#just a side note this part is 4.3k

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.” 

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 

Then it was your turn to gasp. 

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: i think this is the halfway point guys for this one #ik alexia mentioned somewhere that she has dinner with her family on fridays but for this fic's sake i made it to saturdays lol #also i have a backlog of ideas i wanna start writing but i really wanna finish this one first #just a side note this part is 4.3k #so on aggregate this is officially the longest fanfic id written so far. #hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine) #apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 5

content warning: very fluffy, PDA ➡️ something in which the reader is shy about and Miguel is hungry for, Miguel’s bday is 10/13 here, it gets suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, George O’Hara is NOT abusive in this story and he will be Mexican here idc idc idc, some mentions of food (deer meat at one point), some of the gym photos are white men (my deepest apologies, I just want y’all to have an idea of the pose 😔)

word count: 4.3k (just nod and smile. she's thicc like me😗)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who learns your schedule front to back. He’s always there to walk you to your classes and carry your heavy bags and purses. Sometimes he’ll meet you outside of your dorm, sometimes you’ll send him your location and he’ll come running. Now, you both walk into the lab building hand in hand and leave the building swinging hands. You used to despise those lovey-dovey couples who were stuck in their own world, but now you could understand them completely. They were still a little annoying, though.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a habit of sending you post workout pictures in the early mornings. His go-to poses are the worm’s eye under-chest, the standing mirror, the bench mirror, and the back mirror. The last one was specific to his dorm bathroom, too shy to take his shirt completely off. Your thorough praises made him feel warm, but sometimes you let more silly things slip.

“You could probably choke me with your thighs and I’d be thankful”

“Baby don’t say that. :(( I would never hurt you”

“Oh so you can want me to sit and lay on you but I can’t ask for the same? Wow. The double standards”

“That’s not fair. You should sit on me. I can take it and I want it. Thoroughly.”

“Oh! So you’re saying I’m not strong enough. Got it.”

“Baby I never said that!”

“Whatever Miguel 🙄”

“ㅜㅜ”

“You never answered me though. Will you sit on me?”

“Go get ready for class 😒”

“😞”

GymRat!Miguel who tells you that his birthday is coming up at the last minute possible. You berate him for telling you so late and kick yourself for not asking sooner, but you still manage to get a reservation at one of the fancy local restaurants.

You pull out all of the stops you could. A gift card from Smoothie King, a pair of slippers to match yours, the newest Final Fantasy game, and a muscle bunny keychain to match your muscle bear keychain. He was your big teddy bear, after all.

You handed him the gifts after the staff brought out a chocolate cake with sparklers on it while singing at the top of their lungs. The chocolate syrup read “Happy Birthday Miguel 🤎” around the plate.

Miguel’s smile got bigger as he took the gifts out one by one. He paused when he got to the cards: one a birthday card and the other a thick “open when…” manilla envelope.

The birthday card was simple and sweet. It was the other stuff you were worried about. You found these cute ideas about letters and notes to leave for your significant other. You had one for anger, sadness, needing a hug, sickness, boredom, and even one for wanting a kiss. You remember Jess walking in on you with your lips smashed against the cardstock, trying to get a bunch of kiss marks to cut out. She just sighed out a “young love” and carried on to her side of the room.

“It’s only been a short time since we’ve been dating, but Thanksgiving and Christmas break are coming up so I wanted to leave you with something for when you can’t reach me.”

Your heart is thumping as Miguel takes the cards out, reading their envelopes.

What you don’t expect is for Miguel to start crying.

You startle a bit, scared that the gift is awful, but he lets out a watery thank you, flustered from everything.

You quickly make your way to his side of the table and hug him. You wipe at his eyes and chuckle at his cuteness, telling him you were afraid he didn’t like it.

He shakes his head, breathes deep and slow to calm his emotions.

“No, I will definitely be using all of these. I really appreciate this. Everything. I’m not sure how you were able to do all of this, but I’m thankful that you did.”

You couldn’t take it. Here he was with dewey eyes and red tinting his cheeks. It was cuteness overload.

You face him towards you and lean forward, connecting his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stares at you stunned when you lean back. That was your first kiss with him. His first kiss with you and he was sitting here with his cheeks damp and nose sniffling away.

“I-” his heart picks up and he’s opening and closing his mouth. He was short circuiting.

“Can we- I mean if it’s ok, can we do that again?” Miguel stutters out.

You simply nod your head and lean in again, this time tilting your head.

The cards in Miguel’s hands drop to the table and his breathing stops. Your lips were soft and full. Another fraction of his dreams that were nothing compared to the real thing.

He could only hear his heartbeat and the soft jazz music in the restaurant when he let up for air.

This was definitely the best gift of the night.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed when the waiter comes and asks if you two need anything while he’s leaning down for another kiss.

He just got to kiss his dream girl. Who cares if the waiter saw him kiss you some more?

You jump when the waiter’s hands come close to you two as he picks up an empty dinner plate. You look to the waiter awkwardly to apologize and ask for the check.

This just makes Miguel want to pull you in his lap and kiss you as the entire staff goes by.

GymRat!Miguel who wants you to feed him bites of his cake. You happily agree, especially since he was the birthday boy. His eyes never leave you the whole time.

GymRat!Miguel who grabs the check before you can pick it up. He doesn’t want you to pay for the meal.

“Miguel, it’s your birthday. I picked the restaurant and reserved the seats,” you say a little whiney.

“But I want to pay for the dinner,” Miguel pouts as he holds the check out of your reach.

When he got like this, it was hard to change his mind.

“If you let me pay, I’ll give you another kiss.”

“Just one?” Miguel brings the check back to your level, squinting at you.

You sigh, “I’ll give you ten.”

“Deal.”

Miguel gives you the check with a giddy smile and you slap your card on it.

The kisses still don’t stop him from taking over the tip.

So stubborn.

GymRat!Miguel who texts Gabriel once he’s back in his dorm. He sends pictures of everything from the food to the cake to the gifts.

“Look at what my baby did for me 🤪”

“The same one you left at the party even tho you blew up my phone about her for weeks? 😕”

“Yes…I didn’t do it on purpose. Me and her talked about it already”

“jk jk it wasn’t your fault”

“No way she got you final fantasy. Dana barely got me a cupcake”

“This just proves that my gf is better”

“Tbf tho you and Dana are still in high school”

“Ohhhh my god. You turn one more year older than me and all of a sudden you have the wisdom of a sage. SHUT UP 😭”

“I’ll literally be in college next year”

“AND ANYWAY you’ve never shown me this so-called gf. How do Ik you haven’t gone insane?”

Miguel clicked the back of his teeth in annoyance. Peter walked by him with his eyebrow raised and Miguel just waved his hand.

He sent a picture he took of you from tonight. You looked amazing in that dress and your eyes were beautiful and deep. You were smiling at him from across the table.

“First you try to steal Dana from me and now you get her”

“It’s crazy how this world is so anti-Gabriel”

“What are you yapping about”

“And I didn’t take ANYTHING from you 🫵🏽”

“We were 6 and 7 and you couldn’t push her hard enough on the swings. When will you get over that?”

“It burns all the same”

“You should give me her number and I can let you experience that feeling”

“Gabriel.”

“Show her what a real O’Hara is like”

“Cabrón”

“You’re so lucky I’m not next to you right now”

“THE BIG C WORD?”

“I’m telling mom you called me that btw”

“All because I wanted to meet your gf ☹️”

“Bastard”

“I’M TELLING MOM YOU CALLED ME THAT! WTF?”

It wasn’t long before Miguel’s mom was calling his phone to berate him. He pressed the green button, air pushing out of his nose as his mom’s face filled up the screen.

Peter looked bug eyed as Conchata’s rapid fire words filled the room.

“Ma! That’s so not fair! Gabri called me a bastard!”

There was a quick pause as his mom made a face that he knew all too well. Miguel heard Gabriel yelp as a sandal made a loud impact with his skin.

Miguel heard Gabriel cry out as his mom took off her other shoe, ready to aim, “MIGUEL HAS A GIRLFRIEND!”

Miguel just threw his phone on the bed and groaned. He could hear Peter snickering from his desk.

“What girlfriend? Miguel! Where are you? Come back and answer me,” Conchata’s voice got louder and louder. “I can’t believe you two! You would think this distance meant that you two wouldn’t fight like you’re still sleeping in the same room.”

“We’re not fighting,” Gabriel said. He smirks as he gets in the camera next to his mom. “Miguel is still hiding things from you, though.”

Miguel picked the phone up again with a frown on his face. Gabriel just stuck his tongue out like the brat he was.

“Mijo, what’s going on?” his mom asked, concern in her voice. “First, it was the party and now this. Do you need to come home?”

“No, ma,” Miguel sighed. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine now. Great even.”

“Then why haven’t you told me about this girlfriend of yours?”

“We just started dating. It’s still very new,” Miguel chose his words carefully. Ever since his second seamster in high school, she’s been super sensitive towards him and his feelings. Knowing her, she might give you a hard time. He didn’t want that for you just yet. “I didn’t want to introduce you to her until we were more solid.”

“I think a girl that helps to organize the take down of a sorority in your honor is pretty solid,” Gabriel comments off camera.

“She did that?!” Conchata stares at Miguel with furrowed brows.

Miguel only nods, lips wound in a tight line.

“Oh well, mijo, I have to meet this girl!”

“I don’t think-”

“Let me know when she’s free to come home with you! Maybe over Thanksgiving?”

“Ma, she has her own family-”

“Ok I have to go now! I have to catch my shows. Call me more often or I’ll have to come up there!”

The room fell silent as the call ended and Miguel was met with his messages with Gabriel again.

“CHECKMATE!”

Miguel still wanted to throttle him.

GymRat!Miguel who’s super excited when Halloween comes and you want to wear couple costumes. He hasn’t done costumes since early middle school. Growing up meant realizing that some people your age want to grow up. Fast. No one wanted to dress up in silly costumes anymore or go trick-or-treating. Sure, the scary stories were fun but at that age, he wanted to eat candy all night, not teepee houses and run in the woods.

He’s hanging out on his bed chatting with Mary Jane and Peter while you get ready in the bathroom. The theater and art department collaborated together to host a costume party. This time, Miguel wouldn’t leave your side. Maybe if you had to pee, he would consider waiting awkwardly by the door. He didn’t want the same mistake to happen.

The two of you decide to go as Starfire and Nightwing grouping up with MJ and Peter who dress up as Raven and Beast Boy for a Teen Titans theme.

The costume is pretty tight but he has to admit, it looks great on his build.

You walk out of the bathroom with a cheery “I’m ready!”

It’s definitely not ideal that his suit is so tight.

The skirt is hugging your body in every which way. The cut-outs at your hips had his fingers twitching. To top it off, the diamond cut out for your chest left him internally screaming.

Peter whistled from his desk and MJ hollered about how good you looked. You smiled bashfully, doing a 360.

Miguel wanted to shove MJ and Peter out of the room to reenact what Starfire and Nightwing actually got up to when they were by themselves.

You walk up to him and flip your flaming hair back playfully.

“Do you like it?” you ask, peering up at him.

“I think he more than likes it,” Peter mumbles out in a stage whisper. MJ elbows him softly in the stomach.

Miguel spins you around, “Fuck yeah.”

Your laugh falls out of you, surprised at his curt reaction.

“Honestly, you two can go ahead to the party and we’ll just hang out here,” Miguel said, face as serious as ever as he wrapped himself around you from behind.

“No, no, no! You can do whatever you want after the party. Keep it in, buddy,” Peter says as he starts to guide everyone to the door.

Miguel keeps himself attached to you all night.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you bring your things to your car for Thanksgiving break. It’ll only be a week but he feels like he might not make it.

“You’ll see me again next Sunday, Miggy” you say to him as he’s bent over you with the biggest pout out ever.

“I’m still gonna miss you,” Miguel leans further with his forehead on yours. “Wish you could come with me.”

“Maybe over the winter break we can plan a time to meet outside of school.”

Miguel just sighs dramatically.

You decide to say fuck it and kiss him in the middle of the almost empty parking garage.

Miguel doesn’t let up now that you’ve given him an inch. He’s holding you by your hips, your face, your waist, anything to get closer. He moans a bit into your mouth as you open up.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper, “I really have to get on the road now, baby. And so do you.”

Miguel slumps as he guides you to your driver’s seat. You roll the window down and pucker your lips for another kiss.

Miguel obliges easily and asks, “Call me when you get there?”

“Of course,” you say.

He stands and watches you drive off, missing you already.

GymRat!Miguel who is almost knocked down when he opens the door to his home. Gabriel is wrapped around him like a koala, squeezing away.

Miguel laughs and rubs his back, relieved that he’s not heavy enough to knock him over.

“It’s good to see you too, Gabri,” Miguel laughs.

Conchata peaks around the corner and almost cries at the sight.

“My boys!” She coos while coming to the door. “George! Come help Miguel with his bags!”

Miguel waddles in with Gabriel still clinging to him. He’s glad to be home.

GymRat!Miguel who gets your call in the middle of Gabriel watching him play Final Fantasy. He pauses the game and runs to his room, Gabriel yelling at him to come back and unpause the game.

You tell that you made it home and that you’ll call him later.

You blow a kiss at the screen and he catches it with glee before you end the call.

Miguel is glad you left before Gabriel opens his door like that one big bird meme.

“Was that her?” he asks, voice excited. “Is she still on the phone?”

“Yes. No. Why are you eavesdropping like a creep?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! It just dawned on me a little too late that you left to go talk to her.”

“Whatever,” Miguel groaned. “Let’s just get back to the game.”

“You know you can’t hide her from me forever, right?” Gabriel says, skipping next to Miguel.

“I’m not trying to. But you being a weirdo will make me want to.”

Conchata passes by them with a laundry basket on her hip, “Who’s hiding something?”

“Nobody!” Both Miguel and Gabriel shout in her direction and run back to their game.

Conchata rolls her eyes and continues to her bedroom.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes overwhelmed on Thanksgiving Day. It’s as if every close and distant relative was here. The first floor was full of people. As much as Miguel puts on, he’s never been an much of an extrovert.

He’s up in his room taking a breather. He pulls out one of the cards you gifted him. The one for when he missed your kisses.

He opens and pulls out a letter. There’s instructions on it.

“Each shade is for a different feeling!”

There was a cute chibi doodle of you kissing him on the cheeks at the bottom of the letter. He saw that there was a shade for nervousness/being overwhelmed.

He pulls out a polaroid of you and opens the bag of glossy paper kisses. He flips one and it reads, “Breathe slow and steady 10 times. Kiss me when you’re done.”

He does as you say and brings the paper to his lips. It even smells like you. Sweet. Fruity.

He smiles to himself and takes out one more.

GymRat!Miguel who finally lets Gabriel talk to you on Friday.

“He can be a bit annoying. I’m warning you now,” Miguel says.

“Don’t say that, Miggy. He’s your brother! He’s allowed to bother you at least a little. ”

Miguel yells for Gabriel to come in and he’s running to snatch Miguel’s phone.

“Hi! My name is Gabriel, the better O’Hara. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh my gosh,” Miguel watches as you gasp. “It’s like another Miguel!”

Miguel snickers as Gabriel groans loudly in annoyance.

“I don’t look like him. He looks like me!” Gabriel pouts.

“Well, you both sport that same O’Hara pout.”

Gabriel and you chat for a long time. Miguel had to cut the conversation short when Gabriel started to tell embarrassing stories from their childhood.

“Alright, you’re done,” Miguel says and snatches the phone back.

“Aw, but we were just getting to the good stuff!”

“Yeah!” you say. “I wanna know how you messed up the science lab in middle school!”

“Nuh uh, Gabri is running his mouth too much. Get out.”

“I can’t wait to see you in person!” Gabriel shouts as Miguel pushes him towards the door. “You can meet my girlfriend too! She’ll love you!”

“I can’t wait,” you say, laughing as Miguel struggles to detach Gabriel’s fingers from the doorway.

GymRat!Miguel who talks to you on the phone until you fall asleep. You look adorable as you’re blissful to the outside world. Your cheek is squished on your pillow.

He has the urge to bite it like it’s mochi.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” he whispers before he closes his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of your breaths.

He didn’t know that you were still partially awake to hear him.

GymRat!Miguel who picks you up and spins you around after the break. You squeal in shock, surprised that he could pick you up in the first place.

“Baby, I lift much heavier weights at the gym. This is nothing,” Miguel stares at you as if you have two heads when you comment on it.

You’re in a daydream the rest of the day because of that fact.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you on your late study nights in the library closer to finals. You two always sit at one of the tables hidden by the giant bookshelves.

It was nice and cozy. Quiet and roomy.

It was also a great place to makeout.

Every time you got a set of flashcards memorized, Miguel would pull you in his lap and devour you with kisses. It was a great motivation and a welcomed distraction.

It always ended up getting a little too heated and Miguel would have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes you would feel so delirious that you wanted him to stay so you could crawl under the table and take care of his problems for him.

That was definitely the multiple late nights talking.

GymRat!Miguel who is super bummed out by the time Christmas break starts because you two can’t find a proper time to meet.

You have to visit several other family member’s houses and his biological dad wants his family to join him and his family at some ski resort before the week of Christmas.

George O’Hara was not turning down a free vacation.

You told him to cheer up and enjoy the snow and jacuzzis. Miguel couldn’t help but to think that the jacuzzi would be better with you on top of him in it.

And when Gabriel annoys him, he didn’t mind all that much because that was his baby brother whom he loves dearly. It was when Kron, his step-brother, would run his mouth that Miguel would seriously get annoyed.

He’s been competing with Miguel ever since he caught on to the fact that his dad had a secret love child.

Right now though, he was pissing Miguel off.

First, it was fighting Miguel over a snowboard. Then, it was taking the last elk burger and not even finishing it. Next, trying to knock him off balance right as he got off of the ski lift.

It was as if he was 8 and not 20.

His final straw was when he was being a dick towards Gabriel. All Gabriel was trying to do was bring them together and Kron cursed at him.

Even Miguel doesn’t tell Gabriel to fuck off.

“What is up with you? Don’t cuss at him. He didn’t do anything to you,” Miguel unlocks himself from his snowboard, ready to leave.

“It’s ok, Migs,” Gabriel held his hand out, knowing how this could end.

“No it’s not. He’s been nothing but a dickhead to you, to us, this entire trip. I’m sick of it. Go be annoying somewhere else, Kron.”

“Dad,” Miguel shouts out. Both George and Tyler looked over at him in concern. Miguel didn’t feel like directing himself towards a specific person. “I’m going to the room, I’ll be back down for dinner.”

Tyler wanted to run after him. George was eyeing Tyler for even reacting to Miguel’s cries. Nancy and Conchata just stood in confusion.

“He, uh, he probably just needs a breather. Maybe he’ll talk to his girlfriend!” Gabriel said trying to lighten the mood.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? I didn’t hear about any girlfriend,” Tyler says, saddened that he was being left out.

“Shit,” Gabriel mumbled to himself.

“You don’t live in our home, Tyler. Of course you don’t know,” George says, a bit peeved.

“What George means to say is that it’s all new. Fresh! Even I haven’t met the girl,” Conchata slides in matter of factly.

“Tyler should know her, being that she was the one who emailed him with our son’s case,” George grumbled out.

Tyler turned to Gabriel, “Jessica?”

“Uh, no.”

Tyler then says your name with a fondness. As if he knew you like an old friend. “She was quite compelling with her words!”

“So the two of you know of her and I still don’t even know what she looks like. I never thought this day would come,” Conchata held her gloved hand over her forehead like she was about to faint.

“Why don’t we host a small dinner next year? We can get to know her that way,” Nancy chimes in.

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Nonsense, Gabriel. If this girl was willing to do something so brave for Miguel we have to meet her,” Tyler grips Gabriel’s shoulder tight. A grip that could rival his brother’s.

“That’s a great idea, Tyler! Nice co-parenting move!” Conchata holds her fist out for him to bump. He does it proudly and they walk towards one of the cabins while Nancy follows behind, discussing dinner ideas.

George only scoffs and stomps off to his room mirroring Miguel’s mannerisms.

Gabriel was screwed once Miguel finds out.

GymRat!Miguel who waits until Christmas night in his bedroom to open the gift you sent to him. He smiles at your cute message and unfolds the paper to so much. It’s a Spider-man lego mask, a customized hoodie with a doodle of you and him, two picture frames with the two of you from his birthday dinner and the Halloween party, and some polaroids that you warned him to look at by himself later.

His breath shuttered as he took him in. They were all of you in your dorm room. They started off innocent. You were smiling, laughing, staring at the camera. Then they got a little more explicit.

You had on a tank top with no bra. Your cleavage was on display. Some showed your entire body on the bed. Some showed your torso and hips, curvy and full.

Miguel felt faint.

His final straw was the last picture in the stack. It was a picture of you from behind, “Merry Christmas XX” written in cursive across the top. You had on briefs but your ass was still readable, peaking out from the bottom. There was an arch in your back as you looked over your shoulder seductively. What a tease.

You were going to send him to an early grave. And who took these pictures?

All Miguel remembers was shuddering, hips lifting off the bed as he held one of pictures high. He had to bite his shirt as to not startle the entire house.

After he cleans up, he spreads the pictures across his bare chest and clicks a photo with a lazy yet satisfied smile.

You respond back with voice memos, so happy that he loved his gift. You also send some sounding a bit needy.

Miguel calls you and talks with you all night.

This Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: This one was really fun to write!! I dove deep into my lover girl brain for this. Like full on immersing myself into the reader’s position. I hope you enjoyed! 🩵

As always likes and reblogs are super appreciated. PLEASE COMMENT OMG. 😭 Let me know how you feel or I get nervous 😭😭😭!

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[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (11) - First Light

Chapter summary: A much needed discussion takes place and it ends with Astarion coating his daggers with poison.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma. Mentions of oral sex. Blood drinking,

Word count: 4.3k

Author's note: I am still unable to reply to comments (I'm waiting for tumblr support to fix this... I read all of the, I promise. You can also send and ask or head to ao3 so I can reply there. Thank you!

Series masterlist

Ao3

Wyll Ravengard was the picture-perfect of integrity.

Well, if you were to exclude his past dealings with the half-devil Mizora. But even then, he had been mostly justified in his assessment of the situation.

So it came as no surprise when you weren't able to find a single trace of judgement on his face.

Only evident concern.

Shadowheart had quickly filled him in on the Waterdeep situation as well as provided him with enough context when it came to Ava.

“Well, this is a… mess,” Wyll eventually drawled out.

Astarion, who was sitting to your right, immediately snickered. “Understatement of the year.”

Shadowheart, who was sitting to you left, promptly quipped, “I wonder whose fault that is.”

He leaned forward to glance at her. “Darling, all that pent-up frustration must–”

You heaved a deep sigh as you nudged him with your elbow, not in the mood to moderate their venomous exchange. “Enough!”

Wyll took a seat across from yours as a Fist stood by his side, hand clasping the handle of his sword in a silent warning.

“You should have told me about your arrangement with Ava,” he said, locking eyes with you. “I know all too well how some propositions are just rotten from the start and doomed to fail.”

Tension and guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

Not even half an hour ago, you had been able to momentarily push aside the chaos that had been hurled at you in such short notice.

“It seemed like a fair exchange – if her words are to be believed, that is,” you said.

Wyll tensed up. “There is nothing fair about offering your blood to bloodthirsty fiends as an exchange.” He then glanced at Astarion. “No offense.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “None taken, darling.”

But Wyll did have a point even if your arrangement with Astarion was nothing akin to the one with Ava.

Yet…

“Nothing is set in stone. I don't have to go through with any of it.”

From beside you, Shadowheart managed an irritable look. “I cannot be the only one who finds all of this rather convenient. Even if there is someone connected to Cazador after you, why would she withhold that information? Doesn't she need you safe and sound, Astarion?”

“I suppose so, but who's to say? I would need to talk to her,” he said, eyes on Wyll. “I have to talk to her.”

Wyll immediately understood the implication in his words. “Now?”

“Well, obviously not now,” he said indignantly.

The sun was still up and dusk was hours away. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” you intervened, heart racing in your chest. “We need to find out first if there's something that links all of this to Ava.”

“Regardless of that, she still needs to answer for her deranged proposition,” Astarion replied.

Shadowheart scoffed. “You were the one who endangered her in the first place with that bizarre deal.”

He was on his feet faster than you could blink, scowling. “Do not make the idiotic mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for her.”

She rose from the sofa, matching his defyance. “Oh, I am sure you care for her – in your own twisted way.”

“Can you two stop it?” you half-shouted, coming to stand in between them before he could retort. “This is pointless!”

They glared at each other in silence for a moment before parting ways, with Astarion sinking down on a chair whilst Shadowheart began pacing around the room, evidently distressed.

“My friends, we need to think critically here,” Wyll spoke again. “Arguing with each other is the last thing we ought to do right now.”

Silence followed as tension dispersed.

“Now, as we wait for Lae'zel and Gale to return, I must ask a few questions, Astarion.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh, this should be fun.”

Wyll ignored his snarky remark, assuming a more serious demeanour. “Why would you resort to her in the first place? Was her promise more solid than the Wish spell?”

“There were no promises made,” he said acidly, a nerve clearly having been struck. “She’s merely experimenting and the prospect seemed too good to pass.”

“So, your blood for a way to lessen your vampiric hunger? That was the deal?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine and you watched as Astarion tensed up slightly.

He had never shared with them just how deep the horrors he endured under Cazador's command truly twisted inside him.

How all of it had taken a toll on his ability to be intimate with someone without feeling tainted.

How it had ultimately driven him into striking a deal with someone like Ava as despair took root.

And it wasn't your place to reveal any of it.

So you merely sat back and observed him in silence.

“It seemed good enough back then,” he said coolly. “Besides, it could also be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”

That had Wyll arch an eyebrow. “The spawn?”

“Petras has been sending letters to report back, and – well, let's just say that dealing with 7,000 hungry vampire spawn isn't an easy feat,” he said. “I figured that if her experiment were to be successful, then it'd be beneficial for them as well.”

Oh.

Shadowheart waggled her eyebrows as her feet came to a halt. “So you weren't merely thinking about yourself?”

“Initially, yes. Of course.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“However, I was the one who doomed them to eternal hunger, so it seemed fitting I'd help.”

“They were doomed either way,” you quickly pointed out. “And it was Cazador's doing.”

His head turned to you. “Be it as it may, their hunger isn't sated for long. I know that all too well.”

Astarion wasn't exactly the epitome of selflessness, but you knew he had come to change some of his ways in the past few weeks after all the events that had unfolded.

And when it came to his own hunger, you figured old habits did die hard.

His eyes then landed on your neck for a moment before looking away.

“I reckon I already know the answer to this, but did you even plan ahead?” Shadowheart said, crossing her arms. “How would you even make this feasible for thousands of spawn with just your own blood? Or were they really just an afterthought?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes. “Ava was handling the … logistics, shall we say. My blood would be the starting point, but not a requirement.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. “And you took her word for it… blindly. You simply trusted some monster hunter with a blood fetish? This is ridiculous even for you.”

He was definitely a passionate admirer of the ‘laugh now, cry later’ school of thought, which also meant that when the consequences hit… they would hit hard.

“It's not like progress was being made with the Wish spell, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

A chill rushed through you like a knife. “Only a few weeks had passed, Astarion. All you had to do was wait–”

And then he snapped. His seemingly calm demeanour finally cracking open and revealing the hurt underneath.

“For centuries, all I did was wait! There were times I wished he would just destroy me once and for all to rid me of the burden of being ‘alive’ under such conditions,” he snarled, rising from the chair as he faced you. “I turned away from all that power I could have – the ritual… everything! I – I just…” His voice faltered and he heaved a sigh, reining back his outrage as his face softened into that expression that just broke you. “Is it such a crime that I want better for myself?”

You shook your head, feeling for him, but… “These things take time. Despair leads to rushed actions.”

He grimaced. “So you'd have me turn to hope?”

“Yes.”

He clicked his tongue. “There's nothing quite as cruel as hope, darling.”

You heard Wyll let out an exasperated sigh from across the room. “Astarion, I will not judge you for the decision you made to mingle with Ava – you had your reasons. But the consequences seem severe enough even if she isn't involved in either of the killings.”

He remained silent.

“It's not just about you anymore. She took an interest in her blood and is now using it as a bargaining chip,” he said. “That is unacceptable.”

“I fully agree with Wyll,” Shadowheart said as she came to sit next to you once again.

“And that is why you'll let me go to her,” Astarion said.

“You're still under house arrest. The Council of Four will–”

“To Hells with them all!” Astarion said through clenched teeth, fangs peeking through. “We're your friends, are we not? And since you're so adamant about my fault in this, allow me to set things right.”

“A good call,” Shadowheart chimed in with a nod.

Wyll seemed taken aback by his words and his frown deepened. “I may have the final word as the Grand Duke, but I cannot consciously go against a collective ruling.”

“The circumstances have changed,” Astarion retorted simply. “I will go to her and you're free to have your Fists point a thousand stakes at me along the way if it eases your mind.”

You could tell Wyll felt torn between duty and reasoning, and you didn't envy him in the slightest.

“You don't understand the consequences of–”

Astarion's face darkened and a devious smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, darling. I do understand. I simply do not care.”

Wyll took a deep breath, clearly realising he was fighting a losing battle.

He turned to face the Fist by his side. “Send word to the Council.”

The tall and broad man nodded before exiting through the front door.

“You can't be serious,” Astarion scoffed. “You should have kept this between us. They don't have to know.”

But Wyll merely shook his head. “We can do things your way and my way.”

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. 

“I'm coming with you,” you said, fully determined..

Shadowheart immediately gripped your arm firmly. “No.”

Wyll rose from his seat. “He shall not go alone, but you don't need to get more involved in this than you already are.”

Astarion turned to face you and raised one hand. “Absolutely not. You stay.”

That made your blood boil almost instantly and a flash of anger crossed your face. “I can fend for myself. Just let me–”

But your words were muffled by a deafening swirling and pulsing sound that came from outside.

