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ladythornofrivia · 3 days
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🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒
Michael Gavey x Reader (PART ONE)
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summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.
warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.
a/n: i forgot to review the movie saltburn last year, so I’ll give it a short review. Saltburn is a weird movie, but i watched it because of Ewan Mitchell. While ewan mitchell is 10/10, saltburn is 7/10, because of the bathtub scene and the grave scene. the only thing that’s good is the cinematography, music and ewan mitchell. i wish there’s more scenes from him. yes, i keep saying his name! he’s so fucking hot as a nerd. this one shot will be long.
You like cherries.
There’s something mysterious and tempting about the roundish and reddish fruits. Cherries are sweet, and it’s dark-reddish color brought an appeal to your appetite and. Appeal that also changes your view in fashion.
And as hot as the Devil’s tongue.
Red symbolized lust.
Sinful, they proclaimed.
So does your pussy, when you splayed across the bed, waiting for Michael to enter and see the reaction of his when you splayed naked in bed with thick whip cream smothered on your tits, waist, and your pussy decorated in whip cream swirled with cherry on top.
***
A Year Ago…
Your parents and your attention seeking relatives are no good. Red is as sin as lust—the devil’s skin, the devil’s horn.
Other than black and pink, you like the dark-cherry color. All your aesthetics are cherry red—well, the undertones to match your little room at your small house belongs to your parents.
Them and their sinless views of the world has sickened to your stomach. You don’t want to be like your hypocritical, martyr parents for the rest of your life, so you applied for the university at Oxford and Northamptonshire. You got accepted to the university. Despite being a young woman, you managed to prove them wrong.
And sever ties with them to go at the University of Oxford, where you encounter numerous people. You’ve done research to get things right—not to be frigid or superficially pretentious; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself on the spot if you chose to be ignorant.
One thing that no one else knows of you, is that you moonlight as a dominatrix on a live stream. Every night, you broadcast online to pleasure yourself—that’s how you got money to bail from a strict and hypocritical religious household.
Few of the students looked at your direction, giving a side-eye. You overheard them calling you a prostitute, but you couldn’t care less. Dress to impress for yourself. You mostly wore bike leather jacket, a tank top, mini skirt and a chunky dark-cherry red boots with light make up, but the lipstick is glossy dark red—and not the irritable, sticky kind.
Your long locks tossed at the side, already at your assigned room, but you shut the windows completely. You don’t want to reveal the private side of your internet sensation. After closing the curtains, you’re off to the hall, where people gathered and talk, mainly about drama and parties.
You hadn’t known one. But you had party to yourself of gaining source of income from self-pleasure.
There you sat down, and overheard someone at your left. Afar, you saw a young man named Oliver Quick and another guy with nerdy glasses.
Michael Gavey.
“Fuckin’ ask me a sum then!” The chatter dimmed when a young man shouted about math.
No one really likes as the guy with the nerdy glasses does. But he does look cute when he’s fuming.
Maybe he’s sexually frustrated. All it needs is I need to work on a poor guy. Poor guy is so frustrated—a no man island himself, like Oliver Quick.
You could tell. So you chimed in.
“What’s the square root of 69”
Both boys turned to look at you.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Oliver inquired, perplexed.
“Oh, just a curious person asking him a question,” you said, jerking your head towards the blond and cutely frustrated boy.
“8.30662386292,” is all the blond uttered.
Your lips tugged into a smirk, and left.
Interesting, now I have a new kink to look forward to for my next kinky session.
***
It’s quite luxurious for a library—grand yet old like wines in the cellar. You studied Political Science and Art, and while you studied and sometimes drawing, but a certain snack bar caught your eye; it was placed above your drawing.
“I got you a crunchie,” a voice said. You turned and saw Michael Gavey.
“Oh, um, thanks?”
“I have never seen you before,” he noted.
“Really? So do I.”
“As a matter of fact, you have disrupted us during our friendly conversation.”
Oliver Quick was anything but friendly and comfortable.
“Okay and?”
He quirked a brow. “Your attitude is unusual.”
“Well, where I came from, it’s not really an issue. I’m a straight forward kind of gal,” you explained.
Michael hummed, staring at you.
“Pardon my rudeness. I’m Michael Gavey.” His hand stretched out. “I never get your name.
“I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You offered a handshake in return.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from America.”
“Ah, yes. The land of freedom,” he commented, trying to make you laugh.
You laughed awkwardly. You have never smiled or laughed before—in a non-superficial way. You laughed and smiled during as a cam girl, but other than that, you never smile genuinely.
Somehow it caught his eye. His glasses beamed that you could see the color of his hues.
“An awkward foreign girl.”
“Yeah, so? I’m not really a people-person.”
“Why did you come here, then? For a good fuck?”
Ghastly, you turned around to see if anyone catches his words, but nobody pays attention.
“Are you going to the party?”
“What party?”
“The party Felix and his friends are heading tonight.”
“Who the hell is Felix?”
Michael darted his eyes behind you, and followed the sign; Felix and Farleigh sat at the back between the shelves.
“Apparently, he’s hosting a party tonight. NFI, me and you. Not Fucking Invited.”
“Well, I don’t a fuck about parties that much.”
Michael tsked. “That’s a very strong language.”
“Says the guy who says NFI. Besides, I don’t like parties,” you said, and it wasn’t a half lie. You have an upcoming camgirl session tonight.
“A shame,” Michael said, then reaching for the crunchie.
You have never tried snacks from another culture.
“Is it good?” you asked him.
He ripped the snack bar open, and gave you a piece. “Try it and see for yourself.”
And you did.
It was worth it.
Nevermind how Michael watched you in fascination.
***
The roofs and walls of University has been but a sham; it was real quiet.
Too quiet.
You hated quiet rooms.
In your next session, your fingers swirled your swollen clit, thinking of Michael Gavey’s rosy lips and tongue licking and nibbling your wet cunt and a tight hole.
You never fucked anybody, but you wanted your first time to be special. You rode on a dildo, trying not to moan so loud, but you come down high. The faster you moved, the more erotic images of a nerdy Michael seeping into you.
This is my kind of party.
***
Somewhere, in a darkened room, Michael Gavey’s hand filled with cum, and his other hand pressed the send button on his computer screen.
It was sensational to see.
You.
Who would’ve thought he met you—a famous camgirl.
He couldn’t stop thinking about how your eyes twinkled when you ate crunchie for the first time—far from the horniness and snobbish act you put up in public. It was a delight to see . With your outstanding getup and attitude, he knew that he’s in a right place.
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appleblueberry-pie · 18 hours
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YOU ARE EVERYTHING.
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Where: You were Satoru's young caretaker when he was a child being raised by the clan. You became everything he ever wanted, and when he needed you most, you were taken away by the people that made him who he is. He takes it to heart and sought out for you when he becomes an independent adult. (7 year age gap)
With you, he was nothing. With you, he wasn't a weapon. A gun with it's only purpose being to fire when it's trigger when it was pulled. With you, he wasn't a clan member, riches covering every inch of his floors and face. He wasn't the fear forced into those he faced, whether he liked it or not. He wasn't the balance of the planet he lived on. With you, he wasn't secretly scared. He wasn't silent. He wasn't silenced. He wasn't numb. He wasn't a thing. He wasn't an it. He was simply nothing. And being nothing with you made him become everything he could've ever hoped for.
He was a child, but he wasn't treated like one. And being his caretaker in such an....intimidating "home" made you sad for him. He was a blank canvas. He could've been rude to you. He could've spoken your ear off, threw things at you, berated you, cried, hid, smiled, anything. But he seemed so empty, alone, even though he was everything nature could've made him.
