#unedited as god intended

[sexynetra]

I’m so sorry to be that person but I can’t choose a specific prompt for the otp protective list thingy 🫠

IF you want to I’m down for anything on that list for boxer au, you pick…apologies again 🥲🥲

No worries! Even just showing interest at all in more boxer au is helpful to me 💕

Have some concerned Marcia, as a treat

Also… me completing a piece of writing these days? Less likely than you’d think! But we did it lads <3

Pretending everything is fine so the other doesn't have to know what's going on. / “Please never do that again.”

(Also uhhh this one got long sorry)

Ao3 link

~~~~~~~~~~~

Either Marcia had gotten complacent, or Anetra was an incredibly skilled actress. Marcia wasn’t sure which. But when Anetra insisted she was fine after a particularly rough match, Marcia believed her. After all, Anetra had no reason to lie to her. She was a nurse, Anetra would tell her if she was hurt. Besides, Anetra had been fighting long enough that she could certainly tell when an injury was serious or not.

So Marcia didn’t push, didn’t force Anetra to let her double check. They were early in their relationship, and Marcia didn’t want to ruin things by being too much of a worrywart. So she left after the match, with a kiss goodbye, and a promise to see her for their dinner date. And as she left, she tried to convince herself that everything was fine.

And it was, at first. Anetra looked radiant as ever when Marcia arrived at the restaurant, blonde hair perfectly coiffed, tight pink dress like a second skin hugging her perfect figure. Nearly all traces of the fight had been wiped away, hidden under effortlessly blended makeup.

The only hint that she had been bloody and bruised just that morning was the slight limp in her walk, and the split second longer than usual that it took her to react.

“Hi, beautiful,” Marcia murmured, crossing the distance to wrap her arms around Anetra and pull her in for a gentle kiss. Anetra set her hands on Marcia’s waist, squeezing gently as she kissed her back.

“Missed you,” she breathed into the kiss. “You look ethereal. As always. Taking my breath away.”

Marcia pulled back finally, a shy smile on her face. No matter how many times Anetra complimented her, Marcia still couldn’t believe it was real. That Anetra was actually hers.

In hindsight, maybe she missed the signs because she didn’t want to admit anything was amiss. She just wanted a nice date night with her girlfriend, and maybe if she ignored what she knew in her gut, it would go away. That was the hope at least.

But life didn’t work that way, and denying the evidence in front of her face could only last so long. Especially when Anetra was acting so… off.

“Babe, you aren’t looking too hot, are you sure you’re really okay?” Marcia asked after the third time she’d had to drag Anetra back into their conversation. Anetra blinked a few times, shaking her head for a moment as if trying to force herself to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Damn. And here I thought you found me beautiful. Now I’m not even that hot?” She joked, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Marcia’s own frown deepened.

“Neech, I’m serious. You’re really out of it and it’s starting to scare me,” Marcia tried, chewing on her lower lip as she watched her girlfriend who was currently refusing to look her in the eyes.

“I’m fine, Marcia. Don’t be overdramatic. I had a big fight this morning. I’m just tired,” Anetra deflected, picking at her chipped nail polish and staring resolutely down at her food. Marcia deflated a bit.

“I’m not trying to—“ Marcia sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not trying to be a drama queen, I’m just worried, okay? Can we just like… go back to my place? Relax on the couch and go to bed early? If you’re really just tired then I’ll drop it and things will be all good in the morning.” Marcia put on her best puppy dog eyes, looking across the table at Anetra until her girlfriend looked back.

Anetra deflated slightly. “Yeah, okay. That sounds nice,” she admitted begrudgingly, waving over the waiter to get the check.

Marcia was still antsy, but was trying to rein in her concerns. Surely Anetra really was just tired, and a good night's sleep would fix everything. She kept telling herself that, until Anetra went to stand up.

Marcia felt frozen as she watched Anetra stumble, grabbing onto the edge of the table with white knuckles and clenching her eyes shut, head dropping. After a second she sprung into action, running over to the other side of the table to wrap an arm around Anetra, to make sure she was steady on her feet.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m fine. I'm okay. Just got… dizzy,” Anetra’s voice was distant, her breathing shaky, and Marcia’s heart broke for a moment.

“I’ve got you. Just breathe. Let’s go outside. Get some fresh air.” Marcia kept her arm right around her girlfriend, letting her lean against her side for support as she got them outside, helping Anetra down onto the nearest bench. She sat down beside her, thoughts racing as she watched the color return to Anetra’s face.

“Marsh, I—“ Anetra began after a moment but Marcia cut her off, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

“How long have you been feeling off? Don’t lie to me, please. I need to… I need to know if this has to do with the fight. Please, let me help you. I just want you to be okay,” Marcia rushed to get her words out, eyes wide and pleading.

Anetra was silent for a moment, chewing on her lower lip and fidgeting nervously with the rings she was wearing. “I… I thought it was just a headache from the impact, I swear. If I thought it was anything serious I would have told you,” She spoke quietly, finally glancing up from her lap to meet Marcia’s eyes. “I know you get frightened during these fights and I just. It would have scared you even more if I told you something was wrong. I just didn’t want you to have to worry about me.”

The revelation that Anetra had been hiding things from her did nothing to soothe Marcia’s frayed nerves. For all she knew, this wasn’t the first time Anetra had been hurt and thought it wasn’t important for Marcia to know. “I’m a nurse, Anetra. You need to tell me these things. Of course I worry, you’re my girlfriend, and I care about you. A lot. But I’m gonna worry a hell of a lot more when you nearly pass out in a restaurant than if you just tell me when something isn’t right. Or better yet just… let me check to make sure nothing major is wrong after fights. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Better I find it early than… whatever could have happened tonight.” She paused to take a few calming breaths, trying to keep a cool demeanor, despite how anxious she was. “You can’t keep this stuff from me, not if you want me to come to your matches. Not if you want to be able to keep fighting in the long run. This isn’t fun and games, Neech. It’s life and death, and I don’t think me being worried is an overreaction. This is my job, I know how risky what you’re doing is, and I just want to help. But you can’t keep this kind of thing a secret from me. Please never do that again. My heart can’t take it.”

The guilt was plain as day on Anetra’s face and Marcia wondered for a moment if she had pushed too hard, if she was being too harsh. But Anetra reached to take Marcia’s hands in her own, and Marcia melted slightly into the touch, having to blink a few times to keep her tears from spilling.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was… I didn’t realize. I never meant to frighten you,” Anetra murmured, running her thumb across the back of Marcia’s hand delicately. Marcia melted more at the gentleness, shifting to rest her head on Anetra’s shoulder.

“My heart can’t take it,” Marcia repeated quietly, closing her eyes and focusing on the feeling of Anetra, sturdy against her side.

“I know. I’m really sorry. If I’d known I was making you worry this much I never would have kept it from you…” Anetra’s breath was warm on her hair as she felt her place a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Marcia turned her face to bury it in the crook of Anetra’s neck. “You owe me big time, you know. For lying to me. You’d better be prepared to grovel.” Anetra laughed softly against her hair and Marcia smiled to herself, warmth running down her spine. Everything was going to be okay, she could tell.

“Of course, darling. Whatever you say.”

[readythebabythrower]

😏

- 🪱

[uniquevocashark]

well, i dont have a lab tomorrow so im gonna stay up and write fanfic on my phone

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| NOW WITH A PART 2: |The Actual Competitor| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon! Alastor, drinking,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[enmi-land]

✶ DRUNK IN LOVE

𝓘.──── . . . 𝒷𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎

💭 엔하HYUNGLiNEXFEM!OC ꗃSCENARiO. hyung line being needy after their first time with mila. ( 2022 ) 𓈃 REQUESTED. 𝅄CONTAiNS. smut, swearing, jealousy & possessiveness, pet names, unedited !MDNi! ꒰ NOTES ✦ Just letting you guys know that smut isn’t my forte so umm yeah. No further comment.

SMUT WARNiNGS ⋆ implied unprotected sex (zon’t zo it), mentioned loss of virginity, implied oral (m & f receiving), tit sucking, cockwarming, corruption kink, slight somnophilia, masturbation . . .

GO BACK HOME ?!

IF THERE IS ONE THING MILA IS NOT, it’s innocent. No matter how many people she may fool with her doe eyes and pouty lips, those coy smiles and that sweet face, she is not nearly as pure as they think. She’s equal parts devil and angel—and every part of their fantasies.

When Mila first initiates intimacy with her boyfriends, she’s a virgin in every sense of the word: unkissed, untouched, and wholly inexperienced in everything that lovers do when they’re alone.

Jay is proud to say that he was the same way. It wasn’t something to be embarrassed about, but rather something he took pride in—that every one of her firsts was also one of his, that they were experiencing things together, with neither one ahead or behind. And yes, even though he is a gentlemen, he is still a man.

It’s why he can’t help the way his eyes travel down her body when she’s not looking, as if he’s in a trance. She’s not doing anything in particular, but he still can’t take her eyes away from her.

Mila is wearing a white dress, he notes, like the one she wore when they first had sex together. No, it is the same one. There’s no way he can mistake it. It’s a cute thing, really, the way it cinches at the waist and flares around the plush skin of her thighs; the way the material of the top clings to her bosom, moulding against her mounds perfectly and revealing just the slightest bit of cleavage.

At least, it should be cute. But all he can think about in that moment is how they first ended up in bed together, and the things that led to it.

He remembers the way he had just left the shower, water dripping down his torso and to the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, when the doorbell of his hotel room rang. He had opened it to see her standing there, her soft, cherry-pink lips parted softly at the sight of his half-naked state.

It was hardly the first time she had seen him without a shirt, but this time, it was different. She had always been shy with showing appreciation for his figure, and had the cutest habit of looking away shyly buying her lip. But that time he noticed the way her eyes drifted down his body, pupils dilated i with desire as she drank every feature of him in with her pretty eyes.

It filled him with pride to see Mila that way, knowing he was the cause of it. But, fuck, he was no better when he found himself growing hard when the little (devious) angel of his had pressed her soft curves against his still wet body, transferring the droplets of water onto that adorable little dress of hers that clung to her body, more transparent than white, and leaving little to the imagination.

“You’re getting wet,” he had said to her, gulping down his growing desire to kiss her senseless as she looked up with those doe eyes of her. He fully intended on being the rational one of the two of them, and to make sure they both attended that reservation he booked at the fancy new restaurant down the road.

But all of that flew out the window when she oh so innocently said, “I don’t mind you getting me wet,” her fingers trailing down his abs.

Fuck, why did he have to remember that now? Hems supposed to be paying attention to her as she talks to him about something that happened earlier today, when she was out with friends. But god, if he wasn’t going crazy as he remembered their night together.