In no time, the door was slammed open as a visibly irritated Lae'zel stormed inside.

“Tsk'va! Mages and their nauseating portals,” she grumbled before closing the door shut and plunging the room in candlelight once again. “Almost spilled the contents of my stomach. Twice.”

Both you and Shadowheart flocked to her side and you spoke first, “Are you alright? Where’s Gale?”

She nodded dismissively, placing her esteemed greatsword on the long table. “He stayed behind to converse with a few of his acquaintances, trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Well? What happened, then?” Astarion asked as he approached the three with you with Wyll right behind him.

“The man succumbed to a multitude of slashing wounds.”

Your eyes widened as you gasped.

“Slashing wounds? Was it an animal? A monster?” Wyll immediately pressed.

“We do not know. It was a rather brutal sight even for someone like me,” Lae'zel said with a frown.

A shiver spread across your body and you felt nauseous all of a sudden.

“Was there anything odd about it?” Shadowheart asked.

“Because a man being brutally shredded to pieces isn't odd enough?” Astarion said with a scoff.

She ignored him. “Were there traces of necrotic magic?”

Lae'zel arched a brow. “No. What's with this interrogation?”

Shadowheart was definitely trying to find a common element between the two deaths… and Ava.

And it seemed that there was nothing there.

Yet.

“We are trying to figure out if Ava could have had a hand in this.”

Lae'zel didn't budge. “Who?”

“Ava.”

Lae'zel turned to Astarion. “Your hairdresser?”

This time, Shadowheart clicked her tongue impatiently, hands on her hips. “Astarion struck a deal with some monster hunter turned blood merchant and got her involved.” She extended one arm to at you. “This Ava woman now wants her blood for whatever nefarious reason and might also be the one to blame for the death that led to them getting arrest and – quite possibly – the one from today.”

Your eyes widened, quite astonished that she was able to spill all that information in one swift breath. 

If the circumstances weren't quite so dire, you would also have chuckled from how she sounded like a child who was telling her strict parent on her misbehaving sibling.

Astarion was obviously offended. “Conveniently leaving out the part where I am entitled to mingling with whomever I want, and that I was completely oblivious to Ava's finding and her proposal.”

Lae'zel glanced at you. “What proposal?”

“It's fine. Don't worry. I won't go through with any of it,” you said reassuringly, placing your hand on her wrist, knowing fully well she was itching to swing her sword on him. “This is all one big mess, but he truly didn't know.”

Shadowheart growled. “You do not have to keep defending him!”

Wyll spoke before you could. “Shadowheart. I understand your indignation, but we need to move on from the constant pointless bickering. What is done is done.”

Astarion clapped thrice. “Ah! The voice of reason!”

She threw him a death glare before crossing her arms and tapping her foot irritably on the floor, but not uttering another word.

Lae'zel, on the other hand, had her narrowed eyes set on Astarion. “You are fortunate she adores that pretty head attached to your body.”

“Was that a compliment, Lae'zel?” he taunted.

“Your ability to turn any remark into an opportunity to feed your ego is truly astounding, Astarion.”

He smirked happily in response. “I do my best – or worst, depending on your taste.”

“Enough of this,” you interjected as you stared at Lae'zel. “When is Gale returning?”

She shrugged. “Unclear. He is also trying to find another contact who might help out with the Wish spell.”

“No.”

All heads turned to Astarion.

His brows knitted together. “No. No one else is getting involved until we figure out what is happening.”

Your eyes met his in mingled surprise and confusion. 

Even Shadowheart was stunned silent as her face softened.

“I thought you wanted this more than anything,” Wyll asked.

“Well, yes. But not when people are turning up dead all around me.”

Lae'zel frowned. “So, all of this for nothing? Had a sudden change of heart about your inability to walk in the sun again?”

He rolled his eyes. “Heavens forbid I'm the one pointing the moral compass in the right direction. Don't act so surprised, darling. I still know what I want and what I need to do.”

You closed the distance between you and him, worry brewing in your heart.

“Astarion, the Wish spell isn't easy to come by. It's not easy to find someone willing to teach it and Gale is a powerful wizard and strong candidate,” you said, trying to reason with him as you placed a hand on his arm. “I understand your reluctance, but we might have to wait even longer if this opportunity is disregarded.”

He didn't even flinch. “This is ultimately my choice, and I choose to wait. I've had it with others dictating how I should feel and act. This is the sensible thing to do.”

For centuries, he had belonged to everyone – to anyone – but himself. 

Both in body and mind. 

So, if this was what he truly thought was best for him, who were you to deny him of it? Maybe you would have chosen differently, but this wasn't truly about you, was it?

He would tell you otherwise, of course. That you had been the stepping stone to his healing process since the nautiloid crash, but you couldn't and wouldn't take full credit for it.

This was a joint effort and you would empower him all the way through.

“I stand with you,” you said eventually said, breaking the silence.

He gradually relaxed under your touch.

Shadowheart spoke next, “I respect your decision, Astarion. We need to see if there is a link between the two deaths. I can go ahead through the portal and ask Gale to return.”

He nodded. 

“Very well,” she said with a curt smile.

Wyll approached the door. “I will inform the guards to accompany you once dusk hits, Astarion.”

He nodded again. “Thank you.”

Lae'zel then cursed and left the room with a loud bang behind her as the door closed shut.

Your hand came to his shoulder and his crimson eyes were on you again. “Let me come with you.”

“No.”

You scowled. “I'm not some frail sorcerer. I can stand by your side and help.”

This time, he chuckled. “Sweetheart, you are more capable than most of us combined here. My reluctance doesn't stem from my lack of faith in your abilities,” he said, voice firm and collected. “If anything were to happen to you because of me, I'd never forgive myself. Allow me to handle this.”

Your heart was hammering fast in your chest from his words, and even though you wanted to argue with his decision, you held your tongue back.

In truth, you were mostly scared Ava would have something up her sleeve and hurt him. That was what was eating at your nerves.

But still, you nodded

It was settled then.

You made your way down the corridor, coming to a halt as the faint glow spilled from inside his room.

The door was open for a change.

A comforting smile curled your lips, knowing you'd find him inside.

As you approached the doorway, you spotted Astarion across the room, flicking through a few pieces of cloth placed on the round table.

You knocked twice on the wood “May I?”

He nodded. “It's your house.”

“Well, it's your room,” you retorted. “For now, at least,” you quickly added, not wanting to seem overbearing. After all, he wasn't ultimately here on his own volition.

“You don't have to keep asking,” he said with a faint smile.

Your eyes landed on his bed as you walked in, causing your heart to skip a beat.

A few hours ago, the two of you had been lost in each other's pleasure on that very same spot. Now, the bedclothes had been laid sprawled across it, no creases or any remaining proof of your earlier endeavour.

The two of you had been robbed of after care and a much needed talk about what had happened.

Even if he had seemed quite content during and after all of it, you found yourself always hung on the fear that you had rushed through it all.

So, you needed the affirmation. You needed to hear his thoughts on it and to ensure no boundaries had been crossed.

You approached the table and your gaze roamed cross the clear vials that he had placed by his twin daggers. 

Odourless.

Colourless.

Poison.

“Lethal?”

He dabbed a selected piece of cloth on the clear liquid. “No.”

An uneasy feeling began to take root. “Do you think she'll try to hurt you?”

“It would be rather foolish of her,” he mused, dragging the damp fabric along each blade, coating them in a fine layer of poison. “But I've been wrong before about people, so – as they say – better safe than sorry.”

It wasn’t the reassurance you were seeking, but Astarion was more than capable when it came to self-defence.

“Besides, she needs me more than I need her,” he concluded, inspecting the glinting blade close to his eyes. “And if she fails to provide satisfactory answers, the Fists will deal with her.”

You nodded, but still failing to push your fear aside. “What if there is really someone after us? What if she's not connected to any of this?”

You had purposefully let out the faint implication that maybe there was a connection to Cazador. He didn't need to be troubled with that in case Ava was bluffing. 

Astarion sheathed both daggers on either side of his waist before his eyes landed on you. “If that is the case, then she will tell me who it is. And she better have a godsdamned good justification for why she thought I would allow you to be involved.”

You absentmindedly bit your lip and he smiled warmly, coming to stand in front of you, wiping his hands clean from any trace of poison.

Silently, he leaned to press a lingering kiss on your forehead, his cool lips making you flinch slightly.

It was as if a surge of lightning had been cast throughout your body, setting you alight.

“About earlier…” you said, swallowing your nervousness.

He traced your jawline with his thumb before tipping your head back so you could properly meet his gaze.

“Darling, already back for another round?”

You broke into laughter. “No! No… that wasn't what I trying to say.”

He tapped your nose lovingly and it was as if the two of you were long-time lovers, used to each other's teases and mannerisms.

Your heart skipped yet another beat.

“I know. Just couldn't miss the opportunity to have you all flustered for me again,” he said with a devious grin. “But do go on.”

“I just want to make sure… it was alright… what we did, I mean,” you said in a whisper.

Astarion's brows furrowed together. “I thought that was pretty much evident…”

A lump swelled in your throat.

You truly didn't want to overstep any lines.

But you had to know. You had to hear it.

“I am talking about… up here,” you said, pressing a finger softly to his temple. “I… just want to make sure you're truly fine. That we're truly fine.”

You held your breath for a moment, dreading a worrisome reply.

He caught hold of your hand and pressed your finger to his lips. “I will always tell you if it's too much.”

A wave of relief washed over you and you allowed yourself to breathe normally.

Still…

You swallowed again. “Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he said, using your own finger to tap the tip of your nose, earning a heartfelt giggle from you. 

“So… it wasn't too much?”

“No,” he said truthfully.

You nodded as he gripped your chin. “How did it feel?”

He paused for a while, pondering. “It felt… right.”

Your stomach turned and your heart sped up from how close he was to you.

How close he felt to you.

“I want to kiss you,” he said all of a sudden. “May I?”

You felt as though you would melt into a puddle from how desperate he sounded.

“You don't have to always ask,” you said truthfully.

He then pressed his cool lips to the corner of your mouth and you instinctively gasped. “I just adore the sound of your voice when you let me in.”

His lips moved to the opposite side, lingering there, and a rush of heat pooled in your cheeks.

“May I kiss you, darling?” he asked once more, pulling back just enough for his lips to barely touch yours. “May I taste you?”

Gods…

“Please do.”

He didn't need to be told twice.

The kiss started off slow at first as his lips molded into yours. But as soon as you made way for his tongue to slide inside, Astarion became the image of hunger.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed both thumbs on your chin, so you'd open up wider for him.

A flash of memory filled your mind and you recalled how he used to do the same whenever you were on your knees, struggling to fit his thick cock in your mouth.

“You can take more of me, can't you, my sweet?” he'd say, voice dripping with lust.

You'd always struggle at first. Always. But he was such a caring lover and he would always ensure you took your time.

You quickly shuddered as your clit began throbbing evenly. 

His tongue was as relentless against yours as his cock had once been, but his eagerness and hunger had his razor-like fang nip at your lower lip, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you groaned from the sharp sting.

Astarion immediately pulled back and you stared at him in confusion.

You felt a few drops dribbling down your chin.

Why wasn't he tasting you?

His eyes were fixed on your lips and his eyes narrowed with bloodlust.

“You're letting it go to waste?” you asked, swiping your finger across the bleeding wound.

He swallowed with a strained smile. 

Oh, he was struggling to hold back…

“Well, darling… I don't intend on leaving the house with my cock hard with your blood.”

You clenched so hard you felt a gush of wetness being squeezed out.

But there was only so much Astarion could withstand, so you couldn't fight the moan that tore through your throat as he placed the softest kiss to your lip.

“Just before I go,” he whispered. “So I can take you with me.”

You clenched again and you could feel your clit swell up with each throb.

He eventually parted from you, licking his blood-stained lips as his eyes held that lustful gaze you adored.

“I'll be back soon.”

You were left petrified in place as he swiftly made his way out.

It wasn’t fair how soaked you were.

How soaked he had left you.

You glanced over your shoulder and realised the door had been left open all along and you rushed to the window, tugging on the curtain.

The sun had set as he appeared down below, followed closely by two Fists.

And the single mage slayer.

The three of them trailed after his steps and darted off into the distance.

And you realised that without a mage slayer around to keep your magic at bay, you could simply vanish.

You glanced at the vials of poison on the nearby table and smiled.

TBC

Series masterlist

Ao3

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #the arrangement #astarion smut

[muchosbesitos]

easiest thing

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman reader

contents: reader who thinks they’re hard to love and miguel who loves them so easily, mentions of death at the beginning, reader goes to therapy, somewhat angsty and fluffy?

author’s note: pls don’t take the characterization for ‘you’ srsly, this was purely self indulgence 🫡

word count: 4.3k

"Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

You'd given up on romance despite that you still had the lingering desire of wanting someone's eyes to sparkle everytime they looked at you and of wanting someone that just understood you in a way that nobody else had access to. You were a hopeless romantic with a shitty life in general, to say the least. If it wasn't the fact that you ended up getting ghosted time and time again or the fact that every talking stage you had ended up flopping like a fish out of water, it was the only best friend that you'd had dying. A part of you shut off the day you were forced to kneel down next to your Peter Parker, every sliver of hope in you fading away at the same rate that the life faded away from his eyes.

You knew that you weren't responsible for Peter's passing, but a part of you wished you could've done more than just watch the life from his body fade within your very eyes. You'd felt like the strongest person in the world up to that moment, being able to lift vehicles and pieces of rubble with ease, but in the moment, you were just as vulnerable as anybody else. You wished that you could've taken note of the strange behavior he elicited beforehand, that you weren't so caught up in your own issues to take note of what burdens he was struggling with. But now, all you could do was just linger on what you could've done, should've done, and what you wished you'd done differently.

You forced yourself to try to go through the motions of living without Peter, every task seeming more and more difficult with each day that passed by. Showering seemed like a tedious task, the almost borderline sting of the boiling water doing nothing to distract you from the pain that lingered in your heart. You'd even considered giving up the mantle of being Spider-Woman, the red and blue spandex suit collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe. Not even a year had passed by when you'd lost your Uncle Ben, the words from his dying lips ringing through your head. "With great power comes great responsibility," you murmured quietly to yourself, deciding to put on the suit after you'd failed to show up for New York time and time again these last few months.

You'd thought that coming back would be like riding a bike, that you wouldn't forget it no matter how much you willed yourself to try. But clearly, you'd been mistaken seeing as how you were currently dangling off the edge of the Empire State Building. You'd shot a web to cling onto the side of a building, finding yourself coming up short as nothing came out of your wrists. "Come on," you murmured to yourself, trying to stick your fingers in different positions to get the web to come out. It was almost like your body was giving you the consequences of neglecting it for far too long, refusing to work with you when you needed it the most. The grip that you had on the building loosened, the stickiness from your fingers no longer there as you dropped to the floor.

You frantically stuck your hand out to try to stick a web as you rapidly began your descent, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You weren't sure if it was the humidity in the air or the sheer nervousness that was coaxing your body at the moment. Most likely the latter, but you didn't have time to think too hard about it as you willed for just one measly web to come out before you face planted onto the pavement. Your body was running strictly out of fear now as you got dangerously close to the floor now, your mind starting to accept the situation for what it was. While you'd completely given up on trying more than surviving after Peter had died, all you knew now is that you didn't want to die. You really didn't.

A shaky breath of relief escaped from your lips when you stuck to a building near you, the web that you'd been hoping for so badly coming into fruition. You looked down at the floor, silently thanking the web sticking to the side of the building after realizing just how close you'd gotten to actually hitting the floor. After that near-death experience, you'd decided to get back into training your body before you went out to patrolling the city like you used to. Forcing yourself out of bed was less difficult as the days passed, finding a purpose to get yourself out of your house everyday. Your body wasn't the fighting machine that it used to be but you were willing to work to get just a sliver of what you used to have.

It wasn't long until the citizens of new york city started noticing that Spider-Woman was back, met with some disapproval but overall, everyone just seemed thrilled over the comeback. The city had been buried in a cesspool of chaos and robberies after you'd left. A few of the small fry were smart enough to drop their sketchy business before they got caught, an instant relief felt in the small businesses throughout the city. You couldn't help but feel suspicious as even the villains that found joy in threatening the city had gone under wraps, your mind running through all the possibilities of what they could possibly be planning. Your feet swung off the building you were monitoring from, your eyes shifting to every little noise elicited below you.

Your feet sprung up to action faster than you'd expected when you heard the sound of rubble crumbling underneath you, the sound of screaming ringing through your ears as you swung throughout the different buildings. You went to the scene of the danger, a distinction from the people that were fleeing from the scene while screaming at the top of the lungs. You approached the scene, watching as Rhino destroyed every building that he had access to. a malicious smile on his face as he controlled the metal suit, taking pleasure in the way that the city panicked under his control. You weren't one to make any ceremonious entrances, simply swinging into action as you wrapped a web from underneath him to tie his feet together.

You'd taken a couple hits from the fight, your body still not used to the strain of these fights after only week of training. Despite the fact that every muscle in your body was begging for you to stop, to give into the exhaustion, you refused to give up just yet. "Just a little longer," you mentally assured yourself, the muscles in your legs starting to burn as you ran over to the Rhino. You wanted to separate him from any of the citizens that might've stayed to watch the fight, unable to take even just one casualty tonight. You rendered the suit useless after tying it up to the wall, punching through the thick glass of what seemed to resemble the eyes. You pulled out what seemed to be a cheap copy of the original out of the suit, your eyes widening at the realization that this was all a decoy.

Miguel was watching your fight intently through the monitor, watching your movements as you tied the villain down. It was everything that he would've done in your situation, every movement graceful as you kept the villain away from any civilians. "Thinking about her as a new recruit?" LYLA asked from beside him, popping up into view as she took in the sight of your reflexes. "She'd be a nice addition," Miguel uttered quietly, entranced by the way that your body moved under the spandex. He'd been overlooking your universe for quite some time, finding a couple things that elicited some red flags in the system during your absence. He found it impressive the way that you'd managed to put your pain to the side for the greater good of New York City, willing to come back and fight despite the fact that you had no one to be personally fighting for.

Blood leaked from the side of your mouth as you received a blow from the actual Rhino, half your ribs bruised from the sheer impact of his metal fists pounding into your body. His suit was nearly indestructible, you were unable to take him down but you were able to tie him. Almost as if sensing your plan to restrain him, he avoided every single one of the webs that you'd struck out at him and landing a couple hits in the process. You were reeling on the floor, clutching your stomach as the man mocked your position on the floor. Every little comment escaping from his mouth serving to belittle your position as Spider-Woman, of doubting your ability to protect the people of New York City. You hated the effect that his words had on you, every single little utter only serving to deepen the insecurities that you already felt about yourself.

Your eyes widen a bit as you noticed the man in front of you glitch, making it all too evident that this wasn't your Rhino. You had noticed that it was taking you a bit longer to get past his defenses. You were thinking of giving up, giving into the pain and exhaustion coursing through your body when you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up like a soldier on command. An orange portal appeared by the side, the swirling waves almost distracting you from the task at hand. You'd managed to briskly avoid a punch thrown by the robot, your legs barely sustaining you as you stood up. You expected for the portal to show some of the goons that the Rhino called for assistance, but you were instead met with people that were all too similar to you. They all wore the spider emblem on their suit, their movements synced to precision as they fought against the villain.

You'd joined the fight to the best of your ability, helping them tie down the villain until one of the members captured the man in a trap. You were approached by a rather tall man just as you were getting ready to leave, his figure imposing over yours as he looked down at you. The mask on his face disappeared with one tap of the watch he had on, his gaze showing no emotion in it as he looked over at you. "I want to formally invite you to the Spider Society. It's where spider-people from different universes come and gather to fight against anomalies, I'd recommend for you to give it a thought," he spoke up, his hand extending a watch similar to the one he had on over to you. "This should teleport you to the building whenever you're ready."

You looked down at the watch as you realized it was nearly a week since it'd been given to you, the decision still not clear to you despite how long you'd looked at it. While there was nothing here for you in this universe, no prospect of friendship, family, or romance, a part of you didn't want to leave out of how comfortable you were at the moment. You'd gotten used to the cycle of the crime rates in New York, of fighting small time criminals and the occasional villain that tormented the city. You thought to yourself about what Peter would do, trying to convince yourself that he would be assuring your decision to stay stuck in this spot. With every attempt that you tried to rationalize your decision, you were only met with more reasons as to why you should go. Your finger pressed the button on the gizmo hesitantly, looking at the portal appearing inside of your apartment.

You were awestruck as you walked into the Spider Society, overwhelmed by just how many different universes you'd been so blissfully unaware of. There was a Spider-Cat, Spider-Dino, and even a car version of Spider-Man, interacting like it was normal. The building itself was also impressive, a modern design to match those of the buildings outside of it. You'd thought of flying cars as a figment of your imagination but here they were, a common sight as they moved through the sky. "You're the new recruit, right?" A small orange holographic woman appeared in front of you, waiting for your confirmation before she led you inside. "Grab one of the bracelets on that table over there before you start to glitch out."

Before you got the chance to ask what she meant by 'glitch out,' you felt like your body was struggling to even mobilize. The atoms inside you seemed to be defying the building you were in, some of them morphing you into a different shape before it stopped. You quickly pulled the bracelet onto your wrist, following the holograph into the room that she led you in. "He'll be down from his platform in a second. That thing usually takes a while to load," she informed you, fading away just as soon as she'd arrived. You looked up at the platform as it started to lower, every second of waiting only making you feel more nervous about the situation. It was the same man that had given you the watch beforehand, the leader of this whole organization if you had to assume.

Miguel took one look at your expression, your eyes holding so much pain buried within them even if you were trying your best to plaster a smile on your face. Even that seemed to be crumbling under his very eyes, though, your smile not quite meeting your eyes as it wavered with every second that he spent looking at you. He knew the pain that came with being Spider-Man, knew of all the sacrifices that the people in his society faced once they took on the role. He'd seen this story play out multiple times, whether it be with Ben, Gwen, or with Peter. But for some reason, unknown even to himself, he couldn't handle seeing you so upset. "Welcome to the Spider Society, I'm Miguel O’Hara. Allow me to show you around."

Miguel took you along through the different areas in the society, taking in your reactions of everything that it offered. You couldn't help but notice that every member that the two of you passed seemed to look at him with awe, immediately scrambling to find something to do. "If you ever want or need someone to talk to, we have a licensed therapist on the first floor. Everything's confidential so you don't have to worry about anything getting out," he spoke up once he was finished with the tour of the facility, his red eyes meeting yours for the first time this evening. The orange hue in the background only accentuated how beautiful they truly were, the intensity that his gaze held.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't want you to turn out like had, so consumed in your own pain that you'd become a shell of the person of who you used to be. A way for him to prevent yourself from delving in too far in your pain, the way he had when he neglected to speak his native tongue because it just reminded him time and time again of how his mamá had failed to show up for him. You weren't a bunch of sunshine and rainbows from what he could tell from the few clips that he'd seen from you in your element, but even he could tell that you were hiding the pain you felt. He wanted to be the helping hand he wished he could've had when he was struggling with Gabriella’s loss, the helping hand he wished he could’ve just had in general.

“I don't really need therapy but thank you," you assured him, thanking him once more for welcoming you as a member before making your way out of the room. While subconsciously you could feel that there was something wrong with the way that you were perceiving the world and reacting to the things happening in your life, you didn't want to feel like too much of a burden. You didn't want to take that help away from the people that could need it, despite the fact that you could tell within yourself you were slowly starting to wear down from the events happening in your life. Before you could go to get help, you had to acknowledge that deep within, you truly did need someone's help during this period of your life. But for now, you would just keep your head down and prove your worth in the society.

You'd made your way into therapy after you decided that maybe it wasn't as bad as you imagined, that admitting to yourself that you needed help hadn't been the end of the world. You'd managed to work out through your feelings of grief about losing peter and Uncle Ben, learning that it was okay to miss them just as long as you didn't let your life stop from the grief that you felt. Despite the fact that you'd made some progress with that aspect of your life, you refused to touch any topic that covered the progress of your romantic life. Maybe because you knew that it would delve into further issues, knowing that it would make you think about why you felt unwanted. You weren't ready to deal with those issues just yet, unsure if you would ever be ready to divulge.

You were slowly starting to come around to being the version of yourself that you used to be, of getting back into doing the things that you once enjoyed doing. You'd picked up a couple books from the library at the society, spending some of the time that wasn't training or going out on missions reading about silly romance novels. If it wasn't that, you'd found different activities that you found yourself enjoying. You realized that you wouldn't have tried them out if it weren't for the state of your life right now, having lived in a state of doing whatever was comfortable between Peter and you. You were finding things that belonged solely to you, finding memories that weren't involved with missing anybody.

Miguel wasn't too obvious with the way that he presented his feelings towards you, but if you'd looked a little closer, you would've noticed the little details. How the grumpy boss who avoided making meaningless conversation with everyone else seemed to present an interest in everything that you had to say, asking you questions of how you were adjusting to the Spider Society and asking questions about things that you showed an interest in. He knew that you were still coping with your problems so he didn't want to push you too far, didn't want to push you too far away from him. He was happy to keep talking to you in a platonic matter, just getting to hear that little rise in your pitch whenever you were excited filling him up with a sense of peace and tranquility.

"LYLA, can you log into her amazon account for me?" He spoke up to her, unable to decide what to get you for your birthday. He'd had months to plan out what he wanted to gift you, but every gift seemed to be dwindled in quality when he compared it to the type of person that you were. You were worth more than the complimentary pair of socks he was so accustomed to gifting the members of the society whenever they had a birthday. LYLA’s confusion was evident across her features but she complied with his request, hacking through your account to pull up your cart. While you had some necessities on there, you also had a list of the books that you were planning on getting in the near future. Perfect.

To say that it was the easiest purchase he's made in his life was a bit of an understatement, he was waiting anxiously to see the excitement on your face once you opened his gift. You'd even joked that he seemed more excited about the gift opening than you were. He watched as you opened up the gift carefully, trying not to rip apart the wrapping paper that he'd chosen for you. Your eyes practically sparked up with excitement at opening up the box, finding the catalog of books you were putting to the side until you were able to buy them. You were rendered speechless for a bit, your eyes shifting from the books over to Miguel who was standing to the side, gauging for every one of your little reactions.

"Thank you!" You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him as you enveloped him into a hug. The action was foreign to him, something he hadn't bothered to practice in a while. but every thought of that went out the window as his arms came to your back, rubbing small circles as he looked down at you. "I hope this means you liked your present," he spoke just loud enough for you to hear, an intimate scene set between the two of you despite the fact there was a crowd of people partying around. "I love it, thank you so much," you told him, the tightness of your embrace speaking for all the words you couldn't get out of your mouth at the moment. He let you cling onto him as long as you needed, unwilling to deny you anything.

Miguel wasn't planning on acting on his feelings, but eventually decided that it would be better to get a rejection straight up than stay wondering 'what if?' He ran different scenarios of how it would go, some of them resulting in the two of you going out on a date while some of them resulted in you ignoring him throughout your duration at the Spider Society. He tried hard not to focus on those thoughts too much, letting himself have a false sense of positivity despite the fact that you hadn't reciprocated his feelings at all. He ran different approach methods in his mind, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to you but every thought in his head seemed to be rendered useless just by taking a good glimpse at you in your natural state. Curled up on the couch with a book in your hand, the faint glow from the sun shining through the window illuminating your features.

"Hey, do you mind if I talk to you?" He came up by your side as you were reading one of the books he'd gotten for your birthday, a small smile appearing on your face as you looked over at him. "Yeah, for sure. What's up?" You asked him, scooting over on the couch to give him space to sit down. He sat down next to you, almost seeming nervous in front of you as he twiddled with his thumbs. It was a sight to behold, the man usually in command of every room he walked into nervous at the prospect of getting rejected. "I wanted to ask you out on a date. If you don't want to, I completely understand. I just hope it won't ruin what you've built here at the Spider Society," he finally spoke up after what seemed to be a couple minutes of silence, his eyes hesitant to look into yours as he waited for you to process the information.

You'd been oblivious to these signs for months, unable to even fathom that someone would see you in that way. You were so convinced that you weren't someone that people saw as date-worthy, that you were only a placeholder until they were able to find someone better. You blinked slowly as you tried to let his words sink in, the look on your face vulnerable as you looked up at him. "You're not joking right?" You tried to confirm, hoping that you weren't being used as the butt of a joke this time around. You'd started to grow comfortable around Miguel, enjoying being around his company and even envisioning him whenever you had your nose buried in a book. "No I’m not joking," his voice was gentle as he assured you, his hand holding yours as he rubbed circles on the back of yours.

"Then yes. I'd like to go out on a date with you," you finally accepted his invitation after no recording crew had come out to expose themselves.The two of you spent a couple seconds in silence before he spoke up again. "Pudiera escribirte un libro como esos que tanto te gustan nomas hablando de cuanto tu presencia me alumbra la vida y aun no seria suficiente para describir el amor que siento por ti, preciosa. You make me forget every word in my repertoire just by looking into your eyes," he murmured, his Spanish coming out nearly perfect despite the fact he hadn't bothered to speak it aloud in a couple years now. "Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

(I could write you a book like those you really like, just talking about how much your presence illuminates my life and it still wouldn't enough to describe the love I feel for you, precious)

Despite reading and re-reading all the romance books stacked up on your shelf at home, you'd never actually imagined that you'd be the one in the main character's position now. You lived vicariously through those books, all the romantic moments that you longed for merely described as words on paper. You remembered picking out books with the male's pov just to get that glimpse of what adoration sounded on both sides, of getting a picture of what you wanted someone to think about when they saw you. You'd seen multiple people in your life getting into relationships, assuring you empty promises that you'd find the person for you when the time was right, and you’d dismissed it all as pure bullshit. But all that waiting seemed worth it at the thought of going out with Miguel.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies taking flight in your stomach at the realization that Miguel, one of the smartest people you've ever met who seemed to have a response for everything, was rendered speechless just by having you around. The feeling was almost overwhelming as you slowly started to let your guard down around him, letting him love you the way he wanted to love you. You realized now that maybe you weren't as unlovable as you thought you were, that you weren't too broken to be the object of someone's love and admiration, just that you'd been seeking those things from the wrong people. All you wanted was to express the same love that he’d expressed towards you despite the lack of experience.