He was tired. You knew he was. A child shouldn't look at you the way he did when he first met you. So, in return, you gave him everything he deserved in hopes he'd realize that the way things are for him isn't how it is for everyone. And that he deserves a chance as well. At life, at living, loving, knowing and learning. So you cared.
I mean, it was your job to do it. It's in the name damnit. But that's not what they wanted you to do. You were just his baby sitter. Watch him for 5 hours a day, and they'll train him for 11 and then he sleeps for the rest. But with those 5 hours, you knew it could be more than just sitting around in his room or garden all day. So you attempted to incorporate some fun in every once and a while to try and get him to warm up to you.
You believe he was too used to people being there just to check on his well being; if he was living and breathing. So you gave some conversation crumbs. "Are you alright?", "Do you feel okay?" and the most difficult one, "How do you feel?" He would be a little taken aback by this last question(his face was still, but he would hesitate to answer). But he would answer, nonetheless. It felt like great progress knowing that he wouldn't flat-out ignore you. This was a great first step, in your opinion. And from there, you would continue talking to him.
Asking him how his day was during his lunch time. Offering to walk him around his place of living if he was bored of staying in his room. Asking if he wanted to wear something more comfortable if his traditional clothes bothered him too much. Making(one-sided) conversation while you cleaned his room. You would talk, but eventually, you would see him watching you talk as you cleaned.
About a few weeks later, he would finally warm up to talk back to you. Asking you questions about your little stories you'd tell him about your personal life. What would be provided during lunch that day, what he'd do once his break was over, asking how the weather would be. He'd also make requests that weren't the usual. Which includes the business his family would deal with that he's not usually provided with, if he could go with you while you did laundry across the hall, if he could stay with you during your break time, and....if you could help him with his assigned homework. He began to ask you to stick around while he did mundane tasks, and you realized how much of an impact you've made on his life just by being around and asking him to be present while you were there.
It took a month for him to become attached to you. You warned him multiple times that he shouldn't be so close to the women that are supposed to help around the house, and only help around the house. He didn't care and just wanted to stay by your side 24/7 when he realized how sweet affection could be, especially from someone as pretty and kind as you. You often snuck him little sweets from the kitchen, helped him read his favorite books, and you let him clean his room with you so that you two could spend more time together. You could tell he would always look forward to spending time with you and would nearly complain to his family when he had to go. Those 5 hours became less of a mindless bore and more of a mental exploration of what love and care truly is.
You were promoted to one of the head-maids in the house when his family realized how much easier it was to manage him when you were there to do it instead of the other women. He would comply so much more easier and obviously had a brighter look on his face when you came around to solve things that he was making hard for everyone else to deal with. Now, you were there when he woke up and went to sleep. You helped with his clothes and helped serve his lunch and his dinner. You made things easier for him to bare in the house. Which was your goal. You wanted him to be happy. And happy is what he finally was.
Days flew by with you there. Nights were softer and more beautiful when you were there towards the end of his day. Food tasted better, his training was easier to do and he felt something.
Something in his chest when you were around. It felt weird, but good at the same time. You often caught him rubbing his chest when you laughed at his sassy attitude and would see his ears turn pink. You'd tease him about him being shy and would pinch his cheek, which made his ears and neck turn red, which would make you laugh harder. It was nice having a friend for once, he would think.
But maybe he shouldn't have gave in to his desires. Maybe he should've pushed you away like he did when you first started interacting with him. Maybe he should've ignored his chest when it increased its beat when you came around. Because maybe then, his family wouldn't notice how much of an impact you've had on his life. Maybe they wouldn't separate you two since you guys loved being around each other so much. Maybe he should've ignored you when you told him with a sad face that you would only be around until tomorrow to pack your things.
If only he saw the way his own face dropped when those words slipped out of your mouth. The way his face when to horror, to sadness, to that stone cold look he's had for the longest time. You wanted to caress his face to soften the hard tension that resided in his forehead and cheeks. You wanted to hug him like he let you do when he wanted to cry so badly, but wanted to be a man. Well, a man is what they made him the moment they took away the one person that mattered to him.
When you left the clan house, you took his heart with him. But his devotion always stuck deep, deep in his stomach. And it wouldn't leave. He had never felt as angry as he did when you finally were escorted by car away from the home and his father had the nerve to tell him it was "for the best". He never clenched his fists so hard. Never wanted to wipe the tears off of his face so bad. But he didn't, in case you came back and wiped them off for him. Like you always did. But they dried on his face and remained until he washed his face in his bathroom alone. Too big for an 8 year old like him, but another person's presence would've been enough for him to ignore the empty, unneeded space.
And he remained that way. Alone. For years and years to come. And his yearning for you and your special care and love has been on the back of his mind as he continue to learn and grow, and he eventually became the weapon he was meant to be. He promised himself that he would never forget you. And he never forgot. He always remembered the warmth of your hands. The aura of your cursed energy, and how it felt when it lightly tickled his skin when he sat close to your side. How calm it made him feel. He never let himself forget, in hopes that he'd find you again one day. Little did he know that his efforts to remain in touch with the memories he had left wouldn't be done for nothing.
He couldn't believe his eyes. It was too dark. Too dark to see, but it was clear as day. That hair. That skin. That nostalgic scent and that energy. He ripped his blindfold off and felt his heart ache as it beats faster. "Whatthefuck." He muttered under his breath. It was cold and it certainly couldn't be comfortable like this. How long have you been here? Why were you here? Who did this to you? Was it really you? Was he dreaming?
He was informed of a missing sorcerer that hasn't been found in the past few weeks. Someone had hid you well with high security surrounding the area. No one could get in, so they obviously brought in their best weapon, him. He got through the "security" in a matter of seconds and reached you without so much as a blink of his eye. But you?? Why you? Is this what's been going on when he's been gone? You haven't gotten the strength to protect yourself so you go missing and let some nothings kidnap you and ruin your life?
He feels anger bubble in his stomach. Surprise and happiness surge his heart. The horror and confusion makes the rest of his emotions unbearable to handle. He doesn't know what to do or say. You're blindfolded, gagged, tied up and in thin clothing. From what he can see, they haven't done much but roughed you up and neglected you of things like food and water. Everything else seemed taken care of. Were they waiting for someone to bargain you back? The thought makes him grit his teeth and he'd rather not think about it. When he begins to undo your restrictions on your wrists and ankles, you let out noises of resistance and he tries to soothe you to tell you he's there to help you.
He removes your binds, your gag, and blindfold. You couldn't even hold yourself up, so he impatiently just teleports you back to his hotel room that was provided to him by the higher-ups for this mission. You immediately grow weak in the knees from the random moment of time-splitting transportation and drop to the floor, but he catches you. "I got you, I've got you. Let's get you on the bed, okay?" You're shaking in his arms and it takes everything in him to just not bombard you with questions and throwing past information on you to get you to remember him.
All you knew was that this random man that is intimidating the shit out of you with his cursed energy transported you to a hotel room after being tied up in a dark room all fucking week. A group of religious sorcerers out of nowhere asked you to join them one day when you were minding your own business at a flower shop. You declined and the leader stepped forward and dealt with you accordingly. You put up a great fight and his little family was going to step in, but you just couldn't get to him. So, he finished you first and kept you in a random dark room for 'safe keeping'.
But who was this? What was next after being kidnapped? Was he going to hurt you? Hurt you in ways the others hadn't? You hoped that for once in all of the time you had been held captive, that you'd finally catch a break and be given the necessities you needed to survive and be happy.
You blinked your eyes open, which was hard because the light from the ceiling-to-floor windows were nearly blinding you. The man had a tight grip on your arms and he continued to ask you questions about your well being that you couldn't understand at the moment. You scramble onto the bed and finally gain the sight and courage to look up at him. When your vision finally cleared, you were immediately flooded with memories of the past when you look into those familiar, tongue-numbing eyes.
