss.

Strong biceps envelop you, and without warning, he lifts you into them. Once you're secure, he peppers your neck with kisses, hands roaming you as his legs auto-pilot him towards the direction you'd glanced in before. If he was lucky, he'd find your bathroom. If he were really lucky, he'd find your bedroom. Leon groans into your neck as he carries you, wrapped up in your senses again. Something about you bossing him around really did something for him, and he jostles you a little higher in desperate hopes of you not feeling just how solid he is.

Soon, Leon's letting you down on your bathroom floor, gazing down at you as if you're the most beautiful, elegant flower he's ever-

No time for that, you tug his shirt off, muscular arms lazily lifting themselves to allow you to manhandle him. That is, until, he has to crouch down as you're too short to remove his clothes all the way. You both giggle, joy easing the nerves somewhat. Leon's body tenses as he strips his own pants off, chucking them to the floor. His face apologetic as he scans yours for your reaction to his... development.

You never thought cocks actually sprung free from clothing in real life. You'd certainly never seen it before outside of fanfiction or animated porn, and you were astounded when it did just that. Not only that, but his cock was huge. Much more red than normal, it was certainly beautiful to look at. The shape was almost perfect, with a noticeable girth the closer it got to his body. It seemed to stare back at you with just as much lust as you it as it stood to attention, dribbling precum slowly, some of which had been flung to the floor.

Eventually tearing your eyes away from your new challenger, you notice that Leon had, again, torn his from you a while ago. He stood staring at the wall just past you, shyly facing your inspection of him. So... whatever he had contracted... had done THAT to his cock? It must have been at least two or three inches larger than you'd expected and whilst yes, it was intimidating, it was a challenge you would not shy away from accepting.

The only problem now was, you think to yourself as you turn to run the shower, there was no way you'd be able to give him head and call it payback. You definitely were going to fuck. "It's amazing" you breathe, looking up at Leon and then down at his cock, twitching in response to your words. His tail starts to slowly sway back and forth.

"You're just saying that-" he flushes, cock bouncing again as he finally looks you up and down again. His ears stand alert, and as steam slowly fills the room, he begins to pant. Following you into the shower, Leon waits for you to hand him some shampoo and soaps to use before cleaning himself down as you do. To no surprise, Leon's finished long before you are.

This becomes apparent when two large hands gently nudge yours aside, massaging your shampoo into your scalp for you. A soft, commanding grip on your chin guides you to look up as he wipes any remaining suds from your forehead before getting to work. Each of his fingers draw smooth, deep circles into you. His touch is like magic and has you completely unwinding.

Just as you reach the false illusion that he can't get better, he moves to a spot of your head that neither of you had yet and you stumble back into his toned form. His hands reach out to gently grasp you, holding you securely until you find your legs, and then he continues to clean you.

As he massages your back, you feel him pressed up against you. His excitement evident in the way his cock kicks against your ass. As he tends to you, you can't help but relax and soften, feeling so warm and secure, both inside and out. He's so sweet, and kind.

Once Leon finishes, he pulls away to allow you to rinse off, and, as you turn to face him, he tenderly looks down at you. His fringe is soaked, messily clinging to his face, partly obstructing his eyes. Ears and tail a damp, matted mess, he grins nervously back at you, seeking your approval as they perk up questioningly. Despite his cute act, you can tell that he is utterly downbad for you!!

Leaning in softly and pecking the gentle giant on the lips, you butter him up before leading him by the hand from the shower. Obediently, he follows you, armed with a towel each, to your bedroom. You dry yourselves off half-heartedly as he chases you along the corridor. Reaching your room, Leon follows shyly, closing the door carefully between the two of you.

Turning to face him, you notice how it takes him a while to register your gaze, forcing him to tear his eyes from where your butt was only seconds ago. He seems transfixed, mouth slightly ajar before he wakes himself up with a violent head-shake, flinging water everywhere. He smiles goofily at you. Almost distracting enough for you to forget about his angry red cock and the way it bobs and twitches, almost begging for your touch.

You weren't really sure what to do for Leon, so, you wanted to encourage him to do as he pleased. You hang your towel over your chair, prompting Leon to copy, and by the time he's turned back to face you, you're lying back in the middle of your bed, legs spread, holding your arms out to him. From 0 to 100 in seconds, his tail begins to wag. Eyes light up as your friend's ears stand to alert, and slowly, he approaches.

Waiting with baited breath, you're startled to see the man slowly stalk towards you. He's enamoured with you, eyes trained on your body, flickering between your breasts, your thighs, your face... Heck -every part of you. Meanwhile, legs on autopilot towards you. He still wears a small smile, despite his loose jaw, and as he reaches the edge of the bed, he pauses. He seems nervous, unsure of how to proceed.

Leon bites his lip, taking a deep breath. His eyes meet yours, begging for permission before his knee sinks into the bed. The bed shifts below you as he gently crawls up you, head hung low, eyes worshipping you from below once more. He seemed to enjoy that, being below you, or perhaps it was his new way of showing care and respect.

Anticipation grows within you. Sure, he hadn't exactly given you a strip-tease earlier, but now, with how slow his movements were (and how slowly i'm writing this fic), you spent far too long wondering how things would actually feel. You didn't miss the way his nostrils flared subtly as his face brushes past your abdomen, leaving small kisses along your delicate skin. Nor did you miss the way he gently suckled on one of your nipples, peppering the area in small kisses.

He didn't want to make either of you wait any longer, and so, kept things a little shorter than he'd liked. As his lips landed on yours, he promised himself that he would eat your pussy again, one day. A strong arm props him up as one of his hands gently cups your face, mindlessly gripping your jaw as he greedily swallows down any breaths and sounds you make. Groaning into you, he pulls away. His eyes instantly find yours.

"Are you sure?" He warns, voice hoarse and husky, eyes crafted with concern. When he sees the way your eyebrow raises, his ears quickly droop as he ducks down a little. "o-okay fine, but don't say I didn't warn you, okay?" his words are soft, the end of his sentence lost in your mouth as he kisses you hard. With one last shuffle and dip of the bed, Leon's hips are pressed up against yours. His cock fits perfectly within your folds as he bucks up into you slowly. At first, he simply wants to coat himself in you. And then, it starts to feel a little too good.

He almost loses himself already, groaning loudly into your mouth as his hips rut up against you, kissing you sloppily, eyes screwed shut. Meanwhile, you're shivering. Everything about him: His sounds, his smell, his huge cock, it's all intoxicating. His cock teases at your entrance and clit at the same time, having you rocking into him. You were almost hoping it'd accidentally slide in, but part of you was more than worried about whether he'd fit.

"Okay- I'm gonna...." Leon hisses, sitting back on his haunches as he watches himself gently guide his cock towards your hole. His pupils are wide, staring on as you feel the stretch just his tip provides. About an inch or two in, Leon stops. He sees the look on your face, and promptly licks a puddle of drool into his hand before dousing it on his cock. Then, eyes back on you, he slowly slides in some more.

It doesn't hurt. His precum and drool do a good job of helping you slide open on his cock as he inches deeper. Satisfied by your lack of discomfort, Leon leans in, kissing you once more as he bottoms out inside of you. The stretch is insane. You feel so full, and yet it isn't necessarily uncomfortable. You never thought he would fit, letting your head roll back with the satisfying sensation of him deep in your guts. You feel lucky that Leon is so kind and considerate, and despite his hips rolling into you soft and slow, he hasn't properly started to move yet.