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[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear season 2 #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfic

[fkinavocado]

in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings 

Part Two/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Three (word count: 4.3k) - updated 21st Jan

Harry didn’t have the heart to leave the bed the following morning and risk waking Y/N up. He’d checked his phone, it was a reasonable hour, more than reasonable in fact. It was close to 12 and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in this late. He couldn’t remember exactly what time they went to bed either but it must’ve been past 1am. Even so, he’d surely slept well beyond his usual 6-7 hours on a good day. Recently though, he’d had trouble sleeping. Unsurprisingly so, it coincided to when this whole mess had started.

Y/N was sound asleep, still. She’d snuggled up close to his side in her sleep and he was happy for it; she looked serene, content, her face free from the sad look in her eyes he’s always seen her sporting. Harry would’ve kicked himself if he woke her up.

However, there was a situation he needed to take care of.

Something that hadn’t occurred since before this whole mess.

Huh.

In any case, seeing as he was just in his boxers he couldn’t risk her seeing and getting the wrong idea. He didn’t exactly know what that meant even, but he supposed he just didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, in any way.

So he reluctantly slipped out from underneath the covers and tiptoed to the ensuite, peeking back over his shoulder before closing the door to make sure he hadn’t woken her up.

The situation was indeed quite dire. He was painfully hard, and he couldn’t remember the last time this had occurred. Hell, last time he had sex he couldn’t even keep it up and didn’t reach full mast. He’d masturbated in the shower more times than he cared to admit, but since he couldn’t exactly sleep with his wife he decided he wasn’t going to feel sorry for himself over it. He just did it for some much needed relief; it wasn’t satisfying, but rather just a means to an end. All that pent up frustration was messing with him - his sleep, his appetite, his overall drive and energy to go about his day to day.

However, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, not to mention without any intention of getting off. 

He kept willing it to go down so he could pee and then brush his teeth and get on with his morning routine but if anything, it began to ache. He sat on the closed toilet’s lid and rubbed his face, sighing profusely. 

“Harry?”

He flinched upright, almost knocking off the toilet roll stand. “Yeah? ‘Morning!”

“Good morning. Are you alright in there?”

Harry grimaced. Shit, how long had he been in there?

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, did you need the bathroom?”

“No, it can wait, I just heard you sigh and it sounded pretty miserable to be honest. I’ll give you some space if you want. I can go take a walk around the parking lot…”

Harry decided to man up. He couldn’t pee until his boner went down, and he’d already taken a shower before they went to bed. He just had to face the music. 

Opening the bathroom door, he faced her. “Sorry. I’ve got a… situation going on. ‘M afraid it’s gonna take a while for it to die down so might as well let you use the bathroom in the meantime. Sorry, I tried willing it away. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Y/N gave him a confused look for a long moment, and it wasn’t until he glanced downwards suggestively that she followed his line of vision and her own eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

Harry watched her blush and wanted to bang his head against the doorframe. Could he have made it even more awkward? Surely not. She giggled and covered her mouth trying to stifle it which only made him grin stupidly. Why was her reaction so endearing? He should’ve been mortified. 

But there she was, clad in his pyjamas, the sleeves covering her knuckles of her hands she brought to her mouth adorably, her flushed cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink that he couldn’t help but notice matched her plump lips. Her whole face was a bit puffy from sleep and it was just too cute not to smile at. Her hair was a mess but he preferred it like this, all natural and wild. He imagined that’s how it got when she had sex, too.

Wait, what?

Harry winced. His dick literally began throbbing at the mere thought of Y/N between the sheets, her hair fanned over the pillow, her lips swollen from more than just sleeping…

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You look like you’re in pain almost. It’s just that… I dunno. I forgot this was even a thing. Haven’t seen morning wood since my boyfriend in college, I don’t think…”

Harry furrowed his brows slightly at that. “Really? I get them all the time. Well. Not recently, I guess.”

“I guess I just assumed it only happened to younger men, I don’t think I’ve ever seen– huh…” Y/N seemed lost in thought for a moment and Harry knew what must’ve been on her mind just then. He hadn’t realized her sex life with her husband was that bad that they weren’t even having morning sex. That was baffling to him. Morning sex was his favorite.

Ouch.

Y/N took note of him wincing again and cleared her throat, “Well, I mean… what do you usually do? Does it just go away?”

Harry was back to grinning. She was too cute. “No, it doesn’t just go away… it can go away, but I need to be really distracted and it takes ages. Plus it’s painful, yeah.”

“So do you need to…?”

“Ideally. I mean, well… not ideally.”

“You mean ideally you’d have sex?”

Harry chuckled at her candor. Here he was, trying to be sensible about it. “Yeah, ideally I’d fuck it out.”

Y/N’s gaze fell back on his erection and Harry was just starting to wonder why he didn’t feel weird about it but he couldn’t really follow his train of thought because what she said next threw him off track completely.

“Would a blowjob work, too?”

Harry looked at her incredulously, his mouth agape as he stammered trying to phrase a coherent reply to that. “... A blowjob? What, like– you mean, generally speaking, or–”

“Yeah. Generally speaking. But also, now in particular.”

Harry furrowed his brows taking a step closer to her. “I’m trying really hard not to misinterpret this and possibly make it even more weird, Y/N. So tell me if I’m overstepping, but did you just offer to suck me off?”

Y/N’s eyes got impossibly rounder, or so they seemed to Harry, with her pupils fully dilated. Her breathing got shallower and her bottom lip was threatening to bleed out from how she was pressing her incisors into its pillowy flesh. “Would that be the worst thing, if I did?”

Harry’s breath caught. He was fully expecting her to burst into laughter for having tricked him into thinking this was really happening, or for her to recoil and assure him she absolutely didn’t mean it like that.

But she didn’t. This was really happening. His cockhead was pushing past the waistband of his boxers. Equally torturous and exhilarating at the same time.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing at all. Far from it. It’s the best thing I could think of, actually.”

“Not the ideal thing, though.” 

She was teasing him. He didn’t miss the glint of mischief in her eyes when she said that, the tone of her voice. 

“In this instance it is ideal.” Another step closer and their chests were flush against eachother. “But I need to make sure it’s something you want. That I didn’t somehow… make you feel like you have to do this. I wasn’t trying to drop any hints.”

“Why not?”

Harry searched her eyes. Fuck. He was ready to burst just from the way this interaction was going alone. Hell, how did he not see it before? She was so… right for him. Such a delicate, cute little thing. He’d already felt the need to coddle her, protect her. Take her away from the nightmare she was living. Save her, in a way, even if by doing so he was saving himself as well. Sure, he’d recognized she was attractive from the first moment they’d met. It was hard not to. She was pretty, more than pretty. But then here she goes and unveils this side of her? All… mouthy and impetuous? Borderline bratty? Like she was taunting him, teasing him to take over. Give her what she deserved. Show her how good it could be. 

She did tell him that first night how she’d always wanted to be dominated. He should’ve known. 

“You wanted me to drop hints? Thought you didn’t like that, Y/N. Thought you wanted someone who knew what he wanted and took it. Yeah? Dropping hints would’ve been such a turn off, isn’t that right?

Y/N’s gaze dropped to Harry’s lips and watched him utter all that in a different tone than he usually used with her. She looked transfixed. Like he’d just said something that had sent her in a trance, hypnotising her. 

“Answer me, pretty.”

She couldn’t manage more than just nodding slowly, and he placed his index finger under her chin, gently tilting her head so that she was looking straight into his eyes again.

“That’s what I thought. Bet you wished you didn’t have to be the one to offer, would’ve liked me to just wake you up with my cock dangling right in front of that pretty face, hm? Or better yet, sinking it right into you from behind. Bet you’d have loved that.”

Y/N whined, her hand going instinctively around her throat and Harry gently placed his over hers, squeezing slightly. “I know, baby. I know, but I couldn’t just assume, hm? Glad you were so brave to tell me. Such a brave girl. Good girl.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut at his words, and he squeezed a bit harder, groaning at the sight. She was such a perfect little thing. God, he’d missed this. His wife was never one to be submissive. He hadn’t felt this dynamic since before they got married. He felt like laughing just thinking about how he’d been ready to forgo being dominant for the sake of his failed marriage. He’d been stupid to think he could deny himself this part of him forever.

“You are, aren’t you, baby? A good girl. Wanna show me just how good? Hm?”

She nodded vigorously, and he loosened his hold around her neck. “Big girls use their words, darling. Tell me you want this. Tell me I’m not pushing it too far.”

“You’re not. I want this. I want this so bad. You look so… big. Just wanna stuff you in my mouth, gag on it. Please?”

Harry let go of her throat with a loud gasp and grabbed her hand instead, directing it to his throbbing erection. If she didn’t touch him right then and there he’d fucking lose his mind. He was in a daze, his mouth agape, panting heavily as she groped him, rubbing her dainty hand over the fabric of his boxers- her watching her hand on him, her eyes widened at the sight of his leaking tip poking out of its confines, and him watching her take it all in. 

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, urging her to get on her knees for him.

“Go ahead, take what you need. Know you need it, not just want it. Practically gagging for it, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck…” Y/N mewled, scrambling to pull his boxers down as he threw his t-shirt off. When his cock sprang free in front of her face she looked lovestruck. The sight alone had Harry’s balls tighten up, he needed to empty them, preferably down her throat. 

“Like what you see, pretty?” He was petting her hair at the top of her head now, his fingers dragging down along her face, caressing her in their wake.

“Harry… I need it. Please, please, can I have it?”

Harry chuckled darkly. “Generally speaking, or now in particular?”

Y/N whined at the way he was teasing her. “Want it anyway you’ll give it to me.”

“Fuck, Y/N. If this is just a wet dream don’t pinch me awake until you drink up every last drop, you hear me? So pretty on your knees for me. Let’s see that pink tongue now, stick it out f’me.”

Y/N did as instructed and waited obediently as Harry stroked himself - not that he needed it, he just did it to egg her on some more, and finally, finally, he tapped the tip against her tongue.

“Gonna treat it right, darling? Make me feel good? God, it aches.” 

“Yes, please!”

Harry groaned at her eagerness. “Such a polite little thing. How could I say no to that… have at it, sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

Harry faltered at the feel of her warm mouth enveloping him. He promptly closed the bathroom door behind him so that he could lean against it, he was already weak in the knees. 

Y/N didn’t disappoint. She worshipped him, that’s how good it felt. Alternating between gentle, feather-like kisses along the shaft and kitten licks at his slit, then vigorously sucking the head between her lips and pumping the rest in her too small hand. Harry had to will his orgasm away, he wanted to prolong this as much as possible. When she started going further down on him he braced himself, knowing what she was trying for. He cooed at her, encouraging and praising her constantly. 

“Such a good girl, Y/N. Who knew that sweet little mouth could be so dirty, hm? All for me? Suck it, baby, just like that. Fuck, you were made for this, I swear. Want your mouth on me all the time. Oh, fuck, gonna take me down your throat, darling? That slender, delicate throat of yours? Will it fit? Can wrap my palm all the way around it, can’t wait to proper choke you. Fuck, keep moaning like that around me, you filthy little girl. You love that, don’t you? Wonder what other nasty things you’re into, can’t wait to find out. Just like that, gooood giiiirl, Y/N. Breathe, pretty. So perfect. Fuck, that feels amazing. Gonna come down your throat, final warning. Pull back while you can. No? Fuck, keep gagging on it, that’s right. You wanted it, so take it. Big girls don’t go back on their word, hm? That’s right, you’re my best girl, aren’t you? Fuck, Y/N, I’m coming, baby. Fuck me, you’re making me see stars.”

Harry laughed incredulously at the tail end of his climax, slamming his hand against the door behind him to find his footing. She’d sucked him clean, his thighs were trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten blown this good. If ever.

He let her have her fun, cleaning him up with gentle licks while he recovered, but once he felt confident in his footing he grabbed her, pulling her up to her feet and pushed his tongue down her throat next. There was no room for gentle, tentative first kisses. He devoured her mouth in gratitude, and she had no choice but to keep up, poor thing. He could tell her jaw muscles were strained but he couldn’t get enough of her. “Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten. Mmmmm. Gonna ruin that pussy. Just as soon as I recover.”

Y/N could hardly catch her breath. And Harry intended on keeping it that way, intended to hear her cry out as he first tasted her and then filled her up to the brim. He briefly considered taking a break for breakfast, some much needed sustenance, but it could wait. He felt he could go on forever with her. Couldn’t wait to spread her out and treat her right.

A shrill noise put a halt to his rampant thoughts though, and she flinched out of his arms before he could stop her. 

“What’s that?” he asked, panting both in exertion and escalating anxiety as to what her answer could be. “Y/N?”

“It’s my phone.”

He grabbed her hand before she could pull away completely and turn to pick it up. “Your phone? The one you turned off? We both turned them off. What’s it doing ringing?”

“It’s… my alarm, I think–”

“Bullshit. Why did you turn it back on?”

“It was just for a moment… just to check… and then I heard you in there and came to see what was wrong, and–”

“Y/N! Don’t lie to me, not now, not after all that. Did you text him? Call him?”

“No!”

Harry was livid. He let go of her hand and she hesitated before going to retrieve the phone. She stared at the screen and let it ring until it went silent. He watched her pained expression and felt it stab him in the heart.

Of course. How could he be so foolish as to think she’d forgotten all about her husband. What, did he really think his dick would push its way far enough into her brain, erasing every thought of him? He was big, but not that big.

He rubbed his face, wincing at that stupid visual. He was such a man, especially after getting off, that he wanted to slap himself silly. 

She didn’t owe him anything. 

He combed his hand through his hair, pulling at the strands to get a grip. He then took a few breaths, willing himself to calm down, pulled his boxers and t-shirt back on and slowly approached her. She was still staring at the now turned off screen. 

He gently had her sit at the edge of the bed, and he crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I guess… it’s not a valid excuse, but I guess I just felt betrayed… we promised we’d go through this together, and I refrained from checking my phone. You’re absolutely entitled to do as you wish though, of course. You can pick up. Or, call him back, if that’s what you want. Don’t feel like you need to do anything on my account…”

It was a blatant lie, or at least it felt like a lie. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that she’d just been putty in his hands and the next moment she’s rushing to answer the phone to none other than her husband.

He knew he was being totally unreasonable, but he just felt like he wasn’t enough. Never enough. Not for her, not for his wife. He would always play second fiddle.

“Don’t be cross with me, but I need some air. Are you going to be alright? I’ll be back soon, I just… need to clear my head a bit.”

Y/N nodded slowly, not meeting his gaze, and Harry felt even worse but he grabbed his trousers and made for the door before he could change his mind.

Normally, he’d never dream of leaving someone after a scene like that, aftercare was sacred to him; but he needed some aftercare too, and she clearly wasn’t going to offer any. She was too preoccupied thinking about her husband. Which, again, was valid, but also, he wanted to punch a hole in the nearest wall over.

After what felt like not enough time doing laps of the motel’s parking lot, he returned to the room and found Y/N curled into a fetal position on the bed. He winced at the sight, feeling responsible for it, but doubting he was. She was probably upset over what she’d talked to her husband with over the phone.

“I’m back,” he announced, careful not to startle her, closing the door gently behind him.

She looked up at him and he could see she’d been crying. He grimaced and approached her side of the bed, crouching in front of her once more to be eye level with her. “What happened? Did he yell? I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of that. God knows what came over him, he just felt so protective over her that he couldn’t help these caveman reactions. 

Her eyes glazed over. “He didn’t call, Harry. That was work. You can check my phone… I’m not lying. He… he doesn’t care I’m gone.” She inhaled shakily, a tear rolling down her face. “Doesn’t care I left him, wouldn’t care I just went down on another man… hell, he wanted me to. That’s how this all started, right?” More tears. “Just so that he could go ahead and do what he wanted guilt free.”

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew exactly what that felt like. His wife would’ve probably gladly watched him fuck Y/N’s throat, proud of him for finally going through with it. Not a trace of jealousy. Not a dent in her cold heart.

“Is this why you wanted to do it, then?... To try and get back at him? Give him a taste of his own medicine?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand on his pyjama’s sleeve. “What? Do you honestly think that’s why I did it?”

Harry grabbed her hand gently, caressing her knuckles through the fabric. “You know what I meant. I’m genuinely asking what fueled it… I can understand if that’s what it was. But I need to know… I deserve to know, don’t I?”

“Is it why you went along with it? To get back at your wife?”

“No. Honest to god. If anything, I never once even thought about her, during. Is that terrible of me? Does that make me… like her?”

Harry hadn’t meant to, but those words at the end came out without him even realizing he was thinking those thoughts, feeling that guilt. His eyes glazed over, suddenly overwhelmed. 

He’d just cheated on his wife.

Something he’d never wanted to do.

He hadn’t been coerced into it, far from it, he’d been more than willing, even if it hadn’t been at his initiative.

So, what did that make him? A cheater? Did it make him just as bad as his wife? 

Had he been “good” all this time just because an opportunity never presented itself before?

Y/N pushed herself up, leaning on her elbow and reached for his face. “Harry. Oh, Harry.” She thumbed his stray tear away and scurried to the end of the bed so she could have him place his head in her lap, caressing him reassuringly. “What have we done? We’re no better than they are, are we?”

Harry hated how it sounded out of her mouth. In his mind, Y/N was innocent still. He knew she’d practically been the one to initiate, but he also knew all that went down in her life before she got to that point. No, she wasn’t a cheater. She’d been mistreated, unloved, disrespected for so long. She finally did something for her, and she deserved it. And he’d be damned if she started comparing herself to their spouses. This was entirely different.

“This is so fucked up, Y/N, all of it. But don’t ever compare yourself to them. I won’t allow it. This is nothing like what they’ve been doing all along!”

“But you just said the same about yourself!”

“I’m not thinking straight!” he pushed himself upright, taking her hands in his. “We had the opportunity to do this back then, at the hotel, and we didn’t. Instead, we went back and endured even more of their crap, let them walk all over us and our love for them, and for what?! What we did just now didn’t feel wrong, it didn’t feel like cheating, because guess what- it’s not. Not when there’s no one to cheat on. They left us long ago, Y/N. We were just hanging on to false hope that maybe they’ll come back, maybe they’ll realize they love us and only want us. But that’s not the truth, is it? So why the fuck should we feel guilt over it? Fuck that. Did it feel wrong to you?”

“No. No, it didn’t. And I definitely didn’t do it to get back at him!”

Harry smiled at that and slowly, she smiled back. “I’m so glad to hear that. My narcissism can only take so much.”

Y/N giggled but then caressed his cheek longingly. “You joke about it, but I know how that hurts. Rejection. Feeling less than. Not enough. I’m in the same boat, Harry. I know exactly where you’re coming from. But you’re more than enough. And I don’t just mean that in the literal sense.”

Harry bit his lower lip to stop his grin from reaching his ears. He plopped his head back in her lap and let her resume caressing his curls, combing her fingers through them. “I know it may not seem like it, especially when I’m in a dominant headspace, but she’s really made me doubt my self worth, and not just in bed. I can’t believe I managed to push all those thoughts aside enough to fully enjoy myself in the moment with you. It’s all your merit. You made me feel so good and wanted, I forgot I hadn’t felt like that in ages. Thank you. It meant more than you know.”

Y/N bent to kiss the top of his head at that. 

“You’re very welcome.” After a beat, she added, whisperingly, “You made me feel good and wanted, too. Whenever you’re ready, I’m still waiting. Make me forget, Harry.”

A/N: yeah so, there's definitely at least another part to this 😅😅 i just can't get enough of these two!

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #swingrry #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!

parts ; one two three (tba)

“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”

“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”

“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”

Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.

“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”

Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”

“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.

Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all. 

His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.

But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.

For Spider-Man, however…

Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”

“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.

“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”

Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”

But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.

The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble. 

The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.

Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.

But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals. 

Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.

Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?

Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.

He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.

Miguel curses under his breath.

It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.

Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.

You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired. 

What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.

“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”

You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.

The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.

“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”

You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight. 

Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening. 

“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”

“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”

“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”

“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”

The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”

You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.

“Do you still need that ride home?”

“Are you still hungry?”

A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them. 

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”

Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.

The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh. 

Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”

Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”

The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.

Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week. 

“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”

Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions. 

“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.

You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity. 

With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.

You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.

The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.

He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.

You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.

At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.

Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m not sure.”

Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.

When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.

His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event. 

At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.

Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity. 

It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.

No matter, as long as you were there by his side.

Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.

His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely. 

When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue. 

Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”

Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”

A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly. 

Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again. 

“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”

You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”

Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight. 

He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.

You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”

Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.

But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.

a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS

thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

[discordantwritings]

Our Precious Assistant Pt. 3 (Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gn!afab reader, sub!reader, sub!Buggy, dom!Mihawk, dom!Crocodile, exhibitionism, vouyerism, cockwarming, PiV sex, oral sex, mastrubation, inappropriate use of Buggy’s devil fruit powers, creampie

WC: 4.3k

Summary: You get some much needed TLC and start your new work routine. Which, of course, involves some fooling around at work.

Note: I mean it was only a matter of time before Buggy’s dick being detachable was going to come up. I hope you guys like the dynamics in this one with not everyone participating at once but everyone still getting some love.

You realize you’re sore before you realize you’re awake. Slowly remembering the events of last night and earlier it all makes sense. Buggy’s arms are wrapped tight around your midsection and you have just enough room to twist around in his grasp.

His face paint had gotten washed off at some point and you can’t help but admire his features without the layer of makeup. Tracing your fingers over his jaw you feel the stubble there, coarse but the sensation isn’t bad.

Your touch stirs Buggy awake and without opening his eyes he pull you in tighter.

“Just five more minutes…” He mumbles, his face buried in your chest.

“Buggy it’s late we should get up.” You press a kiss to the top of his head and push him, but he’s stronger than you.

“Mmmm but I like where I am.” He nuzzles in and you feel that stubble rub against you.

“But I need to take a shower or something.” At this Buggy perks up, withdrawing his face from your boobs. “Croc has the best bathtub.”

So that’s how you ended up soaking with Buggy in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen. It comfortably fits both of you and you’re pretty sure one or two more people could squeeze in here. Despite how much space you could have you’re right next to Buggy, leaning into his shoulder while you let the warm water soothe your body. Buggy has put heaps of bath salts and other soaps into the bath and the fragrances nearly put you back to sleep.

“Next time we should wait until we aren’t already bruised to get in trouble.” You muse.

“Sorry to break the news but you’re never not going to be bruised. Both of them love marking their territory.” Buggy leans and grabs some shampoo from the side of the bath. You take the bottle from him and he shoots you a confused look.

“Let me wash your hair.” You offer.

His eyes light up and you can’t help but giggle as he eagerly repositions himself in front of you. You take your time with his long blue hair and revel in the intimacy of the moment. When you’re done he returns the favor and you feel the remaining tension leave your body as he scrubs shampoo into your scalp. The both of your are just as languid finishing bathing and you don’t hop out until the bath has gone cold.

It takes a bit to get dressed again since your clothes had been thrown to every corner of the room but you manage to get dressed- well, most of the way.

“Buggy? Have you seen my underwear?” You call out, your check under the bed unsuccessful.

“Me? No. I mean I don’t think you came in wearing any.” His words have you immediately whipping around to look at him.

The edge of your underwear hangs out of his pocket while he wears a shit eating grin. You sigh and slip on your pants knowing you won’t win this battle.

“Let’s go get some dinner.” It’s been way too long since you last ate and after all your body has been through you need to recharge.

“Let’s get Croc and Mihawk one of them always pays for the good stuff.” Buggy takes your arm in his as you walk out of the bedroom and to the offices.

You find Mihawk and Crocodile in their respective offices and it’s doesn’t take much convincing to drag them out to dinner. True to Buggy’s predictions you get a secluded VIP table at a restaurant where prices aren’t even listed on the menu.

You sat next to Crocodile while Buggy and Mihawk sat across from you. They caught you up on what you missed for the day and you were surprised at how mundane it all was. This is just the way your life is now, catching up on the day with three of the most dangerous pirates in the world over dinner.

Crocodile’s large hand was on your thigh all dinner. Surprisingly it never drifted too far in he just left it resting on the top of your thigh, only occasionally squeezing. The touch kept you grounded as you chatted easily through dinner with your new partners. When going back home was brought up at the end of the night you hesitated.

“I think I’m going back to my place tonight.” When Buggy looked particularly dejected you elaborated a bit. “I can’t come into work tomorrow wearing the clothes I wore yesterday.”

“Of course you can. Anyone who even looks at you wrong will get a limb cut off.” Buggy says simply, but thankfully Mihawk is the voice of reason.

“No it makes sense, I’m sure you need some time to yourself after all of this.” Mihawk’s words calm you down, making you more confident in your choice.

“But I think I will make sure to pack an overnight back to have at the office. Just in case.” That comment gets Buggy’s mood up again, and his smile is infectious.

Dinner ends on a high note and by the time you leave the sky is dark and the wind chills you a bit, you weren’t dressed for todays weather. You’re about to excuse yourself to power walk home when a heavy coat drapes over your shoulders.

The thick smell of cigar smoke and fur tickling your neck means you don’t even have to turn to see that it’s Crocodile’s coat on your back. You pull it tighter around you, practically swimming in the dark fabric.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You say awkwardly, unsure how goodbyes work in your new situation.

All three of them look at you a bit confused and you can’t help but be confused back.

“We are escorting you home.” Mihawk says like it’s an obvious fact and he takes your arm as he walks by you and in the direction of your apartment.

“Yeah, duh. Can’t have our star walking alone on the streets at night.” Buggy is on your other side, unattached hands gesturing.

You don’t have to look behind you to know Crocodile is bringing up the rear, his imposing presence tingling on your back.

Buggy fills most of the walk home with crazy stories that you’re not sure are true but you enjoy none the less. You’re at your door before you know it and Buggy pulls you off of Mihawk and into a big hug.

“I’m so happy you’re with me.” There’s a beat before he corrects himself. “Us.”

You hug him back and as you pull away you press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy too.”

Someone must be glaring at him because Buggy shrinks away to let the other two come closer. Mihawk lightly presses against your arm and you turn to face him.

“Goodnight darling.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and places a quick kiss to your lips before waiting further away with Buggy.

You shrug off Crocodile’s jacket and offer it to him. He pauses a second before taking it and draping it over his arm.

“Thank you. For everything.” You say, smiling up at him.

“We are just getting started.” He places a kiss to your forehead. “We will see you tomorrow.”

You can feel the blush on your cheeks from all of the sweet gestures as you wave at the three of them before slinking back into your apartment. A wide smile never left your face as you went to bed, excited for what life has in store for you.

Life changed but life stayed the same. Work still had to be done and they were still your bosses but of course none of them let that stop their affections. Hands on your back and shoulders as they passed by your desk, quick kisses when they got in for the day. You have to admit you’ve never been more motivated to do your work when the reward is getting a kiss.

But of course not all of their actions were so chaste. You would’ve thought Buggy would be the worst offender of dragging you off to fool around at work but it was far and away Crocodile. Being called into his office to help with paperwork always ended up with you in a compromising position- but you weren’t complaining.

“Sir- Mihawk is expecting a report-“

“Hawkeyes can wait.” You felt the low rumble of his voice throughout your body as you sat in his lap at his desk. Your chest pressed to his as you rested your head on his shoulder. Seeing you from above the desk this might have been a cute scene, you sitting with him as he worked on his paperwork. But below the desk your boss’ pants were open just enough so he could be inside you while he worked.

You had been sitting like this for an hour now, maybe more, warming his cock while you struggled not to move. Your thighs ached from being in this position and slick dripped down onto Crocodile’s lap. You’d be concerned about ruining his incredibly expensive pants if you could form coherent thoughts. The fullness you’ve been experiencing, the ache, being on edge for so long, it caused your head to empty into just a buzz. You had only remembered Mihawk when you glanced down at your watch and realized just how long you had been in this position.

Your arms were latched around your boss’ neck and your face was buried in the crook of his neck. You focused on your breathing and keeping your body relaxed- a feat that had gotten much easier as time went on with the tension in your body unable to hold itself for so long. In the back of your mind you wonder if that’s what Crocodile likes about this- having you completely docile and submissive- wearing you down to just your base instincts. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit you like this too. Not having to think or move and just existing in the moment is a kind of peace you didn’t think you would find sitting on Crocodile’s dick.

A knock on the door sends a small wave of panic through your body as you sit up at the noise- a mistake. The movement sends a fresh wave of pleasure over your over sensitive body and you bite your tongue to stifle a moan. Crocodile doesn’t make any moves but you can tell it effected him by the way his cock throbs inside you.

“Who is it?” Crocodile’s tone is short and you can tell he’s on the verge of anger.

“It’s me wondering what you’ve done with our assistant.” Mihawk’s monotone voice carries through the large wooden door and you can feel Crocodile relax under you.

“Come in and see.”

You know turning and looking to see Mihawk would garner disapproval from Crocodile so you stay still, hyper focusing on the noise to piece together what is happening behind you back. The door creaks open and you hear Mihawk’s boots click a few times on the floor before there’s a long pause.

“Shut the door.” Crocodile seems unbothered now, continuing to file through reports.

The door closes and you hear Mihawk slowly walking closer. Your heartbeat quickens as you feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Tilting your head you look out and eagerly wait for Mihawk to come into your range of vision.

“I have to say that’s not a bad position for them.” Mihawk finally speaks, probably at the side of the desk just out of your sight.

“On that we agree. I think this is where they should be all the time, keeping me warm is a very important job.” Crocodile’s words send shivers down your spine and you can’t help the whiny moan that bubbles in your throat.