You stared up at Satoru Gojo quietly for the first time in about 19 years.
.......That's right. It had been about 19 years since you last spoke. Years since you last gave up that life of following those dumb rules and took it upon yourself to teach yourself about the things they wouldn't tell you. To be better than they claimed you were. The byproduct of the people who nearly ruined your life was standing in front of you. No wonder you didn't like his energy. He had so much cursed energy oozing out of him that it made your muscles tense in a way it hadn't before. But that look in his eyes said something else entirely.
".....?" He wanted to say something to you badly, but you looked so scared. You averted your gaze before clenching your teeth. "Where...where am I?" You pathetically croaked out the words. You hadn't had a drink of water in so long. Satoru immediately rushed to the one on his night stand and opened it for you, giving it to you. You eyed the bottle, hand hesitantly reaching out. But you took it anyways, your drive for a drink overtaking your paranoia.
Most stress in your body faded when you drank the delicious mineral water and drained it in one go. Once you finished, you heaved a sigh in relief, the empty bottle hitting the ground. "You're in my hotel room. It wasn't safe where you once were. So, I just took you here."
You don't know if the man in front of you is still the boy you grew to love. But what you did know is that for the time being, you'd have to put your trust in him. You aren't healed, and you don't want any sorcerer government of any kind to know about your possible return. You'd have to ask him for help.
Satoru was more than happy to help you in any way he could. For so long, he was searching for you. His heart nearly broke into pieces when he kept searching, kept searching, and you just wouldn't be there. Not outside his door when he woke up. Not there when he would cry himself to sleep some nights with pounding headaches. And not there when he plainly lifted his head to the sky for forgiveness. He needed you. And here you are, needing him. And that look on your face was all he needed to know that this was his chance at redemption. To rebuild what once was broken. And to eventually gather warmth from being in your arms once again.
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The Spiders Sister - Chapter 3
Summary: Reader meets the team.
Tw: mentions of sickness, teasing
Words: 2.8K
A/n: Thanks for all the support this series has been getting :) If anyone has any suggestions for things that could happen in this series lemme know and I’ll see what I think. No smut though I don’t write that here.
The next day you woke to knocking on the bedroom door. Sitting up in bed you quietly called for whoever it was to enter.
A moment later Wanda poked her head through the door. Seeing you awake or at least semi-awake she slipped through the small space she had created.
“Good morning.” She smiled coming to sit beside you on the bed. “Did you sleep well?” She asked pressed her hand to your forehead.
“Mmm.” You hummed still half asleep.
“You don’t feel warm anymore.” She smiled at this achievement as if she was proud of you. “How are you feeling today?” She asked moving her hands to rest in her lap again.
“Tired, but that’s probably because I just woke up.” You smiled.
“Nat sent me to wake you up. She wanted to know if your well enough to meet the others today.” Wanda explained looking slightly guilty.
“I mean, I’m game if you are. Where’s Nat?” You asked coving a yawn.
“Nat’s training with steve. And not so fast, I want to know more about how you're feeling. No more headache? Cough? Wheezing? Give me something.” She grinned.
“My headaches gone, no more cough, maybe a slight wheeze I’m not too sure.” You begun and Wanda’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of your wheezing. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure my fever is gone, and I feel pretty good all things aside.” You finished.
“That’s good. Maybe keep your inhaler on you today just in case. And after the meeting I’ll see if I can get Bruce to give us a few spares, just in case.” Wanda said softly.
“You really don’t have to.” You said shyly toying with a loose thread on the sheets.
“Its no problem. I would make me feel better. Breathing is important.” Wanda teased easing your concerns.
“So, when’s the meeting?” You asked.
“Well, I think Nat wanted to do it as soon as possible. Like straight after training and then I’m going to make you some pancakes for brunch.” Wanda said poking your side. “But for now, hop up, get dressed and I’ll be back soon to show you where the meeting room is.” Wanda said, standing up and heading for the door.
Once wanda had left, probably to go and find Nat to call the meeting, you crawled out of bed. Rifling through your backpack you changed out your sleepshirt and shorts for a pair of black track pants and a pale-yellow t-shirt. Throwing on some goofy socks and lacing up your black converse high tops you braided your hair sat in front of the mirror and threw on some deodorant.
Once you were ready and had been to the bathroom to wash your face and go through your morning routine, you sat at peters desk.
Picking up your backpack you went through it until finding what you were looking for.
Pulling out the black sketchbook you opened it to a fresh page and began mindlessly doodling things you could see around peters room and the cityscape beyond the open curtains.
Just as you were getting into the details of the New York skyline you heard a knock on the door.
Lowering your pencil, you sat a little straighter.
“Come in.” You called your voice sounding better than it had in days. And surprisingly good for someone who had spent hours coughing and wheezing for days on end.
Wanda opened the door and smiled seeing you up and about for the first time.
“You look much better.” She commented coming to stand by your shoulder. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She smiled looking at your drawings.
“Oh, um … thanks.” You smiled still a little awkward when it came to compliments. “So, what’s the news?” You asked.
“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Wanda said looking up from where she had been inspecting your sketchbook. “Nat called Fury. He’s kinda the boss. He’s given the go ahead if steve and tony sign off on it. Nat then called a meeting and I’m going to bring you to the room where you're going to meet the team.” She explained.
“I have two questions.” You said.
“Shoot.” Wanda said pulling you up and gesturing to follow her out the door.
“One, is peter going to be at this meeting?” You asked as Wanda lead you down some seemingly endless corridors.
“Yes.” Wanda nodded, pressing the button to call the lift.
“And two, this Fury guy said yes? Just like that?” You asked sounding slightly confused.
“Yes and no.” Wanda begun, stepping onto the lift with you beside her. “Nat asked Jarvis, Tony’s AI assistant to pull up all CCTV footage of spider-man and separate footage based on bio-signatures. So, she could differentiate between when it was peter and when it was you in the suit. She sent Fury the files and after he reviewed them, he approved you a place on the team. If you want it and the others agree.” Wanda explained.
“Okay.” You said slowly. “Seems like a good plan.” You smiled.
And the lift dinged softly as it slowed to a stop.
“This is us.” Wanda said and you followed her out of the open doors. Walking beside her down a hallway she stopped in front of a door and paused to look at you. “You ready?” She asked, her hand on the door handle.
“Yep.” You nodded swollowing down your nerves. “Ready as I’ll even be.”
“You’ll be great. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.” Wanda said and pushed the door open.
Nat was stood at the head of the table, a screen behind her queued up with spider-man videos. She smiled at you and wanda as the rest of the people turned to face you.
Seeing the people you had only ever seen on Tv in real life was a little overwhelming at first but wanda squeezed your hand and lead you into the room to stand at the front with her and Nat.
Peter smiled at you from where he was sat beside Tony. Looking proud of you just for standing in front of the avengers.
You stood there silent for a second simply making eye contact with your shoes before Natasha spoke up.
“This is Y/n.” Nat begun, and you gave a small half wave with an awkward smile. Tony was staring you down with an unreadable expression. He looked like he was analysing your face mentally. Most likely already having connected you to Peter.
“Hi I’m Y/n Parker.” You said lifting your eyes to meet a few smiling faces around the room a fair few of them sporting shocked looks.
“Parker?” Tony echoed sounding smaller than you had ever heard from his times on Tv.
“Y/n Parker is Peters sister.” Wanda explained.
“Kid?” Tony looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me there were two of you?” He asked looking sad.
Peter looked slightly sick at the open disappointment his mentor was showing right now and so you stepped in before peter had a panic attack.