After trailing soft, loving kisses up your chest and neck towards your face, and murmuring sweet nothings about how hot you are, how cute, how much you turn him on and how good you feel, he begins to slowly move. He pulls out about half way before gently pushing back in. Eyes trained on you, he repeats his motions, hips becoming a little more confident, grinding and rolling into you with each thrust. Already, you begin to feel all fuzzy inside. As he picks up the pace, Leon gently places his hands either side of your waist, kneading and gripping the flesh there as softly as he can as he fucks into you.

Within seconds, you're lost in the heat of the moment, literally. Body tingling all over wherever his meets yours. Your room no longer silent and peaceful, now orchestrated by lewd sounds of skin-on-on skin, soft whimpers and pornographic moans. Before long, the sound of a creaking bed joins the mix as Leon loses himself further in you. Groaning loudly, he throws his head back as his hips piston into you. Still doing his best to please you, there's an element of playful roll and dance in his movements, but it's clear Leon is chasing his own forsaken pleasure as he pummels deeper and deeper into you.

Unable to help himself, he begins to whine: "Oh fuck, you're so perfect"

"You're so hot, you're so cute."

Choking out a particularly violent moan, Leon wrangles his head back down to stare at you. He's a mess, hair clinging to his forehead, ears flopping comically as he fucks you deep. His eyes are dark with desire, flickering again from your breasts to your face, prompting him to lean down to kiss you once more. It's messy and breathy, mainly consisting of Leon moaning and licking into your mouth, his tongue wrestling yours for dominance as his hands move elsewhere. Fondling your breast in one hand, the rough digits of his other land on your clit, drawing small, fine circles with an almost practiced ease.

"Ohh god you're so tight", he sobs.

You whine and quiver, bucking into him, and whilst he doesn't seem to mind, his hips only pound you harder back into the bed. Back beneath him, where you belong. Breath heavy and rugged, he sounds exhausted, but his hips never slow or threaten to stop. Whatever affected him must have given him an insane, inhuman drive, you reckon, as he continues to hammer into you with each long, drawn out thrust. Each slap of his hips sees him pulling out at least a good 5 inches before sliding right back in as if it were where he too belonged.

"Is it good?? You like it??", he whimpers, voice strained between thrusts. His throat was thick, breath echoing desire.

Eventually, you can feel it coming: release. And you can tell by the way Leon's moans grow in volume that he is too. Eyes screwed shut, his head falls back again as this time, he grips you by your thighs. He marvels at the way you dimple between his fingers, drool falling from his chin onto your abdomen as he props your legs high, over his shoulder, so he can hit so much deeper into you. Your moans and whines only egg him on, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper and more aggressive as he almost snarls, burying his face as close to your neck as possible given the position.

Leon begins to groan softly as he feels you tightening around him. You know he might cum soon, and so, you begin to toy with your clit (or don't, its fine) as you reach up to cup his burning face in yours. The second you touch his face, his snaps and growls turn into desperate, whimpering moans as he pulls back to look into your eyes. He begins to shiver, yelping into your ear, trying to warn you. The stutter of his hips tells you exactly what he wants you to know, that he's close. Your touch on his face seems to have reminded him just who he was fucking, and that really, he should have warned you.

"I-I'm gonna cum" he whines in your ear "I'm s- I'm gonna-" he chokes out between moans and sighs. He was about to tell you he was sorry. He was about to pull out. But something inside told him he shouldn't. No, something told him he couldn't. It was in this moment that Leon decided he had to cum in you. Everything was so perfect right now, his cock buried in your hot cunt. The sounds of his skin slapping yours, the sounds of his dick ploughing through your wet folds. He needed it. He needed to be with you, to feel this all the time. He had to cum inside. He had to claim you.

"G-go on Leon..." you moan softly. Leon wanted badly to do exactly as you said. Mind swiftly fleeing him, Leon feels his body go shiver and shake, hips only now losing their rhythm slightly. His vision is clouded with images of you, overlapping the only real sight of you below him. Zoning in on your sounds, your blissed out face. Addicted to your soft skin and warmth, he reaches the his limit. With a guttural moan, Leon commits to a series of short, deep thrusts, snapping his hips into yours seemingly in rhythm with his cock as it spurts thick ropes into you. He closes his eyes, collapsing onto your chest now, moaning and whimpering into your breasts as his hips continue to gyre into you.

You were fortunate that Leon, despite his braindead state, possessed the primal urge to continue fucking his load into you, because as he did so, combined with the violent kicking and throbbing of his cock, he continued to edge you closer and closer to your own orgasm as you harshly rub your clit, desperate to give in before his hips do. Glancing down, you note his blissed out expression. Happy face, red cheeks, tightly shut eyes. He looks as though he could sleep any second, drooling over your breasts as his large, flat tongue laps up the mess, licking messily at your nearest tit.

You begin to notice his thrusts becoming extremely short now, not caring to pull out at all before grinding against you. And all of the above combined with his incessant grinding on your clit brings you over the edge, joining him.. Spasming a little, you clamp down on his cock, back arching into him and shaking. Leon's ears perk up and he quickly rises to attention again, sensing your change in pulse. He begins to lick and groom you all over, softly lapping at your throat and collarbones. He tastes your skin and your sweat and nibbles at your pulse points, as, shaking, you come down from your high slowly.

"Fuck... you're so tight... squeezing me so good" he whines, eyes shutting again as if you've sapped every ounce of his energy. "I had no idea ladies... came like that" he sighs against you, nibbling your ear passionately now, slowly starting to still his hips inside you. He was right... You were so tight against him. It felt as though he was getting bigger. Maybe it was just the stretch of his cum? You try and reason with yourself.

Glancing down at Leon, you realise he, too, is confused. He groans against you, now laying above you, his tail wags hard behind him as his hips autopilot themselves deeper suddenly. You start to panic a little. What's going on? "L-leon" you whimper, feeling yourself stretch even more, eyes squinting as you realise that he probably hasn't pulled out because he can't "'s too big... what's happening?" you groan, throwing your head back. In response, Leon is silent for a while. He's gone back to nibbling at your pressure points, hands greedily kneading the flesh of your breasts before he reaches down and, to your surprise, toys with your clit again.

"Leon... what-"

Cutting you off, suddenly, Leon rolls onto his back, bringing you with him. He stares up at you tenderly as he kisses into your mouth again before replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. They rest on your tongue, pinning it down, silencing you. His actions are dominant and unexpected, but not too rough as his hips continue to lazily roll into yours. Combined with the stretch and his ministrations on your clit, you almost feel like you could cum again like this, being used to nurse his cock.

Then, he leans down to whisper in your ear "Please, babe, don't be scared. Just stay nice and pretty for me, okay? Gotta knot you and pump you full so it takes, okay?" You whine around his fingers, not in protest, but in reaction to his words, which only has him pressing his fingers down a little harder onto your tongue, threatening to slip them down your throat. "Shhhh" he soothes, his voice a little more rough and less playful "Gotta make sure I fill you with lots of pretty puppies, okay?"

Dumb, all you can do is nod. You wouldn't want it another way. You'd never wanted kids before, but something about having your entire body spent, laying on his chizelled tone as he holds you close, rubbing into you sends you reeling. Before long, Leon's ministrations on your clit and tits have you grinding against him, whimpering softly until you release once more. To your excitement, the contractions of your spent pussy have Leon's dick throbbing once more, painting more of your womb. Only some of your combined juices manage to escape past his knot. The rest serving to swell your abdomen.

With excitement, he occasionally prods at your belly,, humming in delight as he kisses and licks you all night, obsessed with you. Only a small portion of you brain is even functioning now. And it's going over the amount of times you dismissed Leon's worry about intimacy. He seemed to have this very correct hunch that something would go... wrong. Or that you might be displeased.