He vividly remembers everything about it. The way he had fallen for her allure and carried her to his room, still dressed only in the hotel towel, before laying her on the bed, watching her hair sprawl around her head like a halo. He remembers the way his hands travelled up her skirt and to the skin of her waist, bunching her dress up to reveal a lack of safety shorts, and a pair of white lace panties. It felt almost sinful to slide her panties down her thighs, marvelling at how soaked they became without even touching her.

“Fuck, angel, you were going to go out like this?” He asked. “All it would take is one gust of wind and they would know that you were dipping. Is that what you want Engenes to know?”

“They wouldn’t,” Mila whined.

“They would,” Jay pressed firmly, sinking to his knees at the edge of the bed. “They would see just how wet you are for me.”

It wasn’t the first time he found himself kneeling before her, but every time he saw the glistening folds of her pussy as he peeled the sticky layer of her panties away from it, he was in awe. And one lick up the strip of her folds would have him groaning, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste of her on his tongue.

Great. Now he’s getting a hard-on.

“Oppa, are you paying attention?” Mila turns to face Jay at that very moment, but he is even quicker, pulling her down to his lap as she squeals in surprise. “Oppa?! What’s—?”

Mila’s eyes widen as her ass is planted on his lap, where she can feel the prominent bulge in his pants. Her breathe hitches in he throat, while Jay’s lips plant themselves on her neck. A hand travels to her thigh, and his thumb rubs soothing circles on her creamy soft skin. “Sorry, angel,” he whispers huskily, “but I don’t think I can concentrate right now.”

“Oh,” is all Mila can manage to say. She can feel her thighs clench together as he kisses the column of her neck. She squirms in his lap, grinding against his hard length, earning a deep groan from her lover. The sound that goes straight to her pussy, and immediately the tell tale signs of arousal making make itself known.

“I promise I’ll listen to your story,” Jay says. “But do you think you can do me a favour first?”

Mila is putty in his hands as his rough palm glides up the skirt of her dress in a familiar manner. “Anything,” she whimpers pathetically.

Jay chuckles. “Good girl,” he purrs. Mila whines as his hands find their way to her hips, and he grinds her ass back on his length, causing her to moan for the friction against her pulsating pussy. “I just need you to keep moving your cute ass like this, okay? And you can tell me all about your day while you’re at it.”

If she can talk, that is. Jay has a feeling neither of them will be able to.

SUNGHOON WAKES UP TO AN EMPTY BED, and immediately is on alert. He jolts up, the sheets falling to his still naked lap, and his eyes dart around to find no trace of his girlfriend anywhere. He slept like a baby after last night, and had been expected her to do the same when he woke up, considering they spent most of it doing anything other than sleeping.

Fuck. The images come flooding back like a memory from a night of drinking—only much more pleasurable, and a thousand times more intense. He still remembers them the way Mila was writhing under him, moaning and whimpering his name as he thrusted into her, their hands entwined up her head.

He can picture the way her skin glistened under the light with sweat, her features contorted into pleasure as she changed his name over and over again like a prayer. Pleading, begging for him to give her release she was chasing as her hips rolled up to meet his, driving his cock deeper into her walls, and egging him on to go faster than before.

His first time with her is simultaneously everything he imagined, and yet better. His dirtiest fantasies would never do justice to the pure pleasure and bliss of reaching his high while inside her, and feeling the way she clenched around him as she reached her own. He had already been helpless for her, but going all the way has been the final nail in the coffin, securing his unending fixation with everything that is her. As if she’s the sun his whole world revolves around.

The only thing that could have made it better is if they woke up the same way. Sunghoon grumbles as he scrambles for his pants, which lay forgotten in the corner of the room, lazily running a hand through his hair after buttoning it up.

He spots a pair of panties and a bra on the way out and smiles to himself as he remembers how they ended up there. It was a petty argument that led to it all, surprisingly enough. He can barely remember it after last night, which proves how petty it was (or just how whipped he is), and was a misunderstanding that could easily be resolved if they just stoned being stubborn.

But everyone has their flaws.

Mila had been upset to find that Sunghoon had been approached by someone who didn’t know he was an idol, and certainly didn’t know he was taken. They aren’t in South Korea, seeing as they’re in the middle of a tour, so it’s an easy mistake to make. Except, Sunghoon—with his minimal English—didn’t recognise that the woman was “flirting” with him, and that by outsider’s point of view, he seemed to be receptive.

Mila promptly shut down the woman’s attempts and then walked off without sparing Sunghoon a glance. A petty move, honestly, but expected from her. Sunghoon chased her down until he cornered her in their hotel room, where he had kissed her senseless after realising the reason for her attitude.

“I don’t like the way she was look at you,” she mumbled. And Sunghoon felt a surge of possessive pride in knowing she had gotten so territorial over her. Except, he didn’t appreciate the cold shoulder.

“How cute,” he growled, as he harshly attached his mouth to her neck with hot open-mouthed kisses, fangs scraping harshly against her skin. His long fingers weaved their way into her hair, tugging on the roots to expose her flesh to him like an animal snapping his prey’s neck with his teeth. “I should spank you for being such a brat.”

He didn’t know where the words came from. Actually, that’s a lie—they most likely came from the porn he watched to prepare him for when he eventually had his first time with Mila. And it worked like a charm, because Mila was whining and whimpering in his hold, her knees weak and her cunt absolutely dripping with arousal.

“I’m sorry, Oppa,” she mewled pathetically.

“Sorry won’t cut it,” he growled. “Get on your knees. You’re going to suck me off until I forgive you.”

And Mila had been such a good girl, doing exactly as he said, taking his cock as he pushed her head down onto his length until he came in her mouth. But that hadn’t been enough, and he had her grinding against his thigh until she was begging for something more. For all of him, for everything he had to give her.

“Are you sure?” Sunghoon had asked, finally giving into his gentle instincts.

“Please,” she begged—and oh was she adorable when she did so, cuddling to his chest. “Please, Oppa, I need you inside me.”

He almost wished he had a tape so he could rewatch the scenes all over again.

Sunghoon sighs as he opens the door to reveal the smell of food wafting in the air, followed by the sight of Mila on the kitchen, humming as she cooked an egg on the frying pan—wearing his shirt and, apparently, nothing underneath.

The light of the morning rays are forgiving. They grant him the perfect view of her curves hiding beneath the material of his white tee, and he wonders if he will be able to see the canvas of marks he left her skin the night before. If his fingerprints and love bites are even more visible now than when he was dragging his lips and hands against every inch of her body last night.

He bites his lips as he approaches her from behind, stealthy and silent, like a predator in the wild, hunting down its prey. She doesn’t notice him until he’s wrapping his arms around her, caging her agains the kitchen bench top as she removes the frying pan from the heated stove.

“Oppa!” She spins around to face him with that look of pure adoration in her eyes that never fails to make him melt on the inside. “You’re up! Are you hungry?”

Sunghoon hums, resting his cheek against hers. Truth be told, he’s starving—but he doesn’t want to let go of her so soon, wanting to feel her as close to him as possible. Now that he knows what it feels like to be inches inside her, he wants to be nothing but their skin against each other and to hold her soft body against his firm one.

“You left bed,” he says, with a small hint of a pout on his lips. He would die before the others see him this clingy, but Mila finds it adorable and plants a soft peck on his cheek.

“Sorry,” she says, “but someone had to make food, and you were out like a light.” She then giggles to herself, earning a raised eyebrow from Sunghoon. “I guess I tired you out.”

Oh, really? So that’s how she wants to frame it? Sunghoon chuckles deeply. He turns Mila around so that they’re facing each other, before completely cornering her against the bench top, his hands on both her hips and his head leaning down against hers.

“That’s funny,” he starts.

His eyes look down the front of Mila’s (or rather, his) shirt, to see her hardened nipples straining against the fabric—and, fuck, he can’t be distracted now. Not even when he knows that underneath that shirt of hers (his), her plump mounds are begging to be held in his palms. But she doesn’t seem to be fairing any better, her eyes travelling down his bare torso, and his tongue flicking against her lips.

She’s just as affected as he is. And he loves it.

“If I remember correctly,” Sunghoon teases, “you were the one who kept begging me that you couldn’t take it anymore, isn’t that right, princess?”

Mila has a pretty flush on her face, and it reminds him of the absolutely fucked look on her face as he fucked her last night. She pouts up at him, tempting him with her plump lips. He can’t help it. Everything about her is irresistible to him; everything about her has him obsessed.

“You’re mean,” she whines. And, oh, if the sound doesn’t make his cock twitch him his pants.

Sunghoon simply catches her lips between his, suckling on her pout. She whimpers against his mouth—such a sweet, sweet sound—and he nibbles on the flesh, before his tongue flicks out to lick it clean. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

At this Mila giggles again. “You mean like you finished last night?”

Sunghoon groans. But, yeah, he walked into that one. He digs his fingers into her side, causing her to squirm as he tickles her gently. “Now who’s the one being mean?”

“Stooooop—eep!” Mila jumps as he slaps her ass, her tits bouncing before they are pressed against him when she clutches his frame for support. “Oppa!”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything this time, instead placing another kiss on her lips. She melts into him, chasing his mouth with her own, fingers locked in his hair. His hands pat her waist softly, before travelling to the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, pulling it up softly. It gives her more than enough time to pull away, but she doesn’t.

His hands travel up the material to grip her thighs before lifting her up in one smooth hoist, balancing her thighs around his hips.

“Fuck breakfast,” Sunghoon growls. And Mila seems to agree.

JAKE CAN’T HELP BUT FEEL GUILTY. He’s acting like a teenaged boy whenever he’s around his girlfriend, and every little thing she does turns him on to the point that he has to jerk off himself quietly under the sheets of his bed. Not even porn can make him lose it so quickly—not after he’s gotten a taste of what it’s like for him to be the one instead.

It’s only worse because Mila wants nothing more than to innocently cuddle on her bed and watch movies, and yet he’s sporting an embarrassingly uncomfortable hard-on under their blanket.

He can’t help it. She’s wearing a pair of short satin shorts and a matching camisole that does nothing to take his attention away from her tits (she’s definitely not wearing a bra), and the curve of her ass. It’s only worse when she’s pressed right against his side, leg hooked over his stomach as she clings to him.

The last time they were alone like this in a dark room, he ended up losing it while she was she riding him, the move nothing but a backdrop to their passionate love-making that ended up on the the of them being complete messes of bodily fluids.

He had always imagined that his first time with Mila would he romantic, with gentle touches and soft loving. It wasn’t like that at all. But if you asked Jake, if was far better. It was messy, it was desperate, it was a jumble of rushed undressing and the pure need.

It was Jake not being able to make a coherent sentence as Mila straddled his lap, before sinking down onto his cock, her warmth eveloping his length with a vice grip. It was him gripping her hips until they bruised, head thrown back as she bounced on his lap with unforgiving rhythm. It was Jake losing all senses as she clenched around him upon her impending orgasm, writing him dry until he couldn’t even keep his eyes open for more than five minutes after they were done.