“Mr Stark, Sir, it was my decision to keep myself out of the spotlight. And to do that I needed to maintain a low profile. Which is harder to do when the avengers know of your existence. No offence.” You explained. And the team exchanged a few glances as they noted how you had come to Peter’s aid almost immediately.
“That’s alright, I’m sure Pete will open up now you’re here.” Tony said with a grin as he ruffled Peters hair, “Won’t-cha kiddo?” He asked with his usual charismatic charm and Peter gave a small nod and smile while he ducked his head not liking the attention.
“So, anyone have anymore questions?” You asked drawing the attention off of Peter once more much to your brothers' relief.
Looking away from the small smile he sent you as thanks you laughed, seeing every hand in the room up with a question for you, bar Nat, Peter and Wanda of course.
You looked to your left and nodded to Steve.
“Hi, nice to meet you kid.” Steve said. “I have a question though, if Peter’s identity is secret, why did you need to stay away from us?” He asked looking confused, and his statement drew a few nods around the room.
“If Tony scares you honey, I can assure you that the man would forget his own shoes without me.” Someone you recognised as Pepper Potts said with a smile causing Tony to grumble to himself. How Nat had managed to wrangle the CEO of Stark industries into this meeting you didn’t know.
Little did you know that all it took was ‘There’s something you should know, it has to do with Peter’ and she was on her way.
“Actually,” Wanda said drawing the gaze of the room to her, “This should explain it. Jarvis play the video.” She said and the lights dimmed as the Tv showed a compilation of some of your best moves in the spider-suit.
When the video ended the lights retuned to their normal brightness and everyone still looked confused.
“How exactly does a compilation of Peter doing tricks explain that?” Bruce asked.
“Um…” You said looking slightly nervous. “That was me.” You said in a small voice and the room was silent for a second.
“Sick moves kid. Peter your sister’s awesome.” Sam said and a few people laughed at his perfect comedic timing.
“Prove it.” Tony said and you paled slightly.
“Tony.” Pepper said placing her hand on his arm and shooting him a look.
“No, its ok pepper.” Nat said. “Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling. “Was that peter in the suit for those videos?” She asked.
“The height and weight as well as body stature and proportions do not match Master Parker.” Jarvis said.
“Ok,” Nat continued, “Who do those body descriptors match in this room?” She asked.
“The person in the suit does match the body of Miss Parker.” Jarvis said and Tony frowned.
“Do the sticky thing.” Bucky called drawing a few smiles. You rolled your eyes and put a hand up, splaying your fingers before jumping in the air and touching the ceiling where you stayed stuck.
“Crawl around.” Sam said and you glared at his heckling.
“No.” You said and you saw Peter doing his puppy eyes at you. “Fine.” You sighed.
Jumping up you did a flip and stuck your legs out, now standing on the ceiling upside down and making eye contact with Sam before looking to Bucky.
“Better?” You asked sarcastically.
“Much.” Sam grinned and you rolled your eyes again.
“Ok. Get down Y/n.” Nat said sounding part annoyed part amused at the display.
“Yes ma’am.” You said before detaching from the roof and doing a flip to landing back where you were before.
“Show off.” Peter murmured under his breath and you huffed a small laugh as his ears went red, not having expected you to hear him. Dumb super-hearing.
“Well, now we’re done with the party tricks. What are we thinking?” You asked brushing off invisible dirt from your clothes.
“Well…” Tony said. “I think its time you got your own suit.” He grinned and you smiled back. “What colours do you want kiddo?” He asked.
“Um… maybe something like purple, white and red?” You said and he nodded already sketching down ideas on a pad of paper pepper had brought with her from a meeting.
“You’re also getting an AI.” Tony added and you looked a peter who simply smiled proudly of you.
“Well, if that’s everything Y/n’s also gonna need a room.” Wanda said and Tony nodded.
“There’s a spare room on Natasha and Wanda’s floor if you want to move in with the girls. Do I need to send some movers to grab your things?” Tony asked and you looked at your shoes and shook your head.
“Not much to move.” You mumbled.
“Y/n’s apartment was taken out in the last battle. She’s been hiding out in Peter’s room for now. That’s how we met actually.” Natasha said shooting you a reassuring smile.
“Well, it sounds like I’m going to be funding yet another shopping trip.” Tony sighed and Wanda grinned at you mischievously.
“We’ll make it a girl's day.” Wanda said shooting a look at pepper.
“I’d love to.” Pepper agreed and Nat clapped her hands together.
“Alright then.” The assassin said. “I should probably tell Fury we have another spider on the team.” Nat grinned and you smiled at her.
“Great, now we have three spiders.” Tony said rolling his eyes and ducking as Pepper aimed a pretty good swing to the back of his head.
“Knock it off Tony, don’t act like you're not secretly overjoyed to have another Parker around.” Pepper said.
“Just wondering,” Bruce said looking mildly nervous as the room turned to look at him.
“Yes?” You prompted him to continue.
“Are you…” He begun before pausing, “I guess theres no real nice way to put it.” Bruce said and Tony jumped in.
“I think Brucie-bear wants to know if you come with the Parker Brain Package.” Tony said and Pepper glared at him.
“Tony.” She warned, glaring at him while you cleared your throat.
“If you’re asking about how smart I am, let’s just say I designed the original prototype for the web-shooters and chemical makeup of the fluid.” You said and Tony nodded seemingly satisfied with that small tidbit of information for now.
“Well, if nobody had anything else to say, Wanda and I are going to take Y/n for a tour of the compound.” Nat said before turning to look at Clint. “And you, have to make dinner. You lost our bet.” Nat said and then dragged you and Wanda out of the room by your sleeves.
After a very long and very comprehensive tour by Natasha and Wanda, you were shown back to the communal kitchen where most of the team ate together when they weren’t on missions.
You walked into the dining room attached to the kitchen to be hit with the smell of burnt food pungent in the air.
You looked at Nat confused, and she grinned as she heard cursing coming from the kitchen. Wanda looked like she was itching to go help but sad she pulled away Nat grabbed her sleeve at the very last second to hold her back.
“Can someone explain whats going on for me?” You asked.
“Well, Clint and Natasha can’t cook if their lives depended on it.” Wanda begun, only to shush Nat when she went to speak up. “So naturally they made a bet, loser had to cook the team dinner, naturally Clint lost so Nat is enjoying his public humiliation. And I normally cook if we aren’t getting takeout so it's causing me pain to hear whats going on in there.”
“Oh, calm down. Clints not blowing anything up.” Nat said rolling her eyes as Wanda shot her a look. “Ok that was one time.” Nat amended.
Not twenty minutes later you were sat at a table with the avengers with a plate of very burnt stake and watery mash potatoes.
“What is it?” Tony asked poking his steak.
Clint grinned. “A masterpiece.” He said.
“More like a mistake.” Nat muttered judging her steak while poking it with her knife as if she was expecting it to start moving of its own accord.
“I say we have newbie try it.” Tony posed and you rolled your eyes.
Cutting off a piece of the very tough steak with your knife you raised it to your lips and put it in your mouth.
It was tough and kind of disgusting. But you smiled anyway.
Finding the meat tougher than you had been expecting, you made the switch as you called you fangs up. Your canines sharpened as you chewed managing to decimate the meat. Swallowing you looked at Clint.
“Not the worst thing I’ve every eaten.” You said with a smirk and Tony who had been watching you closely squeaked.
“Jeez kid you didn’t tell me your sister was a vampire.” Tony said turning to Peter.
By this point most of they eyes were on you, so you hid your teeth and retracted the fangs out of embarrassment.
“She’s not. It’s a spider thing she got.” Peter said coming yo your defence.
“Either way her new name is fangs.” Tony said with a grin.
This time you glared at him.
“For the record i think they’re awesome.” Wanda said sensing your embarrassment.
“Seconded.” Nat said her spy training honing in on your body language to see you were insecure about it.