Was him passively forcing you to serve his cock, stuffing you full of cum and barely allowing you to make a sound wrong? You couldn't tell. All you could tell was how good it felt to be ontop of him, to have his huge cock inside you. To get knocked up with his seed.

All you could tell was how good it felt to cum for him many more times that night. How good it felt to hear his gentle words and praise about how good you felt, how hot you'd be once you take, and how much of a dirty little breeding slut you were, just for him, until you both dozed off to sleep, shrouded in eachother's warmth.

Hi guys I didn't really write about the reader's reaction and stuff because A) I found it hard and B) I can't like say how you react??? like I always find it sad when fics are like "you're so wet" "your nipples are hard" etc because like I cant relate n then I feel dysfunctional??? Anyway. Thanks for reading I hate this fic sorry it took 2k years I love you guys thanks for being here and reading this.

also WOAH THAT TOOK A TURN FOR THE HORNY GODDAMN. sorry anout that idk what happened LOL and sorry the fic is so shit n slow I hope u enjoyed it ilysm

Sorry, I gave up on like... bold and italics half way through. And this isn't proof read lol. Thanks for the support guys. Don't worry about reposting and folllowing, especially following, cuz I'm a ghost on here tbh so there's no point. Any comment,s likes etc are much appreciated. Huge ego boost i love you all

stay horny

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jaehymrk · 2 months

Text

haunted apartment.

jude bellingham x reader. angst. in the apartment where he left you and the apartment that was left behind.

Jude never liked the apartment of yours in Madrid, it was too small for his liking; but for you it was safe enough for two. Somewhere in the busy streets of Madrid, you decided to rent your apartment that had enough space for one year lease as you had hit a jackpot on a study exchange aboard in Spain, specifically Madrid.

The apartment was good: one bedroom, a small living room, toilet and kitchen but your favourite part was the small balcony connected to your bedroom. However, Jude hated it, the balcony faced the buzzling streets of Madrid and the dirty gaze of other men that he could not protect you from; but you never listened, you never did.

Around this time last year, Jude was leaping up and down in excitment to meet you in your apartment away from the sudden rushed fame and his playful mother to his soft, and warm girlfriend who would embrace him into home. Now, he stood downstairs staring blankly at the peach coloured wall and stairs that once led to you.

He remembered complaining about the stairs vividly, "I cannot believe I have to do this." He rolled his eyes, lifting your small pink couch up the stairs. You chuckled, shaking your head jokingly at his annoyance. You loved the most about Jude is that there were minor things annoying the shit out of him. Such as these peach coloured stairs and the bright hot summer sun of Madrid did not help from the sweat dripping down his cheek.

"It is just on the second floor, babe." You calmly said, lifting the couch from the bottom. Jude forced a fake smile, turning his eyes into crescent moon. By the tenth complain, Jude had reach your frontdoor and before he could open his mouth and rant again, you shook your keys to distract as you turned the key to open your apartment door.

You winked, slamming the door open wide. "Welcome home, Jude."

"The previous flat owner asked me to give these keys if you ever come back." The security guard shook the keys in front of Jude to get him out from the trance. He nodded, smiling in manner.

Jude never liked the apartment, the ceilings were too low, and the wallpaper were faded into yellow. He, then recalled your eyes twinkled in happiness as it danced around every corner of the room. Jude realized how much you wanted this, to make the apartment yours. So he decided to try to like the apartment for you.

He stood in the middle of the living room.

"Tell me you do not have feelings for her, Jude?" You demanded.

He groaned in anger, "Why are you asking me these questions when I already told you I needed her help about something." He clicked his tongue, absurd at your words, your accusation.

"What kind of fucking help? What kind of help that I could have not given you?" You cried out in frustration. The walls were thin, you realized the first time you argued with Jude. The security guard had banged on your door, with swollen red eyes you opened. Instead of screaming in fits of anger, he just asked you to apologize to the next door.

So you did. Apologized later that night, saying you were just fighting for love that was losing its meaning.

Jude sat in silence as you seeked for answers. You breathed in softly, tears pooling in your eyes. You still have a few weeks to go before flying back to England; you were not risking another apology out of complete embarassment to your next door neighbour that you are really losing everything you came to Madrid for.

Jude had sat down the small couch with his head buried in his palm, you sat on the floor between his legs, pulling his hand away from his face to fit in yours. "Jude, I just want to know if you have feelings for her? If you just tell me that you do not, we can stop fighting. I will stop fighting." You asked, your heart twitching in pain as a woman, your intuition was your best calling but how much you wished in that moment for your intuition to laugh at your face.

You squeezed his hand gently. He opened his mouth before closing again, he replied crushing your whole world down in flame.

"I found myself wanting to go to her with my problems than coming to you." He confessed shutting his eyes in the sudden petrified ache that ran through his body as you losen your grip of his hand. Your hand falling on your lap as you sat in silence, maybe minutes or hours.

Jude found a small box in the table next to your tiny kitchen. With his shaky hands, he took a few photo frames out from the box. You had his graduation photo framed, Jude was not a fan of it.

"Oh my god! You looked adorable, baby." You squealed in the sudden hidden gem found to decorate your living room. It was a small young Jude, showing off his teeth smile but his eyebrows furrowed, he was annoyed in the picture. Jude laughed tackling on your back as he straddled on top of you to cage you. "Do not dare, i swear to god." He threatened but you mischievously shown your tongue, not listening to him at all.

Now, he wonder why he was not a fan of it, he was so happy.

You also had photoframed your picture with Jude in the Bernabéu stadium for the first time. He had a soft smile on his face wiping his finger through the frame, thinking on how nervous you were for him. It was a new chapter Jude was taking further away from you again and every moment was killing you.

You turned bumping your head onto his chest, Jude wrapped his arm around your waist. "I am just nervous. It is really the Real Madrid you dreamt about." You reminded yourself, rather than reminding him about it.

Jude glanced at your lower lip you were biting, your chest somewhat beating rapidly than usual. He let go off your waist to cup your cheek, rubbing his nose against yours. "Thank you for coming here with me, baby." He expressed himself, settling his head on yours. You smiled, "I will always come anywhere with you."

"Do you want a picture together? It is a good day." The photographer offered.

You nodded, fixing your hair away from your face, wrapping your hand around his arm: "Of course."

On the bottom of the box laid all the jerseys Jude left in your apartment, you did not take one token of memory with you back home, nothing about him remained in your luggage as you returned back home. Jude felt a void forming in his chest. The type of ache he had no words for.

The whole apartment was too neat for his liking. It was neater than the room you were welcomed to. Jude hated it, from the minute you entered this apartment, nothing embraced you wholly. Not this fucked up apartment, not your next door neigbours, not your security guard, not even him.

This fucking apartment was the only piece of you for Jude to reminisce in Madrid and he just could not even bring himself to like it enough.

He stood in front of your bedroom door, his eyes staring at the empty bed.

"I really like Madrid." You confessed, head resting onto his naked chest. Jude twitched uncomfortably, removing his arm away from your shoulder.

"That is good, I am glad."

You stared at him, not sure what you have said so wrong to give you a fake smile as he stared at the ceiling, falling into his own abyss. You tapped his shoulder, "I am not saying I will move here right away. I know you really love your team and-" You brushed your hair, collecting your words together as your throat burned in embarrassment; wondering if you were not welcomed by your own person in the whole city to not want you as much as you want him. "I also know we do not know what our future holds but I just like Madrid with you, Jude."