“Jakey, are you okay?” Mila asks sweetly, eyes gazing at him wide and unblinking. And while Jake appreciates the sentiment, all he can think about is the way her eyes look the exact same as whenever she’s kneeling in front today him, taking his cock in her mouth as she bobs her head down his length.

Shit. His pants are uncomfortably tight now, and it’s all because he can’t get a fucking grip. He never used t be this easily hot and bothered before—why did it have to start now!

“I-I’m good,” he assures—albeit weakly.

Mila doesn’t look convinced and shifts (Fuck, he wants to scream, please don’t move!), her breast pressing further against Jay, and her thigh brushing dangerously close to his prominent bulge. She pouts, and places a hand on Jake’s forehead. “Are you sick? You don’t look too good.”

At this rate, she’s definitely going to know he’s sporting a boner—and damn it, if that isn’t embarrassing after the way their first night went together.

“Awww, you’re so cute,” Mila had cooed as Jake became a whining mess under her. “So sensitive. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

As if he hasn’t been the one who wanted to take care of her instead. But seeing as she had already slept with Jay and Sunghoon, Mila has an advantage over him, and was able to keep her calm a bit more easily. She didn’t even get to cun until after he did, and he still hadn’t gotten over it.

But at the time he was too lost in everything that was her. It was too much. She was too much. He didn’t even realise how they had gotten to that point. All he knew was that she looked absolutely divine wearing his shirt and no bra (just like now), and he had gotten lost in feeling her up, his lips attached to hers as if she were all the oxygen he needed to breathe.

His hands had peeled the shirt off from her, before lips found themselves down the valley of her breast, his finger rolling an erected nipple in one hand while his mouth latched to the other. His tongue swirled around the bud, and Mila had arched off the mattress, hands digging into his hair as he played with her breast, and suckled like a baby.

“God, Jakey, your mouth feels so good~” she had whined. And of course, he had to use it properly, or he wouldn’t forgive himself. He had kissed his way down to the hand of her pants, and then her panties. He tore them from her and left her bare, legs open and thighs on either side of his his head.

It was a routine he grew all too familiar with. He had fucked his tongue into her right hole—in and out again—while she clenched around him, her thighs threatening to crush his head as he ate her cunt like a starved man, right until she was cumming all over his tongue.

“Good boy,” she said. For some reason, that had been enough to make him lose all sense of himself. And before he knew it, she was taking his length in her hand as he moaned, begging and begging for her to take him inside her—to let him feel her warm cunt around his cock.

And now really didn’t the time to remember that.

“I’m fine, baby—aahh~” Jake can’t help the sound thay escapes when Mila is sitting up, her thigh rubbing against his hard-on in the process. “Fuck, baby, what was that for?”

“Sorry,” Mila squeaks. “I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

She looks so cute embarrassed, Jake thinks, as if she’s in the definition of a siren in bed—or at least, when they were in bed. Now she looks just like a startled little animal. Absolutely adorable.

“Jakey, do you want help?” Mila asks shyly, her hand reaching down to his pants. “I can��”

Jake grabs her wrist before she can go ahead, causing her to pause. “No, no—let me do you first.”

Before Mila can protest, Jake flips them over so she’s beneath her, eyes looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and arousal. He’s lost all sense of control now that he’s been caught, and he would be more ashamed if it weren’t for the fact that Mila is whispering his name with a desperate note.

“Please baby,” he begs, his lips leaning down to capture his. He groans against her lips as he sinks between her parted legs, her hips slotting against his perfectly. He grinds against her, practically jackrabbiting against her covered cunt. She moans helplessly against his assault, meeting his enthusiasm work her own. His senses now overridden by her and the feeling of her against him. “Fuck! Please, I need to see you cum for me before you do anything else.”

He’s not just desperate. He’s just desperate for her pleasure as he is for his own.

HEESEUNG STIRS IN THE DARK. It’s still too earthly to be up, if the lack of light filtering through the curtains is an indication, but he can’t help it. He feels his girlfriend before he sees her—feels the way she’s clenching around his length in her sleep, whimpering and moaning like she had been a few hours ago, before they feel asleep with her warming his cock for him.

It might not have been a good idea to do so, Heeseung admits. But he’d be a liar if he didn’t say he was too obsessed with the feel of Mila around his cock, enough that he couldn’t even bare to pull out of her when they were finished last night. It was a long night, which he made sure to draw out, and even now he feels it’s not enough.

Mila had been so innocent when they started dating. His little angel hadn’t even kissed a man before, let alone wrapped around a man’s cock like she was now. He, on the other hand, was a little less pure—he had at least done more than her, at any rate.

His previous girlfriend had been an older one, and taught him the ways to pleasure a woman—something he was no grateful for, since it meant he could do the same for his baby, make her feel good until she was so fucked out in bliss she couldn’t speak. And he savoured taking her there step by step.

He got her used to his fingers, then his tongue, and now he was dead set on making her addicted to the feeling of his cock. Last night had only been the first step.

She had been so adorable, pouting as he refused to pay attention to her—playing hard to get as he focused on his game instead of her precious face. It wasn’t easy to do, but it was well worth it when she found herself boldly straddling his lap, acting like a little kitten trying to win affection. Her soft lips kissed their way up his Adam’s apple, teeth grazing it slightly—just the way he liked it.

He couldn’t resist giving into her, lips teasing hers and hands on her hips as he moved them back and forth against his clothed length. But then she was audacious and wanted more, pawing at his clothes in clumsy attempt to take them off which had him chuckling fondly to himself.

He remembers the way she had whined as he positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her slightly, before pushing all the way in, his impressive length reaching a depth his fingers never could. He watched as she became a mess beneath him, crying out his name in ecstasy as his hips rolled in steady motion, hitting that spot that had her seeing stars.

“How’s that?” He whispered.

“Feels so good~” she moaned. “So full…”

“Yeah? You can feel me right in here, can’t you?” He pressed down once abdomen, feeling the way he filled her up inside.

As the oldest and most experienced member, it was only right that he was last—or he will ruin any other man for her. She already seemed ruined enough though when she accepted his request to stay inside her.

“Let’s stay like this, okay?” He asked. “You feel too good to pull out.”

“Mkay,” she said obediently.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed, “keeping me warm.”

And she had babbled incoherently before falling asleep on his cock, and he had rolled over so she lay on top of him, breasts pressed against his chest, and their breaths exhaling and inhaling in unison. He had been having such a peaceful sleep, too, until she started to shift on her length, causing him to harden inside her with all her movement.

He was so lost in her that he even dreamt of them together like this, and caught himself moving his hips on his sleep. And, fuck, if that weren’t enough to make him fun on the spot, Mila had been feeling it all even as she slept. And now, he has to wake her up. It’s depraved, he knows, but now he has finally felt her around him, and it’s going to drive him insane if he doesn’t get his fill again.

He needs to fuck her, and see her expression twist with pleasure like it did before. Romantic, no. But he’s absolutely whipped, seeing her ruined beyond repair for his cock.

“Baby,” he groans into her ear, rubbing her back. “Baby, wake up.”

Mila stirs. “Oppa?”

Heeseung hums. “Shhh, I got you,” he says as he flips them over, so that he’s on top. “I’m sorry but I need to borrow your pretty little pussy for a bit, okay?”

Mila groans as she rubs her eyes. “Now?” She clenches around him, and Heeseung groans.

“Yeah, now. Is that okay, my love?” Heeseung pressed, wanting nothing more than to hear her permission. “I just need to fuck your pretty cunt again and you can go back to sleep, okay? It will be just like before.”

Mila moans, her walls pulsating around him. “Can you stay inside again?”

Fuck. Heeseung’s cock twitches inside Mila, and he thanks heaven that he’s been given such a perfect girlfriend.

“Of course. Anything for my sweet girl,” Heeseung coos, peppering her face with kisses as he slips out of her, before getting ready to thrust into her again. “I’ll make you feel good I promise. And we can cuddle again like before.”

He’d do it again and again and never stop if he could.

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

[manicpixiefelix]

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Imagine Tom's reaction when reader (male) was dared by Abraxas to wear a skirt for a week (Abraxas knows Tom has been pining for reader since 1st year, he js want to help his homie)

The Skirt - T.R. x male!Reader

A/N: I love this request so much oh my gods 💛 I wrote this in a horny frenzy because this unlocked some sort of sleeper agent side of me that I never knew existed until I read your request

I think this is the most feral Tom Riddle I’ve ever written. I tweaked the request a tiny bit, but I hope you like it. It’s completely unedited with no use of Y/N. I wrote it intending to write more, so that’s why it ends the way it does.

PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU READ THE WARNINGS!!! I tried to tag everything, but let me know if I missed something!

This is 18+, which means NO MINORS!!!!

CW: female oc; Reader dresses as a girl; lots of beauty descriptors for Reader; don’t read if you’re prone to dysphoria/dysmorphia around looking feminine!!!; Tom’s horny thoughts; Tom’s feral thoughts; Tom is absolutely whipped for you; brief graphic description of sexual acts; Tom is a horny boy; probably ooc Tom; this takes place in Tom’s seventh year of school, so him and Reader are both of age

777 words

“Hey, did you hear about Abraxas’ dare?”

Tom looks up from his plate of food, lowering his fork. “No. What dare?”

Aurora Greengrass sits across from him, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “You haven’t heard? He dared a male student to dress as a girl for a week!”

Tom blinks, vaguely surprised. “Abraxas did? Who did he dare?”

“No one knows yet. We only know because—“

“What are you two talking about?”

Abraxas sits next to Tom, dumping his school bag on the floor behind him as he sits down to eat.

Aurora’s excitement seems to dim a bit. “Ah, well… We were just discussing your dare.”

“Ah.” Abraxas smirks. “That. I’m quite excited about it, honestly. It should help some things move along quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

He gives Tom a subtle nudge, like Tom should have any idea of what he’s talking about.

He just gives Abraxas an odd look and goes back to eating his food.

“So,” Aurora leans in. “Who did you dare?”

Abraxas’ smirk only grows. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s coming this way.”

Tom turns to look, and promptly chokes on his bite of food.

It’s you, dressed in a swishy skirt, woman’s stockings, and Mary Janes. You have on red lipstick, a bold and fierce look.

“Hello, Riddle. Malfoy. Greengrass.” You sit casually, adjusting your skirt as if it’s no big deal. As if you aren’t the most gorgeous boy to walk into Tom’s life.

Tom manages to swallow his food and pick his jaw up off the floor. “You— You look—“

Where to even begin?

Tom’s had a crush on you since first year. Ever since you sat next to lonely little him in Potions class and gave him the biggest grin of your life.