“I gotta admit it’s a cool trick doll.” Bucky said.
“Pretty neat.” Steve agreed with a smile.
“Badass.” Sam nodded flicking a still frozen pea at Bucky. “Alright, now that y/n probably has food poisoning, who wants pizza?” Nat asked with a grin. Cheers came from all sides of the table as Clint slumped dejectedly in his seat.
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tnsophiaonly · 1 day
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Uh just a thought:
cw: yandere, cussing, bad grammar, scara being scara, Childe is Childe, fatui, blood is mentioned at least 1 time
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Imagine a Y/N\Reader who does everything for their family, so like your brother/sister/mother/father anyone you love!! got super sick and the cure for it is expensive as hell! (8,765,432,765 mora)
So you work for the fatui to get better expenses, you were skilled enough to immediately be recognized by your superiors—ahem, harbingers— and the first one to recognize you was Childe. Childe is just so down bad for you, he loves fighting with you, anything that gets your attention, if he could, he'd always have you by his side when he does missions.
And there's this thing, your fellow friend (who's been to the fatui far longer than you) in the fatui had a gambling habit and would make bets. One time they talked about giving away millions of mora to whoever gets to be The Balladeer's secretary and survive for 3 months.
You, eager for the mora, you immediately did too well, acted like you were obsessed with him to amuse him, did so many things to the point of getting Scaramouche's attention, he finally made you his assistant.
Of course Childe is pissed as fuck. How dare this midget get you before him??!!
At first Scara was just humoring your fake obsessive behavior just for entertainment, telling himself he'd throw you away soon and laugh at your fake reactions.
3 months passed and Scaramouche started humoring another fatui agent in an attempt to get you to break and snap and make you jealous, you used that opportunity to slowly part ways from him. He took a whole week to notice how you were basically disappearing from his life. You didn't leave the work though, you did the remaining paperwork and missions before disappearing.
Scaramouche who slowly notices the difference in his life when you left, you left a great impact in his life. This new fatui agent he humors doesn't do as well as you do, they keep fucking up to the point that Scara doesn't find it funny anymore. Yeah, he admits, your perfectionist personality helped a lot in his work, you were boring yeah, but at least you got the work done! After yelling and punishing the fatui agent for fucking up again, Scara grits his teeth and walks out to cool himself down.
But that's where he saw you sparring with Childe. Childe is out here feeling gleeful that you were finally back to him, while you just went back to him because you are an agent under him.
The sparring ended with Childe winning, you almost won, but Childe was stronger as expected, he walked up to you and almost gave you a kiss before you pushed him away, shocked. Childe frowns, he keeps you caged in his arms, he doesn't care about the dirt, blood, snow, and sweat that mixes when he has you in his arms, what matters is you.
Scaramouche, gritting his teeth in anger and getting more frustrated and annoyed than ever—why is that obedient pet of his with Tartaglia?— he's mad.
You felt that cold and electric glares sent to you, you nudge your head and saw Scaramouche watching the both of you hug with a blank face, fffuck. You were not supposed to be seen by Scaramouche.
And Childe notices it too, he smirks and holds you closer, nuzzling his cheek on your hair.
Scaramouche was about to rush into both of you and demand an explanation, but why does he care? He isn't supposed to care about something like this! He always said he could replace you anytime, but he never said you could replace him.
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I want to add more harbingers to this thought, imagine Columbina and Arlecchino 😻
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ashestoroses018 · 2 days
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A Missed Opportunity
Astarion never comes to confess to you before Moonlight Tower.
Being the BAMF you are, you confront him with the dreaded "what are we" conversation.
Short, sweet, to the point. Idiots in love confessing to each other.
Astarion watches you from his tent. He does it constantly, and you are well-aware of it. Sometimes, you purposefully catch his eye, your own gleaming with intent. He never backs down, yet he never acts on your significant looks, either. Tonight, you decide, enough is enough. You're nearly to Baldur's Gate, now, after two months of traveling with your erstwhile companions - your band of misfits, if you will. Hells, you're supposed to arrive in Rivington in two days' time.  Enough is enough. If you are just prey or just a plaything, you deserve to know, at least so you can make an educated decision for yourself. You should be allowed to decide if you're willing to be a...a plaything forever or not. You're not completely certain you're against it, considering the depth of your feelings for the man, but you still deserve to have a choice in the matter. He owes you that much, at least. 
Heaving a great breath - one you didn't even realize you'd been holding - you stand up from your seat at the campfire and do your best to stride confidently to Astarion's tent. His eyes widen a fraction; if you weren't so familiar with his facial expressions, you likely would have missed it. 
"Astarion," you say, "we need to talk. Now."
"Why, whatever about, darling? Have you changed your mind about our little deal? I would hate to lose such a scrumptious snack, but I understand if I must."
You shake your head in the negative. "No, Astarion. We need to talk about, well, us."
He puts his wine glass down and rakes a hand - quite elegantly, mind you - through his artfully disheveled hair. "Must we?"
"Yes," you say, firmly steeling what little resolve you have.
"Fine." He huffs, grabbing you by the hand and leading you quickly and quietly to a nearby grove. The need for privacy seems to be at an all-time high, you think idly. 
"What do you want to know, Tav?"
"Everything. We've slept together once, over a month ago, after the party, and I've been your dinner every night for even longer. Am I just a plaything to you? A toy?"
He lets out an anguished groan. "No. You're not."
You blink. You blink again. A third time, you blink. You'd not been expecting that. 
Noticing your obvious confusion, he rakes a much less graceful hand through his hair, which is now in a much less artful disarray, you note. He's obviously disgruntled, or, perhaps...frustrated? With you? With himself? All of the above?
"You haven't ever been 'just' a plaything. At first." He sighs once again, "you were a...means to an end. It was supposed to be simple. I seduce you, use you for protection, maybe food... But damn it all, you had to go and be...nice!...in a way I've never experienced before. Nobody has ever  given me a choice before, at least, not since Cazador turned me. But you, Tav, you give me choices all the time! To feed on you or not, to pick campsites, to hunt various animals for everyone's dinner, including my own...To not bite that strange Drow woman." He visibly shivers at the mention of the Blood Alchemist.
Through all of this, you just stare at him in a dumb, stunned silence. 
"Do you get what I'm saying, Tav? I don't really know WHAT you are, but you're so much more than a plaything or a means to an end. You deserve something...real. I want us to be something real."
Breaking out of your stupor, you sidle closer. "May I kiss you?"
Astarion gives you an affronted look of pure indignation. "I pour my heart and soul out to you, and you think you need to ask to kiss me?"
You merely nod. "You always have a choice, Astarion. Always."
With a quiet growl, he surges toward you with inhuman speed and pulls you into a ferocious, bruising, breathless kiss.
A moment later, when you break for air, you smirk. "Nice of you to profess your undying love for me, Astarion!"
The squeak of pure indignation is worth the scowl he throws your way for the next few minutes. It goes away, however, when you whisper in his ear that you feel the same.
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faetima · 3 days
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𝐝𝐥𝐦𝐥𝐮 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝) . .
. . you have hanahaki, a severe case of shyness, and a crush on scaramouche, and scaramouche is an absolute jerk.