He laid on the bed staring at the dumb glowing stickers you bought from England. It never glowed, you believed wholeheartedly that it will.

Jude chuckled as his tears rolled down on the bedsheets, before he could choke his feelings out in pain. There was a knock in the main door. "Sir, you have to leave soon. Renters are about to come and check the place out. Thank you." The security guard screamed through the door; not wanting to invade the privacy of a superstar.

He laughed in his own misery, he cannot even drown in his own sadness. Jude got up from your bed, exiting the room with the box in his arm. He stood once again in the living room where he left you crying. Jude wondered if England is treating you better than Madrid ever did.

"So you did have feeling for her?" You asked, wanting to hear his answer properly instead Jude does what he does best; beating around the bushes with you.

"Babe, I am just saying it was eaiser to talk to her about football and the stress here." He tried explaining, leaning to grab your hand but you whipped away from his grip.

You chuckled dryly, "If that was the case, I could just fall in love with hundreds of exchange students here but I did not." You said calmly. Enough on the screaming, enough on the wanting to understand his side. Enough.

"I do not just love you, Jude. I respect our relationship but you did not even find a little respect for our relationship in yourself to come clean with me." You pointed onto his chest.

"I never said I have feelings for her." He explained.

"You chose to go to her while I waited hours for you to show up at my fucking door." You stared at him, "I cannot look at you please, just leave."

Jude wondered if he loved you more when you were present in this apartment. Jude wondered if he fought for you harder in this apartment you called home.

"Hey, it's jude . . I don't know if you still use this number. I just- like I wanted to know if you are okay there. It is home right?" Jude said, trying to form words. At that point, he did not even know who he was talking to.

Maybe a stranger or maybe you.

"I know I am late and you probably hate me more than anything or anyone right now. God, I do not know what I am saying to you." He chuckled. Jude was sitting on those peach stairs, voicemailing you.

"That night, I left and I should not have left you. I should have stood there and apologize till sunrise. I should have done more. But, there is nobody I would love more than you. I am sorry, baby . . I am so sorry I should have said I like Madrid with you in it. I like our home with you in it ."

#jaehymrkwrites #jude bellingham #judebellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham scenarios #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine

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flowerwrites06 · 3 months

Text

devil on his knees — kth

DEVIL ON HIS KNEES | Taehyung | Oneshot | Request

Original Request: Taehyung as a villain who is willing to kill anyone to protect his beloved oc. This pic literally left me speechless, I low-key want to see villain tae🥹 @yoonberriez Plot: An exiled princess takes her throne with a shamed general. Pairing: General!Taehyung x Queen!OC (Name: Althea) Genre: Royal AU Type: Oneshot Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7.1k Warnings: violence, blood, gore, explicit sexual content (quickies, oral sex), murder, mentions of sexual harassment. Author’s Note: i enjoyed writing this a lot! writing an unhinged couple is definitely an interesting experience. I hope you like this!

It was so easy to forget the blood trails when they were behind Althea, covered by the train of her coronation dress. The crown ripped from her brother’s head rested gently on her own by the high priest as the crowd of people cheered for her arrival. Althea had waited four years, hidden in forests and cowered in tavern rooms until she gathered enough forces to reach this palace. Her home.

As the weight of the crown settled on her head, Althea watched the shadow behind her walk forward. A chill settled in the room when General Taehyung stepped closer to Althea’s feet, eyes darkened and face hardened from the lives he had taken. Everyone with a conscious told her not to bring him into court. That the moment his sword began swinging, there would be no end to the bloodshed.

But they failed to realise Althea wanted blood. Her own brother kicked her out of her home, just as they had been mourning their father. He wanted her to die in that forest, starved and freezing. So why should Althea gather any semblance of kindness?

It was Taehyung, an exiled general who helped her back into the comforts of her life. Not the court members who happily kissed her brother’s feet, not even her maids who quickly rushed to the side of her brother’s wife. No one helped her but him.

Althea loved him for it.

The hardened face cracked into a small but satisfied smile as Taehyung lowered himself for a bow, keeping his eyes fixed on her. As Taehyung made his place known by her side, cheers erupted and echoed through the room.

They had won.

The kingdom of Dysminia was hers to keep.

Althea walked into her bed chambers with a breath of relief. The servants had cleaned and freshened it up during the coronation to ensure. The windows looked at the lit up city, the resonance of celebration echoing through the night, delighting her senses. Ambrose’s inability to rule was inevitable from the moment he started mistreating his servants.

An innocent mistake, the court members used to say when a serving maid left the room with a bruised cheek.

Now he was gone. Buried in a shallow grave somewhere, unknown to anyone. Just the way he hated to be.

She changed out of her dressing with the help of her new maids, back into the soft night dressing of sweet silks and perfumed pillows. Althea dismissed them to be alone for a few minutes. As much as she wished to rejoice in her victory, she also wanted to ruminate and rest her exhausted body.

The tightness she felt in her chest for years, wondering when she’d be able to lie on her bed like this and think of her parents freely. Althea could let a few tears down her cheek, allow herself to be vulnerable in the silence instead of keeping strength until she got what she wanted.

Althea was a queen now.

“Relishing well, your Majesty?” Taehyung’s deep voice reverberated through the room.

She turned to see him standing next to the pillar, wearing his black shirt, untied at the chest and showing off a deep scar near his clavicle. Althea smiled, sitting up on her bed. “I’m sure you enjoyed getting your own army again.”

“They’re a bit frazzled and lazy after Ambrose.” Taehyung crunched his nose. “But they’ll learn soon enough. Also the case of the court members.”

Althea sighed. Fifteen of the twenty selected court members were executed by Taehyung’s sword due to their continued support of Ambrose. The five who lived were essentially too young to care about Ambrose or Althea’s father and their quest to maintain order. They just wanted to survive. “We can deal with them tomorrow morning. I think a few nobles would like those seats.”

“Nobles who sat in between cushions while Ambrose was around.” He walked closer to the bed, standing in front of her like a tower of onyx. “Do you want to trust them with seats now?”

“They’re soft and gullible. But having three of them may smooth the transition to my ascension.”

“I’d call this ascension anything but smooth.”

“I’ll handle the nice things then while you train our army.” Althea leaned back with a smile. “How’re your new quarters?”

“Better. A bit cold.”

“Cold?”

“Missing something.” Taehyung leaned in, playing with the string of her dress.

Althea chuckled through her nose. “They are only a passing courtesy. The court members would want me to be available for any negotiations.”

Taehyung hummed low, the back of his fingers trailing her chest before he pulled on the string fully. “So we should keep this very quiet then, shouldn’t we? As to not offend.”

Althea shook her head with a playful pout. “Of course not.”

Taehyung knelt between her legs, rough fingers pushing up the hem of her dress as the callouses brushed up her skin. “Be very silent then.” He whispered against her lips before moving his head under her dress.

He pulled her core to his mouth, wrapping his lips around her clit causing Althea to gasp.

She touched the top of his head through the fabric of her dress as the pleasure prickled through her lower belly. Althea was forced to only feel, feel his lapping tongue and the heat of his breath as she leaked on the sheets.

Her legs hung over his shoulders as Althea gripped the blankets behind her. Head thrown back, her toes curled, feeling the pressure of his tongue against her clit grow feverish and relentless.

Althea closed her eyes when her vision blurred from the spike of pleasure, moving her hips against his mouth to prolong the sensation. Taehyung slowed, tracing her arousal with his tongue to torture her before latching completely and kissing her inner thigh. He bit onto the soft skin until it ached, intent on making a mark.