He’d been absolutely sold since then. Seven years of being head over heels. Utterly and completely whipped.

Seeing you in such a cute skirt… all prettied up…

He bites his tongue to keep his thoughts—and blood—from rushing to inappropriate places.

You didn’t dress up to be objectified like this. But Merlin did his brain want to do it.

“Cute, right?” You flash your signature grin, the one that always makes Tom’s stomach flutter. Today it’s more like a tornado of butterflies.

Merlin, how is it that you look so pretty? From just a skirt and lipstick!

“Uh-huh.” He mindlessly agrees, far more focused on a tiny smudge of lipstick against your upper lip. He wants to wipe it off. Kiss it off. Make it worse.

His thoughts go downhill too quickly to catch.

That perfect mouth of yours, all red with smudged lipstick, wrapped around his—

“You’re staring, Riddle.” A small frown creases your face. “Are you alright? Do I have something on my—“

“I’m fine!” Tom forces himself into composure, folding his hands in his lap to hide the evidence of his thoughts.

Your gaze flicks down automatically, and a quizzical look crosses your face.

Tom panics a bit. You can’t find out! You’ll be disgusted with him!

“So,” he says, fumbling over his words. “What made you decide to accept the date— DARE! The dare.”

He’s practically sweating, hands clasped tight. For a moment, it seems like you’re going to question him.

Then you shrug. “I dunno. Just felt like it. Abraxas seemed pretty set on me doing it, so I guess I just accepted to humor him. I look pretty good in a skirt, though, huh?”

Tom’s mouth goes dry. Pretty good? You look fantastic. Gorgeous. Mouth-watering.

He wants to kiss along your tantalizingly bare thighs and sink his teeth into the meat of your skin. He wants to mark you up, leaving it absolutely unequivocal as to who you belong to.

More than anything, he wants to see you absolutely wrecked, begging underneath him as he fucks you in the skirt.

“Riddle… Riddle… Tom…?”

“I gotta—“ Tom stands, his breathing heavy. He can’t stand it. You look too good. Too tempting. “I gotta go.”

He can barely find it in him to care that you get an eyeful of his extremely obvious hard-on as he stands up. He needs to get out of here. Now.

He can hear Abraxas’ laughter as he flees. Cheeky shit. He probably set it all up on purpose. Made you wear the skirt, knowing he’d find you irresistible.

And for a whole week?

Tom presses his forehead to the cool wall of the corridor.

There’s no way he’s gonna make it through the week. Especially not with you looking so delectable.

He has to find some way to distract himself. To divert his focus from you.

But how?

[bountycancelled]

house of cards (a challengers au)

requested: no, but send challengers reqs I BEG !

warnings: none :)

content: tension I guess? readers kind of a go with the flow typa gyal, but the flow is sometimes manipulative and evil so... tashi and art both play (different games but they still play) patrick is a loser, but he's my loser so it's okay lowercase intended, unedited.

a/n: back after like a half year hiatus, and im on my challengers bullshit, hope you enjoy this cuz I wrote in a day lol

¤

¤

"you know, sometimes it feels like you hate me." the words leave your lips before you can stop them, coming out of your mouth with the kind of instantaneous honesty you learnt during your many years around tashi. admiring her, envying her, loving her, and hating her all the same.

she raises an amused brow, the sides of her mouth quirking up in a half smile. she probably thinks it's funny, your train of thought. you're in her dorm right now, laying on her bed with your head rested against her shoulder while some episode of some show serves as background noise. and yet, you seem unsure that she even wants you here.

but the one thing you can count on tashi to know, is what she wants. so if she's sure that she doesn't hate you, you should be too. "I don't hate you. I love you, more than usual, honestly."

that shouldn't make your stomach flip in the way it does, but you've always been a little like a hungry dog waiting to be thrown a bone when it came to affection, from anyone really (a problem that you thought you were working on effectively, you weren't.) but mostly tashi, who's affection was about as rare as the sight of her not playing tennis. well, maybe that comparison was in poor taste after the injury, but anyway.

"why is that?" you hope you don't come off as eager as you are to hear what you've done to further place yourself in her good graces (you do, but don't worry, tashi thinks it's cute.)

"you're the only one who still plays tennis with me. real tennis." she nudges you off of her shoulder as she speaks, forcing you to look at her, leaving you to tackle that feeling that always seemed to arise whenever she was close. a feeling that would rather die that put a name to.

god, you were such a tryhard when it came to her. you let her tell you about her escapade with the notorious 'fire and ice' duo, art and patrick. you assured that it was totally okay to pit two friends against each other for the prospect of getting her, you nodded along when patrick came out victorious, and you comforted her when she eventually broke it off.

and the cherry on top of this absolutely miserable sundae of yours, you played exactly the same way you used to play with her, because you knew it was what she wanted, and anything she wanted, you'd give it to her.

and she knew that, of course. one of the reasons she kept you around.

she brought her face close to yours, so close, closer, closer... before turning your own face to plant a kiss on your cheek, deciding to pay attention to the show you two had put on her laptop, completely shattering what you thought had been a moment between you and her. not the first time she's done that, not the last time you'll think that.

you inhale and exhale deeply, willing yourself to not spend the whole night picking that last ten seconds of that interaction apart, trying to analyse if you were running on pure delusion, or if something had been there, between you two.

but you do anyway, and you don't come to a solid conclusion. when it comes to tashi, you never do.

¤

¤

your run in with patrick is unexpected, but what is expected is just how fucking miserable he looks. you debate just leaving the diner all together, finding another place to eat. hell, not eating at all would be better than whatever conversation you could possibly have with the ex boyfriend of your best friend. the poor thing is still wearing that grey 'I told ya' shirt, and it's evident that he isn't taking any of this well.

you understand both of them, patrick blames himself (it's not his fault, at least not to you) and tashi needed someone to blame. there's a small part of you thats just glad you weren't the one that she chose, but it's small, and the bigger parts of you just want to pull patrick into a hug, but you're unsure of how appropriate that would be. unsure of if he would even want that from you. because you're not actually on his side, you'd never be on the side opposing tashi, and patrick knows that.

that doesn't stop his eyes from lighting up in hopeful recognition as he spots you awkwardly lingering by the entrance, and now you have to go and sit with him because you are not about to kick a dog while it's down. you flag down a waiter and order for yourself, turning to face him with a pensively worried expression.

"are you... okay?"

patrick laughs at your words, not because he thinks it's funny that you ask. (even in the event that you're just pretending to care, he's just thankful that you humoured him by sitting down) he laughs because he knows that you know that he's not. even if the two of you were strangers, you'd sense his misery from the second you entered and took one look at him.

"never better. foods here." he changes the topic swiftly, and you're starving, so you don't try to redirect it, stuffing your face almost as unapologetically as he is. but once the food finishes and you await the bill, you take another long look at him, and the sadness in his eyes make your heart ache.

you don't owe anything to patrick, but for whatever reason, you find yourself reaching for his hand, holding it in your own and giving it a comforting squeeze, smiling back at him sympathetically when he flashes you a grateful half smile.

maybe it's the unique circumstances of the breakup, or his sad brown eyes, or that one time you two played a "friendly" game right before him and tashi got together (the looks he gave you from across the court would be misplaced, but tennis was intrinsically sexy, and so was patrick, so you tried not to overthink it. tried.)

or maybe it's the emalgumation of every look that would make you squint curiously at him, every casual touch that would last too long because patricks patrick, every tipsy kiss on the cheek, or shoulder squeeze, but after you two leave the diner (he pays, and you feel bad about it, but don't comment further.) but when you face each other outside the establishment, the sunset painting the sky, you pull him into a hug.

the hug feels... far too intimate for two friends (were you still friends? you weren't sure.) but, whatever. he's hurt, grieving the loss of someone that would surely break you if you lost them and the loss of his own best friend, so you're not gonna judge. he wraps his arms around you slowly, hiding his face away in the crook of your neck, holding you so gently that a passerby would think that you're the one being comforted.

you tell him to call you if he ever feels lonely, immediately regretting your language because it sounds like you wanna fuck him, but he understands what you meant. and then, you say your goodbyes.

you don't tell tashi about that interaction. and you don't think you will.

¤

¤

your run in with art isn't intentional, but he's grateful for it.

he knows that you and tashi usually run drills together at the courts on saturdays, its not crowded since everyone is in their dorms trying to piece themselves together after a shitty week. but he also knows that tashi needs to rest right now, so you'd most likely be alone. but he doesn't strike then, the racket in your hand will make you too focused, he knows that all too well. you'd be giving him one word answers, barely paying him any mind and probably wanting him to fuck off as soon as possible.

so while he's wracking his brain, thinking of another opportunity to find a way in with you, because being closer to you meant being even closer to tashi, he's seconds away from getting on his knees and praising the gods above when he sees in the cafeteria, alone.

him being there for her when the injury happened was simply happenstance, and he was lucky in a roundabout sort of way, getting to comfort tashi and hopefully building a good image of himself in your mind, because you were there too, of course.

but that wouldn't cut it. he needed to be truly in with you, and he needed a new best friend anyway, he'd basically sold his last one off, so this was a two birds, one stone kind of situation.

you don't look up when art sits in front of you. because one, you know its him, he has the nervous kind of energy whenever he's around you, different to the kind of nervous energy he has when tashis around, but you can still sniff him out regardless. and two, you're still feeling shitty about that whole... thing with patrick, too shitty to care that blondies over here in front of you, trying to get in with tashi.

"they stale or something?" he asks, his smile stupidly warm and inviting as he points towards the cheese fries on your plate, completely untouched. you shoot air through your nose, smiling despite yourself before giving him a response. "no, I'm just grappling with the fact that I'm a shitty friend, and maybe even a shitty person in general."

he hums, holding his hand towards your tray as a silent question, and you push it towards him nonchalantly, letting him take what he wants. he feels way too good about a simple tray, but something about you sharing your food gives him hope that you haven't completely ruled him out.

"well, think about it this way. the average person needs to have at least one of these traits in order to be liked. talent, kindness or looks. you're a fucking beast on that court, and you're gorgeous, so you don't even need to worry about being a good person." it's easy to butter you up a bit, because the words he's saying are true, and he had a feeling that telling you what he honestly felt was the route to go with.

you roll your eyes at his words, but the compliment makes you bite back a smile. you're only human, after all, and not even you are invincible to the charms of one art donaldson.

but you keep your cool, waiting for the inevitable of him bringing up tashi, with the obligatory acting like that wasn't why he sat with you in the first place. but it comes later in the conversation than you thought it would, he's asks if she's doing any better, and you answer with an honest 'no.'

maybe this is just another one of his tactics, pretending that he's fully interested in getting to know you with no tashi shaped ulterior motive. but it works. because you end up talking over your now empty tray for a while, so long that you're late to your next class.