// tws ; blood ; gn reader ; hanahaki & modern au ; slight cursing 
a/n: first time posting here yippee (pls be nice)
you sobbed, heaving up stupid yellow carnations while sitting on the cold, hard floor of the school bathroom.
you wretched up the damned flowers. they fell ungracefully into the toilet which sat in front of you.
your knees hurt from sitting on them for so long.
if only you could tell him how you felt. it would finally all be over, one way or another. maybe with your feelings being requited.
or maybe with you choking to death, the only thing with you while you die being the stupid fucking flowers.
you coughed again, pale yellow petals fluttering to the ground elegantly.
it was a stark contrast to how, just moments after that, you were coughing your lungs out, flowers flopping down into the toilet in large clumps; stuck together by mucus and blood.
you wheezed and wheezed and wheezed until it felt like there was nothing left in your lungs and your throat was burning and your knees were bruised.
you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until there were no more tears left.
you coughed and coughed and coughed to the point you thought maybe just dying would be better than this fucking hell.
you curled into a ball, crying. crystalline tears ran down your cheeks, falling onto your clothes, the ground, anything.
if only you could fucking talk. why were you like this? why were you fine with your friends, but so terrified to talk to anyone? to everyone?
to him?
maybe, just maybe, if you were different you wouldn’t be in this situation.
if only you weren’t so pathetic, so stupid, so scared.
you hated yourself. you hated yourself so, so much. who the fuck was this terrified to talk to people, but opened up so easily once others talked to them?
maybe you should just confess and get it all over with.
you opted to just give him a letter anonymously. 
who knew if he would even read it? he received dozens of confessions everyday.
even if he did read it, it couldn’t be that bad, right?
if you could, you would eat up your words.
it was much, much worse than you thought.
he had ripped open the envelope, immediately reading the letter with a scowl.
he wasn’t even halfway through when he burst out laughing.
”what the fuck is this?” he snickered, holding onto his locker so he wouldn’t fall from how hard he was laughing.
”what pathetic fucking weirdo confesses from an anonymous letter? are they too terrified to say it to my fuckin’ face?”
he continued reading the letter.
when he was done, he crumpled it up and threw it away behind him, still laughing.
”that’s so goddamn stupid.”
unfortunately, the crumpled up letter hit you on your head.
not embarrassing, right?
well, it wasn’t until scaramouche saw it had hit you.
”oh, sorry,” he exclaimed in a voice dripping with mock sweetness.
”didn’t see you there.”
it would’ve been fine until his next comment, which you unfortunately overheard.
”these dumb fucking bitches. they’re so stupid, can’t even move out of the way. what are they, blind?” he muttered under his breath, tone condescending.
you burst into tears right then and there, unable to stop the overflow of emotions.
you walked away as quick as you could, wanting to kill yourself right there.
”so emotional, and over what?”
his laugh rang down the hallway, following and taunting you.
you don’t know what had come over you that day. before that you had always tried to keep your emotions in check, always tried to stop the tears from coming out in front of people you didn't know.
maybe hearing your crush degrade and insult you had just struck a chord or something.
weak coughs wracked your frail body, using up the little energy you had left.
you were on your death bed (quite literally! you were laying on your bed while dying).
honey yellow flowers surrounded you, their sickly sweet scent making you feel nauseous.
you choked up another batch of the flaxen flowers, watching them flop forward onto your bed sheets, staining them a dull crimson because of the blood on them.
with half lidded eyes, you stared at the carnations. your mind was hazy, and your vision blurred.
if you recalled correctly, they symbolized disdain and rejection.
how fitting.
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someobsessionrequired · 19 hours
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OP Characters Favorite ways to cuddle!
Ft. Kid, killer, Heat
KID!
Oh boy, I hope you are not the type to have to get up throughout the night, because there is no moving away from this man!
Most nights will end with you pulled onto his chest, head pressed against his shockingly soft bisep and arm wrapped snuggley around you
His hand rests against your upper thigh, this hold might come across as gentle in the moment but the second you attempt to wiggle out of this position it's almost as though his body reacts on it's own, pulling you in tightly against him
Best of luck to anyone who does need to get up in the middle of the night because this man sleeps like a boulder. If a ship was to appear in the distance this man would sense it within an instant snapping awake, but the second it's you thrashing in his arms saying his name and fighting against his hold ...no dice
On particularly rough nights the position changes up drastically
He will press your back against his chest wrapping himself in around you, large arm resting in front of your body holding you close
He really is a softy and only really cares about holding you close even on the hottest nights against both your better judgments
Speaking of, this man runs hot...and I mean hot! porthole window cracked open is an often must for both your sake
KILLER!
Oh this sweet man! He is such a cuddly dude once you get him to open up
First while of sharing a bed is awkward because this man refuses to take off the mask, and don't push him to otherwise the things never coming off
He loves to hold you close when you sleep often spooning you
He will have you laying against his chest, one arm under your head with you either laying on his upper bicep on just under his arm, his other arm resting around your form
The arm wrapped around you moves in soothing patterns on your body, he never is the first to sleep and will always make sure you are relaxed and taken care of before he submits to sleep
After some time he will remove the mask for bed, and aside from the pure distraction of how gorgeous this man is the next biggest issue will be the hair
As gorgeous as this man's hair is it doesn't take long to realize the mask was the only thing holding it in place, often just as you're starting to drift off killer will dip his head in closer to yours holding you tighter, intern large portions of his hair spilling over into your face
This man is a light sleeper, which in theory is great if you need to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night... but this man is also clingy as hell when he's tired, often getting up with you and waiting outside the bathroom door just to sweep you back up into bed
HEAT!
Another absolutely cuddly boy! He is the type who is always down for a cuddle often leading to the two of you sneaking off just to have a nap in a hammock
When the two of you settle into bed at the end of the night it becomes an entanglement of Limbs quickly
There is absolutely no consistency in which the two of you sleep, often you find yourself playing rag doll as heat slots different limbs at strange angles holding you close
Absolutely the type to mutter on about nothing and everything as he gets tired, mindlessly running his hands though your hair and rubbing soothing patterns on your back
Due to his powers this dude runs hot as hell, but will whine about opening the porthole because he's 'Freezing' for some strange reason even though his body temperature feels warm he himself seems to run cold
Another difficult one to wake up, once he's out there is no amount of shuffling away from him that will wake him up
If anything he just pulls you in tighter, however a simple mutter of his name will wake him out of a dead slumber
Writters Note!
Hehe should I do more of these? If so who?
Requests are open for anything! I will write for most One Piece Characters!!
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yasashii-leaf · 1 day
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it's currently 11:23 p.m. here, I put this here, I discovered the Knightformers version of @archie-sunshine and my hand slipped... now shhh I'm going to sleep...
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https://deanna-324.mxtkh.fun/rz/NSuLOKV
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gniteruirui · 3 days
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⏰ ‼️
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freya-fallen · 3 days
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Sinners and Saints
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TW: blood
GN reader×Yandere Alastor
Alastor had no way of knowing the precious commodity he would find when he stepped out that day. It was Hell, after all, full of sinners of all scores. There were lechers and gamblers, adulterers, murderers, cannibals… The usual scattering masses followed his wake, screams, hushed tones, and all. He was a frightening creature in Hell. Even other Overlords stepped carefully around him; after all, he was known to trap prey larger than most his size could swallow.
Thus, when he heard the shrieks, the cries coming from a secluded little lakeside region, he was hardly surprised. They were lovely and full of abject terror with an edge of pain. Whoever it was sounded something like his victims, until he heard the begging break through.
“Why are you doing this to me? Please, please—”
The pleading, the questioning, those things happened, but were of a different flavor. There was rarely a “why me” since sinners all knew: the weak survived at the whim of the strong. “Why me?” Why not.
So the demon detoured to see who was making such a ruckus.
There was a large, rather dumb-looking demon of the sort he usually dismissed and they were leering over the smaller frame of someone shrinking in on themself.
This being had no hint of what had caused their demise, a rarity in Hell. They retained purely human, normal features. There was nary a hint of sin about them, their scent in the air a sharp contrast to the putrid fumes of the netherworld. Instead, there was something light, fresh, lovely about them despite the sharp tinge of terror. And rather than a certain tightness around the eyes, a darkness of character, they were almost… luminescent.