“Oh and they like it so much.” Mihawk’s voice has a teasing tilt to it as he finally slides into your vision. He’s leaning forward so his face is level with yours and his piercing eyes travel over your face, pupils dilated with hunger.

“How long have you been like this?” He asks softly.

“I don’t know… hour? More?” Your voice is breathy, needy.

“You like being senseless on his cock?” Mihawk presses his face close, forehead touching yours.

“Fuck- yes.” Your eyes are screwed shut and you feel Mihawk’s breath on your face.

You feel Crocodile’s chuckle. “Keep talking to them, I can feel how much they like it.”

Mihawk finally closes the gap and your kiss is all needy tongue and teeth as an hour of patience is broken. You push up to try and deepen the kiss but you’re promptly pulled back down by Crocodile’s hand at your waist.

“Don’t think you’re done here.” His voice is stern but you can hear arousal creeping into the edges of his tone.

Mihawk breaks away and you whine as you watch him walk away. You’re confused only for a second until you hear the drag of one of the other chairs in the room coming to sit next to Crocodile’s large office chair. Mihawk sits down next to the two of you and with his legs spread wide you can see his erection straining against his black pants.

“How long you going to keep them like this?” The swordsman asks.

“What, you want a turn?” Crocodile responds, putting down his pen and piling up some of the papers.

“No. Just wanted to know if the show was going to get exciting anytime soon.” His disinterested words didn’t hold any weight when he was unbuckling his pants.

“Seems our assistant isn’t the only needy one here. What do you say sweetheart? You ready to put on a show for Mihawk?” Crocodile lightly pushes you so you’re sitting up, face to face with him.

“Yes sir.” You say unabashedly needy.

“That’s my angel.” He mutters to you before finally kissing you. Just like with Mihawk it’s heated but he’s much more controlled- the teeth are precise as he bites your lower lip while his hand grips your hip.

You grind down on him, relishing in finally being able to move. You’re rewarded with a deep groan from Crocodile and you know both of you won’t last much longer. Crocodile’s hand slides from your waist to under your ass as he stands up, sitting you on the desk in one swift movement. Grateful you won’t have to try and use your already aching thighs you allow your head to loll to the side to get a view of Mihawk.

He’s sat back in the chair, legs spread wide as his hand slowly fists his dick. His gaze is lidded as he watches the two of you. Crocodile seems more than happy to maneuver one of your legs up so your foot is on the desk, spreading yourself wide so Mihawk can have a better view of Crocodile’s large cock splitting you open. Crocodile bites down on your shoulder as he thrusts into you and you moan loud as you feel Mihawk’s gaze burn into you.

“You like me watching you?” Mihawk asks, his breath short.

You go to respond but Crocodile thrusts up into you hard and all you can do is moan as your hands fly back to get a grip on the desk to stabilize yourself. It’s not hard to assume Crocodile loves the audience too, deep thrusts at a slightly awkward angle just to show off.

“Hawkeyes-“

“Yes.” Mihawk doesn’t need Crocodile to finish his sentence before he’s quickly by your side. You don’t know how they communicate so much with so little but Mihawk’s deft fingers circling your clit have you abandoning that train of thought.

Mihawk leans in and starts whispering praises in your ear about how good you’re taking Crocodile and how nice you looked sitting on his cock.

Mihawk’s words- His fingers- Crocodile’s thrusts- it was too much and finally after so long of being on the precipice you crashed over into your orgasm. Crocodile wasn’t far behind, burying himself until his hips were flush with yours and filling you up with a groan.

Mihawk’s ministrations on your clit slowed and helped you come down until Crocodile finally pulled out of you. If you weren’t so fucked out you might have been worried about getting Crocodile’s desk dirty but all you could do was collapse back onto it and catch your breath.

The sound of Mihawk zipping his pants up in the quiet space makes you push yourself up a bit to see what was happening. Mihawk hadn’t finished and you flashed him a confused look as you try (and then fail) to sit up.

“Don’t worry about me. You’ve been good.” He leans over and kisses your forehead. “I’m going to go bother Buggy.”

“Mmm.” You nodded and with a sigh relaxed back into the desk. Of course you would have been more than happy to help Mihawk but you have to admit you’re exhausted. Plus you can imagine how excited Buggy will be when Mihawk comes to his door already hard. You smile at him as he walks away and notice a small nod shared between him and Crocodile.

When the door shuts you finally manage to push yourself up to look at Crocodile in his chair. “How do you two do that?”

“Do what?” He’s already put himself back together, a cigar about to be lit in his fingers.

“Talk without talking. I’ve seen you and Mihawk do it a bunch.” You reach over and grab his lighter from his desk and spark it.

“Thanks doll.” He leans forward and lights his cigar. After taking a long drag he answers you question. “We just work on the same wave. Probably because of our time was warlords- same path of thinking, same muscle memory. Turns out fighting and fucking together have a lot of overlap.”

You giggle as you push off the desk and slide sideways into his lap, your legs over his thighs. Leaning into his chest you curl up into his warmth. “It’s great you two have that.”

Crocodile only hums and you let yourself relax as the two of you drift into pleasant silence.

Even if Crocodile is the worst offender that doesn’t mean Buggy isn’t an interruption to your work a lot. Most of it is quick, random kisses or gropes when no one is looking. But sometimes he will get you into his office and whine enough that you relent to him.

“They’re so mean to me baby.” Buggy is lounging on a large velvet couch in his over decorated office.

“Yes. Didn’t you sign up for that?” You stand over him, hand on your hip.

“Yeah but-“ He pouts. “You’re so nice to me.”

“And?” You notice his hands detaching and floating around behind you.

“I could be nice to you.” The innuendo is punctuated by his hands on your ass, squeezing as they push you even closer to him.

“And you know what will happen if we get up to anything without Crocodile or Mihawk.” While you admit it was fun, you weren’t exactly in the mood to be edged for hours.

Buggy dramatically flips back into the couch as you notice a hand leave and fly over to a transponder snail. The snail is picked up and placed on an end table so Buggy could talk to someone.

“Hawky baby~” He calls into the transponder only to be immediately greeted with the sound of Mihawk hanging up. Buggy gasps, offended before redialing.

“Ourassistantisherewithmeandwewantohabefunsocouldyoucomeoverand-“ Buggy rushes all his words out before he’s hung up on again. The mouthpiece gets dropped to the ground as Buggy pouts.

“I’m sure if we just wait until tonight-“ Now it’s your turn to be cut off as you hear the quick opening and closing of Buggy’s door. You turn and see Mihawk standing there, arms crossed.

“Hawky!” Buggy shoots up as his hands reattach themselves. “I knew you would be so loving and reasonable.”

“Which is why you called twice?” Mihawk deadpans.

“Yes?”

You and Mihawk look at each other and you shrug. “He said he wanted to be nice to me.”

“You are nice to him, so it seems only fair.” Mihawk finally walks over and picks one of the obscenely plush chairs to sit in. “Make sure our lovely assistant is appreciated for all their hard work.”

Hands suddenly grab at your waist and pull you down onto the couch with Buggy. In a flash he’s on top of you, pushing you down to lay flat on the bed while he eagerly kisses down your neck. His hands are already working at the waistband of the pants and pulling down.

“You could go a little slower.” Mihawk comments from his chair and you look over to see him palm himself through his pants.

“But that’s no fun.” Buggy smiles up at you as his hands travel back up and push you shirt up, giving him better access to paw and your breasts. You moan as his hands work your flesh and you can feel yourself getting wet from the attention.

Buggy continues not to listen to Mihawk’s advice as he slides down until he’s kissing your hips and down the tops of your thighs. You shudder in anticipation as his hands hold your thighs open and kid mouth travels to your inner thighs, taking its time there as he sucks the sensitive skin.

“Buggy-“ You whine as your hand lands on his head, threading your fingers into his soft blue hair.

“Now who’s in a rush?” Buggy teases, hovering just above where you need him to be.

“Thought you were going to be nice to me.” You pout and you know Buggy can’t resist.

“Anything for my star.” He presses on last kiss to the inside of your thigh before he dives in.

Buggy isn’t as through and calculated as Mihawk or Crocodile but fuck if he isn’t enthusiastic. He’s loud and sloppy but as his tongue dives between your folds his nose rubs against your clit any comparisons fly out of your head. You push his head down further as you buck your hips to grind on his face and Buggy takes that lead well, never slowing down. You’re keenly aware of Mihawk’s gaze and you let your head fall to the side to make eye contact with him.

His dick is out now and his thumb is rubbing over the bright red head. He must like this a lot you think- sitting back and watching the ones more eager to show off. You like it too.

You turn your moans and whines up to eleven, doing your best not to break eye contact with him even when Buggy’s tongue reaches deep inside you. When he does that your grip tightens on his hair and he moans into your pussy. Mihawk’s gaze leaves your eyes for a second to dart down before connecting with yours again.

“Buggy.” Mihawk is short and commanding and to Buggy’s credit he immediately stops and rests his head on your thigh. “Show them your trick.”

“I have a lot of tricks you’re going to have to be more- ohhhhhhh.” Buggy gets a devilish grin on his face as realization clicks.

You’re confused and prop yourself up a bit when Buggy’s hands leave your body to work at his pants and he pulls them down just enough for you to see how worked up he’s gotten from eating you out. What surprises you is when he tugs at his dick it pops off of his body. It makes sense, given his powers there’s no reason it shouldn’t but it’s still a sight. Once the initial shock wears off there’s a fresh wave of arousal as Buggy guides his cock to your entrance, teasing around your folds and gathering the slick there.

“Now go slowly.” Mihawk commands.

You whine as Buggy’s tip pushes into your entrance, stretching you out. True to his orders Buggy goes painfully slow, giving every inch it’s time to drag against your walls. When he’s about halfway in he adjusts and you gasp when suddenly his mouth is around your clit, sucking. You grip his hair hard as he moans into that bundle of nerves and create a pleasure filled feedback loop. Buggy continues to ease himself into you and lap at your clit and all you can do is grip onto him and stare into Mihawk’s golden eyes.

You see him working himself, pacing his hand with Buggy’s slow rhythm in and out of you. Seeing him watching, knowing Buggy and you are under his control even as he’s passively sitting there is thrilling. Knowing he gets off on it too feels just as good.

The overload of this new combination of sensations has you a moaning mess, babbling as you grip onto the couch and Buggy’s hair for dear life. Buggy is close too from you tugging at his hair and your cunt pulsing around him he is using all his focus to keep tonguing at your clit.

“Buggy- ‘m close just-“ You manage to choke out and he gets the message. He pumps himself inside you faster and as he’s slamming into you lightly nips at your clit.

You cum with a loud moan and you feel Buggy close behind you, filling you as your walls seize from your orgasm. You are able to catch Mihawk finishing into his hand, cum spilling over his abs.

Buggy collapses onto you, head nuzzled into your thigh as he catches his breath. You run your fingers through his hair as you gain your senses back.

“Don’t forget we are going out for dinner tonight.” Mihawk says as he finishes cleaning himself up, bringing over some wipes for you and Buggy. “So do be cleaned up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and then presses one on Buggy’s cheek.

You never thought this is where your life would end up but as contentment and love fills up your chest you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #cross guild x reader #the cross guild x reader #discordantwritings

[mambalae-s]

sugar — geto suguru x reader

wc: 4.3k

cw: ceo! geto x employee! reader; unprotected sex; office sex; semi public sex; reader is described as a black woman; she’s not explicitly called chubby but she is described as plump; creampies; oral (reader) receiving; one instance of spitting; one instance of choking; mating press; a sir kink you dont have to squint too hard to find; not at all proof read; if i’m missing anything, please let me know!

notes from author: yeah, this went an entirely different direction than what i had planned… this is an nsfw post — if you’re under 18, PLEASE do not interact with this post. i will block you.

suguru’s certain you have no idea the kind of effect you have on him. he’s so entirely convinced that you’re oblivious to his struggle to merely contain himself with you sitting across his mahogany desk, dark stockings hugging your plump thighs and that short, a-lined skirt just barely sitting over your lap. you wear your hair like a regalia, beautiful, thinly done tresses of black braids half-tied at the back of your head where the rest flowed down each side of your body, the ends of them elegantly curling while you’d left two braids to frame both sides of your face — a style called french braids, he’d learned when he’d asked you curiously.

his mind is so far gone from words of acquisitions and business meetings that you read from your prepared document, eyes zoned in on your plump, full lips that glisten on strawberry flavoured gloss. he’s so distracted by the ‘o’s formed on your sweet voice, every sentence sinking themselves beneath his skin like drops of honey that rush through his veins and churns within his blood like a drug. he leans back into his chair, throwing his head back in unhidden frustration and releases a groan, and the sound of it snaps your attention from black printed words to look up at your ceo.

“sir?” you call him, hesitant. you cock your head to the side worriedly. “i’m sorry, is it not how you want to proceed?”

suguru shakes his head weakly, brushing his thumb over his lips. “no, no,” he assures you, “that’s not it at all. you’ve done great, in fact. it’s perfect.” he sees the way your brows furrow over your dark coloured eyes, the way your lips part on words you don’t let out, and suddenly, he feels too hot. “i’m sorry, ms. (l/n). it’s just especially hard for me to focus right now.”

“oh, i understand.” you utter, shifting to sit a little straighter in your chair. the action causes your breasts to shift beneath your low-cut blouse as you close your manilla folder. and suguru, he has to remind himself to breathe. “well, we do have some time before the board meeting if you’d rather we look over the details some other time?”

suguru hums in agreement as he stands, forcing his eyes off you and walking over to the left wall where he keeps a fine array of wines and expensive liquor. “yes, let’s do that then.” his hands reach for a bottle he knows you enjoy most out of his collection, an itallian imported masseto merlot. he reaches for two wine glasses and turns to you, offering you one to take. “how about we enjoy a drink for now?”

you rise from your seat to stand next to him, taking the cup from his hands. he wonders if you’d felt your fingers brush against his, if you’d perhaps done it intentionally to tease him. ah, but he knows you better than that — even now as you hold your cup out for him to fill, he knows that you’re far too shy to ever think of trying anything with him, your boss. you’re always the respectful and diligent worker, always and ever doing your best to meet his expectations and go beyond. he’d be lying if he tried to say he didn’t look forward to seeing you every day, or that he dreamt of doing unspeakable things to you right here inside his office. even standing this close to him, suguru feels his pants tighten at the uninhibited view he has of your plump figure, your breasts tempting him as he loses himself on your sweet scent of fresh linen and honey oats.

“is there something on your mind, sir?” unaware of the thoughts clouding his mind, you innocently flutter your eyes to peer up at him with your glossy lips pursed atop your glass. he watches you take a sip of the dark red liquid and thinks about it wetting your mouth, imagines the satisfied sigh as something far dirtier, unprofessional, and how you would sound with your legs folded against your chest. he imagines all the ways you’d cry out for him, to beg him for more until he turned you into a whiney mess.

“it’s just…” again, he clears his throat. he reaches one hand up to loosen his tie, showing off the expensive watch on his left wrist. “been a long week, that’s all.”

your lips form a sympathetic pout as you lower your glass to your chest, your forearms unconsciously squeezing your breasts together and, have mercy— how can you make the dirtiest things look so innocent? “i’m sorry, mr. geto,” you offer, “i’ll certainly try harder to make things a little easier for you… is there anything i can do for you?”

“oh, no, miss (l/n), you’ve already been such a great help to me—” he stops himself midway, his dark eyes turning thoughtful as he considers. the idea that pops into his head is an awful one, he gives himself second enough to consider. but, what is he supposed to do when you stand so close to him, eyes innocently looking up at him, your very breath hanging onto his words? here you are right in front of him, so open and willing to help him, and perhaps— no, not just. suguru’s certain you don’t mean your words in the way that he thinks, but the very sight of you, the thoughts he has of you late at night and even now, it overwhelms him and tells him to cast aside all logic and give in to viscous wanting.

suguru quietly draws a breath, sets his glass down atop his desk and bites the bullet.

“well… there is something you could do for me.” one, two, it only takes him three short steps until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough for the smell of your sweet, honey-scented oils to fully wrap around him and fill up his lungs. his figure basically shadows your much smaller frame, towering over you as your eyes nervously met his. he focuses on the way your brown lips hang open slightly, on the way your pretty eyebrows furrow over your expression. he focuses on the deep breaths you take that cause your chest to rise and swell, lets himself go on the slight squeak in your voice when you hesitantly call him.

“sir…?”

“what if, ms. (l/n),” suguru hums, reaching his hand to your own glass of wine, intentional when his fingers cover yours. “i told you that you’re what’s been distracting me all along?” like a hawk, he observes every flicker of thought that crosses your dark brown eyes. first, he watches them widen on surprise, then they waver back and forth before lowering to where he held your hand, the deep red colour of your merlot surely not what holds your attention. you’re flustered, he knows it by the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, but he’s not kind enough to let you hide that beautiful expression from him. slowly, as if not to scare you, he takes his fingers and holds on to your chin, tilting your head to where you had no choice but to meet his stare.

“i— i’m,” you pause, your lips trembling so deliciously, your breath ghosting against his skin like an autumn’s gentle breeze. “i’m not sure what you mean… mr, geto…”

“you aren’t?” suguru lowers his voice to a whisper. he imagines he could hear your heart thumping inside your chest, that he could feel your pulse racing underneath your skin, and he wants more of it, wants more of you. “let me show you exactly what i mean then, ms. (l/n).”

he tells himself to be gentle as he leans in, tilting your head up so that his lips meet yours finally, finally— and suguru nearly loses himself to the sensation of being swept off his feet. gods, you’re even sweeter than you’ve ever tasted inside his dreams, the living flesh and bone version of you kissing him back so softly as if you’d walked right out of his fantasies and come to find him at daylight. he can sense the hesitance behind your lips, an uncertainty weak to your own desires as you lean further into him. your hands reach for his chest and you pull away with a breathlessness, gasping as you look up at him, showing to him your worries, your fear, your mutual want.

“mr. geto, we shouldn’t do something like this here,” you whisper as if afraid your words would be heard by someone passing by. though suguru could tell that, if he pushed, you wouldn’t be able to resist. your fingers feebly grasp at his arms, bunching up the white fabric covering his biceps and, oh— you pull him closer, yet not close enough to close the gap. he looks at you and sees it then, in the way your lips pout up at him, that—

“you want this too, don’t you?”

he touches a hand to your cheek and feels heat radiating from you in waves. pulling you closer, he brings that hand to cup the back of your neck and revel in the feel of you being so close to him, your chest so soft against his as his other hand falls to squeeze your hip. gently, he tilts your head to one side to expose your neck and he lets himself be greedy, leaning to drag his nose against your bare skin, lips just slightly parted so that you could feel his warm breath ghosting against your cheek.

your knees nearly buckle beneath your weight and you have to squeeze on to his biceps even tighter, for fear that you would collapse if you don’t hold on tight. “y-yes…” you quietly gasp once he finally presses his lips to your skin. the feeling of him harshly sucking your neck is enough to cause your head to spin, for your legs to clench together at the new heat that pools in your panties. you feel him begin to press forward, and as you step back, he chases you, pushing you until the back of your thighs hit his desk. the sensation of cold wood is stark against the waves of searing heat that pours from the both of you and you stumble for a moment, accidentally knocking his pristine ceo plaque to the red carpet below.

“then,” suguru’s voice sounds slurred. his words are heavy and he sees the way they weigh you down as his fingers skillfully pull the first buttons of your blouse. he takes in the picture of you with reverence and worship as greed swirls within his gut, tightens his pants and makes him forget anything that didn’t have to do with you. with one hand, he pushes you further until you’re sitting on top of his desk and leans in once more, ever more wanting to feel your lips on his. “don’t think about anything else right now. just focus on me, yeah?”

dazed, it’s all you can do to nod ‘yes’ as he slots himself between your open legs, his hands squeezing down on your hips and pulling you forward until his bulge presses right up against your core.

it’s hard hold himself back any further, and suguru abandons his inhibitions as he hungrily slots his mouth against yours, the kiss almost universes different than the last. where before, he’d been experimental, testing the waters almost and tasting you for the first time, he now devours your very soul like a man starved of water and you, his fountain found in a scorching desert. his lips are searing as they move, and he pours so much into you that it becomes too much and it burns so deliciously, filling you until whimpers slip out from you and your hands hungrily pull apart his buttons. his nails dig into your thighs as he bites down on your bottom lip and pulls before he begins to press kisses against your cheek, trailing wet, impatient lines of spit along your jaw.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” its almost a growl when he speaks, low and dangerous as he feels himself slipping further. his teeth sink into your dark skin and he sucks, hard, relishing in the moans that you reward him with. “how badly i wanted to have you till i couldn’t sleep at night.”

“s-sir wait,” you try to call him, struggling to find your words amidst the fog clouding your brain. he’s sucking your skin so much that you fear he’ll leave marks, yet your voice seems to only urge him to leave more. “not there, people will see— ngh!”

he doesn’t pull apart when he grinds his bulge against you, letting you feel just how big and hard he’d gotten for you. each move he makes sends you reeling, the pool between your legs enough to soak you right through your stockings as he rolls his hips into yours.

“focus,” suguru reprimands you, lowly growling into your neck. “all your attention on me right now. do you understand?”

when you take too long to respond, he pushes one hand around your neck and squeezes, causing you to squeal as he pulls your head back to face him. your mouth hangs open, gasps of air struggling to make it past his hands, his spit smeared all across your lips, cheek and neck with the beginnings of purple bite marks forming on your dark skin — you’re the perfect picture of a mess, your beautiful brown eyes glazed over by lust and desire, so far gone from your normally neat and put together appearance, and it’s all because of him.

“understand?” he bleeds the word slowly, and, feeble, you respond with a desperate nod of your head, barely managing to force out a ‘yes sir..!’ through his grip around your throat. you try to squeeze your legs around his waist, wanting to pull him closer, to feel his cock pressed against you once more, for any kind of friction, but one hand swiftly pries them wide apart as his fingers snake between them. startled, you try to squeeze them close, though your body quickly loses its strength when his slender digits press up against your dampened core.

god, you’re already so fucking wet, you’re dripping enough to leave dark coloured stains atop his wooden desk. suguru marvels at the feeling of your slick practically pooling along his fingers, coating them as he rubs slow, teasing circles over your clothed pussy. “look at that,” he says breathlessly before pulling his hands away to lick at them, and the taste of your essence causes his cock to twitch against their restraints. popping his fingers out of his mouth, he shoves them past your gaping lips for you to swirl your tongue around, a groan escapes him once you begin to suck and whimper around them. “fuck, (y/n), you’re making it hard for me to control myself.”

his thumb brushes against your lip and he pulls your mouth open, dizzy when you eagerly open your mouth for him to spit into. “such a dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he grins as you swallow with a moan, “yeah? never dreamed i’d see you do something like this, ms. (l/n). were you thinking about something like this everytime we spoke? hm?”

a sharp ripping sound startles you, though you hardly have the chance to regain your bearings as suguru finally touches you in the place you need him the most. your pussylips are basically sopping and so, incredibly swollen, your clit so eager for him to touch you when he presses his thumb against it. “f-fuck…!” you throw your head back, hissing and biting your bottom lip to contain your cries, all while suguru marvels at seeing you unravel. you’re completely under his control like this, a pretty little doll in the palm of his hands that he could toy and play with until your mind would crumble. the revelation blazes through him like a wildfire and swirls like a ferocious torrent — more, he wants — needs — you to break even more.

“i want an answer, (y/n). how badly did you want me to fuck you all this time?”

you try to respond, though your words fall apart on a weak, wavering cry of his name as he sinks two fingers inside you, feeling them split apart your walls before pulling back out slowly. he uses his knees to keep your legs from clamping shut while his free hand slips your bra up over your chest, letting your full mounds fall freely for him to squeeze. large, brown nipples perk up under the exposure of the cold air, pointy and sensitive beneath his thumb when he pinches one and softly twists. he groans, nearly panting, your pussy clamping down around his middle and ring fingers. “you’re so fucking tight, you’re just leaking and making such a mess. must’ve been waiting for me to fuck this pretty little cunt, huh?”

“nngh, sir..!” oh, those pretty little cries you make would be the end of him. he wants more, wants you to fall apart utterly and completely until your mind would be blank and you would be nothing but a blabbering mess. he wants to feel you, taste you, to devour you whole.

swiftly, he drops down to his knees and spread your legs wide open, one on each of his shoulder for him to see your messy cunt. he’s mesmerized at the view of you, sopping and dripping as your hole squelches around nothing, greedily begging for him to take it and make it his.

above him, you’re barely able to register his movements before you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth hungrily sucking your pussy, and it catches you so off guard that you release a loud cry of his name. “suguru…!”

“shhhh. shhh, baby,” the man doesn’t stop for even a second, muttering the words right up against you and sending shockwaves through your core. desperate to keep your voice down, you clamp your hands over your mouth as you feel his tongue flicker against your swollen clit, back and forth before he begins sucking and lapping. your essence pools all over his tongue and suguru feels himself getting drunk, diving his tongue between your folds while his fingers drill in and out of your hole, filling the large office with sloppy, slurpy noises as he coaxes ever single drop he can out of you.

despite you trying, you fail to hold your voice back as the coil within your gut tightens and your vision grows spotty. his fingers repeatedly brush against that spot deep inside your cunt that makes you see stars and you can’t catch your breath. your moans turn into strangled cries as your legs clench around his head, and you can’t pay any mind to how tightly you’re squeezing him between your plump thighs as you grip his hair to pull him closer. “aah..! aghn! nnngh..! fuck, sir, i’m close…!” your hips begin to buck as you chase your end, desperate for your climax as he groans between your legs and sets a relentless pace with his tongue and hands. he focuses his mouth on your clit while his fingers stretch and fuck your cunt and you taste like honey, pouring into his mouth as he laps it all up and milks you for everything you could give him.

“cum for me, princess.” his muffled voice shoots through your core like lightening, and you feel that coil in your gut reaching its height. you’re almost there, you’re so close, you’re so fucking close— “make a mess all over daddy’s face, come on. thaaaat’s it, baby, gimme all of it… don’t hold back and fucking squirt for me.”

he curls his fingers inside you, and the coil snaps like a bullet shot right through you. your orgasm crashes into your body as every muscle inside you seizes, your cries and whimpers unrestrained and nearly deafening. tremours reck through your figure as suguru coaxes everything out of you with sweet praises, till you squirt all over his face and fingers and you collapse against his desk, sending several important documents and utensils clattering against the carpet.

“shit…!” your eyes barely register suguru’s form hastily rushing to his feet, stumbling and lightheaded, his face and shirt absolutely drenched in your cum as his fingers unbuckle his belt. you see his cock spring out from his boxers when he pulls them down, and in your fucked out daze, you admire how pretty it looks. the pink tip smacks against his toned stomach, the length of it thick and twitching as he grips your thighs and he’s so fucking big. fuck, you start to panic, but your body’s far too weak for you to move quickly, barely able to lean up against your elbows while he folds your legs up against your chest — “wait, sir, not yet, i— haaah!”

your mind blanks, your vision shoots white as his cock bullies its way into your pussy, still sensitive from him eating you out before and a cry erupts out from your chest. above you, suguru’s expression contorts and he groans loudly as he sinks deeper into your cunt. your gummy walls clench down on him as if to keep him out, squeezing him so tightly that his knees nearly give out underneath him. “aaaahh, fuck, (y/n), your pussy feels so fucking good.”

he’s too impatient to give you time to adjust, you just feel so good clamping down on him the way you do and he pounds you, fucking into you relentlessly while you writhe and cry beneath him. “fuck!! sir—!! s-slow down— ahh! haah! ‘m still— still sensitive— ngaahh!”

“sorry, princess.” he huffs, folding your legs further down into your chest and pivoting his pelvis to reach inside you deeper, deeper until he pounds your cervix and you jolt as if you’d been shocked. you have to grab the edge of the desk to keep yourself from sliding from underneath him as he relentlessly fucks into you. “your pussy jus’ feels too good, fuck. ‘s like this pretty cunt was made jus’ for my cock.”

how perfect you look folded underneath him like this, breasts bouncing and tears pooling from your eyes as your body trembles and shakes from the overstimulation. how your hair messily flails underneath you, your clothes all bunched up and your stockings shredded and your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you senselessly wail, fuck, you look so damn hot. “i know you can take it princess,” he coons, stilling his hips as he pushes all the way inside you, pinning you down when you try to squirm. “c’mon, pretty girl…” slowly, he pulls out and slams back into you — once, twice, over and over, each time your walls tightening and squeezing ravenously. “you got this. you’re doing so good for me, soooo so good. you like how my cock feels inside baby? does it feel good fucking up your pretty little pussy?”

“yes…!” with teary eyes, you look up at him, your response short of senseless and incomprehensible as you choke out a sob through your pleasure. “yes, yes, yes, yes, sir, feels so fucking good!”

“shhh, shhh, i know baby,” suguru coos down at you, grinding slow, sweet circles against your core before picking up his pace. the sudden change catches you unprepared and you shout, hands flailing to his biceps and clawing into his skin as he caged your body beneath him. “you’ve been so good for me already, aah, can you gimme one more? cum one more time for me pretty baby, jus’ one more for me.”

as if at his command, you feel that familiar tension take hold of your body as he drills into your cunt, so sudden and without warning as it crashes over you. you squeal, babbling his name over and over as your pussy creams all over his cock, your gasps drawing little air as your orgasm tears through you and leaving you breathless.

“thaaaaat’s it, shit. just like that.” he praises you through stuttering breaths, cooing at you sweetly as you come dkw. from your high. you’re positively fucked out of your mind with tears falling freely from your eyes and drool smearing your cheeks, snd the sight of you like this beneath him, the feeling of your pussy milking around his cock, it’s enough to send him over the edge.