the look that he gives you when you leave is one of longing, but it was a specific kind longing, one linked to tashi. that's what art tells himself too, as he watches you walk away.

[lateatnewyork]

Hi, could I request a Bodhi fluff prompt number 1? I think it would be something he would say to his partner, since Xaden mentionned that Bodhi was possesive in Iron flame when he saw Violet wearing his flight jacket.

I hope you don't mind that I'm joining your two requests together 💕

Second request: "Hi! Could I request a Bodhi smutt prompt 31? Like maybe he came to visit after graduating Basgiagth? Thanks in advance, there's not enough Bodhi fics :))"

Missed You

Bodhi Durran x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, swearing, fluff, breeding kink?

Prompts: Fluff - "You look really good in my clothes”, Smut - "Show me how much you missed me.”

Summary: Bodhi was stationed a post far away from you, and you hadn't expected him back so early. He intends to show you just how much he has missed you.

a/n: i agree, bodhi does not get enough love, i haven’t read fourth wing or iron flame in a while so sorry if things aren’t exactly the same 🫶🏻 as always unedited

I stand in the kitchen, with my hands on my hips, my eyes glaring at the ingredients I have laid out on the counter. Bodhi is coming home tonight after 2 months stationed at some post.

Gods I missed him.

“I could make a cake,” I mumble to myself.

No, I’ve done that too many times.

I continue glaring at the ingredients as if they have some hidden answer in them.

“Fuck it I’m making the cake,”

I had just put the cake in the oven, elbows deep in flour.

The door unlatched but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the tap running.

“Hi my love,” I hear a deep voice behind me. Gasping, I run to Bodhi, jumping into his arms.

Kissing him hard on the lips, I savoured the taste of him. His strong arms wrapped under my thighs to hold me up. Pulling away, I try to catch my breath from that knee weakening kiss.

If Bodhi hadn’t been holding me, I definitely would’ve fallen.

“Missed you” he mumbles against my lips, I giggle and whisper “I missed you too baby”.

“Oh shit I have flour all over me,” I stammered, “I’m gonna get it all over your clothes”.

“I don’t care,” he retorts pulling me closer “Did you know how beautiful you look?” he gazes deep into my eyes. “Even like this?” I chuckle.

“Especially like this, makes me wanna get you all nice and round with my kids,” he groans out.

“What are we waiting for then Lieutenant, show me how much you missed me,” I commanded.

A cheeky grin crosses his lips, “Gladly”.

Gripping onto his shirt, I yelp as he carries me over his shoulders and runs up the stairs and to our bedroom.

"Bodhi, I swear to fucking god if you drop me, I'll gut you," my head bobbles as his grip on my thighs tightens. I gulp at the feeling, hopefully he doesn't notice.

"Have more faith in me darling," his hand loosens and just as I'm about to start yelling again it comes in contact with my ass, a loud slap echoing.

"Bodhi!" I gasp, about to lecture him again when I realise that I can pinch his butt.

And that's exactly what I do. His reaction is more milder to mine, probably because he isn't being carried over someone's shoulder.

"Didn't know you were an ass kind of lady, sweetheart," he chuckles.

"It's hard not to be when my husband has such fat ass," I grin.

He pushes me against the door and kisses me hard. His lips find mine in a hungry, passionate kiss, his lingering touch conveying the depth of his longing. The intensity of his desire for me is palpable as he holds me tightly, cherishing the moment of reunion after being apart for so long.

I deepen the kiss, my lips hungry and insistent against his. With a firm yet gentle touch, he begins to skillfully remove my clothing, his hands tracing the curves of my body with reverence. Each garment falls away, revealing my bare skin to his hungry gaze.

As my body is exposed to him, he takes a moment to stare at me. "Bloody hell, you're stunning," he whispers, his voice filled with genuine awe. The way his skin glows under the dim light, the way my curves beckon him closer, it's all too tempting to resist.

I begin to rid him of his own clothing, each piece discarded with urgency. The room fills with the sound of fabric hitting the ground as the anticipation builds between us. I pull away from the kisses, admiring the sight of Bodhi towering over me.

Closing the distance between us, I pull him into another passionate kiss, our bodies pressed together. My hands roam his exposed skin, exploring every inch with a mix of passion and hunger. The heat between us intensifies, and I can feel the electricity building in the air as our desire intertwines.

In this moment, there's nothing else that matters. It's just him and me, consumed by a primal need for each other.

"Please Bodhi I need you" I whimper out.

He pauses for a moment, his intense gaze locked with mine. I can see the raw desire in his eyes, the vulnerability in my plea. A flicker of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in closer, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.

"You need me that bad love?" he responds, my tone laced with a mix of arrogance and satisfaction. "Well, lucky for you, I'm right here."

Without further hesitation, he guides us towards the bed, his touch firm and commanding. Bodhi presses me down onto the mattress, his body hovering above mine. My hands roam his body, igniting every nerve with a teasing touch. I can sense his anticipation, his craving for the connection we share.

Leaning in, I capture your lips once more in a searing kiss, my tongue dancing with his. I can feel the urgency building as our bodies meld together, the heat between us becoming undeniable. With each touch, each caress, he makes it clear that he's here to fulfill my every desire.

"Tell me, love," he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. I'll take you to places you've never been before."

"I want you in me, Bodhi" I whine out.

A wicked grin spreads across his face as he hears my plea. The sound of my need ignites a primal hunger within him, pushing him further into his dominant nature. Bodhi positions himself between my legs, my gaze locked with his as he slowly enters me, inch by inch.

"You want me in you, love?" he growls, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. "You're going to get exactly what you need."

With each thrust, our connection deepens, savoring the way his cock hits that spot in me. My moans and whimpers echo in the room, fueling his desire to give me pleasure beyond measure. He sets a rhythm, his movements steady and powerful, ensuring that every stroke hits the right spot.

As he watches I surrender to the pleasure, he praises me in his rough, sex-laced voice. "That's it, love. Take me. Take all of me," he encourages me, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and adoration. "You feel fucking amazing. So tight and wet for me."

He continues to move within me, my hands scratching into your back, pulling him impossibly close to me. I revel in the feeling of our bodies moving together in perfect harmony, lost in the intoxicating dance of pleasure.

"You were made for this, love," Bodhi whispers, his voice husky with desire. "Made to take my cock. To be fucked by me. You're doing such a good job."

I lose myself in the moment, completely consumed by the passion between us, as we both chase the peak of pleasure, the world around us fading into oblivion.

"Fuck, I'm so close, Bodhi," I moan out.

I can feel the build-up of pleasure coursing through our bodies, the tension reaching its peak. His grip on my hips tightens as he quickens the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, fueled by my desperate moans and pleas for release.

"Give in, love," he growls, his voice filled with a mix of need and dominance. "Let go for me. Come undone."

He continues to drive into me, his movements becoming more relentless, chasing both our climaxes. The room is filled with the sounds of flesh agains flesh, the intoxicating symphony of pleasure.

As I feel the waves of pleasure crash over me, I can no longer hold back. I let go, my release washing over me in a powerful surge. "Fuck, Bodhi," I moan, my voice filled with satisfaction. "Shit".

I watch as his body tenses, his groans growing louder as Bodhi reaches his own climax.

"You're beautiful when you come," he whispers in my ear, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

We ride out the waves of pleasure together, our bodies intertwined in the aftermath of our passionate union. The room is filled with heavy breaths and the lingering scent of our desire, a testament to the intensity of our connection.

As we come down from our high, he gathers me in his arms, holding me close. "You were made for this, love," he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're mine, now and always."

Bodhi got up to clean us off, he comes back with a t shirt of his own and put it over me. "You look really good in my clothes," he grins.

"Can't say the same for you,"

a/n hope u liked this, the cakes probably burnt😭💀

[vilixxr]

tags: gn!reader, blowjob, angst, one sided love, worshipping, unedited (🫠)

mdni.

I can’t get this thought written out in the way that I like, but I still imagine a Simon that could never love you.

Him, the lieutenant that runs between the lines that make someone a god, and you. You, the soldier who looks to him with almost desperate devotion.

You are nothing to him, really. You go out, ready to uselessly die for him. Be his shield, while he claims the victory that you had shot yourself. You do all that, and more, just for a sliver of praise. Maybe a “you did good” or even a silent, lazy nod in half acknowledgement.

Instead, you are nothing. A little soldier, a pawn for him to position and play on the field. He looks through you, and you’re cast aside for the next piece in the tray. No words exchanged. You look on to him, and he has already moved.

For months, that was how it simply was. You’d think you would move on, rid yourself of the terrifying loyalty that plagues your mind, yet you still silently beg for him to see you. Once.

And he does, at some point.

You notice it. Clear as day, like everything else you’ve noticed about him. He’s all pent up, so in need of something for release.

And, as his pawn, you remind him of your temporary use.

Days where he is especially desperate for release, you’re there to alleviate just a bit of pain. You set your hands along his muscular thighs, kiss them in a way that mimics worship.

You bow to him, head lowered to avoid catching his face, and wrap slow, careful fingers around his cock. You set a rhythm, made for someone you love, and he takes your hand in his, just to set it to his preference. A pace set for what you’re intended to do.

You suck him off, too. His cock, a dream that you can barely wrap your mouth around, draws in and out against your swollen lips. You circle your tongue around the tip of it, feeling the veins that bulge against his dick, and he lazily snaps at you for straying from his pace that he urges you to follow. Even still, you taste the cum that sits in the back of your throat, all hot and thick, and you swallow every drop. It’s his, what you could call the only gift that he’d give you. The world has blessed you, that day.

The immersion soon breaks, once he nudges your elbow. Another silent command, a nod toward the door. Once again, you aren’t his anymore, not matter what you tried to believe. He was a lieutenant, after all. Your lieutenant, your religion. And you were a soldier.

You lift yourself, avoiding the thighs that you’d kiss once more if you truly could, and move to slip through the small crack of his door.

wc: 482

[luvlylovingu]

BUDDHA PROPOSING `. * 𓏲

𓄹. ⋮ ❀ lowercase intended. this is only a work of fiction and does not follow any canon events. however, buddha is still a god and you are a gn!demigod who also resides in valhalla. word dump, unedited brain rot. reblogs are much appreciated! ‹𝟹

the way he proposed was not grand, and it didn't need to be. all that mattered was you and him.

it was almost sunset and you were both sitting under this huge tree. there was a calm breeze surrounding the two of you as you close your eyes and bask in the gentle sunlight like what you usually do when you feel happy and content. buddha knows this all too well.

he smiles at the sight of it. 'you look the most beautiful when you're like this: happy and at peace beside me.' he thinks to himself with a smile plastered on his face.

when he finally found the courage to speak his mind, he blurts it out, plain and simple, short and sweet, as they say. “will you marry me?”