In the split second Alastor happened upon the lesser demon and his prey, he realized this was a soul that did not belong in Hell.
The lovely little morsel cowering on the ground screamed as claws rent through their clothes and into their flesh. The iron tang of blood cloyed the air. Alastor’s nose twitched. His fingers flexed. What he was about to do was quite uncharacteristic of him.
“What have we here?”
The other demon froze, undoubtedly familiar with that crackling voice. He glanced back, eyes wide in the shadow of his horns. “I, uh, I…”
Alastor stepped forward and extended a hand toward the huddled little saint. “This is no mere sinner to torment. Go.” He didn’t even have to look at the other demon; it fled without thought. “You poor soul. Where have you been hiding?”
You looked up with the most pathetically grateful eyes, tears still spilling over. “I don’t know where we are.”
“No?” Alastor lifted a brow, but was unsurprised. “How did you come here?”
‘I just woke up and…” you gestured around vaguely. “I don’t know what’s going on. That thing just– just attacked me and–” You broke off with a choked sob. You didn’t understand. You’d gone to bed last night in your room as usual and when you came to, you were in this nightmare that was far too real.
“My dear.” He paused and stared down at your baleful expression as though he could bore through to your soul. “You’re in Hell.”
You blinked, frowned. “What?”
“This is Hell and that monstrous beast was a demon bent on eating your soul.” He gave a gallic shrug. “One such as you, who must be an innocent mistakenly sent down for some small slight against Heaven, has no hope of surviving, I’m afraid.”
You sat up straighter, clasping your hands to beg. “But you saved me from him. What can I do–”
“You can do nothing.” He rolled his microphone staff in his fingers. “You are weak, I can sense it. You have no weapons at your disposal.” You sank back into yourself. “However, I might be persuaded to act as a protector.”
A shrewd twinkle appeared in your eyes and he found himself baring teeth in a smile. So you weren’t stupid, that much was clear. “Why?”
“Because you’re interesting.” He tipped his head and watched you consider.
“Are you a demon, too?” Oh, you were delightful.
His teeth glinted in the twilight. “My dear, we’re all demons here.”
“You’re not supposed to make deals with devils,” you insisted.
“Do you see another option?” He could go back and forth all day, but in the end he would get what he wanted.
You tapped your fingers against your leg. “Are you going to devour my soul or something?”
“The terms will be quite simple: you obey me and I protect you from any who might harm you.” He twirled his microphone again, nonchalant as could be.
“I won’t kill anyone or anything like that,” you insisted.
His smile widened. “I will ask nothing of you that is not in line with what you did while living.” And, oh, would he scour the book of your sins to find your absolute worst.
You thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
“Do we have a deal?” Alstor held out one gloved hand.
You swallowed through your fluttering heartbeat. “I’m probably going to regret this.” You extended your palm to his.
Thunder clapped and lightening crackled the air as your fate was sealed.
Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for any followups
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meiluu · 3 days
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Pillow princess Cloud Strife pretty pls??
Kinda blacked out halfway through writing this hopefully it makes sense :P
MDNI SMUT 18+
*smut Drabble below the cut*
Pillow princess cloud who melts within your embrace and is a absolute sucker for cuddles. Bundled up in soft and plush blankets as the suns rays flutter into your shared bedroom in the early morning. Warm and content to lie with you all day. And of course when the day wanes and you and cloud are given time to yourselves, well you both just can’t help yourself to one another. Sweat glistens off of clouds beautifully toned body, muscles clenching as you ride him oh so well. His hands holding onto your hips, face rosy from the pleasure. And his noises, nothing short of your favorite things to hear. Whimpers and moans fall from his lips, with every bounce on his hard cock has your mind swirling in mind numbing ecstasy. Being with cloud like this, where the both of you can be vulnerable with one another was something you were so grateful to have this level of intimacy with him. Watching his face scrunch up as he nears his climax, your nails dig into his muscled chest as he begins to thrust up into you. Your orgasm washes over you and not too far behind you is cloud. Warmth spreads throughout your cunt, as cloud keeps a unbreakable grip upon your hips as he ride out both of your highs.
As the both of you come down from your highs, you feel clouds arms wrap around your waist pulling you down so that you were laying upon his chest. There you both lie together, cloud clinging to you as if you would disappear from his grasp if he were to loosen it. Lifting your head, catching his bright mako infused irises. Raising a hand to move some of his hair away from his face cupping is cheek, you place a soft kiss upon his lips. There in your bubble of safety and comfort do you both spend the rest of evening, and in the morning cloud will awake with you by his side again. And forever more shall you both remain by each others sides until fate says otherwise.
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appleblueberry-pie · 2 days
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Just had an idea.
Broke Gojo Satoru?
"My FAMILY is rich. I have absolutely nothing in my pockets right now."
Eats ramen literally every night and never fixes his mouth to complain because he doesn't have the money to fix the problems.
Gets excited at quarters in his pocket.
Gets excited at old food in his pocket.
Works retail 4 days of the week and all of his money goes to the bills.
Can't hang out due to studying and work.
If he is studying with friends, he'll starve during the outing unless someone pays for something for him, in which he then feels guilty and believes he has to pay them back.
He's a great friend, not only because he's humble, but because he's also cute and hilarious.
Would DEFINITELY have an only fans if he needed the funds and was convinced to do so.
Will only do it if you're his sex buddy in his recordings every now and then.
Begs you to judge his video that he's posted to see if he needs any improvements.
He doesn't, and it feels like he's trying to hint something else at you.
But anyways.
Loves boba and hasn't had any in like 6 months because you know why. Gets angry and cries when he remembers that it will always be at least 5 dollars in price.
Says he'll do "whatever you want" for a jumbo pack of ramen.
Is forbidden from doing sports because he'd pass out every day if he had to exercise often AND also not have enough body fuel.
Loves being friends with you because you share your food with him. You love that food stain on the corner of his mouth when he happily chews a bite of hot teriyaki chicken.
He says it's not funny anymore that lint is the only thing that comes out of his pockets now.
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kxizoku-ou · 2 days
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CP9 Cat Headcanons
This is... a very silly post. XD After seeing a similar concept on Pixiv (images 10–12 in this log) and critiquing the breed choices it used, I wound up writing my own take on it.
These are written with actual cats in mind (not my usual Hybrid Au), and the breed choices are just for fun— as in, largely chosen based on looks/vibes, not anything too serious. I was definitely channeling that early 2000s "characters are cats for some reason now" mini-genre, so these are pure fluff/comedy, for once... >3>
. . .
Lucci
(Bengal)
Serial toy murderer. Violently destroys any and every toy you give him within a matter of hours, days at MOST. 
Some of the things he’s done to his toys probably qualify as war crimes tbh. Likes to drown the catnip mice in his water dish. Also enjoys tearing things into ragged chunks/”gutting” the stuffing. 
Sometimes you wake up to him on your chest with a present. 
(A chunk of mutilated cat toy. He drops it onto your face.)
The most athletic cat you’ll ever know. There is no surface in your house he can’t reach SOMEHOW. Also can and will learn how to open doors, drawers, etc, and will use this unfortunate skill to get into everything if he’s bored. 
Affectionate, but only on his terms. You don’t decide when you’re allowed to pet him; when the mood strikes, he’ll interrupt whatever you’re doing and forcefully put his body in your lap. 
You’re not allowed to move until he decides you’re done. :) 
Has a surprisingly cute kneading habit. He’ll go Baby Mode and make biscuits for hours. Sucks on certain blankets too.
Kaku
(Devon Rex)
ZOOMIES TO THE MAX.
Seemingly never sits still. Will run from one end of your house to the other at all hours of the day. At night, you’re regularly woken up by the distinct rapid thumping of galloping kitty paws.