“fuck…!”

his body twitches as his cum spurts inside your pussy, warm and thick and so, so much of it comes out, painting your insides white. your chests heaving in unison, suguru finally collapses on top of your chest, and he’s just every bit of a mess as you are. both of you are absolutely spent of every drop, endorphins coursing through your veins as the adrenaline exists your systems. your eyes seek out his to find him already staring at you with a cheeky grin, your own face flushing with embarrassment while he presses butterfly kisses against your stomach.

“d-did, um…” it’s hard to get the words out, your lungs still very much fighting for air, but you cheekily grin at the man, your boss, kneeling between your legs, and dare to allow your hands to run through his disheveled hair. “was i… able to help?”

suguru weakly chuckles, and your heart flutters a bit at the sight of crinkles forming on his nose. “you did, (y/n).” smiling, he rises to his feet and leans down to kiss you, pressing a hand down on your tummy and pushing down. he feels you writhing beneath his palm as his cum leaks out of you. “trus’ me, ‘s just what i needed.”

© mambalae-s — rb’s + feedback are greatly appreciated!

#geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader smut #geto suguru x reader smut #geto x y/n #jjk reader #jjk reader insert #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x black reader #geto suguru x black reader #aphrodite. #geto x black reader smut #olympia. #geto suguru x black reader smut #anime x black!reader

[piratesfromspace]

Just Like Old Times PART 2 (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price + Reader x 141 Rated: Explicit Word count: 4.3k Summary: Some flirting, hot springs, a cosy cottage in the snow, and lots of sex Note: This is the part 2 I promise with lots of smut, enjoy!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, smoking, praise kink, heavy smut, fivesome, oral, PiV, light ass play, overstimulation, dom/sub vibes, aftercare, fluff

MASTERLIST // PART 1

It doesn’t happen this very night, but the day after. 

The men are a little bit more rested after their long trek out in the open, and they are all very enthusiastic when you suggest a short hike to reach the hot springs hidden in a small valley just east of your cottage. It’s too remote from the touristy locations for random people to show up there, or for amateur hikers to stumble upon by accident. You’ll be alone and safe. And warm - most importantly. And it’s also a convenient opportunity to see them half naked. 

The hot springs are tucked against the side of a small glade, where the snow melts to reveal rocky arrangements forming shallow pools. Steam hovers above the clear water, signaling its warmth. The afternoon is sunny enough to make the snow gleam, painting a decor so pretty even the rugged men around you remark on it.

“Gosh lass, you didn’t lie when you told us about this place” Soap’s voice shakes you out of your contemplation. 

“Hope you don’t mind but I did not bring a bathing suit for our snow trip” Gaz is already stripping down, ready to dive into the steaming water. You take a beat too long to respond, mouth open at the vision of Gaz’s very naked and very ripped chest, muscles of his back rippling as he’s trying to remove his boots as quickly as he can. 

“Don’t you worry, she’s seen a lot worse back in the days”. It’s Price who comes to your rescue, a mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes fixed on your face. Warmth pricks at your cheeks - and it’s not because of the springs. It’s true though, you’ve seen quite a lot of men in all states of undress during your previous life. Missions after missions after training sessions after stays in the infirmary, you all tend to lose any sense of modesty. A body is a body after all. Just that. You repeat yourself as you undress as well - still, you intend on keeping the two-piece bathing suit you put on under your winter gear before leaving. You also try to keep your eyes down as the men strip and sink in one of the natural pools with satisfied grunts bordering on moans. Their sinful sounds don’t help with the warmth already creeping up your face. 

The steam covering the surface and the warping of the water does a good enough job at hiding the most intimate parts of their bodies. It’s not enough to hide how massive their bodies are though. You catch the glimpse of reddish or silvery scars on a muscular back or on a corded forearm. Dark hairs are dusted on the large pectorals of Price and Soap, while Gaz and Ghost are more smooth. 

Ghost has kept his usual facemask, even though he traded the skull mask for a printed balaclava, with a wider opening, framing doe-like brown eyes looking intently at you under blond lashes. He’s the biggest of them all - and it’s saying something considering Price and the two younger soldiers are far from small men - the level of the water had visibly raised when he lowered himself into the shallow pool. He beacons you with a nod of his head, and you finally muster enough courage to remove the last of your garment - except for your bathing suit - and join them in the water. They’re nice enough to not make any comment on your choice of covering yourself while they are shameless in their nudity.

The enveloping warmth of the spring is a blessing for your body, immediately soothing the goose bumps you got from the cold. You let yourself relax until the little waves are lapping at your nape, free of the hair you carefully tied up earlier. Your whole body goes slack as you take deep breaths, and close your eyes, sun rays lazily kissing the skin of your face. On your right, Price is doing the same, and when you readjust your posture, your arm brushes against his, and then your thigh touches his leg. You don’t move away though, you both stay like that for a moment, the joyful chatting of Soap and Gaz on the other side of the pool, a surprisingly relaxing background noise. The simple contact with his skin is warming you up from the inside, the memory of the kiss he gave you last night making you unconsciously squirm against him, clenching your thighs together. You’re feeling… hot. And the temperature of the water is not the only thing to blame. 

“Stop it, love.” the warning is uttered in a low gravelly voice, that does the exact contrary of what it was intended for. Liquid heat blooms between your legs as Price pairs his remark with a solid hand catching your right knee, immobilizing your whole leg. 

“Stop it, or I will be tempted to catch on all the time we missed.” It’s still a warning, but definitely not a threat, his voice goes gentler, almost sad at the last words. Fuck. That’s what did it a decade earlier, what made you cave in to your attraction for this man, the intoxicating mix of confidence - in his skills and authority - and vulnerability - emotions and kindness just bubbling under the surface. 

You can’t let this chance slip. Not again. Last night, you stopped at kissing, even though you wanted more, and you’ve been desperately horny since. You catch his hand on your knee, guiding it higher along your thigh, until it reaches the hem of your bathing suit. “What if I don’t mind it?” you whisper back, angling your body to better face him.

You can see the internal fight on Price’s face. 

“They will see” he mumbles, looking above your shoulders to the three men chatting just a few feets away. 

“I also don’t mind that…” you answer against the side of his head, pushing the words out before you chickens out  “... do you?”.

“I did not remember you to be such a menace” he chuckles darkly, before one arm snakes around your waist and lifts you up so you’re fully braced against his side. His other hand dips under the band of your bottom to cup your cunt. Your lips part around a gasp. His skin is somehow even hotter than the water. The hand on your back climbs until it clasps on your nape, bending your head in the crook of his neck, at a not-so-successful attempt at muffling your sounds. 

The captain waits for you to settle before he dips the pads of his fingers between your folds, grazing at your entrance where they meet the sirupy evidence of your desire. The tranquil water is not enough to wash away the sticky liquid, and Price takes advantage of it to glide effortlessly up your slit until he finds your aching clit. You stifle another gasp when he starts rubbing it in slow circles. 

“Quiet love” He squeezes your neck, trying to remind you of your surroundings - and especially of your audience. You don’t dare look behind you, but you can imagine how you look. For Price’s men, it must look like he has you in a tight hug, which is telling already. But if you start moaning on top of that, it’s not gonna look like a chaste hug for long. 

It’s difficult not to though, because the length of you is plastered against his formidable body, your tits pressed on his chest, he has you straddling one of his thighs, and you can feel his hard dick pulsing against your leg. Your teeth bite into your lower lip in an attempt at staying silent, and you would be scared to draw blood if you weren’t too far gone. Price’s fingers keep their pressure on your clit while he keeps you pinned to him with nowhere to go, and you know you’re not gonna last. Not when it feels so good to be in his arms, to feel his warm skin, and underneath it the strong muscles that keep you at his mercy. Not when he remembers exactly how to touch you to make you shiver in pleasure in mere seconds. Not when his most loyal men are probably looking at you from the other side of the pool. The idea that they might actually be, that they might understand what their Captain is doing to you, that they might even get hard at the view - you feel so dirty at admitting it, but it is what really makes you go over the edge. 

You come with a silent sob, biting into Price’s shoulder, until he redirects your mouth on his own. He kisses you with a hunger, a desperate thirst, like it pains him to want you this much. You answer with your own passion, careless in your display of affection for him. Low whistles and impressed Damn, captain erupt from the three other men. You part from Price with a chuckle, still not daring to look behind you. Until you feel someone gently tugging at your wrist. 

“Don’t keep her all to yourself Captain” Gaz beautiful eyes find yours, checking if you’re okay to follow him. You’re pretty sure he’s the only one to be able to snatch something from Price’s lap without too much trouble. John grumbles something that is lost in your soft laughs as Gaz brings you back with him near Soap and Ghost. 

“Now, tell us a story from your time with our Captain, I’m sure you have some funny ones!” he offers, and you comply, not minding the fact Gaz’s hand is still on your wrist, absentmindedly drawing circles in your skin with the tips of his calloused fingers.

❄️

You get back to the cottage just before sunset. The heater is still broken, but it’s a blessing in disguise, corelling you all into the living room, where the nice warmth of the fireplace makes for a mellow atmosphere. Soap has managed to find your stash of scotch, a vice you don’t indulge often in, but you still keep a few bottles at hand, to celebrate happy occasions or cushion hard news. You guess your reunion with Price is worth bringing those bottles out. 

The evening feels like one of those too-perfect fuzzy memories, made of laughter, comfort food and enough of the brown liquorous beverage to dull the last of your awkwardness around those newfound friends. Price has procured a cigar, spicy smoke weighing heavy on your senses. Someone has chosen a vinyl from your collection and turned on the old record player. Slow tempo music with suggestive lyrics. Gaz tugs you up from the ground, has you two sway along to the song - he moves his hips with a disconcerting easiness. You don’t really know what you’re doing, but he’s happy enough you follow him. You laugh in the dance, and he gets bolder, holding you closer with each new chorus. It drives you crazy.

Your earlier release at the hand of Price is long forgotten, and your whole body has been on fire since you came back from the hot springs. You can feel how embarrassingly wet you are, every little touch to move you out of the way in the kitchen, to lead you to your seat on the couch, every time they lay a finger on your waist, your arm, or even your face to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Everything they do to you makes you go crazy with want. Of course Price is the bolder of them all, large palms holding your hips while you step on a chair to reach something high in your kitchen, kisses stolen in the corridor, hungry eyes following your every move. 

He might be guilty of teasing you to death, but the three others are not that innocent either. And Price is letting them. He’s very clearly allowing them to flirt, watching with a small smile as they make you laugh, as they make you crave their attention. Yes, guilty, they are all guilty. And you’re their very willing victim.

Your glass is still in hand, your eyes are half closed. Ghost and Soap are sitting side by side on your couch, bodies relaxed, eyes on you and Gaz. Simon’s balaclava is bunched up on his nose, still hiding a part of his face, but allowing him to sip on his - yours actually - scotch. He’s watching you dance like you’re the prettiest girl in the club, although his hand is possessively holding Soap’s knee. You noticed they were close, but you did not expect this open display of affection. It means they trust you to some extent. It flatters your ego, makes you balance your hips more boldly.

As the song comes to an end, Gaz has you in a tight embrace with your back against his firm chest, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips so close from your nape, you wish he would kiss you there already. It’s not calculated, more instinct than wit, but you tilt your head ever so slightly to the side, baring your neck to his mouth. It must be instinct from his part also, because he immediately takes the bait and lays a gentle kiss on the side of your neck. You leave out a shaky exhale at the sensation and sink a little more against him. He leaves another kiss, a little lower, going down where your neck meets your shoulder. And another one. It’s not about instinct anymore, it’s deliberate, it’s a clear choice. The gentle warmth of the alcohol, the smoke of the cigar, the tiredness of the afternoon spent in the water - it all makes your body pliant and your mind happily dizzy.

“Let us thank you for the stay, lovie” Kyle murmurs against the shell of your ear, his hands solid on your hips, leaving no doubt as to how they intend to thank you. The shock of his demand forces you to use your brain for a second. You kinda knew this was coming - you wished it too. But it’s one thing to fantasize about it, and another to live up to it. Your eyes fly open to Price, searching for his opinion on this. Not hard to guess he already had his word to say in the situation, but still. 

“Don’t look at me. It’s up to you darling.” His voice is thick, thicker than usual. “You can say no. At any time.” he adds, words carefully chosen. The fire in his eyes when you nod your consent matches the fire between your legs.

Price rises from his chair while Kyle stays glued to your back, holding you upright, like an offering to his Captain. John stands in front of you, locks eyes with you and takes a long inhale on his cigar. His hand catches your chin, and he bends toward you until his mouth is a hair away from yours. You willingly part your lips to let him breathe out the smoke in your lungs. You can’t take it all, and the smoke spills out, engulfs your field of view, drowning you in the smell you have learned to recognize as his. Something rich and spicy, heavy and masculine, powerful and his, his, his- 

Price takes advantage of the way the smoke makes you even dizzier to kiss you on the lips. A hungry kiss, mirroring the one he gave you when he had you in his lap earlier in the springs. Before you close your eyes to focus on the way his tongue is licking inside your mouth, you vaguely register Ghost getting up and taking the cigar from his captain’s hand to let it drop in the ashtray. You feel his giant presence, can feel him nuzzling at the top of your head, smelling your hair, fingers ghosting over your shoulder and upper arm. It’s becoming overwhelming very quickly to be surrounded by them, and if not for Gaz holding you upright against him, you’re not sure you would still be standing up. 

Simon’s fingers find their way down your arm, until he gently takes your hand. His hold is feather-light, leaving you the opportunity to retreat. It’s a stark contrast with the raw strength you know he’s capable of. Price reluctantly stops kissing you, his large palms still holding your jaw from both sides angling your face towards his lieutenant. He wouldn't want for you to miss the show of Simon’s tongue peeking from his rosy lips to give a little lick at the pad of your fingers. Once, then twice. He groans, content with the taste of your skin. A predator confirming he caught the right prey. Without any warming he engulfs two of your fingers in his mouth, and sucks on the digits like he’s trying to get to the marrow of your bones. But instead of sharp teeths, all you get is the strange feeling of warmth and wetness, the powerful swipe of his tongue - he’s the one shoving your hand in his mouth, yet you have the intuition the big bad wolf is just a lost pet looking for a master. You press your fingers on his tongue, and down, until your flesh is flush against his teeth, and you keep pressing. He has no choice but lowering down too, unless he risks hurting you. 

The hands of Price and Gaz on your body tighten ever so slightly, when Simon finally puts his knees on the floor. With just two fingers between his lips, you have managed to make the giant kneel at your feet. He’s gazing at you with glassy eyes, the black make-up fading on his skin making his blond lashes pop. 

Simon nuzzles against your legs, and despite him being on his knees, his impulse for action is still there. He pushes his face against your crotch, his balaclava is bunching up on his nose and the bump of the fabric is providing some nice friction against your clothed cunt. Definitely not enough to quench your desire, but it’s welcome. It’s visibly an offense to Ghost that you’re still wearing clothes, so while Price is taking your attention with passionate kisses, he removes your pants and panties, until you can feel the air against your tender flesh. You’re already dripping, you can feel it against your inner thigh.

That’s when Soap, who is behind Ghost, a hand under his balaclava, fisted in his hair, pushes his face against your weeping cunt. Simon gives your folds a broad lick, and you let a heavy sigh out on Price’s lips. Ghost is lapping at you without any shame, his wicked tongue goes everywhere, no inch of the delicate skin between your legs is free from his attention. You have to grasp at Price’s shirt to steady you, because you’re squirming from the delicious wet warmth on your cunt. Gaz is still behind you, supporting you upright. His hands have found their way on your ass, he’s playing with the supple flesh, fingers inching between your cheeks. 

“Can I touch you here?” he whispers, his breath hot on the shell of your ear, and you nod your consent without second thought. He lets his broad hands wander fully between your ass cheeks, thumbs gently petting at your hole. Each sensation is not entirely new, but layered like this, happening all at the same time - it’s so much, intoxicating in the best sense. Ghost tongue in your cunt is making sinful noises, and you’re drowning in it all, body fully shivering between all of them. You feel a knot tighten in your gut with alarming speed, and you come for the first time of the night, moaning against Price’s neck. 

Price sweeps you off wobbly legs, and places you delicately on one of the mattresses. After this first orgasm, the warmth of the fire with the softness of the many blankets makes for a divine sensation. 

“All good love? Wanna keep going?” John asks, his blue eyes set on your face, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

“Yes!” you answer with a fervor that makes the men chuckle.

“Wanna taste you too, hen” it’s Soap - he lies between your legs, folds them on your chest, so he can look at your cunt like it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, before starting to lick, drinking the juices from your previous orgasm. He’s eating you messily but with enthusiasm, spending some time fucking you with his toungue, his thumb pressing on your clit. Your soft moans soon fill the air. It makes him bolder, and he goes even lower, his tongue licking at your puckered hole, not searching to go in, but feasting on every patch of skin he can find between your thighs.

Ghost is kneeling again, this time next to your head. He bends at the waist to kiss your mouth, making you taste yourself on his lips. He’s disciplined in the way he kisses you. After Price’s hunger, it’s a clear contrast. He makes you submit to his rhythm and is not afraid to make you feel the scrape of his teeth on your already swollen lips. He’s precise, sharp, calculated. Unlike you, he can’t be easily overwhelmed, and if you can coax a reaction out of him, it’s only because he lets you. 

Soap has you come on his tongue, and you don’t even have the time to let your legs go down before Price hoists them on his shoulders. An undignified little yelp escapes your lips in confusion and surprise that John is quick to sooth. 

“Shhh love, I’m here, you’re ok.” his gravelly voice making you so insanely hot that it has you clench on nothing. You’re not empty for long though. He fills you up in one slow inescapable move. It burns, but in a good way, a searing warmth seizing your whole body. The stretch is a lot. It has you clamp up on him, in a vicious reaction circle. 

“Fuck, you’re… a… lot.” you whimper, eyes shut to try and focus on relaxing.

“Don’t fight it” you recognize Ghost’s voice. “You’re doing great, bonnie” Soap echoes. “Breathe, gorgeous” Gaz adds. 

You open your eyes to see the three men in various states of undress, lounging on the mattresses around you both. Their gaze is fixed on you both, eager for the show you’re offering.

“Look at me, love.” John falls on his forearms, folding you in two. He cradles your face in his big palms, demanding for your full attention - the blue of his eyes is so dark, yet they are shining, like you’re watching a night sky full of stars. 

“You’re perfect. Your body is perfect. I know you can take it.” He punctuates his affirmation with a delicious rolling thrust of his hips, that has your lips part around a soft moan. 

“So let me make you feel good”

You can’t remember a single time in your life when you felt this good. This level of passion, not only from one person, but from four men. They take turns and team up to make you feel good. There are too many fingers and tongues on your body for you to count - sucking at your tits, leaving bruising kisses on your neck, hitting the most sensitive places inside of you, rubbing at your swollen clit. They discover they love giving a spank or two to your ass to hear you cry out in surprise then laugh and groan when the gentle heat of the blow reaches your cunt. They tie your wrists with a scarf for a minute, so you won’t disturb them in the very important task of finding out which one of them can make you come the fastest.

You love what they do to you, but you also want to please - want them to feel a tenth of the pleasure they offer. You follow the trail of hair on Soap’s belly with your mouth until you reach the tip of his cock. You ride Price until the muscles of your thighs give out. You swallow every drop of Gaz’s cum. You let Ghost come on your chest. 

“you’re taking me so well” “look at you, so pretty” “there you go, just like that, perfect" "you’re so good for us" 

You bask in their encouragement, let your brain short-circuit with their heady dirty talk, let your body go floaty, your limbs grow sore, let your flesh bruise under ravenous lips, let your skin get covered in sweat and spit and cum and your own wetness. The night is not young anymore when you shatter one last time on Price’s cock. He gently lay down your legs from his shoulders where they were perched. You don’t have any strength left in you to protest when Simon sits between your open legs to lick you clean for a couple minutes, ignoring your soft whines of overstimulation. It’s Gaz who comforts you, letting you know how good you’ve been, that you need to let them clean you up. He gently pets your hair while Simon and Johnny return with a damp clean cloth and try their best at cleaning your skin, before cleaning themselves. 

They help you into a warm hoodie - it’s so oversized it obviously belongs to one of them. They feed you pieces of dried fruit, tilt a cup of water to your lips, cuddle with you in front of the fireplace. The crackling of the fire is the background to their gentle chats and laughs, and the occasional muffled moans when Ghost keeps his lips on Soap’s neck. The view is sinful - those two men, built like Greek gods, half-naked, kissing each other - it would be enough to re-ignite your desire if you weren’t feeling so sore. And yet there’s something more than lust between them, something tender you guess they don’t show often. 

You eventually drift to sleep against Price, his body solid and warm by your side. Just like old times, you think just before he gently kisses your forehead - and you fall asleep understanding that maybe love has no fixed timeline.

#cod fanfiction #price x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #captain price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #poly 141 #poly tf141 #polyamory #reader x price x ghost x soap x gaz

[cherrygukki]

after last night (m)

➸ pairing: rich fuckboy! jungkook x f. reader ➸ word count: 4.3k ➸ genres: acquaintances to fwb, smut, unreciprocated love, mild angst if you squint, and a sprinkle of fluff ➸ summary: After last night, Jungkook doesn't know what to do. You got to tell him when he's gonna see you again before he drives himself crazy. ➸ warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, protected sex, whiny jk, rough, making out in public for like a minute, grinding, lots of kissing, hickeys, dirty talk, praise kink, face sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting (once), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, he's WHIPPED for reader's pussy, i almost forgot to say that jk also finishes early but that's okay he makes up for it🤭🤭 ➸ author's note: As what the title suggests, this short series (maybe) is inspired by After Last Night by Bruno Mars. I'm literally OBSESSED with this song so I couldn't help but write something dedicated to it. As always, enjoy reading!

Wishin' on a shootin' star, say a prayer for me

And hope it comes true

Jungkook can't help but heave a sigh, twirling the almost empty wine glass around in his hand while looking at the night sky with such loneliness in his eyes.

The sight above him is beautiful, but to him, there's nothing more beautiful than the image of your face in front of him right now. He craves you by his side, appreciating the view outside his window as you spend the most loving time in your lives.

So, when his eyes spot the phenomenal shooting star that swiftly passes through his home, his mind screams your name right away, praying to whoever's listening to him in the sky to have you here with him.

It's foolish, but he'll just about do anything to see you again, hoping that his wishes will eventually come true someday.

Throw my phone out the window, there's no player in me

Those days are through

When he said that he's willing to do anything for you, he meant it with every fiber of his being. Hence, it doesn't take Jungkook any second thought to pull his phone out of his pocket only to throw it out the window. He lets it fall freely from the high level of his penthouse without a care. Perhaps it's the alcohol seeping into his veins, putting him under the influence, but there still remains a part of him where he doesn't regret what he just did. After all, he only wants to prove you one thing by the end of the day —

He's more than willing to enter a new chapter in his life, and the title of that chapter is you.

You put it on me like I never felt before

That gushy, gushy good, girl, I want some more

While Jungkook continues to appreciate the mesmerizing city landscape beyond him, his mind couldn't help but drift off to the moment you met each other for the first time.

He had only intended to have a great time with his old friends during that highschool reunion of your batch. If only you hadn't attended that party like the gorgeous goddess you were to his eyes, then perhaps he wouldn't be so crazy like he is now.

Back then, Jungkook merely thought of you as the smart student who had a few admirers here and there, only ever getting the chance to talk with you every time you're paired up on a project, but he never thought of batting an eye towards your direction. However, the clearer view of your beauty in the present is in no doubt, indeed a present to him.

Without hesitation, he strikes up a conversation with you right away, leaving everyone else in the ditch as his entire attention was now directed on you, and you only.

It took hours for the party to end, thus it doesn't surprise you to see Jungkook impatient to get the both of you out of the venue, for you already knew where this night was about to end the moment he greeted you.

You haven't even gotten the opportunity to jump inside his car, but you're already making out on his hood like horny teenagers all over again. He kisses you with a spark of fire, spreading flames all over your body like a wildfire. You moan when he bites your bottom lip before pulling away, extending his warmth down to your exposed neck where he marks you like his personal treasure. You throw your head back in no shame whatsoever, disregarding the environment around you when you begin to grind your crotch against his thigh. The moans you let out our wanton, especially when he easily locates that sensitive spot on your neck to lick, suck, and bite on it that already has you reeling for the man.

You're certain there's a wet splotch in your underwear by now, already aroused from merely grinding away on Jungkook's thick thigh as well as him leaving dark spots all over your neck as if tomorrow will never come.

He slithers a tattooed hand beneath your dress to rub your clothed folds. You gasp loudly at the abrupt intrusion, letting him do whatever he desires at the moment while you relax at the sensational touches he leaves on you.

Whimpering, you grip tightly on his shoulder to urge him to go on. "Don't stop," you whine, "Please don't stop, fuck—"

"I won't, sweetheart." He licks at the fresh hickey he's just made while whispering. "I won't."

Before anyone could even catch up to what was going on, Jungkook hides the both of you from out in the open, hastily fishing his car keys from his pocket to unlock the Black Mercedes he's about to drag you in. He opens the backdoor, and soon enough, he's messily falling along with you on the leather seats where you continue to explore each other's bodies.

He locks the car again before hunching your dress around your waist to take a look at the sopping mess you've done with your panties, pushing them to the side when he finally gets to touch your bare pussy for the first time tonight.

Growling, he leans down to your ear only to send you a hot wave of shivers with the raspy whisper he lets out. "Gonna make you cum so hard tonight, sweetheart." He chuckles, "So fucking hard."

Jungkook wasn't expecting to receive exactly the same treatment he intends to give you tonight.

The moment you arrive at his penthouse, the two of you are already sticking to each other immediately like opposite poles of a magnet until you eventually navigate yourselves to the large couch in his living room. He settles you comfortably on his lap, hands traveling down to your clothed ass where he kneads them as you continue to lap each other out. You're the first one to pull away after a few more seconds, for he's already sucking the breath out of you with his plush lips alone.

You impatiently begin to unbutton his dress shirt, admiring the bulky figure that's hidden underneath the flimsy layer of fabric. He does the same to you, wrapping an arm around your back to unzip the tight outfit refraining his eyes from indulging in your gorgeous figure. The straps fall loosely around your shoulders, and soon enough, your dress is already messily hunched around your waist, exposing the entirety of your body to Jungkook's lust-hungry gaze.

By the time you get rid of his top, you don't hesitate to lean down and place kitten licks on his nipple. He quietly gasps at your bold move, resisting the temptation to have his eyes rolling back when you lick a fat stripe on his chest. He shivers underneath you, falling victim for your presence as he tightens the hold he has on your waist. Your pussy is gushing your arousal like a waterfall, and Jungkook doesn't fail to notice how desperate your whimpers get when you pick up the motion of your hips on his thigh.

Pulling away, you attack his lips ferociously, moaning oh-so wantonly that it has the tent in Jungkook's pants growing angrier by the minute. "I wanna ride your face."

"Fuck yeah, baby." Jungkook almost whines when you hastily settle yourself on his face, having your panties already ridden off earlier from the steamy car ride on the way home. You pant heavily, sensing his warm breath knocking right on your entrance, steadily aligning your core above his pillowy lips until he takes matters in his own hands — becoming more desirous for the sweet nectar leaking over him.

"Oh! Fuck, Jungkook—" You draw out a long mewl when he laps at your pussy like an oasis, leaving no drop of your juices out of his mouth as he dances his tongue around your sopping folds.

Nothing left could be heard in the spacious room aside from your lewd moans and the obscene noises of your wet pussy being eaten out by Jungkook.

You desperately grind on his face, searching for more friction, repeatedly nudging the tip of his nose with your clit which only has you throwing your head back in bliss.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels more than euphoric seeing your fucked out expression from below. He wiggles his tongue in every spot he deemed fit to have you toppling near the edge. Your taste alone is enough to get him off, bucking his hips in the air to seek for a release himself. Swallowing every drop you offered him only has him going crazier by the second, only urging him to fuck you with his tongue this instant, and that's what he exactly did.

The abrupt intrusion of his tongue between your folds elicited a loud whimper from you. He fucks you with his tongue like how he would with his cock — messy and fast.

Breathy chants of his name and a messy mantra of moans and whimpers come tumbling off your tongue. You bounce on his face like the desperate one you were, chasing that orgasm that's merely boiling from deep within your core.

He simply couldn't get enough of your essence, akin to getting intoxicated by the best form of addiction in the world. He continues to lap on your dripping cunt as if he's the next one in line on a death row, moaning every now and then which sends vibrations reverberating up your spine. Your mind blacks out, and now the only thing you can think of is Jungkook's skilled and wet tongue bringing you to an intense orgasm.

You don't hold back from leaving your mouth ajar to spill out the most sinful, yet heavenly noises Jungkook has ever heard, provoking him to add up to your pleasure by encouraging you to swivel your hips around his face.

Your pending orgasm is peeking around the corner, and the knot that's about to blow up inside you is about to make a mess on Jungkook's swollen lips. "Fuck, Jungkook, I'm cumming—" you whine, thighs shaking profusely until the knot snaps.

Gasping, Jungkook doesn't leave any of your juices unwelcome, for he's greedily drinking your juices up in pure gluttony. Your pussy keeps gushing out new waves of your orgasm for Jungkook to consume, and he can never get sick of it. If anything, it leaves him wanting more of that gushy sweetness you provide him, never ever being stunned from the way you do it.

Sweet, sticky, thick and pretty

You changed the game

At this point, Jungkook wants nothing more than to shove his cock in the prettiest pussy he's seen in his life, similar to a messy abstract painting that always succeeds in enticing the people's eyes — that's how beautiful Jungkook saw you.

Slowly lifting your hips off his panting face, you finally take a glimpse for the first time on how fucked out he already seemed. His lips are absolutely smeared with your essence, and perhaps a few of it even landed on his chin and his nose. However, your appreciation session on the man's features are cut short when he rips open the condom hiding in his pocket, swiftly stripping himself off his pants until his dick is finally sprang out in the open; tall and leaking with pre-cum.