Nails dug into her bottom, pushing his tongue into her slit as Althea fell on her back, a moan escaping her lips before she placed her hand over her mouth.

Taehyung stopped with a disappointed hum, pulling away completely making Althea whimper.

“It wasn’t that loud,” Althea whispered.

Taehyung chuckled breathlessly as he pushed her legs apart. “I caught it,” he said.

“You have the ears of a bloodhound, that’s why.” Althea smiled.

Taehyung hovered over her, kissing with an unexpected passionate sweetness. So warm and inviting. Fingers brushed against her hairline. Then he broke the kiss and placed his palm over her mouth, dark eyes fixed on hers.

He snuck her finger into her sodden core, immediately making her hips jerk. Taehyung didn’t wait. Sneaking a second finger and curling to her sensitive spot, pulsating until all Althea could do was hear the squelching of her cunt and the pleasure rolling to the blurring vision.

Choked moans shook through Taehyung’s palm. Arousal leaked to his wrists as he leaned in and kissed her sweat sheened forehead. Thumb brushed against her clit. Althea’s legs trembled as her release shivered across her body in a flare of heat and ecstasy. Her moans turned into a light scream grazing her throat.

Taehyung let out a shaky breath, feeling a gush on his palm of her release.

He took away his hand from Althea’s mouth, letting her release shaking moans as she shook through her orgasm.

Taehyung kept a slow pace to let her feel every minute of her bliss. He kissed her sweetly. “First time I did this to you on a soft bed.”

Althea laughed breathlessly, cupping his cheek. “You can keep doing it.”

Taehyung hummed. “I intend to.”

The council meeting with all the leftover nobles was about as pleasant as a gangrenous wound. Morning came and whoever survived Taehyung’s sword dragged their feet into the dark wood halls of the palace, the beautiful sunlight through the windows contrasting with their pallid faces.

Althea opted to wear something sweet, a light lilac of soft airy material with her hair partially down. She didn’t want to demure to them but perhaps a sight of friendly would help in easing their mind. She only had animosity towards her brother, not people who were willing to see a changed world.

Taehyung kept to his colours happily though but she welcomed it. At the very least, if anyone took advantage of her kindness, it would padded by the lines of soldiers in tight expressions and black armour.

Althea attempted a small smile as the nobles finally gathered. Most of them young and curious of what was about to happen but there were three older nobles with a clear disappointment on their faces. “Thank you for attending this council. I understand it’s been a trying few days but I do not mean for that to be the path of my reign.”

The nobles were still quiet, some of their eyes flickering to Taehyung and his soldiers.

“Please, you are allowed to speak freely.” Althea gestured to the Taehyung. “They are only here for the utmost of emergencies, not free speech. I understand Ambrose had been barring a lot of changes.”

One of the young nobles shifted. “The treasuries, your Majesty.” His voice was low and careful. “His—Ambrose, I mean, had been scrapping the coffers for monuments and making estates of his concubines.”

“We will cease the making of those monuments and direct the builders to repairing damages in the village houses,” Althea explained. “A lot of them looked destroyed. More than I’d ever seen it.”

The young treasurer nodded with a shift of shame. “He hiked the taxes and—” he cleared his throat. “—Ambrose threatened people of the village to either pay taxes or. . .or hand over the female members of the family. Some of them refused.”

Althea’s heart dropped. She had received glimpses of how bad things were but not quite to this extent. “So those ‘concubines’ are…”

“By force, Your Majesty, yes.” The treasurer kept his head hung.

Althea rested back on her chair. Ambrose used to be cruel to his female servants but to go this far. Ripping families apart for pleasure. “I will speak to the women and try to track their families or provide them jobs here in the palace to rebuild their lives. In the meantime, we need reparation on our trade relations to restore our treasury. I’ll sign what’s needed and talk to dignitaries if it’s dire.”

The trade masters nodded along with the treasurer.

“And the matter of taxes? Will it be lowered?” The treasurer asked.

“Back to the way it was. We need to get business running again and merchants travelling for them to get income,” Althea said.

“And what of your marital status, your Majesty?” One of the older nobles asked and it reverberated silence. “You did say we were free to speak. I’d like to know how you plan on securing alliances and having a king by your side to ensure a strong lineage. That is equally important to lower taxes and trade relations, surely.”

“That can be a matter of a later date,” Althea said, trying not to see Taehyung’s reaction. “These are your priorities to keep the people feeling comforted again.”

“And what of our comfort? You came in here to paint a shamed general’s sword with the blood of our colleagues.” The noble barely acknowledged Taehyung’s presence as he mentioned. “He had his hair cut, he was an enemy of the kingdom. You brought him here and rewarded him for the way he massacred thousands.”

“A massacre that was ordered by my father,” Althea said. “And approved by you from what I remember. You had signed an agreement without reading it.”

The noble pursed his lips together with a pathetic sense of pride. “I am a servant to a king. And I have been for longer than you decided to have dreams of becoming a ruler.”

“So you agree that following orders that you must do without any conscience,” Althea said. “Then how is that different from General Taehyung’s values?”

The noble had puffed himself up to say something but the words hadn’t quite formed.

“Because he is not a noble, is that it?” Althea asked. “He was from a lower family and he was easy to shame. While you continued to kiss the feet of my father and my brother. Even as I was exiled.”

“You were exiled for becoming a distraction. You were speaking against the king, it was treason.”

“And I refused your pathetic son,” Althea said and the silence turned leaden. Her eyes were harsh, diminishing any softness from her dress. “Master Kang, I haven’t forgotten you. Are you aware of this?”

Kang shifted, a stupid part of him wanted to keep looking her in the eye but Althea saw it flickering. Because he knew the story as closely as she did.

“For anyone who was confused about my exile, Master Kang’s son took me to a garden while we were discussing marriage.” Althea spoke loud enough for the council to hear.

“That is not relevant—”

“His son put his hand under my dress. . .and I cut it off with a dagger.” Althea kept her face neutral. “It wasn’t even difficult, his wrist was a pathetic spindly thing just like his father.”

Kang stood from his chair. “You will not humiliate me this way, you wench.” He pointed at her. “You brought your fate upon yourself. Hurting my son and then continuing to debase yourself with the general.” He spat. “We know what goes on behind closed doors with you two. You’re nothing but a whore.” He kept taking a step at each word and getting close.

Too close. Close enough that it was no longer in Althea’s control.

A scythe like blade glinting in silver came in front of Kang’s neck, pushing him back until he let out a choked breath. His breath fogged the perfectly polished edge.

“A few steps back, Master Kang, if you please.” Taehyung’s deep voice was calm and collected.

Kang let out a scoff but it was with a confidence that hung on a thread. “Is how you will govern us now?” he glared at Althea.

“Just people like you, Master Kang. Who think suffering is a necessary evil when you are not the one suffering it.” Althea shook her head. “Your son got to go back and live in his warm palace. While I froze in a forest, mourning my father and feeling violated.”

“My son lost his hand.”

“I lost everything.” Althea felt a fire of anger in her chest. “And I wanted to provide some kindness, bring you back to court and hopefully repair something. Unfortunately, it seems you insist on supporting Ambrose and his ways.”

Kang couldn’t reply to that. His cheeks more red than ever as the other court members watched him with embarrassment. He looked more like a toddler who created a tantrum for spilling his own milk than a noble who wanted some tainted justice for his stupid son.

Althea did offer kindness. She was trying to be a good queen.

Kang, at this moment, was an idiot who didn’t understand an opportunity when he saw one. “If you are going to punish anyone, it’s my son. I am speaking as a father above all else…and that may make me speak out of turn.”