you were taken aback for a second. face painted with a shocked expression, but it quickly turns into adoration as you see that his ears have turned slightly pink, and his twiddling fingers don't go unnoticed either. though his face hides the embarrassment pretty well, his adam's apple bobbing gave it away. “the great buddha-sama.. is asking me to marry him? perhaps i heard wrong—mhm yes i must have heard it wrong. could you repeat that for me, please?”

you said in a chaffing manner. he only lets out a hearty laugh and looks away, shaking his head at your teasing demeanor. but he wasn't mad or anything, in fact he felt more calm than earlier. it was one of the things he liked about you: how carefree, jolly, and lighthearted you were, and how he can easily feel at ease when you're around; how you effortlessly make him fall for you over and over again.

“i'm serious, y/n.” he says in a serious yet playful tone, voice deeper with a knowing smirk on his face. his hand cups your cheek and makes you look at him. slowly, he leans in closer to the point where if you even take a single breath in, he might end up getting sucked in closer and his lips would inevitably find their way on top of yours.

his ministrations ended up getting you flustered this time around, but you have no complaints. he gives emphasis on every word before softly pressing his forehead against yours and gently rubbing your nose with his. “will—you—marry—me?”

© luvlylovingu — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere

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[ilovebeomkai]

under the stars — choi yeonjun x gn!reader

ෆ synopsis : y/n gets dragged to a party after coming back from studying abroad which leads her to cross paths with the choi yeonjun, but he's a lot sweeter than expected for being known as the party boy.

ෆ genre : fluff

ෆ warnings : none

ෆ wc : 1.8k

ෆ a/n : this is my first time writing so…this is probably really bad but we move unedited & lowercase intended

the view out the window of the plane was gorgeous, the sky painted with hues of deep oranges and light pinks as the sun set over the ocean. While the scenery was breathtaking it wasn’t enough to calm your nerves, you were finally going back to korea after studying abroad for 2 years in the states.

you were happy to be going home, of course you were, after all, your friends and family were all still living here. However you couldn't deny the anxiety and fear bubbling up inside, what if things had changed? Everyone has moved on without you? You just…no longer belonged? eventually, you got lost in your thoughts, mapping out every worst-case scenario before drifting off into a not-so-peaceful slumber.

a few hours later you were awoken due to the bumpy landing of the plane, a storm making it a bit rough but nothing too scary. The rain was strangely comforting, you’d always been someone who enjoyed staying in and reading a nice book with the comforting pitter-patter of raindrops against the window.

you’d just grabbed your luggage from the baggage claim, making your way across the airport when you heard y/f/n calling out to you, “y/n! Over here!” they yelled out whilst running toward you. “Oh my god, it's been forever! I know we’ve kept in touch but it just wasn't the same as having you here, how are you? Was the flight okay? I can’t wait to show you around, and there's a party tonight I can take you to and-”

you loved them but you had to admit all the questions at once were a bit overwhelming, the one thing that caught your attention being the mention of a party. “y/f/n- you know I'm not exactly a party person” you mumbled and they shook their head, “nonsense! You just came back and it’ll be a great way to introduce you to new people!”

you sighed and shook your head as y/f/n rambled on, you knew there was no use in arguing and you weren’t exactly the type to fight back so you simply accepted your fate as the two of you headed to your family’s home to settle in.

after settling in a few hours had passed and you were lying on y/f/n’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone as you waited for them to finish showering. “Soooo, about that party-” they started, settling down right next to you on the bed. “I already told you I don’t wanna gooooo” you whined, glancing up at them with an uninterested expression.

after a good 30 minutes of back-and-forth banter between the two of you, you accepted that there was no way out of this. y/f/n had lent you something to wear, as you hadn’t felt what you picked out was quite…party appropriate, and off you went to call a taxi.

the car kept driving for what felt like an eternity, following a windy road up a hill and coming to a stop in front of a house not big enough to be a mansion but big enough to elicit an audible gasp from you.

as soon as your feet crossed the threshold of the home you felt out of place, the loud music, crowded rooms, and overall overwhelming atmosphere was too much. y/f/n seemed to know everyone as she lead you through the sea of bodies, waving and greeting almost every other person. “Come on, you need to let loose!” were the last words you heard from them before they vanished from your sight.

somehow you found yourself wandering to the kitchen, grabbing a drink to occupy your hands to blend in and avoid looking even more out of place than you already felt. Despite your efforts to distract yourself and make the most of the situation the commotion seemed to be growing louder by the minute, unable to withstand the pounding in your head any longer you pushed through the crowd until you saw the moonlight leading you to a balcony.

there you stood, trying to get a breath of fresh air while leaning against the wall in an attempt to calm yourself down. Out of the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn someone was approaching, but you couldn’t be bothered to double-check. You didn’t know it yet but you’d just caught the attention of the most well-known party boy in the district, choi yeonjun.

“hey there,” yeonjun said, flashing a signature smile as he glanced down at you, “what brings a pretty person like you out here when all the fun is in there?” he chuckled, nodding his head back toward the inside of the house.

“just needed some space…” you mumbled quietly, unable to combat the smile tugging at your lips when you looked up and met his eyes. He could tell that you weren’t quite comfortable going back inside, but something about you was calling to him. “Do you maybe wanna go for a walk or something? It’s a lovely night and I assume you don’t wanna head back in there” he said with a kindhearted laugh.

“actually…that sounds nice” You nodded, that was all it took for yeonjun to grip your hand tightly but gently, leading you back through the sea of bodies and out the back door. The two of you walked aimlessly down the windy road in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.

once the two of you reached the foot of the hill yeonjun took notice of the convenience store just down the street, “are you hungry?” he asked, to which you nodded in response. “I could eat right now” you laughed as he tugged you gently in the direction of the convenience store, “let's eat then, and get whatever you want, it's on me” he grinned as he opened the door for you, and followed inside.

your eyes light up immediately at the sight of your favorite snack, immediately grab a bag and continue to browse with it held tightly in your arms. Yeonjun followed behind you, finding the way your eyes lit up adorable.

after a few minutes, you heard Yeonjun’s voice echoing from another aisle, “Oh look! The tteokbokki here is amazing, trust me, do you wanna share some?” he asked, looking over to you with hopeful eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to say no and you did enjoy tteokbokki, “oh my god, yes!” you gasped happily, tteokkbokki had been a comfort food of yours ever since you were a kid and little did you know it was yeonjuns too.

soon you decided you were done and the two of you went up to the counter, everything was rung up and yeonjun led you to a table by the window and sat down. “So, care to tell me about yourself? I don't think I've ever seen you around…and if there's a party I'm always there” he added with a smile.

“well I guess it was obvious but I'm not really a partier, and I just came back after studying abroad so I’m still settling in” she replied nervously, yeonjun carefully taking note of your demeanor as he nodded. You guys began eating as soon as everything was heated up, at first the conversation was slow and minimal but soon enough you found yourselves opening up to each other. An extra 10 minutes turned into an hour until almost 2 hours had passed and you found yourself wondering where the time had gone.

“hmm we should probably head back now, your friend might be worried about you no?” yeonjung asked, tilting his head. Truth be told he didn't want to go back just yet, even 15 more minutes with you would make him ecstatic, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “Yeah I don’t want to worry y/f/n,” you said with a bit of a frown forming on your face. It was obvious that neither of you wanted to be without the other's company, having formed a strong connection in the short time you’d spent together.

it didn't take long for you and yeonjun to reach the party, but much to your surprise it was still going strong and y/f/n was nowhere to be seen.

“why don't we go up to the roof? The sky is pretty clear tonight so we can stargaze, I figure it’ll be a lot better than going back in there right now” he laughed, looking to you for an answer. You thought about it for a few seconds before nodding eagerly, “sounds amazing” you said, on the outside, you seemed indifferent but on the inside, you were thrilled to be able to spend more time with him.

yeonjun lead you up a staircase that lead to the roof, a nice flat surface that the two of you could lay on. “Sit here,” he said softly, patting the space next to him and waiting until you’d settle down next to him. As soon as you sat he laid back and nodded when you glanced at him, wondering if you should do the same.

“it's gorgeous out here right now…” he commented, the stars glittering above the two of you in a vast sea of darkness. You nodded, gazing up with him before excitedly pointing at a whole cluster of stars, “look at the group right there, it's breathtaking” you sighed contently.

before you knew it your eyelids were getting heavier by the minute. Yeonjun glanced over, taking notice and smiling to himself. He’d been stealing glances at you all night long, but you looked especially stunning with the soft glow of moonlight shining down on your face.

he’d only looked away for a few seconds when he turned to point out a constellation to you but was instead met with the sight of your eyes shut tight and your chest rising and falling gently with every breath.

“cute” he mumbled, placing his jacket over you and wrapping one arm around you gently, careful not to wake you. He closed his eyes as well, a stupid grin on his face as he drifted off to sleep as well with the sound of the muffled music echoing all around. He didn’t know even a fraction of what he wanted to about you, but he did know he’d do anything in his power to make you his one day, holding you close as you fell asleep under the stars.

[m1d-45]

reverse isekai but it’s me at 6:45 pm in a car

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, depictions of modern organized religion(none are specified, none are in great detail, but talks of restrictions within those are mentioned. it’s only one paragraph but still), this is unedited and with zero (0) plot to it :))

-> lowercase intended

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky

your world is loud.

from the moment the favored could see it, this was clear. it was loud, filling with screaming machinery that left trails of dust and buildings so tall it made their neck hurt to view.

it was bright, with lights that shone through the darkest of nights, reflecting off glass and the speeding machines and reflecting reflecting reflecting back into eyes to sting. your sun is so harsh, so unpleasant and overbearing, hot instead of warm and burning instead of soothing.

it’s cluttered, wires suspending from towers and running along your roads. glittering signs point out things they can’t read, the sacred script only giving them a headache. at night, they can find no comfort in the stars, something that sends them into a panic the first time they see it. it’s not clouds, it’s not anything worldly blocking their view, it’s that they’re gone, the ones they can see washed out and faded. they wonder how anybody can live like this, and if you blessed them with a night sky of such beauty because yours was so…

they can recognize some of it, the plants and trees and flowers, wild or not, call to them in recognition, but so much is frighteningly new. the style of the clothing, the kinds of jewelry on the people you pass. try as they might, they can’t locate a single vision anywhere, not even on you. they wonder if people hide them, like during the vision hunt decree, but even at home you don’t reach for it, you start fires with odd devices and plants grow slowly, the air and stone unmoving to your desires. you spill drinks. you freeze water using more strange machinery.