He rolls the condom around his shaft, and before you know it, he's already forcing you down on his lap where your soft walls gain contact with the tip of his cock.

"Gonna fuck your pretty little pussy with my cock, baby. You want that?"

You mewl in response, eagerly nodding as you visibly bite your lower lip. Spreading your slick all over his tip, you steadily sink yourself around his girth, eliciting a guttural groan between the two of you. For a moment, you can feel the wind knock out of your lungs from how full you felt. Your walls kept themselves snug around Jungkook's veiny shaft, and he swears, he's losing his composure faster by the second.

"Fuck," he lowly whimpers when you finally bottom out, large hands settling on your hips to slowly drag you up again. Your pussy already leaves a trail of dribbling slick down the length of his cock, and it definitely earns a hiss to come out between Jungkook's teeth.

He helps you in riding him, a lewd yelp falling off your pretty lips when your hips crash down on his thick thighs, causing his tip to kiss the top of your cervix inside. Soon enough, your pace becomes increasingly desperate, as what seemed to be mildly moderate a few seconds back turns to a merciless wrath of Jungkook's cock roughly fucking into your dripping cunt.

"Jungkook!" You cry his name in utter bliss before the weight of your head gives in, leaning on his shoulder for support as you unknowingly drool on the taut muscle. He growls animalistically, fucking you with full force and great speed which leaves the air humid, and the sound of skin slapping and wet squelches of your pussy fill the quiet space of his penthouse.

A staccato of breathy moans spill out from your lips like a waterfall. His cock was covered in your slick, shimmering in your thick arousal which only heightened Jungkook's stimulation.

"God, look at you—your cunt is drooling all over my cock, baby. Wettest pussy in the fucking world, shit—"

Your walls clench from his words, another wave of your juices gushing out from your pussy. No one else can make you hornier than the man fucking you right at this very moment. His brows are furrowed in concentration, mind unable to think of anything else aside from his cock rearranging your guts. He's practically pierced everywhere, and the fact that he has a full-sleeve tattoo covering the whole of his right arm only aids on to your arousal.

He catches you momentarily staring at him, and he only simpers at you. "Fuck, like what you see, baby?" The clench you do confirms your thought. "Yeah, I know you do, baby. Your cunt is so fucking wet for me, isn't it? Such a good fucking cunt, taking dick so obediently, yeah?"

"S-So good," you mewled on his shoulder, breathing becoming labored when his tip repeatedly nudges your sweet spot. The obscene noises increase in volume, which encourages Jungkook to remain consistent with his thrusts.

Everything feels messy and sticky down below where your arousal has certainly reached Jungkook's balls, covering them in white as some of it land on your ass where they clap in motion of his rough thrusts.

Jungkook swears to God that he's losing it every minute, feeling his climax build up faster than usual, too lost in the incredible sensation of your tight walls clinging onto his length for dear life. Oh, and was he extremely whipped for the way you keep creaming around the base of his cock as if you're marking him as your own. He tries to hold back the fighting orgasm bubbling within his gut, but you just had to keep him snug against your warm folds for one last time until he's eventually reaching his breaking point.

"Shit, baby, your cunt's so fucking good I think I'm gonna cum soon—" He draws out one last whine before he's filling up the thin latex material. He breathes heavily, knowing that he's never been the one to cum first during sex. Feeling his dick immediately soften, he pushes you off his cock and pulls the condom off his shaft, hastily flipping you around so he's the one on top of you this time. He grips your knees to force your legs wide, kneeling down so his face is directly in front of your dribbling cunt.

"You haven't cum yet, haven't you, angel?"

"N-No," you stutter, sensing the proximity of his face between your folds.

"Sad you didn't get to cum on my cock, but my fingers will do the trick for now."

Before you could even fully react to his statement, he's already plunging three long digits in your warm cunt, plunging them inside and out at a swift rate that has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull in an instant.

"Holy shit, pussy still so fucking tight even after getting split open with my cock." He bites his lip, pleased with the wet noises your cunt makes whenever he digs them deep within your cavern. You throw your head back as if you're floating on clouds, eyes giving in as you surrender to Jungkook's fingers finishing you off.

"Such a good girl," he coos, "taking my fingers like your pussy's made for them."

You can feel your high lingering in your lower abdomen, that familiar knot beginning to form and Jungkook detects it right away. You almost lost it when he began to increase the speed of his fingers, but what has you screaming in such a pornographic manner is his mouth sucking your clit ferociously.

He laps on your clit like a madman, desperate to reach your climax. Your legs begin to profusely shake, and your screams morph into pleasurable sobs that have Jungkook smiling against your heat. You're flooding more and more juices on his hand, his tongue aiding to your fast-approaching orgasm.

"Don't stop, don't stop, pleeeaasseeee, don't fucking stop!" You pant wildly as your hands fly to his soft locks, gripping on them for dear life to lock his mouth in place of your clit. Jungkook was absolutely shameless for loudly slurping on your wetness, flicking your clit with his tongue simultaneously which brought the cherry on top for your orgasm.

"So good, I'm cumming, shit—"

He temporarily pulls away from your cunt. "Go on and make a mess all over my face, pretty girl. You did so, so fucking well for me."

With that, he sucks on your clit for one last time before your vision fades to black. A large wave of your wetness gushes out of your pussy, forcing his fingers to pull out which has him aiming for your clit right away. He rapidly rubs your clit, groaning in satisfaction with the mess he caused.

"Damn, angel, you just fucking squirted all over me."

You're panting heavily, unable to register anything that Jungkook's saying to you, for the recent orgasm you experienced has just hit you in the head like a truck. Your body is still twitching due to the overstimulation, but Jungkook didn't seem to care at all.

Jungkook appreciates how your pussy appears to be more glossy from how much you squirted, licking his lips in temptation before leaning in to swipe a fat stripe of his tongue from the bottom of your folds to your gorging clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, taking the pleasure nonetheless.

How can you ever make him stop when this man is an absolute fucking sex god?

"Fuck, your pussy's so sweet, baby," he whines on your folds before proceeding to flick his tongue left and right at a rapid pace. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves open, for the only sensation you yearn to keep is his mouth working wonders on you. Your moans increase in both volume and pitch, and you swear the man eating you out like a whole buffet is about to pull another mind-boggling orgasm out of you.

He only adds on to your rapture when he inserts three of his slender digits inside you again. You gasp loudly, legs profusely spasming to the point where you can't keep them open anymore. You attempt to squeeze your thighs between Jungkook's face, which causes him to forcefully pry them open when he growls on your pussy.

"This cunt will be the fucking death of me, angel," he chuckles, planting a soft peck on your clit contrary to the merciless motion of his fingers. "Make a mess one more time for me, sweetheart, hm?"

"I-I can't," you sob, nails clawing on the fabric of the couch as you feel your climax flying to its peak. "Too much..!"

"You can and you fucking will," he growls again, and the vibrations felt on your heat is what triggers another mind-shattering orgasm to crash down on you. Your legs wail around from the strong intensity, but Jungkook held you still. His mouth remains unbothered when you spill your juices all over his lips, happily lapping up on your remains.

The overstimulation makes you shudder, and your cunt at this point is overly sensitive from the continuous motions of his wet tongue. "T-Too much." You use all of your remaining strength to push his head away, and you're thankful he did, only to land a wad of spit onto your sensitive cunt, anyway. He rubs the small bundle of nerves in slow, circular motions, which makes you whine.

"Jungkook, I really c-can't anymore," you whine, and he finally separates himself away from your cunt despite the addiction coursing in his veins. He leans down on your face to pull you in one last tender kiss. Your taste has definitely made its mark on Jungkook's lips, evident when he tangles his tongue with yours.

He's the first to pull away before things become more heated again, abruptly carrying you in the air with his taut arms to bring you to his bedroom. "You should look at yourself, pretty," he snickers, "You look fucking adorable in my arms like this."

You blush at his comment, shying yourself away from his gaze which Jungkook merely chuckled to. He brings you to his bedroom where he provides you with the most tender care you've experienced in your life, gently cleaning you up here and there with a wet tissue as well as giving you a generous donation with one of his shirts to keep you warm.

Jungkook was never a big fan of aftercare, preferring to keep things casual by letting whoever he hooked up with leave right away. However, seeing you laying there, exhausted from everything, gave him this strong urge to cradle you in his arms in an instant, which makes him exactly do that.

In tangled sheets, you and Jungkook sleep through the night with your limbs intertwining one another. He couldn't exactly place the blossoming sensation in his chest, but he decides to brush it off, thinking it'll all wither away in the morning.

Boy, was he wrong.

After last night

After last night, I think I'm in love with you

The next day, Jungkook wakes up next to the large empty space of his bed. At first, he could hardly remember everything that occurred last night, until the memories all came crashing down at him at once when the image of your face appeared in his brain.

His heart hammers the moment he thought about the long, yet ephemeral night he spent with you. His first instinct is to get up from bed and call out your name, thinking you're still somewhere within his residence.

"___?" He's been chanting your name like a broken toy, searching for every part of his penthouse. To no avail, though, it seems you have left Jungkook alone without bidding him a proper farewell. The only trace of you he has is the small note you wrote placed on top of the counter. It merely stated about you leaving extra early for personal reasons, saying you enjoyed the night with him nonetheless.

However, Jungkook feels himself pouting when you didn't bother leaving a number for him nor any sort of connection that'll have him talk to you again. He reminisces about the valuable time he cherished with you last night, remembering even the smallest details of you. His favorite feature of yours is definitely your smile, following the sound of your giggles echoing through his ears. You possess the plumpest lips that are worth dying for, and definitely the belle of the party last night.

To top it all off, you also had the sweetest pussy he's ever laid his hands on.

He didn't realize that he's been staring into empty space for the past few minutes, immediately blinking away any thoughts of you before deciding to proceed with his daily routine.

A lingering sensation of longing for you still remains in his chest, though. And it's slowly driving him to madness.

After last night, he's probably in love with you for all he knows.

Woke up and I can't get you out of my head

After last night, I don't know what to do

Jungkook has never seen himself be this crazy for a woman, let alone it being after a supposed one night stand.

Did you perhaps cast a hex on him? Your face haunts him even during the middle of daylight. You're like an addiction he can't get rid of no matter how hard he tries. You come to him like you were meant for him, and he can't help but be simultaneously overwhelmed and amused from how much he's thinking about you.

He can't think straight from how much you've been conquering his mind throughout the day, spacing out every minute and so to cling onto the last traces of you by solely remembering you.

Jeon Jungkook is absolutely head over heels for you.

(Baby, you've got to tell me)

When I'm gon' see you again

On the couch is Jungkook endlessly scrolling through his phone, checking out every social media app possible to possibly find you and gain contact with you for the sake of his remaining sanity. It seems like fate has been on the wrong side with him when he's unable to find a hint of you no matter how thorough he searches.

He can only sigh when his hope begins to plummet. Perhaps you were only meant to be another mere one night stand that'll add on to Jungkook's promiscuous history and nothing more. After all, you were aware from the very beginning that a man like Jungkook can't be trusted, thus making you leave before you could possibly get attached to the man.

However, after last night, he doesn't bat a single eye to any other woman whenever he's out with his friends.

After last night, you're all that takes up most of Jungkook's mind.

After last night, he began doing the craziest shit all because of you.

After last night, Jungkook only clings onto one question for the following weeks of his life: When is he going to see you again?

after last night (two)

#bts #bts smut #bangtan #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #fanfic

[webslinger-holland]

I saw that your requests were open and I cant get the idea out of my head about a reader that worked at the crow club and Kaz just cant get them off his mind.

Then after failing to capture Alina and coming home, the crow club was under new Management and Pekka Rollins had taken interest in the reader, keeping them by his side. How would he react and/or get the reader back with the crows?

Heal His Heart | Kaz Brekker

Warning: slight violence, mentions of provocative attire, mentions of being a captive

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Ever since the Crow Club fell under the new management of Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker had been working nonstop to come up with a plan in order to reclaim his rightful throne. He made his way downstairs to meet up with the others.

Now Wylan had been tasked with creating a substance that had similar symptoms of firepox, but it would only last a day or two at most. He placed one of the two boxes on a small table with Jesper carrying the other. Jesper had been in charge of finding the boxes of their old costumes in which he had forgotten to clean them since last year.

Finally, Kaz had come to approach the table. He went to open one of the boxes, finding it filled with spray glass bottles of a mysterious liquid. He directed his gaze to the young boy standing in front of him.

"It'll mimic it in every way?" Kaz needed certainty.

"Mhmm," Wylan nodded.

With that, Kaz closed the lid to the box. He nodded his head in acceptance. There was a moment of silence amongst the small group. The boss turned his head to look directly at his right hand man beside him.

"You're gonna say you can't do this without me, yeah? And that you hate it when we're angry at each other, but sometimes, brothers fight. And that when all this is over, you'll open a tab for me at the club of my choosing," Jesper was rambling.

Kaz's face remained unchanged by Jesper's words. He looked at him sternly.

"Cause when Pekka's gone, you'll take it all. That's what your were gonna say," Jesper finished. He sent a cheeky smile to the others.

"There's a cap on the tab," Kaz insisted. "But otherwise, yes. To all of that."

"Then let's go take down the king," Jesper replied.

"The plan is this: Jesper and Wylan, you're gonna hand out Komedie Brute costumes and vials of the compound to all of the Dregs," Kaz began.

"Per Haskell's gang," Jesper claimed.

"Our gang now," Kaz interjected. "By sunset, the streets will be crawling with Sankt Emerens revelers. They'll provide us with the cover we need."

Sure enough, Wylan and Jesper had succeeded later in the evening when passing out costumes and the vials to the other members. They themselves wore their own costumes for disguise.

"Hit all of Pekka's businesses: The clubs, the brothels. All to destroy Pekka's reputation," Kaz ordered. He further explained Inej's part in delivery the message to Pekka's driver.

In that moment, Nina had come to join the small group by standing beside them. She had a pint in her own hands.

"Nina and I will handle the Emerald Palace," Kaz glanced at Nina beside him. His eyes drifted over the others. "See you there," Kaz dismissed them.

Naturally, Jesper and Inej had shared a look between one another. He had forgotten a vital piece of information to the plan, but he must have had his reasons. He didn't say anything about her.

"No mourners," Jesper began.

"No funerals," the rest of them said simultaneously.

As Jesper and Inej began walking away, Wylan caught up to them to ask why they always said 'no mourners, no funerals.' Inej gave a simple explanation of wanting to keep their expectations low.

Back at the table, Kaz and Nina stood in an awkward silence. She was quick to finish her pint of beer, lowering onto the surface of the table. Kaz kept his gaze on the box in front of him.

"You've been quiet," Kaz noted. He turned his body to address her. "Ready?"

With that, Nina landed a swift punch to the left side of Kaz's face. She had honestly been wanting to do that for some time.

The Emerald Palace was located in Ketterdam's East Stave, being owned and operated by the notorious gang called the Dime Lions. The gambling hall was always bustling with pigeons, bringing in heaps and heaps of money for Pekka Rollins himself.

When Pekka had taken over the Crow Club, he oversaw the distribution of its employees. He had them all line up and he made his decision where he wanted them to work for him.

He liked the big bouncers, opting to send them to the Emerald Palace where he often spent his nights. They'd serve as good additional protection. Many of the waitresses were sent away to work in his various brothels. Others were forced to go to the clubs. Then, there was her.

She was the one who had caught his eye. She stood timidly under his gaze, refusing to make eye contact with him unlike the others. He grabbed her chin to forcefully make her look at him. This caused her to let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Now..." Pekka's deep voice growled as he finally got a chance to look over her striking features. "What's a pretty lass like you working for scum like Kaz Brekker?" Pekka wondered.

"H-He pays me well," Y/n stuttered. She tried to pull herself out of his grasp, but he quickly grabbing onto her arm to hold her in place. "I-I'm just a waitress," Y/n claimed.

"Mhmm, just a waitress." Pekka almost didn't believe her. "Nothing more?"

"N-No," she lied under her breath.

Much like Inej, Kaz had chosen to pay off her indenture at the Menagerie. In turn, Y/n worked for him as a waitress at the Crow Club. She worked the tables, listening in on other people's conversations to hear the latest news circulating around the barrel. It was just another way to hear intel.

She was a resource to him. She was often the reason why he heard about specific jobs or who was no longer a reliable investment. However, that wasn't the only reason why Kaz Brekker liked keeping her around. As she was also a healer.

They shared many late nights together. He'd sit in front of her as she healed some painful wounds inflicted onto his body. Her being a healer was another valuable resource to have at his disposal.

At first, Kaz was wary when Y/n offered to heal a nasty wound inflicted to the side of his head. It caused a dull throbbing pain directly into the side of his head. To ease the almost unbearable pain, Kaz agreed to be healed by her.

He tried to prepare himself. He closed his eyes in order to try not to think about the feeling of ones skin against his own. His past coming to haunt him once again.

But when her fingers came in contact with the side of his face, Kaz didn't flinch away in pain or in disgust. In fact, Kaz felt rather comforted and maybe it was because she was healing a rather painful wound. He almost wanted to lean into her touch as it felt so warm and so gentle.

He kept his eyes closed to relish the feeling, taking a moment to appreciate not feeling the urge to vomit at physical contact. When Y/n had finished healing him, she took a single step backwards and lowered her gaze to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said softly as she already knew that he despised contact.

Instead of scolding her or demanding that she leave his office at once, Kaz approached her with an evident limp in his step. He stood right in front of her with his hands clasped onto the top of the crow head cane.

"Thank you," was all that he said.

They didn't label themselves with anything. There was some undiscussed attraction to each other that they both knew about. Due to his reputation and for her safety, they chose not to discuss such matters ever. This left them in a short of grey area.

"No," Pekka repeated. She was drawn back to reality, facing the heartless man in front of her. "Well, I can tell that Brekker didn't see your worth. How'd you like to come work for me? I pay handsomely," Pekka bargained.

Just by looking at him, Y/n knew that if she said 'no,' he was bound to put a bullet in the side of her head. Therefore, she was left with no choice but to join his side. She went to work for him at the Emerald Palace, serving as his personal attendant.

On that particular evening, Y/n was dressed in the finest lace and silk that the barrel had to offer. Her corset made it extremely difficult to breathe in, much less move around in. She brought another drink to Pekka as per request.

"Thank you, my love." Pekka said while laying a hand on the small part of her back. She wanted to wiggle out of his grasp, but stayed where she was as to not upset him further.

One of the bouncers came into view, stating that someone was there to see the boss. With some hesitation, Pekka Rollins rose to his feet and placed his glass of alcohol down. He dismissed himself from the group.

In the main entrance, Kaz Brekker was laying on the soft red floor. It looked like he had been in a fight as his hair was in disarray and there was sweat on his brow. Behind him, Nina Zenik stood with her hands held in a certain position. She could feel his beating heart.

"No match for a heartrender, are you, Brekker?" Pekka looked most pleased. "A real boss knows how to inspire loyalty in his people. Isn't that right boys?" Pekka glanced to his men.

"That's right," the other members of the gang agreed with him.

"Good job, lass. I've got it from here," Pekka gestured to Nina. His men were quick to pull their guns on her, which brought a tone of surprise.

"Move those hands and you lose them," one of them said. They knew what kind of power she could manipulate. They needed to keep her accountable. She raised her hands in defeat.

"I'm gonna make you regret the day that you crossed me," Pekka said to Brekker. He began to take off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up shirt.

In the background, Y/n had pushed her way through the crowd of men. Her gaze landed on the familiar figure laying on the floor. She raised her hands to her mouth in hopes of covering the gasp she left out. He lifted his head and looked directly at her.

"Get him on his feet," Pekka demanded.

"Wait!" Y/n exclaimed from the side. She took a single step forward.

Just as Kaz was hauled to his feet by two men, Y/n had also been held back by another two members. She thrashed against their tight grip on her arms, desperately seeking to be released. She couldn't stand to watch this play out.

"You told me..." Pekka redirected his attention to his personal attendant. He strode towards her slowly. "That you were just a waitress for him," Pekka said.

He knew the weight of his words. He had always wondered if there was something unspoken happened between the two. This could easily be used against Brekker.

"Nothing more," Pekka glanced back to Kaz. "That's what you said, isn't that right?"

She couldn't deny it, so she chose to say nothing instead. She hung her head low, not wanting to even look at Kaz in fear of seeing the hurt in his eyes.

And her words (though not spoken in that moment) did hurt him. They both knew that she was much more than just a waitress for him. She was more than just another one of his investments. She had done more for him than just healing his wounds. Because she had also managed to somehow heal his heart which ached from the pain of his past.

"He'll never be able to offer you anything. Nothing worthwhile at least," Pekka continued. He went to approach the young teenage boy. "He is nothing more than a lowlife who feeds off the dirt from the ground," Pekka spat in his face.

"You're wrong," Y/n said with a slight quiver in her voice. Pekka turned to her once more. "He is more of a man than you will ever be, you witless worm."

A few people left out a gasp of surprise upon hearing this. Now Pekka's blood was really boiling to the point where his face had turned beat red. It could have been from utter embarrassment or it could have been from pure anger.

Without another word, Pekka Rollins went to approach the girl he had taken under his wing. He stopped to stand right in front of her. In a flash, the back of his hand had met the side of her cheek. Her head whipped to the side from the slap and she winced from the stinging pain she felt in her cheek.

In that exact moment, Kaz wanted nothing more than to bash Pekka's head in for what he had done. But he could only watch as Pekka gripped her face with a single hand. He squeezed hard and forced her to look directly at him.

"You do well to remember who you belong to," Pekka growled.

"Go to hell."

In response, Pekka released his tight grip on her face. She could now feel the distinct taste of copper lingering in her mouth. She also did not know that there was a small cut on her cheek from where his ring had come in contact with her.

"I'll deal with you later," Pekka pointed to her threateningly. He turned back to his old rival. "Right now, I need to make an example out of this rat."

"You'll pay for this, you double-dealing witch!" Kaz finally spoke to Nina with venom in his voice.

Without warning, Pekka delivered a swift punch to Kaz's stomach. He doubled over from the searing pain, kneeling on the ground. He couched in attempts to catch his breath.

Reaching down, Pekka grabbed a fist full of Kaz's disheveled hair. He forced him to look upwards in which he could now see the line of blood trailing over his mouth.

"After I beat you, I'm gonna hand your body on a post as a reminder to anyone who forgets that I'm king of this city." Pekka claimed.

"Do your worst," Kaz challenged.

Another punch was brought down onto Kaz's face which sent him to the ground once more. He swiftly kicked his stomach many times over. Each time being more painful than the last. Kaz kept his eyes squeezed shut as if to try to manage the pain.

On the side, Y/n wanted to rush over and kneel beside him. She'd gingerly lay her fingers over his aches and pains in attempts of bringing him some sense of comfort. She needed to heal him. And she didn't know how much more he could take.

With one final blow to the side of the head, Kaz fell unconscious to the ground. His blood trailed down the length of his face, staining his skin. He blinked a couple times as he was brought back to a painful reality. He could hear the sirens now.

One of Pekka's men had come to inform him about the sirens, which initiated a quiet conversation between the two of them. He announced the return of the firepox. But all the places that had been reported to have been hit where nowhere near each other.

"There will be outbreaks at all of your establishments," Kaz said as he found the strength to stand to his feet. "And only yours," Kaz breathed heavily.

For a moment, Y/n was very confused. She furrowed her eyebrows as if trying to make sense of what he was claiming. She wondered. What are you up to, Kaz Brekker?

"The path of contagion will be clear. A ship in your harbor spread the disease to your clubs," Kaz explained.

"What did you do, boy?" Pekka wondered.

From earlier, Nina could remember the conversation she had with Kaz. How Kaz was going to pay to keep Matthias out of the fights in Hellgate. But Nina needed to do something for him first and she needed to make it look real.

"There is nothing an island nation fears more than disease," Kaz told Pekka. "The Merchant Council's going to want a proper investigation."

Meanwhile, Pekka was loading one of his handguns. He slipped another bullet into the barrel. He cocked it in his hand.

"You've got my attention," Pekka confessed. "But you're not worth the time it'll take to put a bullet in your head."

"Fifth harbor is shut down. Your businesses are tainted," Kaz continued.

Unbeknownst the the others, Jesper had slipped through the doors wearing a glorious red and golden cape. He managed to slip through the heavy crowds with the intent of listening in on the conversation.

"My businesses will be fine," Pekka raised his gun to Kaz's head. "But you?" Pekka began.

"I'd reconsider," Kaz interjected. "If you want to see your Kaelish prince again."

"What are you gonna do? You gonna blow it up again?" Pekka wanted to chuckle. "You need to learn some new tricks."

"Your other Kaelish prince," Kaz emphasized. "Fond of sweets. Blond hair."

Now Pekka had shifted from one foot to the other. He tried not to show any signs of weakness, suddenly realizing who he was talking about.

"Alby," Kaz seethed.

"I'll kill everything you love, Brekker." Pekka promised. He half expected him to look over at her in the corner. But Kaz kept his gaze locked on Pekka.

"The trick is not to love anything," Kaz claimed. Naturally, Y/n could only feel her heart plummet into the deep confines of her chest. She sniffled her tears away. Maybe she was just another waitress to him. "Your mistake was that you let someone get in. Someone you'd sacrifice everything for and it makes you weak," Kaz spat.

"Then I'll just kill you," Pekka tried.

"Do that," Kaz encouraged. "And you'll never find your son in time."

"What did you do?" Pekka looked horrified.

"I buried him. Six feet deep," Kaz spoke heavily.

"He went into that box so easily. Didn't even cry," Kaz pulled a small wooden train out of his pocket. "Until I took this from him."

"Where's my son?" Pekka demanded.

"Make smart choices. And you might just reach him before the air runs out," Kaz explained.

"You trifling piece of barrel trash," Pekka growled. "What the hell do you want?"

"I want you to remember," Kaz stated firmly. The images of his dead brother flashed through his mind.

"Remember what?" Pekka wondered.

"A con you ran on two farm boys. Orphans," Kaz explained. "A promise to replace the family that they'd lost. And then you duped them out of everything. They ended up on the streets and they both died. But one of us was reborn," Kaz finished.

Despite the description, Pekka Rollins tried racking through his mind. He recalled every single job that he tried to pull off, specifically singling in on the ones that had gone wrong. But his mind came up blank.

"Too many pigeons to remember? Let me help you. Jakob Hertzoon," Kaz spoke.

"That was a long time ago," Pekka said slowly. He hear nothing in response. "So that's what this is all about? Why you look at me with murder in those shark's eyes of yours?" He scoffed.

In the background, Jesper began to make his way to the backside of the men who were holding Y/n captive. He remembered the plan that Kaz had laid out. He brought his hands to the handles of his pearly pistols, preparing himself for the worst.

"You were just two pigeons who I just happened to have plucked. And if it hadn't been me, it would've been somebody else." Pekka insisted.

"Bad luck for Alby that it was you," Kaz spoke loudly.

Upon hearing this, Pekka seized for Kaz's collar. He slammed his body against a nearby pillar, keeping one hand firmly on his chest. He pressed the barrel of his gun into the side of his neck as if to threaten him. But Kaz only smirked at him.

"You...you tell me where to find me son!" Pekka demanded.

"It's a simple trade, Rollins. Speak my brother's name and your son lives," Kaz explained.

In utter defeat, Pekka stumbled backwards in his place. He locked his jaw in place, feeling his teeth gritting together painfully. He clenched his fists at his sides. He was seething with anger and frustration.

"How about another hint?" Kaz pushed himself off the wall. "You called your daughter Saskia. She wore red ribbons in her hair," Kaz described.

At that moment, Pekka began to mutter under his breath. He was desperately trying to remember the name off the top of his head. He raised his hand to point at him.

"Okay. T-two boys from Liji," Pekka recalled. But this wasn't exactly what he wanted.

"Yeah," Kaz confirmed.

"You had a piddling little fortune. Your brother fancied himself as a trader. Wanted to get rich quick like every other nub who steps foot in the barrel," Pekka said.

"I want you to say his name," Kaz growled.

The room had fallen silent. The older man's heart began beating faster and faster as the desperation quickly began to settle in. He couldn't stand still, shifting from one foot to the other. He mumbled a few names under his breath, but they weren't the ones he was looking for.

"Come on!"

"I don't remember his name! I just want my son. He's all I have," Pekka claimed. He took a step forward. "I'll give you whatever you want, Brekker."

Now, Kaz's gaze shifted to the one who was once and now who claimed to be 'just a waitress' for him. Those were the exact words he needed to hear to get her back. He felt a heavy weight lift off his chest.

"I'm begging you," Pekka drew him back to reality.

"Are you?" Kaz wondered curiously.

With some hesitation, Pekka Rollins had found himself lowering to the ground on his knees. He hung his head low to hide his shame. The other members of the Dime Lions glanced at one another. They didn't really know what to think of the situation.

"First, you will return what is rightfully mine," Kaz hissed.

The sound of two guns clicking could be heard in the background. When the men turned their heads to look over their shoulder, Jesper was standing there pointing his guns at them threateningly. He motioned for them to release her.

Rather roughly, Y/n was released by the two men and pushed forward in her place. She stumbled from the force, landing on the floor in a heap. She groaned to herself.

Recognizing that she was now safe, Kaz proceeded to pull two pieces of paper out of his coat pocket. He held them up for the whole crowd to see. He explained what they were.

"A confession for the murders of Tante Heleen and Constable Sem. And a quitclaim deed for Inej Ghafa," Kaz dropped the papers to the ground. He made a pen appear in his hands. "Sign both if you want to find your son alive," Kaz further explained.

On his knees, Pekka Rollins did not hesitate to take hold of the golden pen and papers. He signed his name on both of them before handing them back. He had been bested.

Slowly, Pekka rose to his feet. He hated how this whole ordeal had gone down, how he had been humiliated in front of his men, and how he had been called out for being weak. But he did everything that he had been asked to do for the sake and safety of his only son.