Coward.

Althea kept her expression soft, looking at Taehyung with a reassuring nod. Taehyung moved the blade away and stepped back as Kang let out a deep shaking breath. “Very well. Bring your son during the evening.”

Kang bowed low. “Your Majesty.”

Kang and his son, Hyeon stayed in the same dungeon together, as a family. The women of the family were given reimbursements and Kang’s wife was free to remarry for new heirs if she wished.

A quick execution was in the plan for these two men but Taehyung was now a stationed general with his own resources. Which meant these nobles were his first official assignment ever since his dismissal.

And Taehyung savoured it beautifully.

Althea came to visit the dungeon while Taehyung was on his little trips. She heard whipping sounds and a screaming Hyeon, the same satisfying sound that he let out after realising he didn’t have his hand anymore. She remembered how confident he was, how much he felt he was owed to touch her. Now she could watch all that confidence melt in terrified piss and well-deserved bloodshed.

Taehyung looked over his shoulder when he saw Althea enter. His chest glistening with his sweat and the veins on his arms protruded from the force of his whip. “Your Majesty,” he said in the calm tone.

Hyeon let out a cry to Althea through his bound mouth while Kang cowered in the corner, staring into nothing.

“Your wife has denounced both of you from the family,” Althea said.

“That was quick.” Taehyung placed his whip back onto the steel stand while it created a track of blood. “What happened?”

“Apparently, Kang had forced his wife to marry him and Hyeon had his wife give up their first daughter.” Althea knew they weren’t pleasant people but the stories that emerged from the household itself only made this sorry sight all the more necessary. “They don’t want anything to do with them. Not even burial.”

“I’m almost done,” Taehyung said. “We can have the executions tomorrow morning.”

“One day…” Kang breathed out. “His thirst to kill will make you pay.”

Taehyung turned, giving Althea a view of the old man glaring at them with red eyes.

Althea returned the stare, unblinking. She gently walked towards Kang and crouched in front of him, watching him shift back with a raised chin. She smiled. “I will pay that price. Just as I have for everything else.” She stood back to her feet and faced Taehyung. “Have them executed this afternoon.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist sweetly. “So there’s no commitments in the morning.”

Taehyung smirked and nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Althea watched the execution from the balcony of her bed chambers, wearing a black dress with a beautiful transparent black robe embroidered in gold floral emblems. She kept her expression solemn as if she regretted the unfortunate decision. Even though the loss of these two men was no less inconvenient than getting rid of an abscess.

Taehyung stood at the execution altar, covering his face with a cloth to prevent any splatter as he brandished his sword in the purpled sunset light.

Kang and Hyeon were on their knees with their heads held low as all cowards did when they reached a certain point of their fate.

Taehyung stared up at Althea, awaiting her approval even though they had already discussed what to be done. It was that extra nudge of loyalty sent a thrill down Althea’s spine.

Althea nodded and Taehyung turned his focus back to the task at hand.

Raising his sword, Taehyung swung with precision and took off one head. Kang began to shiver as his son’s head rolled across the wood. He stepped to Kang’s side then.

The old noble began to speak again, foolishly trying to protect his own life. But any word that uttered was cut off with a splice. Father and son united at the edge of the execution block, without their bodies which had been softened and pleasured by greed and luxury.

Taehyung cleaned his sword calmly with a cloth before sheathing it. Dark eyes flickered back up to Althea, giving a respectful bow.

The people dispersed with an neutral understanding. They had no connections to these nobles and if anything, a thrum of relief fell through after how much Ambrose kept the nobles happy and fattened. This was a sign that nobles were not safe in maintaining corruption. Their new queen would protect them from such things not inflate it for self-gain. It was a victory and Althea accepted it like a forbidden sweet.

Her council was set and the kingdom was in her palm.

“I’ll have to find an alliance,” Althea said as she straddled Taehyung, their skin sheened prettily from the heat of the room and their antics. Her black robe thrown haphazardly on the edge of her bed. “As it stands, marriage is the strongest way to go.”

Taehyung hummed, keeping his hands trailed up the curve of her waist.

“Is that all?” Althea asked.

He chuckled. “We discussed that it would happen. A marriage between a queen and her military general causes conflict of interest.”

“On the other hand, if we’re married then we might seem more terrifying.” Althea pressed her palms against his heated chest, heartbeat gently thrumming on her skin.

“Are you trying to get me to convince you against it?” Taehyung asked.

Althea shrugged. “Perhaps. You’re very convincing usually.”

“Not with words,” he said.

Althea squinted her nose. “That I know.”

Taehyung lifted himself, chests pressed against one another in the quiet comforts of her chambers. The night was silent in this part of the palace save for the most distant of sounds from the active districts of the city. “Whatever you decide, I will follow. That was the agreement. All I wanted to be reinstated as a general, I don’t need anything more.”

Althea tilted her head. “Nothing more?” Her lips pushed out to a pout. “Not even this?”

Taehyung softened his expression, tracing a calloused fingers down her hairline, releasing some of the strands matted to her forehead. “Would your new husband be alright with that arrangement?”

Althea scoffed. “My father had consorts and Ambrose had slaves practically. I just want you. Is that bad?”

“I’m the last person to judge what’s good or bad, your Majesty.” Taehyung chuckled. “But I’m not opposing.” He pulled her as close as possible, completely pressed until there was no escape. “He can find a way to get over it.”

Althea grinned, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. A subtle nudge of pain bloomed in her chest thinking about having to kiss another person, have them by her side instead of Taehyung. As much as people outside liked to pretend this was some dirty affair, Althea cherished these moments and Taehyung’s faith was the strongest thing she had ever fell back on.

Some king from another land wasn’t going to ruin this, even if he tried.

King Yuto resided from a faraway island kingdom named Saoshima. He was young, around Althea’s age. Also handsome with soft brown eyes and sharp features that mimicked warriors of myth. Yuto was one of the few kings who supported Althea’s rise to power since he detested the mistreatment of two Saoshima women who were taken in Ambrose’s so-called ‘harem’.

Upon Althea’s disbandment of the harem, those two Saoshima women were given positions in her court with the promise of returning home should they wish to rebuild. One of them left while the other offered to be one of Althea’s lady in waiting to which she agreed. This news especially moved Yuto to arrive days earlier than they had initially planned, perhaps concerned about Taehyung’s rigid security at the ports and borders.

On the day of the meeting, Althea wore an elaborate gown and thick robe of red and gold silk, embroidered with the respective colours to create textures that lit against the morning light. Her hair was tied up loosely, pinned by gold and ruby pins.

Yuto arrived in a beautiful robe of white and gold with emblems of white lilies as the mark of Saoshima. He smiled easily as his crown of gold florets shone like a halo of sunlight. His collection of soldiers in their brightly shining white gold armour was a stark contrast to Taehyung’s army but Yuto was hardly fazed by it.

Yuto stopped his soft gaze at Althea. “Your Majesty, it’s a pleasure to meet with you. I’m happy Dysminia is in much better hands.”

“I understand you weren’t fond of my brother,” Althea said.

“He slowed down trade, not a good sign for my kingdom. Not to mention the clear disregard of my people.” Yuto explained but a grin quickly formed on his lips. “But this shouldn’t be a time of dour topics. It’s a time to celebrate.”

Althea smiled, feeling the weight of Taehyung’s presence behind her. “I’m surprised you agreed to the arrangement.”