it’s so strange, because they can feel your world brim with elemental energy. their vision beams, shining so brightly with all of the potential suspended in your world. no matter how poor their elemental sight, your world glows, the air itself carrying a blue tinge. they try, in a world without visions, to use theirs, and their power springs in an instant to their fingertips. it dances across their hands, enveloping when they barely intended for a small spark, a small flame jumping across the dry grass of unspent energy in your world. they extinguish it quickly, tightening their hand into a fist to stamp it out before they damage something, and something like awe shines in their eyes. there’s so much, their vision so eagerly lapping it up, and you.. don’t use it?

you have machines for everything, devices to harness the wind and waves, boats to travel across water at impossible speeds, strange flying machines that you can hear from the ground, mere specks in the sky, and yet… you have yet to capture them in their most essential forms. you speak of elements, sometimes, but you use different names and there seems to be many, many more. you say that the air holds ‘nitrogen’, that you seal things with foil of ‘aluminum’, and you even say that water itself is composed of ‘hydrogen’ and ‘oxygen’, something that they struggle to understand. how can water be made of something else? how can hydro users bend more than one thing to their will? how can anemo wielders command such a broad spectrum of things? you speak of other elements in the earth, and though some are familiar, such as iron and gold, others’ names hold no meaning. you say potassium is in fruit, that there’s multicolored rocks called bismuth and poisonous liquids named mercury. you say that there’s 118 elements, when all they’ve known is 7.

it takes them a while to come to terms with that one, and even then they settle on it being inherently outside of their understanding. after all, they are in a world crafted by a god.

speaking of..

there are multiple religions in your world?

and it’s not as if they’re different ways or interpretations of the same god, no, it’s entirely different ones. not in the ways of teyvat, where everybody’s aware of all seven and follows the one of their nation, not even that much. they’re wildly different, with different policies and ways of worship, some with multiple gods and others with just one. some are strict, ways of lifestyle chosen and laid out, whilst others are lax. and even within the same religion, it varies from one place of worship to another? somehow? some religions specify clothing, disallowing certain parts of the body to be exposed- which they can understand to an extent. it’s when they learn of religions that police love, ones that write in harsh lines where and when and who somebody can love, that they need to take a step away.

so many parts of your world are confusing. so bright, flashy, new, rumbling in the walls and barreling down the roads with nothing but a scream to warn. lights are everywhere, every sign and post and building vying for your attention. this they could understand, as who wouldn’t wish to be the object of your interest, but the most dizzying fact that they learn during their stay is that you are no different than anybody else. everybody is subject to these sights, everybody is pulled in by a particular shade or cut of cloth, everybody is startled by the bright lights and loud announcements. everybody. you’re lost in the ocean of people so different and yet endlessly identical, nobody’s eyes lingering on you or calling your name specifically. when you step into a crowd, nobody notices you, save for the select, precious few to whom you are known. you have to carve out a place in your world, go out of your way to make sure your name, your face, your interests are kept in somebody’s mind, and even then people dare to forget.

that’s the worst of all. overwhelming lights, sounds, smells: nothing. it makes sense that they’d be out of their depth in a world built for the divine. but to know that you’re not receiving any of the recognition you deserve, to know that nobody thinks highly of your work in teyvat, to know that you were kind enough descend and build yourself a new life amongst the world, and to share your creation across said world, only for nobody to appreciate it. nobody thinks twice. people dare to complain over something you’ve hand-crafted, over something that, even after completion, you revisited with a traveller, doing your best to save one sibling and fix the problems that had cropped up in your wake. you’ve done so much, you’ve cared after it so lovingly, and you boosted the power of some of those you granted a vision to. as somebody who had experienced this love first hand, the favored could not find the words to express their anger at the situation. your world was wrong, it was cruel, and though they found beauty in the most hidden of places, it didn’t change the fact that it didn’t love you.

it only strengthened their desire to take you back to teyvat, where you would be truly loved.

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being Miguel’s daughter in a universe where he is your Doc Ock

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: canon divergence and ignorance (Miguel is Doc Ock in your universe), violence, angst, fighting, she/her pronouns, fem!teen!reader

a/n: the beauty of the multiverse is that there are so many different possibilities for authors and fanfic writers to make up in their stories and this has been rotting in my brain for DAYS <3

—

[Unedited]

Life’s far from fair.

That’s something you had come to learn and accept in the years you spent isolated and alone.

You hadn’t always been alone, no.. at first it was you and your dad. And you loved him with everything you had, offering the bleeding heart in your chest to him in the palms of your hands. And before everything went wrong he had tenderly accepted your gracious vulnerability, and offered his own in turn. To him, you were the brightest and most precious blessing he had ever been given.. and to you— he.. was.. everything.

He meant more to you than anything ever had before.. or since—

“You can’t win Widow!”

—but things change.. life goes on, and only the strong can survive. That’s why you couldn’t afford to withhold any power or capability you had.

Regardless of the fact the enemy you were fighting was your own father, the father you had given everything to, the father you believed would protect you from everything until the end of time.

But.. it just didn’t seem to be written into your destiny. Like a cruel joke or slip of the pen on your life’s journey written by a wicked god— you just weren’t meant to have happiness. Maybe you believed you did for a brief moment in your life when things couldn’t have been better. But now, now you know of the cruel evils in this world, and you know now more than ever.. that people have a way of altering your perspective on the world.

People have a way of letting you down. The hurt tremendous and sharp when it comes from a person you had loved with all your heart.

“You have to stop Miguel! This isn’t right! I’m begging you— please don’t make me do this!”

When you first discovered your father’s alter-ego and the criminal activity he was involved in he had done his best to hide what he’d been doing behind your back. Done his best to protect your innocence to the vile things he’s done unto others.

It was a heartbreak like no other, one you’d never felt before and have only been feeling since. Your father, whom you admired and cherished more than anything, was evil.. and things only dramatically got worse when you were bitten by a radioactive spider and became the Neon Widow of Nueva York-12557.

Only a year later —on your seventeenth birthday— did you come face to face with your father as his much eviler side— Doc Ock.

In some of his shared stories that he always told you regarding his work —a genetics laboratory— you had heard of the possibility of psychological and physical altercation. And he had developed a serum that could mimic the attributes of a spider through splicing one’s DNA ladder and atomic makeup.

Before he could complete his tests with the finished product he was thrown out of the lab and fired, Norman Osborn finding his serum to be dangerous with life changing affects on the receiver. He didn’t want that for anybody.. much less his very best friend. So he tried to deter Miguel from the path he had intended to walk by removing him from the lab entirely.

What Osborn didn’t know was that Miguel had been developing something else on the side, mechanical arms connected directly to his brain through the spinal cord. And Norman had caused for them to fuse to his body and alter the way he thought when he had —in Miguel’s own words— betrayed him.

It was by sheer bad luck alone that you had been there to witness your father take the life of his best friend. And it was that moment in time when your own brain had altered to an entirely different path. The fear running so deeply and bitterly frosted through your veins had electrified your entire body. Like thousands of volts of electricity right through your spine.

The feeling didn’t compliment your heartbreak well, heartbreak that felt more like your heart thickening and growing weighted in your chest. Instead of the familiar twinge of betrayal and hurt there was only a sinking feeling, your heart like lead as it sunk slowly through your chest into the gaping pit in your stomach.

And every moment following had been worst than the last, as Neon Widow— the defender of Nueva York you had to swallow your ache and push your feelings aside to uphold the mantle you had taken up. The city needed you, the people needed you… all you needed— was your father. But it was not meant to be.

You’ve had a few close calls with him, every once in awhile he’ll get close to unmasking you and that risk drives every last bit of fight you had to prevent that. If he couldn’t see an end to your battle in which he’d either reveal your identity or kill you then he’d retreat.

You figured he was so intent on taking the mask off your face because you had faked your death as his daughter, and he wholeheartedly believed Neon Widow had killed her. He thought you as your hero persona murdered you as his one and only child.. the light and purpose of his entire life.

Maybe a small part of you felt remorse for his pain.. but… after you witnessed him kill a man and become something so vile and cruel you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out you were Neon Widow. His enemy.

And every time you think back to it your already broken down and tired heart aches a bit more.

You just couldn’t stand to see him be someone he was not, the young and naive little girl within still hiding behind barbed and thick defenses believes in her loving heart that her father is still in there somewhere. The more matured and grown part of you reasons that he had been part of criminal rings and the wrong side of the world since you were young. Just not with you.

And there was a part inside of you alongside that little girl that yearned for her father. That yearned and begged for love so deeply that she was blind to the many arching pathways and dark corners that abide within love.

But you were not so disadvantaged anymore. And you weren’t stupid either. So, whilst sometimes you wished to entertain that innocent little girl you knew first and foremost that your job as Neon Widow was to protect the people. Above all else.

Miguel willed a tentacle from his back to hurl a car your way, your senses tingled as you ducked backwards into a back handspring to avoid it. When you straightened and jumped back up your senses tingled again— he was right on top of you, and you weren’t quick enough to react as his tentacle gripped your throat and lifted you off the ground. He reared it back and threw you with the night of a god into a nearby cafe. The glass window shattering to pieces as you went right through it and several tables within before you tumbled to a stop against the far wall.

When your senses tingled again you jumped backwards and stuck to the wall, a car crashed into the wall you were just against with a heavy impact. The metal crushing in on itself and the windows shattering.

You show a web from your wrist to the building outside and swung back out onto the street, only to be met with another tentacle at your throat. This time he slammed your back hard against the brick wall of the building you’d just attached your web to.

And you grunted as the breath in your legs was forced out with a cough, the impact made your head jerk back and hit the brick roughly. An unfortunate consequence of the fight that made you dizzy and disoriented— enough for Miguel to peel your mask off your face.

And he froze as the mechanical claws of his added appendage tightened around your throat. You grunted with a wince, wrenching your eyes shut before you were squinting them open and staring directly into your father’s.

“[Y/Name]?” He murmured brokenly, more so when he saw the blood gushing from the lacerations on your face. Injuries that he put there unknowing you as Neon Widow were his daughter.

“Dad.” You choked back.

“I-I.. I thought you-you were dead mi vida.” You watched as his hand rose and just before it connected to your face you were suddenly free falling backwards. Strange streaks of light flying past you before you were thrown out of the dizzying array of colors and rushing lights.

You found yourself in a room as opposed to the street you had been on seconds prior, the room was wide and large. With a high ceiling and —as you stood and looked around— several panels of technology.

Your senses tingling made you spin around as the sound of some kind of whirring conveyer erupted in the otherwise silent room. And you watched as a panel above— now revealed as a platform, slowly began to lower. And as it got low enough for you to see on top of it you saw your father there. The fear and hurt in your chest burned for all of threes seconds before it was snuffed out as you noticed what he wore

Instead of the familiar black jumpsuit with a matching trench coat, this man wore a red and blue spider suit, just like yours but if the colors were inverted and slightly different.

And you quirked a brow when he looked to you with the same curious, horrified expression.

“[Y/Name]?”

“Dad?”