"Where's my son?" Pekka wondered humbly. His voice sounded tired.

"Black Veil Cemetery," Kaz answered. He spared a glance to the room full of men surrounding them. "You'll need all your men digging to find him in time," Kaz claimed.

Without a moment to spare, Pekka Rollins was the first one to leave with all of his men following behind him. The only people left were Kaz, Nina, Jesper, and Y/n. As soon as those doors closed behind the men, Kaz finally caved in.

In a split second, Kaz had rushed to be at her side. He knelt down in front of her, ignoring the aching pain he felt in his right leg. He gripped her arms tightly, shaking her a little.

"Are you alright?" Kaz demanded an answer.

"Kaz..." Y/n said breathlessly.

"Are you alright?!" Kaz said a little louder. He shook her until a few strands of hair had fallen in front of her eyes. He could see the evident tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She shook her head in response.

Now Kaz had pulled her forward into a bone crushing hug. He could feel her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him so desperately. He closed his eyes to relish the feeling of her being in his arms once again. He brought his hand to the back of her hair, brushing down her hair in attempts of calming her down.

"My darling..." Kaz whispered into her ear. "You're safe now. I've got you."

For the first time, Kaz had turned his head to press his lips against her temple. He whispered her name over and over again to bring her some sense of comfort. Her eyes grew heavily and she melted in his grasp. He rocked the two of them back and forth in a soothing manner.

His arms remained around her for comfort. He even managed to carry her back to the Slat, though it pained his leg badly. He laid her down in his bed and brought a blanket to drape over her body. He stayed with her all throughout the night.

Earlier, Kaz had lied blankly to Pekka's face. Though it was a trick to not love anyone, Kaz had failed miserably at that task. Because he had fallen in love with the person who managed to heal his heart.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker oneshot #kaz brekker request #kaz brekker series #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows

[idy-ll-ique]

mr grumpy man

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: smut, mentions of abuse and wounds, adultery

requested: nope

word count: ~4.3k

summary: bucky kidnaps y/n because her husband owes him money. what happens when he finds out her husband is abusive?

author's note: hi guys! i crossed 1450 followers today, plus my masterlist is about to reach 1000 notes, and ngl i'm kinda excited for that, so i wanted to post. i have been writing fanfiction even though i stopped posting weekly (it's a great stress reliever). so yeah... enjoy! (also lmk if you want me to write and post a part 2, since the ending to this imo feels kind of incomplete) also ik i am reusing names but go with it, it's difficult to come up with names :(

masterlist

-

The sound of her gasp echoed around the garage as the blindfold was lifted off her eyes. Y/N blinked in the dim light, her hand trying to reach up to soothe her aching head, but— She struggled to free her tied hands, to no avail. Finally collapsing against the chair, she looked around the room as her eyes adjusted to the lights. Or the lack thereof.

A bunch of men stood ahead of her. In the centre was a tall, brunet man, his blue eyes glistening with… mirth. He seemed happy, even though his face didn’t betray an emotion. “S-Sir… Who…” Y/N choked out, thanking the Gods that her mouth was still usable. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re awake,” the man crooned, walking up to her. She peered up at him, a little scared and a lot confused. 

Bucky blinked at her. Why… Why was she looking at him like that? There wasn’t an ounce of fear he could see on her face, just— perplexion. “Mrs Silverstein,” he began. “Yeah?” He internally heaved a sigh of relief. At least he had the right person. But then why wasn’t she scared? Surely, being married to a mob boss meant she knew the danger mob bosses posed. “I’m James Barnes.” Y/N cocked her head to the side. “M-Mr Barnes, have you— kidnapped me?” 

“If you know that, why aren’t you scared?!” Bucky burst out impatiently. This woman was starting to get on his nerves with her nonchalance. “...ooh, ah, save me…” Y/N mumbled a couple seconds later, pursing her lips to keep herself from smiling. She never thought she would be, but here she was now! Kidnapped! Meaning, away from her husband! Bucky growled in annoyance. “Are you fucking mocking me or something?”

She hurriedly shook her head, lowering it in shame. “Sorry.” He huffed. “Your husband—” Y/N nearly flinched at the mention. “—has stolen a huge sum of money from me. So now, my dear, you’re going to live with me until he returns the money.” Bucky wasn’t a monster. As annoyed as the woman was making him, he had no intentions of hurting her. He simply wanted to lure Edmund, her husband, to him by using Y/N as bait.

“Wait, seriously?” Y/N realised she might have come off a little excited because Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, his men exchanging glances in shock. “You’re— happy about that?” Bucky asked, bewildered. “No I’m not,” she muttered, clearly lying. Bucky shook his head, deciding to let it go. Surely she was so… scared and traumatised that she was acting bizarrely. It had to be that. “Okay… um, untie her, I’m taking her to her room.”

Two of his men stepped forward and untied her hands and legs. Bucky expected her to kick and scream upon being untied but instead, she simply stood up, dusting her clothes. “My room, sir?” Bucky stammered incoherently. “Uh, sure,” he ended up mumbling, leading her into the mansion whose garage they were in. He kept alert; maybe once away from the guards she would act up. “Intelligent,” he thought.

But even when they were away from all the guards, just the two of them, Y/N kept demurely following him, looking up at the mansion. “Wow,” she whistled, “This is your house? It’s pretty solid, dude.” Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. “Okay, what stupid fucking game are you playing with me right now?! You really think I’m that dumb, Mrs Silverstein? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?! Playing nice until you get a chance to run back to your husband?!” 

This time, she did end up flinching at Edmund’s mention. Bucky noticed and paused, his brows furrowing in suspicion. “I don’t— I’m not playing any games. Look—” She rummaged through all her clothing. “I don’t have any weapons on me and plus my hands are recovering from injuries, so I’m not even strong enough to kill someone like you. Have you looked at yourself? You think I will be able to hurt you?” Bucky released a breath.

An awkward silence fell between them. “What are your hands recovering from?” he finally ended up asking as they commenced their walk. “Broke my bones in both hands, just a little accident, heh,” Y/N chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. A few more minutes passed. He glanced at her. She was looking at the decoration around the house, lips pursed, as if she was about to burst into tears.

And without thinking, he asked the one question a kidnapper never asks their victim.

“Are you okay?”

A teardrop leaked down Y/N’s eye and she hurriedly wiped it off, clearing her throat. “Yeah.” What the fuck was her deal? They soon stopped outside a bedroom; Bucky opened the door, revealing— “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen!” Y/N gasped, awed. The colour scheme was pretty, there was an attached bathroom and also a balcony! "This makes my architect heart really happy."

"You're an architect?" Bucky couldn't help but ask again. "I was, before I got married. Edmund didn't like that I worked, he then started keeping me at home," she revealed. Bucky found himself getting annoyed again but this time not by Y/N, by Edmund. "Well, uh, you've seen everything. Spare clothes are in the wardrobe, um, the shower has clean water if you want to clean up… there's facewash and body wash in the bathroom and also toothpaste and a toothbrush."

"Aren't you, like, my kidnapper? Why such nice treatment?" Y/N wondered. "I have no personal vendetta against you, I'm after your husband. And I'm using you as bait. So don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. That's how my mob functions." A smile bloomed on her face. "That's a nice way to function. Uh, I'll see you then, Mr Barnes." Bucky licked his dry lips. "Yeah, s-see you."

He left her room, closing the door behind him. But he simply stood there, his thoughts racing. The way she wasn't upset that she was kidnapped, the way she flinched earlier when he mentioned her husband, and how sad she looked when she told him her husband didn't allow her to work after they got married. All the proof was there— She disliked him. Y/N disliked Edmund. But was there more to it?

Was she only upset about her job, or maybe something more? Bucky shook his head, heading to his own room. Now that he knew, her previous behaviour didn't seem so… annoying anymore. 

-

The next morning, Bucky woke up with Y/N on his mind. Immediately upon getting out of bed, he rushed to Y/N's room, pausing before knocking. When she didn't open the door, his nose scrunched and he pushed the door open, freezing when he saw her naked in the middle of the room, a pair of his shorts in her hands. The spare clothes he'd given her. Y/N froze as well, the water from her wet hair dripping on the floor. She had just finished taking a shower. 5 uncomfortable minutes later, both of them snapped out of it.

Bucky was staring at her body. "My men didn't raise a finger on you," he whispered as she hurriedly covered herself with her towel. "Mr Barnes—" He entered the room, slamming the door shut behind him as he closed the distance between them. "I told them not to. Then what is this?" Her body was covered in scars big and small, and also healing bruises. Some that looked an angry red, some black and blue, while the almost healed ones looked yellow-green.

Her arms, her legs, her torso… except her face. Every body part was injured. "Y-Your men didn't do it," Y/N quietly assured him, avoiding eye contact. Bucky's chest heaved with anger. "Then who?" Y/N gulped in fear. "E-Edmund did." Bucky was hoping it wouldn't be the answer. "I fucking knew it," he growled, "I suspected it last night—" He stopped when Y/N touched his arm. "L-Let me get ready?" He left the room on her insistence.

Blood boiling, he stormed into the dining room, startling the housekeeping staff as he sat on a chair, glaring at the innocent table in front of him. He didn't think Edmund would be able to anger him more than when he stole Bucky’s money but apparently knowing that he abused his wife too did the trick. Maybe it was the way Edmund’s behaviour reminded him of his own father— that was a can of worms for another day.

He turned towards the door when he heard footsteps behind him. Y/N had just walked in, wearing a grey t-shirt that was too big on her as well the pair of shorts he’d seen previously. She silently sat in front of him, her head hanging low. “The broken bones, that was him, no?” A beat passed and she nodded. Bucky was so furious now he couldn’t speak; they ended up having breakfast without speaking to one another. Afterwards, Bucky sent Y/N back to her room.

The hours began passing. When Y/N noticed that the sun was about to set, her stomach hungrily growling being the thing that snapped her out of her trance, she wondered if she would be let out of the room and given some food. Turns out she didn’t have to wait for an answer— just as the thought passed through her head, the door opened and Bucky walked in, tongue in cheek.

“I’m back home.” Y/N didn’t know he’d left. “Did you… did you have lunch? I forgot to remind the housekeeping staff to give you lunch.” She shook her head no. “I’ve been here the whole day.” His face showed… remorse? An apologetic look crossed his face. “C-Come downstairs to eat something now.” Without a complaint, she got off the bed and followed him towards the dining room. On the dining table was a big plate of cut-up fruits.

Bucky beckoned her to have the first bite. Like in the morning, they sat quiet, until Bucky spoke first. “I called… Edmund today.” Her gaze lifted from the fruits to his face. “What did he say?” she whispered, somewhat dreading the answer. “I asked for a huge ransom, basically something along the lines of what he stole from me. He said… It'll take time. He also threatened me.” This time a chuckle escaped his lips. “If you do anything to my wife, I swear,” he mimicked, causing Y/N to laugh as well.

“Bold coming from him,” she sighed, a tiny smile showing on her face. The mood dimmed again— as “fun” as the conversation was, they weren’t… friends. Y/N was still his victim, Bucky still her kidnapper. There were boundaries they knew they couldn’t cross. But still, there was something…

After finishing the fruit, Bucky took her back to her room. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he cleared his throat, poking his tongue in his cheek again. Y/N pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, clasping her hands as she swayed back and forth on her toes and heels. She was about to speak when Bucky began walking away, thinking the conversation was done.

She only stared after him.

-

The days began passing quicker. In what felt like a mere minute, a week passed since Y/N's kidnapping. There was still no sign of Edmund, and Bucky was getting impatient. Impatient not because of money, impatient because Y/N was growing on him. He’d started finding her and her mannerisms tolerable and dare he say it— cute. He had started finding her adorable.

Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her lips, her figure— the figure he’d seen all of before. Y/N was pretty, no doubt, but Bucky mentally hit himself with an imaginary stick every time she was around. He couldn’t possibly think his victim, another man’s wife, was beautiful. But there was no doubt about the fact. Bucky was steadily falling.

Unbeknownst to him, so was she. As little time as they spent with each other, Y/N found herself eagerly awaiting the next time she could see him. She found herself admiring his looks when he wasn’t looking. His steely blue eyes, his long brown hair, his stubble, his physique— the upper part of which she had managed to catch a glimpse of one time— him. She admired him.

Not to mention the fact he treated her way, way better than Edmund ever did. Always gave her food and water, checked on her from time to time, and gave her good living conditions. This was much less a kidnapping and much more a vacation of sorts. The only difference being? While Bucky actively hated himself for falling for her, Y/N didn’t mind in the slightest.

If anything, she had subconsciously begun to pamper herself, as well as she could, so Bucky would notice. He gave her a reason to distance her thoughts from her husband; when they got married, and when the abuse began, she used to think no one else could like her, and the fact that Edmund was still willing to keep her as his wife— she should accept that. But the previous week, she hardly ever thought of him.

She was staring out the window of her room when there was a knock on her door. Her hands flew up to flatten her hair as the door opened. Like she hoped, Bucky stood on the other side, wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants. She blinked owlishly at him. “Come with me.” Y/N hurriedly got off the bed and waddled behind him. To her surprise, he began leading her out of the mansion.

Y/N hadn’t been out of the house since the first night. Dread filled her mind— was Edmund here to pick her up? Instinctively she stopped in her tracks, her eyes filling with tears as she grabbed Bucky’s arm, stopping him as well. He whirled around, startled to see her crying. “Wh-What happened, why are you crying?” A choked sob escaped her lips as she shook her head.

“He’s here, isn’t he? P-Please don’t hand me over to him, please,” she croaked. Before Bucky could speak she piped up again. “Just kill me— I b-beg, Mr Barnes, please!” Another sob left her lips and Bucky felt his resolve breaking. Somehow freeing his arm from her grasp, he walked towards her and hugged her tight, holding her close to his chest. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing her back.

Y/N slowly stopped crying, her fists clutching the back of his tank top. Bucky rested his chin on her head, one arm wrapped tight around her waist as the other continued to rub her back, helping to even out her breathing. His resolve cracked fully— no, Edmund was not getting her back. “He’s not here,” he assured her quietly, “I promise.” She finally calmed down.

“Then where are you taking me?” The way her voice had become so tiny suddenly… Bucky wanted to hit himself for unnecessarily scaring her. “For a walk. I-I thought we— I mean you, should take a walk in the garden for some… fresh air. And I’ll come along… to keep an eye on you,” he stammered. A second passed and she nodded. “I’d like that.” He internally heaved a sigh of relief and they began walking to the mansion’s garden again— this time holding hands.

Y/N was so shaken up and frightened that she refused to let go of Bucky’s hand. Each time he tried pulling away, she whined and held his hand tighter. “Y/N.” Hearing his stern tone, she reluctantly let go of his hand, only to be surprised as he draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. They fell quiet. After spending an hour outside, Bucky noticed it was dinnertime. 

They had dinner. And then it was time for Y/N to go to her room again. Try as she might to fall asleep, she couldn’t. Each time she closed her eyes, Edmund’s face appeared in front of her, scaring her awake. Quivering, Y/N stood up, walking out of the room. She wanted to see Bucky. But she didn’t know where his room was. Sighing in defeat, she slid down in front of the door, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. The bedroom felt too unsafe. 

What she didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t in his room. He was in the living room, having a glass of whiskey. An hour would pass before he made his way upstairs; since Y/N’s room was nearer to the staircase than his own, he had to pass by in front of her room to go to his. And he was shocked to see her sitting outside, rather than inside. “Y/N?!” She looked up at him, pressing her lips shut to keep herself from crying in front of him again.

Also sighing in defeat and throwing his morals and ethics aside, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. A gasp left her lips as Bucky pinned her against the wall. Her hands were held over her head, Bucky holding her wrists with one hand as the other rested on the wall right next to her waist. “Fuck you for being so adorable and perfect, honestly,” he mirthlessly laughed before pressing his lips to hers in a noisy, wet kiss. 

Y/N involuntarily moaned as the kiss got too overwhelming. Bucky, hearing that, grabbed her waist with his free hand and shifted closer to her, grinding his steadily hardening cock against her most sensitive area. “Mmh,” she breathed out. “Liking that, princess?” His hand let go of her wrists to take off the t-shirt she wore. When her breasts came into view, Bucky groaned. 

“Ungh, M-Mr Barnes, ah,” she whimpered when he bent forward, taking a nipple between his teeth as his hand toyed with the other one. “Fuck,” he hissed when she rolled her hips against his. Not wasting more time, he knelt in front of her and yanked her shorts down, the cool night air colliding with her wet cunt making her moan. Bucky smirked as he smeared some of her juices around with his fingers.

“So fucking wet for me,” he hummed, grabbing the back of her thighs before burying his face between them, lapping greedily at the juices. His nose rubbed against her clit; Y/N’s fingers curled in his hair, gently pulling him closer. Bucky didn’t even feel like coming up for air. She had the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen, and she tasted sweet, just like her personality. “Bu-Bucky, I’m gonna cum!” When he heard that he finally stopped and looked up at her.

Her face was flushed and her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as she rested her head against the wall, her chest heaving. That picture drilled itself into his head; he would never forget that look, how ethereal she looked as he made her fall apart on his tongue. “Cum for me, my love, you won’t be doing so for anyone else for a long, long time.” Hearing those words Y/N let go.

Bucky drank everything she offered. It was like an elixir to him. “So gorgeous, so delicious,” he whispered and stood up, holding her by the hips when her knees buckled. That orgasm had been her most powerful yet. Bucky definitely knew what he was doing. “Come.” He gently carried her in his arms bridal style, allowing her to rest as he took her to his room, kicking open the door with his foot.

Y/N passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Bucky suspected she’d fallen asleep earlier than that, in his arms, rather. His cock was throbbing hard; lying down next to her, he lowered his pants and took his length in his hand, leisurely stroking it as he thought of Y/N— the look on her face. No matter if he got or didn’t get the money from Edmund, he wasn’t giving up on Y/N. She was his now, his to care for. His to fall for. 

He felt his orgasm coming. With a whisper of her name he let go, spurting hot, white liquid onto his thighs and hand. Bucky then cleaned himself and pulled his sweatpants up over his limp cock, turning on his side to envelope Y/N in his arms. She, still asleep, turned into him too, burying her face in his chest, curling into him.

For the first time since forever, a genuine smile bloomed on his face.

-

The next morning couldn't arrive sooner. Bucky woke up before Y/N, and when the previous night's memories resurfaced, one more smile tugged on his lips as he turned to look at the woman asleep next to him. Her lips were turned upwards, and he wondered what kind of a dream she was having. "Oh, Bucky," she suddenly whispered, humming as she turned to lay on her back, facing away from him. Bucky didn't contain his chuckle; the noise woke Y/N up and she blinked her eyes open.

"What was I doing in your dream?" he asked her in a whisper as soon as she gained her senses. "We were in a park eating ice-cream together," she sleepily whispered back, accepting his invite to snuggle closer to him. "But you moaned my name," he cheekily pointed out, "So what was I doing exactly?" At that her cheeks heated up. "I— I had some ice-cream on my lips and you—" She couldn't finish her sentence out of embarrassment. Bucky laughed quietly, trying not to ruin the serenity of the morning.

He leaned in and gave her a peck on the corner of her mouth. "I did that?" Squealing a little, she hit his shoulder and buried her face in his chest, hands covering her eyes. By then Bucky was smiling so wide, he thought his mouth was going to tear open. He wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her impossibly close as they simply lay there, basking in the quietness and bliss of the early morning sun's rays coming in through the closed, white curtains of the window.

Alas the bliss didn't last long; Bucky's phone began ringing, snapping them both out of their trance. Bucky reached for the night stand and grimaced when the Caller ID came into view. "Why him?" Y/N groaned as well, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yes, Silverstein? Do you finally have my money ready?" Bucky drawled, his arm snaking around Y/N's waist. "How is my wife? Is she alright? Let me talk to her!" Bucky glanced at Y/N.

"He wants to talk to you," he whispered to her and her eyes went wide. She tried saying no but Bucky had to be convincing one way or another. So she decided to help him. 

Taking the phone from his hand, Y/N held it to her ear. "Hello?" She heard Edmund's sighs of relief. Fake. "My love, are you okay? He hasn't hurt you, has he?" If by hurt you mean making me pass out by giving me a strong orgasm then yes, yes he hurt me. Badly. "No he hasn't." Edmund mumbled something on the other end. "Listen, I have the money ready, okay? I'm getting you back, I promise! You're mine, my wife, and I'll never let anyone hurt you."

"Then why are you the one hurting her, asshole?" Bucky muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. Y/N cracked a half-smile at his tone before clearing her throat. "Y-Yeah. So when are you… coming to pick me up?" Bucky snatched the phone from her hand. "I'll be there this evening, my love. I'll assure him that I've come alone, but I will bring some of my men— once I have you back, I'll have them attack him and we'll walk away with the money. You have to play along, hm?"

Bucky smirked. He held the phone away and covered the speakers, turning to Y/N. "Say okay, I'll see you in the evening." She nodded and Bucky gave her the phone. "I'll see you in the evening, okay," she told Edmund, who ended the call. Y/N kept the phone down on her bed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "What did he say? He's coming in the evening?" Bucky laughed loudly, startling her.

"That's the thing! He thought he was still talking to you, so he told you this really elaborate plan that I wasn't supposed to hear. And now I'm one step ahead of him." Y/N laughed at his words too. "Really?! That's so awesome! Now you can plan accordingly, and take the money back!" 

He tugged on her hand to pull her close. "Take the money and keep you by my side." Y/N's cheeks flushed. "And that," she mumbled shyly. "Well, now that I know he's coming in the evening, there's still plenty of time that we have, you know…" Bucky hinted coyly, making her lie down on the bed and hovering above her, propped up by his arms. Y/N smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. "Show me what you got, then."

"Oh, trust me princess, I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve, let's see if by the end of it you can even walk."

-

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr #appreciation post

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace. 

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here. 

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words? 

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid. 

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say. 

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never - 

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole  -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you. 

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips. 

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods. 

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting.  You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

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[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 12

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon comes home to find you crying and in a moment of weakness, you make a mistake.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, pregnancy scare, post panic attack?, angst, comfort, body worship?, deep throating, fingering, vaginal sex, breeding, disgusting fluff

Words | 4.3k

Notes | I recommend grabbing a barf bag before proceeding because the fluff in this is absolutely nauseating. (Also I’m reusing gifs now I guess😭)

Ao3 link | <3

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Main Masterlist

Part 11

The front door opened softly, then shut just as quiet, and you held your breath as you listened for his footsteps. He called your name, presumably walking around the apartment to find you. Then the handle on the bathroom door jiggled, but it wouldn’t open. 

“Don’t come in.” You croaked, even though it was locked anyway. 

“Are you crying? What happened?” He sounded significantly more worried now, which only made you feel worse. 

“Nothing, I- I’m just.. going to the bathroom.” You muttered weakly, hugging your legs tighter to your chest. 

“Please let me in, little one.” You let out a quiet sob and buried your face in your knees. After a moment, you heard the door crack open and you lifted your head as he walked in, pocketing his keys. You cursed at yourself for not remembering that these kinds of door handle locks can be turned from the outside. 

“What happened?” He kneeled next to you and brushed your hair away from your face to see you better as his other hand gently wiped the tears off your cheeks. 

“I- I threw up.” You said through a sob, feeling your chest start to tighten and your breathing start to come in short pants again. 

“That’s why you’re crying?” You knew he didn’t understand it yet. 

“Jon, I threw up.” You gave him a knowing look as you bit your trembling lip, waiting for him to figure it out. His lips parted and his eyes just barely widened, so you gave him a pained smile before looking at your knees again. 

“Do you still feel sick?” 

“Not because of that.” You muttered, mostly sure that you were nauseous from anxiety and fear now, rather than actual morning sickness. He helped you to your feet and brought you over to the sink, instructing you to just rinse your mouth out a little so you didn’t have to keep tasting it. When you finished, he led you to the bed and pulled you onto it, letting you lay over him as he wrapped his arms around your torso. 

“You can take a test, then we’ll go from there, okay?” He said softly, placing a kiss on your hair. 

“What about after that? It’s not like I can exactly just walk into a clinic now.” 

“I know a doctor who owes me a favor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Jon.” The exhaustion was clear in your voice, especially now that you were laying down, in his arms. 

“Regardless, I’m still sorry you had to go through that alone. I won’t leave your side until we have it figured out.” 

“You don’t have to do that… I overreacted.” 

“I’d hardly call having a panic attack over a very valid fear overreacting.” He scoffed teasingly, making the corners of your lips turn up a little. 

“Still, if I would’ve just thought it through for a moment I wouldn’t have spiraled.”

“They’re called irrational fears for a reason, darling.”

“You keep doing that.” You muttered, cheeks burning. 

“Doing what?”

“Calling me new names.” 

“You like them.” He said simply, as if that explained the total switch from reluctantly calling you one name, to now using multiple, voluntarily. 

“But you don’t…” The way you said it made it sound like a question, but he didn’t answer. You did, however, hear his heart rate increase slightly. “Do you?” You asked skeptically, practically able to feel the way he probably rolled his eyes. 

“It’s tolerable.” He muttered and you lifted your head to look at him, finding the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. 

“God- you’re such a softie.” You mumbled, laying back down, biting back a grin. He scoffed in response. 

“Once you’re feeling better, we’ll see if you still think I’m a softie.” The seductive tone made your stomach flutter. 

“Sex doesn’t count. That’s pretend.” After a moment of silence, he seemed to realize you won this round because the only response you got was a huff. 

You laid there silently, listening to his heart beating and trying to feel the warmth of his chest beneath his suit. His hand moved up to lightly play with your hair and scratch your head, making your eyes flutter shut as you smiled. 

“Feels good.” You mumbled against him, eyes growing incredibly heavy all of a sudden. 

“Are you tired?” He asked quietly and you hummed in agreement. “Go to sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He placed another kiss on top of your head, making your heart flutter. 

“Thanks. Love you.” You mumbled, words slurring together. His hand froze and he stiffened beneath you, but it barely registered in your exhausted brain. He placed another kiss on your head, this one longer and gentler, then continued petting your hair, his heart pounding much louder in his chest now. 

Despite getting a few hours of sleep, you still felt tired and drained when you woke up, more than likely because of your extremely long and intense crying session. The second you realized that all you felt were the sheets, you opened your eyes and reached out on the bed, feeling for him. 

“Jon?” You mumbled, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light. 

“I’m here.” You turned over and found him sitting on the bed next to you, now in sweatpants and a shirt, with some papers on his lap. 

“God- I feel like shit.” You groaned, letting your head drop into the pillow. 

“I left water for you on the nightstand. Do you want anything else?” Fuck— water sounds amazing right now. Keeping your head buried in the pillow, you blindly reached for the nightstand and moved your hand around until you met the bottle sitting there. You barely lifted your head enough to chug the drink. 

“I hate crying, I always feel so gross and tired after.” You grumbled, setting the bottle back on the nightstand. 

“You seem to be in a better mood despite that.” He noted. You laid back down on the pillow and placed a hand on his bicep, wanting to touch him, but still trying to let him work. 

“I trust you and I know you’re going to help me figure it out.” You let your eyes fall shut, listening to his pen gliding across the paper. 

“Are you okay with a normal test? Or would you prefer to get tested at the doctor's office.” 

“Um…” You bit your lip, feeling embarrassed about your answer. False negatives on drugstore tests are not uncommon. Plus you just trust an ‘official’ test more. He seemed to pick up on what you were thinking though. 

“I’ll take you.” 

“Thanks.” Your heart suddenly dropped when you got hit with deja vu. “Thanks. Love you.” Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck. 

Clearing your throat, you tried to organize your thoughts and not panic. Maybe he didn’t hear it? He doesn’t seem upset so maybe he did hear it but he doesn’t care? Because he didn’t say it back… Is that why he’s not laying with you anymore and laying beside you instead?

He shushed you softly and placed his hand over yours on his arm. 

“I didn’t say anything…” 

“Not aloud, no.” Sometimes it’s a little unnerving how easily he can read you. Should you apologize? Take it back? He would’ve said it back by now if he felt the same way though… You tried not to tear up at the thought, but it made your chest ache and you couldn’t help it. 

“I- I didn’t mean… I said that by accident. I didn’t mean to.” You said weakly. The pen on the paper suddenly stopped and you held your breath, waiting to be yelled at or left alone. 

“You didn’t mean to say it or you didn’t mean it?” He asked quietly. You bit your lip and angled your face more toward the pillow because you could practically feel his eyes on your head. 

“Um…” You did mean it. And you’re pretty sure he knows that. This felt like one of those moments that would change the way everything goes from here. If you tell him the truth, he either feels the same way, or he doesn’t. If you lie, he’ll either be relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure which option is more worth the risk. 

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.” What the fuck does that mean?

“Did you want me to mean it?” He just paused, then sighed quietly at your response. He was silent for so long that you could practically hear your heart breaking. “Let’s just- forget about it. Pretend it never happened… I’m sorry for saying it in the first place, I shouldn’t have.” Taking in a shaky breath, you realized that your eyes were completely blurry with tears that were on the verge of falling any second now. You quickly sat up and started moving toward the edge of the bed to get up and go to the bathroom, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. 

“Where are you going?” 

“…The bathroom?” Your voice trembled embarrassingly, making you feel worse about all of this. When you tried pulling away, his grip tightened, but not enough to actually hurt you. 

“Yes.” He said, voice strained. 

“What?” 

“I… I want you to have meant it.”  

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,”

“I’m not.” He said firmly, cutting you off. “I- I… feel the same.” You turned back around and he looked down once he met your gaze. You’ve never heard him stumble over his words like this. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Your tone was harsher now, a warning. If he was lying or making fun of you… you’re not afraid to go find your wristband with his toxin and use it on him. 

“Do you really think I would do that?” He scoffed in what might’ve been amusement.

“Answer me.”

“No, I’m not.” He sighed. “I just— Don’t expect me to be able to say it. I haven’t since I was a child.” The thought made you frown. He probably didn’t say it to his family as a child based on what he told you, but he’s never had anyone in his adult life that he felt that way about?