“My mother has been hounding me about marriage for years now. And I have deeply missed our silk and sugar trades.” His eyes seemed to shine in all the right places when he spoke. In a twisted way, Ambrose had the same effect on people until he lost his mind from drinking and drugging his intelligence. “So long as you are comfortable with this idea, I don’t see why we can’t proceed.”

Althea knew Taehyung could keep a strong face but something about the burning down her spine, she felt his gaze. They needed trade relations and he was right, marrying her military general was a bad move. Althea needed to be a separate figure to her military, a connection to something higher and elevated from the earthly events of war.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Althea smiled and nodded. “It’s settled then. Saoshima and Dysminia will be connected once more.”

Yuto smiled from ear to ear. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The events from signing the papers, getting dressed and arriving at the banquet to celebrate her marriage was a blur. Althea remembered herself sitting at the table, wearing her beautiful white and gold dress with her hair pinned up in little shapes of florets while Yuto enjoyed the dance performance with a wide grin. Despite being married for a few hours, Yuto comfortably placed his hand on hers whenever he got the chance.

Althea smiled politely back, knowing that he was potentially trying to make smoothing their marriage transition easier. Or he was making himself home too quickly for her liking, she wasn’t sure how to react. Instead she kept drinking her wine.

Her eyes went back to Taehyung who was standing at attention, using his training far too well. He wore a celebratory tunic, still in his usual black but it was embroidered beautifully in silver thread and had feathers at the collar to represent the wings of a raven.

“Do you want to dance?” Yuto asked.

Althea had to push herself back to reality when he stared at Yuto’s glazed eyes. He was already tipsy. She smiled quickly. “Yes, of course.”

Yuto practically pulled her to the dance floor in the fray of her nobles and royals, thrumming from their wine. Althea smiled and chuckled along with Yuto’s movements, even letting him touch her waist since Taehyung intended on maintaining his stoic face the whole ceremony.

Eventually Althea fell into the chaos of dance, switching partners and losing Yuto. When she moved to the edge of the crowd, trying to coax Taehyung into the mix, he was gone from his post.

Althea walked to the front table, taking a sip of her wine, wondering if he wandered outside or perhaps found some cheeky noblewoman who was curious to flirt with the general. She could go out to find him. She could and clutch to him at the end of the night instead of the inevitable duties she would have to perform. It was a momentary, she told herself. Only a few minutes.

Have three children and hope he never touches her again. She took another thick sip before a scream uttered from the crowd.

Althea turned to see the people scatter away like scared cockroaches. She saw a puddle of what she hoped was wine. . .but she’d seen enough fresh dead bodies to know it wasn’t. Thickly painting the floors as a body jerked over and over again. Yuto’s body, face crushed by the force of heavy punches.

Taehyung’s punches. No armour, just knuckles now dripping with red as it stained the white purity of Yuto’s clothes.

Yuto didn’t respond, his fingers unmoving, only shifted by Taehyung’s incessant assault.

Althea’s heart dropped, roughly placing her cup on the table before rushing to Taehyung. “Stop, stop.” She pulled him off, trying not to look for too long at Yuta’s face which was mostly the shape of Taehyung’s fist than his own shape. “Taehyung!” She yelled until her throat hurt. “That’s an order!”

Taehyung latched off with a trained precision as his body radiated with fire. Blood streamed down his jaw and neck, fist coated with Yuta’s blood, dripping off his fingers as he tried to relax them, trembling with fury.

Tears blurred her vision but she tried to blink them away. “Guards.” Althea called out, gesturing to Yuta’s body as they began to clean it up.

“You demon!” A Saoshima guard unsheathed his sword, marching to Taehyung but Taehyung’s army was faster as they closed in on the Saoshima soldiers, outnumbering them.

“Stand down! All of you!” Althea kept her voice harsh.

“You do not order us.”

“I am your closest in succession as it stands. Unless you want to deal with General Taehyung and his men yourself.” Althea spoke through gritted teeth.

The Saoshima guard gulped, eyes flickering to the floor with a tight jaw. He lowered his head, keeping the glare on his face.

“Taehyung, you’re dismissed. Get yourself cleaned up,” Althea ordered without looking him in the eye. “Now.”

Taehyung stayed silent, taking a deep breath before bowing and stepping out of the hall. Drips and footprints of red followed a trail behind him.

Althea let out a shaky breath as she gave herself to look down at Yuto’s body. Her shaking fingers desperately touched the back of his wrist. Perhaps it was only his face that needed repair. No pulse. No heartbeat. Tears fell down her cheeks but she let out a long, deep breath to keep calm. “Tell the morticians what you need for his funeral.” she asked in a low tone as the Saoshima guards shifted in discomfort.

“And the general?” The same Saoshima guard spat. “This could be an act of war.”

“Yuto is an only child with an ailing mother and a country that’s becoming poor from lack of trade.” Althea stared up at them with reddened eyes, sitting in a puddle of her late husband’s blood but her voice still stood strong. “A war will be on your head, not mine. Tread carefully.”

The Saoshima guard pursed his lips together.

“Take his body away.” Althea tried to stand back up. A lady in waiting rushed to her side but she raised a palm and got to her feet, the blood soaked in her dress now weighing her down. “I’ll deal with the general.”

Althea found Taehyung in the armoury as he was trying to clean off his hand. There was little light in the room with only the silver moonlight shining through. The smell of metal and blood wafted in the air as Taehyung’s form hunched over a bowl of water, the clear liquid progressively getting more opaque with red.

“Yuto was not an enemy.” Althea stomped closer to him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“He knew about our affair and started bragging,” Taehyung said simply which was not surprising yet this felt different. A taste of his violence in a way that Althea felt was out of her control.

“So what?” she winced. “That’s no reason to kill him.”

“He was bragging about being with you. Being king of two kingdoms.” Taehyung threw the cloth onto the table next to him, staring at her. “He was voicing treason.”

“He’s a smile-happy fool who was drunk. You are only supposed to enact when I order you to,” Althea said. “That was the agreement. If people see you punching around anyone that says something stupid then they’ll think the kingdom is in anarchy.”

“My job is to keep you safe and that idiot was going to be your side as king.” Taehyung gestured to the door. “If he got the slightest taste of power, he’d become dangerous. At the very least he didn’t have enough soldiers to fight back.”

“But his people loved Yuto,” Althea said. “That was the point to find someone who was easy. Now we’re risking rebellion and war.”

“Saoshima runs on trade, you know that, it doesn’t have a military to save its life.” Taehyung shook his head.

“That’s not the point, you killed the man in anger. It’s cruel.”

Taehyung raised a brow. “I’m cruel now?”

“When you do things like this, yes it’s cruel.” Althea attempted to keep her voice steady even though his gaze looked like he was peeling her skin to show the truth. “Killing in cold blood.”

“I saw the way you were dancing with him.” Taehyung walked closer, the shadows of the room making his features harsh as he towered over her. “You’re saying you didn’t want me to be angry?”

Althea scoffed lightly. “You are not blaming me for your behaviour.”

“I do everything else under your orders, what’s different about this?” Taehyung muttered.

“I didn’t order it.”

“You didn’t want to go to bed with him.” He leaned in, nose just nudged against hers. “You didn’t even want to marry him. You wanted to check off a list.”

“It was a strong alliance,” Althea whispered.

“And now the kingdom is yours. No alliance required.” Taehyung’s eyes flickered down to her dress. “Did you mourn in front of everyone?”

Althea narrowed her gaze. “I didn’t want him to die. Especially not in that way, you could’ve make it quick.”

“That was a misstep.”

“A misstep?”

“Am I going to be punished or are you going to take Saoshima for yourself?” Taehyung asked with a touch of impatience.