—

a/n: kinda hate the ending but oh well lol, it might’ve changed a touch like right in the middle and there’s also a small possibility that it doesn’t make sense how you discovered him but it’s 3 in the damn morning so it’s unedited and i’m more interested in going to sleep :p but hope you enjoyed anyway! <3

[tachimichishrine]

"mornings and marriage"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw ; morning sex it's literally just morning sex with slight fluff afterwards followed by more sex ; hard tachi soft tachi hard tachi to sum ; short n vanilla but uhhh no buts i have no excuse ; intended lowercase ; cursing ; unedited af

gentle rays of sun snuck their way into your bedroom. a soft glow of pink as the sun rose signaled that the day had only just begun, and the musical chirping outside your window provided further proof of the time.

you had a bit of trouble hearing the birds' call though, as it was muffled out by the sound of skin slapping skin and heavy breathing.

"mmmn... michi, if you want teruko to stop... haaah... demanding piggyback rides, you should just tell... nng... her."

your boyfriend was the one who asked to sleep with his dick still in you, and you told him that he was the one who was going to have the deal with the repercussions in the event that you did some kind of weird movement in your sleep and it popped right off, or some other dramatic outcome. however, the real consequence just turned out that he went to sleep and woke up hard and ready to fuck you; you told him that he would have to put in the work this morning because you were still exhausted from last night.

he was so good at taking commands; of course he was, he was a hunting dog after all. you worked in one of the ability research labs that took down information about the super soldiers' conditions in order to optimize their performance, and you'd made the first move by asking him if you could get some measurements down there. in his flustered daze of a response where he almost seemed angry out of embarrassment, you specified that you would need to measure it with your lips after you took him out to dinner. you had no idea how you got him to accept that first date.

a few years later, he grinded his hips into yours lazily. he didn't even bother to prop himself up on his forearms, just letting his weight rest on you and messily burying himself in between your legs while he told you about his day. it was actually what happened yesterday, but as soon as he had gotten home you barely let him get a word in before pulling him into bed.

"yeah, it doesn't work that way," he huffed out, chuckling a little bit when your thighs tensed and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in better.

your fingers slid from the mattress up to his shoulders and held him tightly when you inadvertently clenched and he groaned. "you'll never... aahhh~ know until you try. I had a coworker who pissed me off-f ah! fuck, fuck, do that again... the coworker was an asshole to everyone so I got him transferred to another division.. nng, fuck, oh god you feel so fucking good, michi..."

your voice was shaking from pleasure, and soon enough he picked up the pace in order to finish inside of you. even through the cum leaking out of your pussy, he pulled out and filled you back up with his fingers in order to not leave you high and dry. one order from your lips telling him to clean up his mess and he buried his face in between your thighs, sucking his own cum back down along with the taste of you.

"you know," you managed between heavy breaths, his teeth grazing your throbbing clit, "there's somethin' I've been mea-ahh!... meaning to ask you, and I want to ask it now. you don't need to respond, just keeping sucking on me like that, baby."

to readjust the angle, he grabbed your thigh and brought it over his shoulder to make it easier to jut his tongue in and out of your pussy. he had no idea what you wanted to talk about, but you told him just to listen and keeping eating you out, and he was more than happy to oblige.

"so, I was at the store the other day, and... hahhh... mnnnf... they had a discount for soldiers and veterans, and their families, and I was- I wa-..." you took a short break to catch your breath and flatten your feet on the bed to rut your hips upwards and chase after the addicting sensation. "I was thinking about whether you would be eligible, since you're... you know... but it got me thinking about how I wouldn't get the discount since... nnng... we're not married. and I don't really care but if we got married I'd have to meet your family... and I was just... hah, all this to ask... mmmn... if I could meet your parents."

as soon as those last words slipped out of your mouth, his mouth slipped out of you. he looked up at you with his face flushed from eating you out so hard, but even the dripping liquid around his lips wasn't enough to hide the irritated look on his face. you motioned for him to slide back up, and you kissed the mess on his face away before he could say a thing. his dick was hard enough from having heard your moans, and you slid it back in between your legs once you flipped him onto his back.

"what is it?" you humped him slowly so that he could answer, but he shook his head slowly.

"when I marry you, I don't want my parents there."

it was your turn for shock; you stopped rocking into him just to process his words.

"when? michi baby, did... did I just accidentally propose to you, and you accidentally said yes?"

he snickered, teeth flashing in his smile. "yeah, I guess so. that's hella romantic of us."

rolling off of him to lay down on your side, you giggled as he shifted himself to do the same. "sorry darling, that wasn't my goal. I was just... thinking." you took his hand and played with his fingers, nails dancing especially on his ring finger. "it's been so long since we've been together and I've never met your family."

"they're pieces of shit," he seemed to be trying to push the thought away and focus on the happier thing that you said. "you serious about the marriage thing?"

"I'm serious about you," you shrugged, "and I wanted to know what you thought about it. hell, I don't even know if it's an option given what you do."

which was a thought you couldn't get out of your mind. he would leave for months on end, unable to call you because it might blow his cover during his spy missions. you had no clue what he was infiltrating or just how dangerous it was, but with time he'd get more freedom among the ranks and have just enough time to send you pictures of himself from a burner phone, which he'd toss away as soon as you responded with your very own.

you didn't care that the relationship was like that; you were incredibly busy with your research, and everything felt comfortably low maintenance. he'd surprise you sometimes by coming home for one night and letting you make him pay for leaving for so long.

fingers danced around the outlines of his features and thumb rubbed softly against his lips while he tried to speak. he let out a content sigh and held your fingers next to his mouth to plant a soft kiss onto your knuckles. "don't worry about that. babe, you think too much, if you wanna get married I'll do it. I don't give a damn about all the other things if it makes you happy."

now you were the one smiling dumbly at him, loving it when he was soft with you. "in that case, yeah, I think I would like that." you used your available hand to wrap around his waist and pull him close, hoping to kiss him again but he was still peppering your fingers with his lips and had a grin on his face.

"I guess all I gotta do is ask you to marry me, then," he murmured, golden eyes looking up at you and lips curling upwards. you wanted to tell him again how beautiful he was but something poked your shoulder.

a wire - maybe a piece of jewelry you hadn't touched in ages - floated in between both of your faces, meticulously contorting until it was wrapped around itself in circles that would just about fit your fingers. he held the hand he'd been kissing up, and spread out your fingers for it to lower itself onto your fingertip. "[_____], will you make me the luckiest man alive and be mine?"

he already knew the answer, so the makeshift ring slid down your ring finger and you brought your hand up to his cheek while you kissed him slowly.

"I'll get you something proper once I have the time," he murmured, but you just shook your head.

"if you think I'm getting rid of this, you're the craziest man alive." you pulled him back in, and he chuckled when your bodies rolled over under the sheets. it wasn't a grand proposal, hell it was barely a coherent one, but neither of you minded the complete lack of formalities. it felt right, laying down on top of him with a ring on your finger that was dragging all over his skin.

your hand had wrapped around his erection, and you pumped him up slowly with the metal grazing his sensitive skin with every stroke. he grunted, pulling you back on top of him so that you were sitting on his lap while you fucked him on your hand.

"are you sure about the parents thing, though?" you inquired further, throbbing in your core subdued as you just grinded yourself on his thighs and watched him close his eyes at your actions. "I know you don't have the best relationship with them, but... I don't know. would be nice if I didn't feel like we were eloping or somethin'."

his lips parted to respond, but you barely realized just how merciless your pace was. you felt his muscles tense up when you took notice of his state and slowed down, the look he shot you telling you that he was begging for you to keep going, not stop. in the mornings, you didn't feel the need to tease or edge him until he was a crying mess; you just wanted him to feel good.

"yeah, I'm... fuck, fuuuuck... ah, fuck, [_____]... [_____]..." he came undone faster than you thought he would, finishing to the sound of his own voice whimpering out your name. his body spasmed and he went limp, so you decided just to let him stay flaccid and hold him gently when he continued his response. "I'm sure. those fuckers don't deserve to meet you, and I ain't even talked to them in years."

"mmmn," you hummed in acknowledgment, not wanting to push him any further given that he'd already told you about how awful they made him feel particularly after his brother's death. the question seemed to stir some bad memories, so you wiped your hand on his abdomen to keep it the least sticky possible and run it through his hair. "okay, I won't mention it again. to be honest, I think I would've ended up getting too mad at them for treating you like that. you know you're amazing, right? fuck, even if I wasn't crazy for you it'd take a real shithead not to see how strong and beautiful you are."

he couldn't handle compliments, and you knew it. he just bit the inside of his cheek while his face turned a different shade of pink and you giggled at him being so flustered over something so trivial. you smiled into his lips again, lazily kissing his breaths and murmuring sweet nothings until he seemed unable to handle it and just kissed you harder to get you to shut up. you just kept thinking about how adorable it was that he was threading his fingers through your hair just to pull you closer so that he didn't have to deal with your teasing.

you whispered his name, getting him to let go of your head so you could litter his face with butterfly kisses that migrated from his jawline to his ear to his neck. you painted him with your teeth, hickeys writing verses of your love all over him even when you bit too hard into his collarbone and pierced layers of skin. you mumbled a soft apology while he inhaled sharply from the sting, but you both knew he wasn't complaining. your thumb drew circles into his stomach while you held him, shifting down to his chest and marking him there, too.

"hey, [_____]?" he whispered, the room only echoing his gentle voice and the birds' song from outside. "training starts in half an hour, I gotta head out soon."

you frowned against his skin; you hated it when he left, but there was nothing you could do to keep him with you any longer than he already has. you repositioned yourself again on top of him, nodding solemnly while you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "mkay, I'll finish up then let you go. I wouldn't want my fiancé to be late now, would I?"

the world felt foreign, but welcome. he thought about it a lot when you fucked yourself on him for the countless time this morning, leaning down so you could kiss him while thrusting your hips onto him. his hands were on your waist, but you pulled them off to place them on either side of his head and intertwine your fingers, hand pressing into his own as you kept grinding slow enough to trick your mind into thinking this moment was going to last forever. the bed creaked slowly under the sound of your dragged out moans and his shameless whimpers which morphed to and from deep groans.

tachihara considered just not showing up today and spending it with you, but he knew you wouldn't let him do something stupid for no reason. he wondered whether there was a way for him to get enough of a break in his schedule to throw you the wedding you deserved, but he told you his thoughts as you buttoned up and fixed his uniform for him, and you said that all you needed was him and some ridiculously large cake.

your lips lingered together for a bit too long at the entrance to your apartment, and you had him pulled in by the waist tight enough to have him pick up again on his earlier thought to just stay. he walked out the doorway, glancing back to see you checking out his ass with a playful smirk. he rolled his eyes when you giggled, and walked away but not before seeing you wave goodbye to him.

he'd never felt happier seeing that ring on the hand you waved.