“You’ve never had any girlfriends or anything?” You asked, trying to get rid of your frown so he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t very popular with women. I’m still not.” Even though part of you can believe that, another part is just completely surprised that he hasn’t had one girlfriend. 

“How?? You’re smart and kinky and funny and kind and pretty and you have fluffy hair. How has no one been interested?” His cheeks turned pink and he looked away from you again. 

“Most people don’t agree with my… line of work.” 

“I see… Well that’s their loss.” You shrugged, making the corners of his lips turn up. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He suddenly asked, making you smile. 

“I think you’re very pretty.” You crawled toward him and moved the papers away so you could sit on his lap, his hands lightly holding your hips. “Your lips are so pink and soft,” You said quietly, cupping his cheek and trailing your thumb over them, “and I don’t even know how it’s possible to have bone structure like this.” You softly trailed your fingers over his cheekbones, staring at them in awe and feeling how warm his cheeks were getting. “And you have freckles. They’re really faint, but I like them a lot.” You brushed your fingers across his nose and cheeks, following the path of freckles. 

“Your eyes are pretty too.” You gently removed his glasses and set them on top of the papers. “Mesmerizing.” You muttered, absentmindedly, as your gaze shifted between his eyes. He looked away from you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. 

“Why do you think I had such a big crush on you after we first met?” You chuckled, making him look at you again. 

“You did?”

“Yes, you dork. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing. You made me so nervous.” Now it was your turn to blush a little. 

“I thought you were just nervous because of the.. usual topic of our discussions.” 

“It was a bit of both.” There was a lull in the conversation, so you decided to change the subject. “You know what else I think is pretty?” He didn’t give you a verbal response, trying to seem nonchalant about it. Placing your hands on his chest, you snaked them down his stomach to his pants, teasing the waistband. “Your cock.” You smirked, carefully studying his reaction. Which was worth it because for half a second, he was flustered and surprised before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression. 

“How on earth can that be pretty?” He scoffed, cheeks glowing red now. 

“You tell me, doctor.” You said teasingly. His hands started dragging down your thighs, then back up to your hips. “How about I compliment it properly, hm?” You moved down to sit over his thighs and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, waiting for him to stop you, but he never did. So you kept going, only pulling them down to his mid thigh. 

It didn’t take long for you to stroke him to full hardness as you laid on your stomach between his legs. When you kissed the tip of his cock and licked up the bead of precum, he let out a shaky breath and placed a gentle hand on the back of your head. 

“You get so pink,” you said quietly, mouthing at the head of his cock, “and there’s this vein down here,” you licked a long stripe up the bottom of his cock, over the vein, “it’s so fucking hot.” You whispered. Glancing up at him, you noticed that his cheeks were even more red now as he stared down at you in almost awe. 

Wanting to tease him, you kissed down his cock until you reached his balls and started licking and kissing them gently. Your hand was still holding his cock, but it was unmoving. When his hips bucked, you couldn’t help but smirk against him. 

“Be patient, Jon.” You reprimanded softly. 

“Stop being a tease.” He said through a breath, making you pull away with a pout. 

“Jonny, please just let me take my time. Haven’t had you in my mouth in so long.” You whined, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He cursed under his breath and let his head fall back until it hit the headboard quietly. 

“Stop calling me that.” The weak demand was the only protest you got, so you leaned back down to continue. 

“But I like calling you Jonny. Makes your face so red.” You giggled quietly, barely pulling away to speak. As you mouthed at his balls, he threaded his fingers through your hair and lightly grabbed it, not moving you at all though. 

“Red from annoyance maybe.” He grumbled, making you smile. When you sucked one of his balls in your mouth, his breath caught in his throat and his grip tightened just the slightest amount. You released his cock, letting it rest on his stomach, and he huffed as the barest amount of stimulation went to no stimulation. You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Are you sure, Jonny?” You asked innocently, but your grin turned outright devious when his cock twitched on his stomach. He rolled his eyes with a scoff. 

“That means nothing.” He muttered, gently pushing your head back down. You decided to give him a break from the teasing and focus on the task at hand. Sucking the other one in your mouth, you picked up his cock and stroked slowly, forcing a shaky breath out of him as he ran his fingers through your hair, letting you have full control. If he keeps acting like this, you’re going to get on a total power trip— especially after the last time you had sex. Maybe not a dominant power trip, but a power trip nonetheless. 

You continued licking and kissing and sucking, all while slowly stroking him and savoring his soft sounds. After another moment, you decided to kiss back up his cock until you reached the tip. When you licked the bead of precum, he cursed under his breath and you smiled to yourself, licking the head of his cock again just to tease him. 

“C’mon.” He urged quietly, not yet forcing you though. When you held the base of his cock and mouthed at the tip, he all but whined as he squirmed under you. “Please, little one.” You barely heard it, but you knew you didn’t hallucinate it. 

“You’re being so patient, Jonny.” You said proudly, making his cock jump in your hand. “I promise I’ll start soon, I just wanna enjoy this first.” He let out a quiet sigh when you continued licking and sucking on the tip, never going any lower. 

“Baby, please.” He whined, making you moan around him. Something about that pet name is just different than the others and you couldn’t help but give in. 

“Okay, Jonny.” You gave him a small smile before leaning back down and wrapping your lips around him, immediately taking him half way. Your hand stayed at the base as you bobbed up and down. 

“Fuck… Good girl.” He said through a breath. His fingers threaded through your hair again, but he didn’t take control yet. When your hand slipped down to cup his balls and you took him deeper in your mouth, he let out a choked moan as his hips flinched up, making you gag. He didn’t verbally apologize, he just brought his other hand up to gently pet your head as you continued. 

You took him deeper and deeper each time until his cock was hitting the back of your mouth. When you reached up and put your hand on top of the one he had in your hair, pushing down on it, he cursed under his breath, but complied eagerly. His cock breached your throat barrier and you choked as he let out a low groan. 

“So fucking good.” He groaned and if you were able to make any sounds, you would’ve whined at the praise. He pulled you off and let you catch your breath. While you panted, you stroked his cock, looking up at him and he cursed under his breath at the sight of you, then moved you back onto his cock. 

He fucked your throat slowly, but pushed you all the way down everytime, making you gag as saliva and tears started building up. When he pushed you down and held you there, you tried to control your gag reflex so you could stay like this, but you weren’t successful. You couldn’t pull off so you placed your hands on his thighs and tried harder, but he just grabbed your hand in his free one and held it, letting you squeeze to ground yourself. 

He removed the pressure and you shot up with a gasp, trying to calm down quickly so you could keep going. His thumb was rubbing back and forth on your hand, soothing you while simultaneously making your stomach flutter. 

“Come up here, little one.” He said softly, making you frown. 

“But ‘m not done.” You pouted, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile. 

“I know, darling, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.” His tone was far too sweet for the words that left his mouth. You glanced at his cock with a blush, then looked back up at him and nodded. 

“Okay.” You got up on your knees and started pushing his shirt up, making him stiffen a little. When you reached his chest, you told him to take it off and he obeyed. Instead of settling on his lap, you stayed between his legs and snaked your hands back down his torso. The scars littering his body made you frown, especially now that you knew where most of them were from. When you leaned down to kiss one, his body went completely stiff under you, making you pause. 

“What are you doing?” His tone was guarded and a little harsh, and you faltered. 

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t have to.” You said quietly, pulling away more to look up at him. He stared down at you with apprehension, looking like he was having an internal battle in his mind about what he wanted. Even after he relaxed a little, you still waited, only moving when he gave you a small nod. 

You just barely pressed your lips to the raised skin, still worried you were making him uncomfortable. When he didn’t go stiff or push you away, you continued. You kissed most of the scars on his stomach, going up to his chest. You reached the highest one, just below his collar bone, and finally straddled his legs. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned down to kiss him and his hands settled on your hips. 

One of his hands snaked over your stomach and down until he reached your underwear. He slipped his hand inside and cursed under his breath at your obvious arousal. When he started rubbing slow circles on your clit, you whined into the kiss and squirmed on his lap. 

“Fuck me.” You whispered, making his grip tighten on your hip. 

“You’re not ready yet.” He replied, just as quietly, then started trailing kisses over your jaw and down to your neck to darken the fading bruises. 

“Please, Jonny… s’too empty.” You whimpered, grinding against his hand. 

“Soon, little one.” You huffed and he bit down on your skin, making you wince, but grind harder against him. He slipped your shirt over your head, then leaned forward, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking gently. 

“Please— ‘m ready…” You whined. All he did was switch to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. When he finally pulled back and removed his hand, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. He suddenly grabbed your panties with both hands and ripped them clean off your body, making you gasp out a moan. 

“I liked those…” You whined, pouting. 

“I’ll buy you more.” He didn’t actually roll his eyes, but his tone made it seem like he was about to. When he lined his cock up with your entrance, your breath caught in your throat and you waited anxiously. “Relax.” He whispered, pulling you down to kiss you again. Your body obeyed and as soon as he felt your muscles loosen up, he pulled you down onto him, making you both moan into the kiss. It was still a little tight, and there was a faint burning sensation, but it satisfied every part of you that was needing to feel full. 

He started pulling your hips forward and back, rocking you against him slowly until you picked up the pace on your own. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whined, but he ignored you and just brushed your hair out of your face, then cupped your cheek. 

“Say it again.” He said through a breath, making you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Say it. Please.” His eyes bored into yours with an almost desperate look that you weren’t used to, that’s when it finally clicked. You stared down at him, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you and focus on getting the words out, but it was hard. Even though you’re the more vulnerable one in this relationship, you’re still not used to it. 

“I—” You choked out, unable to finish. 

“Please, little one.” He whispered, squeezing your hip a little harder. So you took a deep breath and tried again. 

“I love you,” The words were still foreign on your tongue. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you back down into a kiss, making you moan at the suddenness. 

“Again.” He mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you.” Your movements were growing more eager and he moved his hand down to rub your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. “I love you, Jon.” He had to separate from the kiss as he panted, but he kept his forehead pressed to yours. 

“I—” He started, making your heart skip a beat. But his breathing quickly grew more labored and you could tell it was out of anxiety rather than arousal. 

“I know. You don’t have to say it yet.” You whispered, even though your entire being was craving the opposite. He didn’t seem convinced that that was enough, so you added, “I love you too.” 

Too. 

Because he loves you. 

He loves you and you love him too. 

Your orgasm hit you suddenly and you moaned and whined as you writhed in his lap. His eyes fluttered shut and his grip got even tighter on your hip as his release crashed over him. Through the almost intense orgasm, you could feel hot come painting your walls, adding to your already overwhelming pleasure. When it finally passed and you were both panting, he pushed your hair that had fallen forward out of your face and cupped your cheek again, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Do you really mean it?” He asked quietly, looking up at you nervously. You moved your hands from his hair to the sides of his head and held him there gently, not letting him look away. 

“Yes. More than anything.” You whispered, watching his eyes flutter as he swallowed thickly. “Do you really mean it?” 

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate this time. 

Part 13

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[maximumsass]

Green Eyes of Envy Pt. 2

Story Synopsis: So part 2 is the aftermath of Melissa’s confession. I added some more characters into the mix of this story to round it out. Hopefully you like that. And then of course the angsty hot interactions between the reader and Mel. The real question is will they do the “right” thing or will they take the risk and choose each other?

Author’s note: Hey my lovely fanfic village! So I’m not going to lie this one was hard for me to write because I had several different scenarios that could be played out with this but in the end when I sat down to finish this, this is what came out of my author’s soul! So hopefully you enjoy it and it doesn’t disappoint! I do have a pretty wild part 3, let me know if you want it!! I’d love to hear your thoughts and of course any requests you have please ask me! Thank you again for all the likes and the kind words! Sending love to you beautiful humans!!

Word Count-4.3K

Warning: There is a puking part but I promise it’s not graphic or anything.

Part 1-For those of you who missed part 1 here you go!

————————

You hear the door open and close and then you unexpectedly start silently crying. Pull yourself together (Y/L/N), you think to yourself. You think back to the redhead asking why life is like this, that really is the question, why couldn’t you both just be single and start to date like normal people do. You wipe the tears away, there’s honestly nothing you can do at the moment, all you can do is exactly what you told Melissa to do and that’s to think on it and make a decision, wait for her decision and then act accordingly.

You work on the bulletin board until the final bell rings. You rush to grab your stuff and hall ass out to catch the bus to your place. You walk out into the empty hallway before the other teachers start leaving so that you can avoid any small talk, the whole situation with Mel has drained your social energy completely. Of course you have to pass the redhead’s classroom to leave the school, you can’t help but stop and look to see if she’s in there, you think about the kiss you two shared and feeling her gorgeous lips as well a her gorgeous body pressed up against yours. She’s sitting at her desk looking at her computer with those extremely cute cat eye glasses on, she’s biting her lip in concentration as she stares at the screen. And it takes everything in you to not go in there, close the door and give her a kiss she’ll never forget. Something makes her look up and she locks eyes with you, and there is a deep craving in those green eyes, and you know that she feels how badly you want her in that moment. You both just stare at each other for what feels like forever and then your snapped back into reality as the other teachers make their way into the hallway to depart for the day. You rip your eyes away from her emerald eyes, and physically wince as you walk away because you know that was just as painful for her as it was for you.

As you walk away, you feel an arm hook onto your arm, you look beside you to see Jacob looking at you with a huge grin.

“Heyyy!” he exclaims.

“How do you have energy after all of those sessions today?” You tease and playfully nudge him.

“Just call me the energizer bunny!” He says as he mimics pounding the drum like the bunny does in the commercial.

You, Jacob, Zach, and your girlfriend Carly all celebrated pride together this summer. And it had only brought you and Jacob closer as both work and social friends. He was your go-to when you needed a laugh, or just to surround yourself with some uplifting energy.

“On a serious note, I need to ask you a favor.” You say to him as you walk him to his car.

“You know I’d do anything for my home girl!” he exclaims. “Please step into my office.” He opens the passenger door for you and then runs to get in on his side.

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “Have you noticed that Melissa has treated me differently than the rest of y’all since I started?” You ask him as you look at the floor of the car scared of what his answer will be.

“Oh yeah, Janine and I have had many conversations about it. We came to the conclusion that it’s because you’re quiet and give off a chill vibe but at the same time work really hard and the passion you have to help students succeed shines through that.” He answers in a genuine tone.

“Aww Jacob, that’s nice of you to say.” You say with a smile. “So I ask that because obviously I’ve noticed it too. And to be honest before I noticed her behavior towards me, I noticed her from day one because she’s drop dead gorgeous and I developed a little harmless crush. And she was with Gary and I shortly after met Carly so I know that I’d never act on it. But then her and I became close work friends and there was this undeniable fizzle of chemistry I felt towards her whenever I was near her, long story, short your girl caught feelings.” You say as you feel yourself intensely blushing.

Jacob slaps your arm. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! But now that you say that you guys are extremely flirty with each other! So what are you going to do?!” He asks loudly.

You then proceed to tell him about everything that went down between you and Jessica Rabbit today as well as Barbara telling you about the proposal.

“Now everything that I just told you stays in this car! Not word to anyone, especially Janine!” You give him the stare downs of all stare downs.

He mimics zipping his lip and throwing away the key. “Girl you’ve gotten yourself into one hot mess! I love you to death (Y/N) but Carly’s my friend too, and you know that you don’t deserve to be with her, when you’re doing the things you’re doing. You at least need to be honest with her about what’s been going on regardless of what Melissa’s decision is. Okay that is the tough love portion of my ted talk. Imagining you kissing Melissa is so hawt!!! How did it feel?!” He asks excitedly.

“You’re right about Carly, I know I need to tell her. And I promise I will. As for the kiss, it was better than I ever imagined it could be! I know what were doing is wrong but the kiss just felt so right. Honestly all of it is a huge mind fuck and that’s the last thing I need right now. Anyways back to the favor, I need you to play interference so that when Melissa and I are in the same room there is no opportunity for her to talk to me. I could just stay away from the breakroom until she decides what to do but the other staff would notice my absence and that would draw more attention to me and that’s the last thing I need right now.” You say with a big sigh.

“Mission (Y/N) No Communicado with Red is a go!” He exclaims. You chuckle.

“You want a ride home?” He asks.

“Yes that would be very appreciated. Thank you!” You reply squeezing his arm showing your appreciation.

Tuesday goes smoothly without a hitch. Jacob does exactly as you asked of him and is by your side and talking your ear off whenever Melissa’s in the room and there becomes a possible opportunity to start a conversation with you.

Wednesday morning you can tell that the redhead is itching to talk to you, you can feel her eyes boring into you throughout the sessions. It’s literally taking all your will power to not be available for any conversion or physical close proximity and feed her neediness of your essence close to her.

“Is there a hole in my body that you can see? Cause she hasn’t taken her eyes of me this whole time.” You joke to Jacob with a quiet chuckle.

“(Y/N), I don’t know how you’re staying away from her. Her longing for you is so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Do you think that she’s made a decision and that’s why she’s being so intense?” Jacob asks you.

“Well it is Melissa we’re talking about here Jacob. If she wasn’t being intense I’d be worried. If she made a decision, she would just interrupt you to tell me about it. No offense.” You say with a smll smile.

“Oh none taken. She would definitely do that!” He says returning the smile.

You get through lunch and the rest of the sessions and then you have free time again to get ready for next week. You are the special education teacher at Abbott, you were born with a rare syndrome that in a nutshell paralyzed most of your muscles in your face and left you with multiple physical disabilities that are lifelong. You wanted to make sure that students with disabilities felt included in their classes and that just because they might need to learn differently, doesn’t mean they’re any less smart than the other kids and that they can be successful with anything they want to do, they just might do it a little differently and that’s okay. Thursday and Friday are your accessible tours of the school and the classrooms so it isn’t so scary for the kiddos on their first day. Already setting them up for success for the year ahead. You list your kids by grade and teacher, and then write down when they are scheduled to come for their tour.

You: Hey hun. We need to have a talk tonight. It’s pretty serious so if you just want to come to my place and skip dinner like we planned.

Carly: You’re scaring me. What did I do? Leave a towel on the floor again. Haha. XD

You: Not that this is comforting. But it’s not you, it’s me kinda thing.

Carly: Yeah super not comforting. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

You: I’m sorry. Okay I’ll see you tonight.

You shoot off that last text and then immediately have to run to the staff restroom in time to make it to the toliet. The cool hard tile on your knees is the thing that is keeping you grounded in the moment and not dissociating from the shit show that your life has become. You grab some toilet paper to wipe your mouth and cough a little. Great, now this situation is making you physically sick, at least you’ll come clean to Carly tonight.

“(Y/N)?” you hear the redhead’s voice call out to you.

Shit, Melissa would be the one to find you in this state.

“I’m good Mel. Don’t worry about me.” You respond.

“You are the most stubborn woman! You throwing up during the work day is not fine. I’m going to stay here until you come out. And then you’re gonna let me take care of you. And I’m not taking no for an answer.” She says to you in her I’m not fucking around tone.

You stay in the stall for a few minutes until you think you’re good. You hear her running the sink water. When you come out of the stall you see that she has ran and gotten the toothbrush and toothpaste you keep at school, as well as a plastic cup.

“G’ahead and brush your teeth.” She instructs softly. You take the tooth brush and toothpaste and brush your teeth. When you’re finished she hands you a paper towel to wipe your mouth.

“Come here hun.” She says to you. You go to her and she produces a warm wash cloth an starts to blot it on your forehead, all the time she’s looking at you with this extremely worried look on her face but her eyes show that she’s determined to fix whatever is going on with you.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” She teases you. You both chuckle at that. “But seriously what happened?” She asks in a serious tone.

“I just texted Carly that we need to talk tonight. I’m going to tell her everything that’s been going on with us. And apparently all of this has me fucked up enough that I can’t keep my bodily fluids down.” You say quietly.

A horrified look creeps onto the redhead’s face. “I shouldn’t have told you about my feelings towards you. You’re getting physically sick because of my actions. This whole thing has been so selfish on my part. (Y/N) I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…” She says with a deep look of shame and tears tarting to glisten her eyes.

You put one hand on her waist while the other cups her cheek. “Mel stop, if you wouldn’t have said something the other day, I truly believe that it would’ve still come out somewhere down the line. And then who knows where we would be then, you might be married to Gary by then and then it would be a should’ve, would’ve, could’ve conversation or a lot more complicated to be together. It wasn’t a selfish move because I truly believe deep down we both knew that our feelings were reciprocated. So no matter what happens moving forward, never apologize for telling me about your feelings towards me, because just knowing that Melissa Schemmenti was falling in love with me is an honor all on it’s own.” You say softly.

You look down at her lips and then back to her eyes silently asking for her permission. She slowly nods with a pleading look in her eye. You gently push her against the bathroom wall and kiss her with the craving that has been plaguing you both since your last kiss. A moan reverberates from her mouth into yours and you moan a response back into hers. Her hands tangle in your hair and pull you closer until there is no space and your bodies collide like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.

Sadly air is required to live so you break away, her hands still in your hair holding you to her.

“Fuck.” You say between pants trying to get a proper level of oxygen back. “This is exactly why I asked Jacob to play interference between us.” You say more to yourself than her.

“So I wasn’t just imagining him being your little body guard for the past few days.” She chuckles.

“No you weren’t but obviously it was needed. I mean this situation went from caring friend to eroctic fiction in 0 to 60 in 6 seconds.” You chuckle.

“You’re doing the right thing by talking to Carly tonight. What just happened is evidence that I know what my decison is. I’d just be lying to myself and denying myself of what I really want if I didn’t choose you. And I’ve denied myself of what I really wanted too much in my life in order to make others happy or to keep up appearances. I’ll talk to Gary tonight.” She says quietly looking at you with a determined look in her eyes.

You both fix each others clothes and get the smudged lipstick off of your faces and reapply so it looks like nothing happened. She pulls you into a hug, you hold her feeling her warmth engulf you, there’s a sense of peace that washes over you. You end the hug and walk into the hallway together.

“See you on the flip side Schemmenti.” You say to the redhead, giving her a big smile and grabbing her hand and giving it a tight squeeze before letting go and walking back to your classroom.

That night you tell Carly everything. She’s understandably upset and hurt by everything. But at the end of the night, she thanks you for being honest with her and not leaving her in the dark and making her the backup plan if Melissa didn’t pick you. She gathers her things she’s left at your place. You end the night with a hug, wishing each other the best.

Melissa knows that she needs to end things with Gary in public, not because she thinks he’ll do something but if she’s wrong she’d rather not be forced to use her trusty bat even though it is very tempting. She asks him to get drinks at a bar they regular often since they started dating. She tells him everything that she’s felt and that has occurred. Once she’s finished, she can see the red hot anger seething from him.

“How dare you cheat on me!” He hisses at her. “You really think that you’ll find anyone better than me? You are walking away from the best thing you’ll ever have.” He growls at her.

“I’m sorry Gare. But it isn’t fair to either of us for me to stay because I think it’s the “right” thing to do. You deserve a woman who actively and excitedly chooses you every day. And I’m just not that girl.” Melissa says in a somber tone, tears pricking her eyes.

She finishes off her Yuengling. Stands up from the table and walks to his side, and puts her hand on his arm. “I really do wish you all the best Gary.” She gives his arm a squeeze and then exits the bar and doesn’t look back.

You tossed and turned all night long, you know it was the right thing to end things with Carly but to say it didn’t hurt you would be a lie. You get up before your alarm because it was obvious you weren’t getting any more sleep. You have your breakfast and get distracted by watching tv. Then you look at the time and rush to the shower. You are drying your hair when you hear a loud knock at your door, you llok at you phone, it’s 6 in the morning, who the hell is at your door at 6 in the morning! You grab your aqua silk floral robe and throw it on and then go to the door. You look through the peep hole and low and behold stands Jessica Rabbit herself.

“Get your cute ass in here.” You say as you open the door and step aside for her to come in.

She steps inside and you realize she’s holding coffee in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “So what do I owe the pleasure of being graced with your presence at 6 in the morning?” You tease her with a chuckle.

“I talked to Gary last night and ended things. And I couldn’t sleep last night because all I wanted to do was tell you and be with you without feeling the guilt that has been surrounding us since my confession. I choose you (Y/N) and I’ll keep choosing you as long as you let me. I also needed to bring you an iced caramel latte because that’s your favorite and since this is the first day of me giving you the world and making you feel like the most wanted and cherished woman in the world bcause that’s exactly what you are to me.” She says in a soft voice, vulnerability as well as adoration filling her eyes.

“Mel I feel the exact same way about you. Thank you gorgeous.” You kiss her forehead and then you take your drinks and set them on the counter. And then you are pushing her up against the door and showing your appreciation from the moment your lips are pressed against hers. This kiss feels different, the neediness isn’t there it’s been replaced with a sense of freedom, with the knowledge that you have all the time in the world to savor these kisses because you chose each other and have gifted yourself the time to take this slow and sensual and explore and worship every crevice of each other.

She somehow turns you around so she’s pressing you against the door. Her hand goes to the tie of your robe and looks at you for permission. You nod and she unties it and pushes it until it falls to the floor. You stand there in all your naked glory for her to admire. She steps back and her jaw hits the floor.

“Fuck (Y/N), you’re perfect.” She says in her deep husky voice dripping with seduction.

She steps as close to you as she can, your noses are touching. She starts slowly and softly kissing your neck, making you moan quietly. She takes her hands and cups both of your breasts and then taking her thumbs and slowly rubbing circles on your hardening nipples. She turns her attention back to your lips as she kisses you hard with passion, tongues colliding, sharing moans through hot breath.

She pulls away with an evil smirk on her face. “As much as I want to make you cum for me and witness you in the bliss of an orgasm I give you. We are going to do this properly. And just so I am clear I will make you cum and give you an orgasm you’ll never forget. Will you (Y/N) (Y/L/N) join me for dinner at my house at 7 tonight to enjoy a delicious meal I cook for us as our official first date?” She asks you as she looks at you a little nervously as she caresses your cheek.

“You are a cruel woman!” You say in sexual frustration. “But yes I would love to join for you for dinner as our official first date. You say giving her a big smile and then leaning in and giving her a soft kiss.

When you break the kiss, you playfully and gently push her off of you as you grab your robe and put it back on. She of course gives you her sad puppy dog eyes and pouts.

“You do not get to pout Schemmenti! You are the one who teased me to the point where I have to go take care of myself after you leave.” You tease her.

“You loved it, besides it only makes tonight hotter!” She says with a smirk.

You go to your iced caramel latte and take a sip. “Thanks again for the coffee hun.” You say. “Now unlike you I still have to get ready. I’ll see you at school, okay?” You say with a smile as you kiss her forehead.

“Okay I guess I’ll let you get ready.” She teases. “Stop by my room to say hi if you have time.” She says as she gives you a slow soft kiss and when you break away you both say bye and give a cute wave to each other before she walks out the door and closes the door behind her.

You are meeting with one of your students and his parents for his accessibility tour of the school. His name is Jamal Williams, and Jamal has autism and ADHD, you’ve worked with him for two years now and have seen immense growth. You talk with his parents about how you and Jamal will discuss what his goals are for the year next week. And then it’s time to go see his new classroom, Jamal is starting the 2nd grade and is fortunate enough to have the infamous Ms. Schemmenti.

You walk hand in hand with Jamal down the hall with his parents close behind to the redhead’s classroom. You knock on Melissa’s open door, she’s at her desk when she looks up at you she gives you a big smile.

“Ms. Schemmenti, I would like you to meet Jamal Williams, he’s going to be in your class this year. And he’s just here to get a feel for the classroom and to meet you before the first day so that he isn’t so nervous on his first day. Isn’t that right buddy?” You look at Jamal with an encouraging smile. He silently nods with a small smile.

Melissa bends down to his eye level. “It’s very nice to meet you Jamal. I am so excited to have you in my class. Are you excited to be a little eagle?” She asks him in a warmingly calm voice.

Jamal looks directly at her and holds out his little hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Schemmenti. I’m excited for the second grade!” He says with excitement. You look at the interaction shocked. You’ve been working with him on his being introduced to new people skills but this was not how you were expecting that to go.

“Oh my gosh, look who has been working on his introduction skills this summer!” You exclaim. “That deserves a high five and I think I have a gold star sticker for you when we go back to my classroom. That was awesome Jamal.” You say giving him a high five.

You step away from the door to let Mr. and Mrs. Williams in. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Williams and this is Melissa Schemmenti, Jamal’s teacher this year.” You say as you make introductions.

“Jamal let’s go find your desk and let them talk for a bit.” You say to the little boy and then he’s off searching for his name tag. He finds it and looks at you with a big smile.

“Oh my gosh look at you being a big 2nd grader and finding your name tag so fast!” You exclaim. “What did you think about Ms. Schemmenti?” You ask him.

“She’s nice. I like her.” He answers.

“I like her too. Ms. Schemmenti and I are friends so if you ever need to come to my classroom or need me to come here, you just let her know and she will help you, okay?”

“Okay.” he says.

You got him new fidget spinners for the new school year. You pull them out of the pocket of your blazer. “I got you new fidget spinners for the new school year so when you feel yourself start stemming you just pull these out and play with them just like you did last year. Okay bud?” You say to him.

He gasps loudly, making the redhead and his parents turn to us.

“It’s all good y’all, I just surprised him with new fidget spinners for the year.” You quickly explain.

You turn back to Jamal. “Thank you Ms. (Y/L/N)!” He exclaims.

You chuckle. “You’re very welcome. Now where’s a good place to put the new fidget spinners?’ You ask him.

“Ummmmm….” He pauses to think. “In my desk?” He asks.

“That’s right bud! Fidget spinners always go back in your desk when you’re done using them.” You say to him, holding up your hand for a high five.

You sit with Jamal as his parents finish up talking with Melissa. You stare at the gorgeous woman with a big stupid grin on your face, still in disbelief that she chose you and that you were having your first date with her tonight.

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