Althea frowned. “I might just do both since you’re set on being unbearably brutish.”

“You enjoy nothing less, don’t deny it.”

Althea let out an irritated breath, turning on her heel to leave before Taehyung grabbed her from behind. She tried to pry free but he kept the grip tight, making her groan.

“I can feel when you’re disquiet,” Taehyung whispered in her ear. “And that fool’s charisma would’ve caused us a headache. Killing him was not the only choice, no, but it was the strongest.” He placed his palm over her stomach. “Did you want to carry his children?” He cooed, caressing it and ever so gently moving down to her core, swaying her away from anger. “Hm?”

Althea kept her lips pursed together, still trying to be frustrated. “No.”

“Louder?”

“No,” she said but it was shaky.

“The way he kept touching you, pushing against you, he had expectations.” Taehyung moved his hand up to her neck, stroking her jawline. “He wanted to put a child in you that night. Were you going to let it happen?”

“I’d make you watch,” Althea said to maintain some of her anger but it only made Taehyung chuckle.

“It could be comical to watch you be disappointed.” Taehyung began to untie her outer dress where all the blood dried at the hems.

“You didn’t have to make it so public,” Althea said as her breathing grew ragged from the ghost of his lips down the crook of her neck.

“I suppose that was my own little desire.” Taehyung pushed the sleeves down, letting it drop to the floor before Althea kicked it away. There was still splattering left on her inner dress but it wasn’t quite the weight of the former. “I need to have fun too.”

“I think you have plenty of fun.” Althea turned around but Taehyung kept her pressed close to him. “Tell me the truth.” She kept her gaze fixated on his.

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Say it,” she said. “Was my monstrous general threatened?”

He smirked bitterly, grabbing her chin. “He’s the one lying in the throne room.”

“So it’s true.” Althea smiled. “It has little to do with protecting me.”

Taehyung kept his lips pursed. “It’s a part.”

“You didn’t want him to touch me because…” Althea leaned in, nudging her nose against his jaw. “Tell me.”

Taehyung took a breath to say something. She saw every conviction in him to maintain the playful attitude of this terrible man who only killed because he liked. Because he could control himself. He raised his chin, his expression growing serious which sent a wave satisfaction in Althea’s body. “I don’t want anyone to touch you like that.”

Althea grinned. “Was that so hard to say?”

Taehyung groaned under his breath, grabbing onto her and pressing her against a pillar. His breath hot against her face as he ripped the skirt of her inner dress.

Althea let out a light chuckle, untying his pants to pull out his member.

Taehyung grabbed onto her thighs, not waiting to slide himself into her.

Breath caught in Althea’s throat as he pushed all the way until she was full of him. She gripped onto his shirt, whimpering as Taehyung thrusted with little mercy. She cupped his cheek.

Taehyung kissed her bottom lip, licking across before becoming rough, impaling her. He kissed her jaw, biting the soft skin of her neck. “You’re mine.”

Althea moaned in response, gripping his hair tight which only made his biting harder.

Red bloomed on her skin. Taehyung hooked her legs over the curve of his elbows, pistoning into her until the sound of their skin slapping echoed across the dark, quiet room.

Althea could only imagine it reverberating down the hallway, the mix of grunting and desperate sex right after her husband was killed. This wasn’t the way she should’ve been seen. If a single disloyal servant came in here, her reputation amongst Saoshima would tarnish. She grabbed onto the pillar, back arching. Moans turned to pleasured cries as the warmth in her lower belly fired.

Taehyung pulled her close again, taking her into a kiss as his moans began to grow desperate, getting closer to his release.

Althea smiled through her kiss. “Come inside me,” she whispered.

“You sure?” Taehyung smirked.

Althea responded with a moan, nodding frantically. It only took a few seconds before she felt him pulse inside her, slamming into her as warmth filled her womb.

Taehyung rested her back onto the pillar as he filled her to the brim, moaning against her cheek.

Althea threw her head back, her entire body trembling and pulsing against him.

Taehyung pressed his forehead against hers. “Peace treaties, this time. No more fucking marriages.”

Althea laughed breathlessly. “I promise.”

Morning arrived with a lightly aired tension as the Saoshima soldiers and council members awaited for Althea’s announcement on what was to be done with Taehyung. The captain spoke for them again, his eyes still darkened and suspicious when he looked over at Taehyung.

Althea wore black to ensure that people knew she was in mourning while Taehyung did away with his armour.

“What is your decision, your Majesty?” The captain kept a level of respect towards Althea, despite looking like he wanted to kill Taehyung.

“General Taehyung will be suspended for his actions and kept in the tower until the year of mourning is over,” Althea said.

The captain didn’t look pleased. “Killing a king is cause for the death penalty. Only a year of imprisonment?”

Althea sighed. “As it stands, your military prowess isn’t strong enough to hold trade protection. And General Taehyung has the most experience in that area. I still need him to train any future generals.”

“We’ve done well for our trade protection,” the captain said.

“A few of your ships have been raided just this month.” Althea waved her hand. “Pirates find your ships easy to attack. You need stronger naval protection.”

The captain stayed silent. “And I can be assured that this pardoning of the general has nothing to do with any…personal feelings.”

Althea leaned forward. “Would you like me to make it personal?” she asked.

“I am only assessing.”

“Right,” she smiled as she rested back. “Then I suppose we can also assess the flower boats floating near Saoshima.”

The captain’s brows relaxed, eyes flickering around the room. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Althea waved her hand, beckoning one of the nobles to open a stack of papers. “We have reports of young girls and boys being forced into so-called flower boats so officials, including Saoshima military guards, are able to have services performed outside of jurisdiction.” She placed an unblinking gaze on the captain, watching sweat pearl on his temple. “I may be a new queen, captain but I do know what I’m doing. Care to explain?”

The captain blinked shakily. “Those cases do not hold in this territory.”

“Yes, but this also indicates that the people of Saoshima aren’t as trusting of their nobility and royalty as it may seem. You disguised forced labour and violence under a pretence of good business,” Althea explained.

“Even with all that, your Majesty.” His tone turned bitter. “Widows of our king will have no power over Saoshima. That is not how our succession works. It will go to the king’s nearest of kin and nothing else.”

Althea hummed. “Then it is truly a tragedy that you don’t have strong naval protection.”

Confusion for a moment. Then a darkened realisation waved over the captain’s face. “You’re lying.”

“It was either this or you embarrass yourself in a war you wouldn’t have won,” Althea said in a calm tone.

“You conniving bitch!” the captain raised his sword.

In a flurry of black, silver swords brandished in the daylight and private throne room splotched with blood. Taehyung’s own sword sliced through the captain’s neck and his head rolled in front of Althea onto the table.

The Saoshima officials trembled and yelped at the sudden violence.

“We serve the queen!” One of the officials cried out, bowing terribly and almost falling over. “We serve the queen, please!”

“Taehyung,” Althea called out.

Taehyung and his army paused immediately as the puddle of blood spread across the stone floor.

Althea put on a kind smile for the officials. “Don’t worry, gentlemen, you can safely return home with compensation.”

The same official smiled with shaking breath as he tried to pick up his robes so the blood wouldn’t stain the fabric. “You are most kind, your Majesty.” He bowed again. “Most kind.”

They were escorted out of the throne room in silence while the servants hurriedly tried to clean off what was left of Yuto’s chaperones. Althea dismissed the nobles, leaving only her and Taehyung in the room.

“All yours, your Majesty,” Taehyung cooed.

It was hers. Not a kingdom. An empire.

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