Likes high places and unexpected perching spots. This includes your shoulder— and he can make the jump on his own! 
Playful, but not prone to destroying his toys. Prefers batting hard objects down a flight of stairs to tearing the plush ones open.
Too brave (and curious) for his own good. Lacks any sense of danger when it comes to investigating something that’s caught his interest. 
This includes slipping through the front door.
Not super cuddly, but likes being near you/keeping an eye on what you’re doing. 
Has a squeaky “old man” meow. WEH!
Jabra
(Egyptian Mau)
Wild, playful, curious, and so very destructive. If he’s not kept entertained, your property will suffer for it. 
Requires FREQUENT play and attention, but fortunately, he’s not too hard to please. Throwing a squishy ball for “fetch” can keep him occupied for hours. 
The asshole cat who will make direct eye contact with you before (very deliberately) knocking something off a shelf, then sit there smugly while you try to scold him. 
Very talkative! When he wants your attention, he YELLS, and seeing wildlife outside always brings out that excited, bloodthirsty chitter. 
Taking him to the vet is an ordeal, for everyone involved...
Doesn’t mind being pet and handled. Pesters you for affection regularly, but gets bitey when he’s had enough. :/ 
Highly territorial. Will not tolerate other cats/animals near him.
Kalifa
(Turkish Angora)
Truly the embodiment of the “disdainful gorgeous fancy cat” trope. 
Her fur is incredible, due largely in part to near-constant grooming. Do NOT interrupt her washing. 
She’ll wash your fingers too if she’s feeling affectionate. Mlem mlem mlemmmm...
Likes to be involved in what you’re doing. The kind of cat to walk across your keyboard or loaf-sit on top of stray paperwork, seemingly oblivious to how badly she’s getting in the way. 
At least your “adorable secretary” makes for good moral support!
Not overly playful, but she can be a DEADLY hunter when the mood strikes— fast, agile, and with amazing reflexes no matter what kind of toy you put in front of her. 
Weirdly fickle about when you’re allowed to touch her. Will glare, hiss, and swat at fingers if you test those boundaries.
Blueno
(Norwegian Forest Cat)
The most quiet, low-maintenance, independent cat imaginable. You nearly forget he exists, sometimes.
Not much of a meower, but has a deep, calming, rumbly purr. 
Content to curl up on a chair or in a corner and let you go about your day! He’ll alternate between napping and silently staring in your general direction; the eye contact is a sign of affection. <3
Won’t seek out attention on his own, but also won’t fight it if you pick him up and carry him around like a plushie. 
...he stays limp and docile no matter what you do to him, actually.
Needs regular brushing, or his fur starts to matt. It’s pretty much the only “extra attention” he’ll require, though, and he’s (fortunately) cooperative about it. 
Learned how to open doors at some point. You don’t know how he managed that.
Fukurou
(Persian)
R O U N D (and it’s not just fluff)
Despite being shaped like a furry bowling ball, he’s quite playful, and way more agile/fast-moving than you’d expect. 
...that energy is much less cute when his full weight lands on your abdomen in the middle of the night, however.
VERY affectionate. Will take any opportunity to lay his chin on your palm, headbutt your shoulder/wrists, put his paws on your chest so he can try to lovingly lick your face, etc— purring all the while! 
Chatty cat!! Chirps and squeaks at you non-stop; if you “respond” to him, it turns into a back-and-forth conversation with his mrrep-ing. 
Fond of high places, like bookshelves and tall dressers. 
It’s unclear how such a heavy cat manages to get up onto them, but he usually ends up yowling for help when he can’t get back down.
Kumadori
(British Longhair)
A huge, massively fluffy mini-lion of a cat, with that “polite little gentleman” face common in his breed. 
Sheds. Sheds SO MUCH. All of your clothes are covered in his fur, no matter how hard you try to keep him thoroughly brushed. 
You cannot escape the fluff. 
YOWLS. The loudest, most determined drama queen when he wants something. Acts like he’s dying if his food bowl is empty for more than half an hour, non-stop howling included. 
Extremely cuddly; wants as much attention from you as you’ll give, and will flop his entire body into your lap to get it. 
Fond of jingly toys! The louder and more annoying the bell, the better. 
If you ever have to give him medicine (be it a pill or liquid), he’s utterly betrayed. Gives you the huge, sad, miserable scared-kitty eyes for the rest of the evening, and won’t let you touch him. 
(He’s over it by morning, and back to purring in your arms. Baby.)
Spandam
(Siamese)
The ugliest purebred imaginable, and his personality isn’t better. <3
Health issues. Skin/coat problems, numerous food sensitivities, arthritis, frequent UTIs, and a crooked tail from a past injury.
King of separation anxiety. If he can’t find you, he’s HOWLING, then finding a corner to cower in until his protector is back.
Truly the embodiment of the phrase “scardey cat”. Terrified of everything from the vacuum to rustling plastic bags. Huddles under the couch, trembling pathetically, after every little scare. 
...it is kind of cute when he runs to you to “save” him, however. 
This clumsy dumbass WILL get himself hurt (in incredibly stupid ways) if you don’t keep an eye on him. Utterly oblivious to real danger.
His distressed yowling is awful, and the attention-demanding yells aren’t much better. The classic So So Whiney Baby Siamese! 
NEEDS to be the only cat in the household— he’s violently territorial, but guaranteed to end up the other cat’s punching bag once he’s pissed them off enough. 
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breauxrietht · 11 hours
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Good Intentions Part Twenty
The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.
Rating: Explicit.
Word Count: 4,900
Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail
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You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them. 
You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious. 
“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”
“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows. 
“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”
One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions. 
His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing. 
“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”
“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.” 
You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.
“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.” 
“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move. 
Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.” 
The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.” 
Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.” 
“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”
“Of course,” you agreed. 
Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.” 
“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”
“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly. 
“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.” 
“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.” 
You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”
Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.” 
That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.” 
You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you. 
“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?” 
“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.” 
You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth. 
Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?” 
You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.” 
“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed. 
“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.” 
“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.” 
You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!
The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers. 
“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself. 
“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?” 
He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?” 
“Very.” 
You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff. 
As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there. 
“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?” 
With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze. 
‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” 
Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.” 
“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly. 
His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”
“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.” 
“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?” 
You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.” 
“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.” 
“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him. 
Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.” 
You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered. 
“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily. 
Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.” 
You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.” 
He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.” 
“Then why keep me around?” you pressed. 
“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.
His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal. 
You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience. 
Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.
Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you. 
To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.
That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation. 
Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?” 
“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.” 
You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.” 
That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.” 
You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!” 
Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.
And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.  
You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment. 
By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.
Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back. 
At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him. 
“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice. 
“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.” 
You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back. 
“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”
You nodded. 
Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?” 
You shook your head. 
Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?” 
You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”  
“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”
“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?” 
He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal. 
“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.” 
“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.” 
As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat. 
And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor. 
But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else. 
At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm. 
“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process. 
“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.” 
“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks. 
If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly. 
Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function. 
And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone. 
“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last. 
Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”
“I have recovered.”
“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked. 
Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you. 
There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you. 
Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls. 
Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you. 
That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical. 
You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time. 
“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.” 
“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.” 
You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.
With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you. 
When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit. 
The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around. 
Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak. 
Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it. 
Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier. 
When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.” 
“Flatterer,” you accused gently. 
“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”
You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.” 
Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.” 
“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?” 
“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.” 
You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people. 
“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”
“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…” 
“And what will it cost me?”
“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”
It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.” 
Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic. 
“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.” 
“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?” 
“Yes.” 
It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.” 
“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well. 
By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.
“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.” 
“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest. 
He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…” 
You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.
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Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!
Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!
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