#otherwise your entry will not be counted

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 7

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor mention of blood and gore, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You are walking the yard surrounding your home in early August.

Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger is beside you, his fingers laced with yours as the pair of you leisurely stroll. You love mornings like this. Lazy weekends when you shut the rest of the world out. There is just this, this safe haven you’ve created, away from the city where the invaders seek to gain entry and conquer, where the humans continue to try to see past the lies standing right before them, the deceivers and pretenders like the one whose hand you’re clutching now so tenderly. Except he isn’t like the others; nothing like any of them. He is yours, and you are his. There is nothing else like this phenomenon, what you have with him.

The blackberry bushes lining the picket fence are heavy with fruit, the plump, deep black specimens dull skinned, ripe and ready to be plucked.

“So many of them,” the copycat murmurs, halting beside you as your pace slows and pauses, contemplating the sight of those heavily laden shrubs.

You nod. “My grandparents used to make jam from them. I can remember spreading it on pancakes on Sunday mornings.”

“Do you still recall how to make the jam?”

“Yes. It’s not difficult. Just a bit time consuming. A lot of prep work.”

“We have the whole day. Want to try?”

“Really? You want to?”

“It sounds pleasant.” He tugs you gently towards him. “Everything with you is.” His lips meet yours, warm as the summer sun heating you through the button front dress you’re wearing.

“We need something to gather them in.”

“Will this do?” He reaches for the fabric of your dress about halfway down the skirt portion, lifting the loose material until it forms a kind of scooped makeshift basket.

“That’s what my grandmother did with her apron. Yes, this will do.” You reach for the handfuls he’s gathered, keeping the improvised bowl in place. “Only pick the ones that are black. No purple or red, they’re not ripe. Nothing shiny. Only the dull ones. They should come off fairly easily. If you have to pull too much, they’re not ready.”

The imposter milkman follows your directions and the dip in the fabric you’re clutching is soon full. It is a little awkward walking up the porch steps, balancing the unfamiliar weight at your front. There are stains on his fingers, on your dress as you dump the gathered berries into the colander he grabs from the cupboard for you, followed by a mixing bowl, anything he can find to relieve you of your burden. Overzealous in the picking, perhaps, but you don’t mind. The excessive berries would just have gone to waste otherwise, more than even your wildlife neighbors could indulge in.

“You should get used to having extra weight around your middle,” he murmurs against your ear. Still persisting in the notion of having a baby with you. The previous month had ended with your menses. You’ve no idea if it’s even possible to create a new life with the doppelgänger. You’re still conflicted about it. Afraid for its life, for yours and Francis’. But you can imagine the face. As a toddler. Convinced somehow it would be a boy. Identical in every way to his father. A father as devoted to him as he is to you. The child clinging to your side, standing in those same fields near the house in summer, looking at the world around him with those dark eyes that are unshadowed, not yet tired like his parent’s. Soft brown hair. Human, because you won’t let yourself imagine anything else; refuse to concede that it would be part doppel as well. “I can’t wait,” he says, his arms enfolding you from behind, your hands settling on his, the quartet all resting over your abdomen.

You smile, leaning your weight against his chest for a few moments before reaching for the faucet. It was time to rinse the harvest, removing the stray leaf or stem here and there. You fill a pan with water to boil to sterilize the lids of the mason jars. There are a set of them under the sink. The glass portion needs to be similarly treated. It will be hot in the kitchen with the stovetop working so hard. You lean and lift the window behind the sink a little higher, hoping for any sign of a breeze.

“Go pick out a record to play.” A new tradition. You let your lover choose the music, discovering what he likes best. Perhaps some of Francis’ favorites. Some for the invader alone. You cherish both selections equally.

The man and the doppel themselves; that is something your conscience has struggled with for many weeks now. You think you will always love Francis. But you love the new creature inhabiting his form, too. More and more with each passing day.

The music begins and you smile to yourself. Al Bowlly. Something from two decades ago, but a timeless classic. One of the records your mother had left behind when she’d moved to the city, inherited from your grandparents. You were long overdue for a visit to your mother and father. You’d received a letter not that long ago. Still safe. It was a worry that gnawed at you. One of the reasons you’d joined the DDD in the first place. Wanting to protect your family, the people you love.

The very thought of you and I forget to do

The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do

You spread a tea towel on the counter. The jars will air dry there after you’ve finished preparing them.

I'm living in a kind of daydream and I'm happy as a king

And foolish though it may seem, why to me that's everything

“How am I meant to not want to dance with you when this is playing?” Your partner’s lips graze the nape of your neck softly, his hands on your waist.

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

You smile again. A gesture that comes so easily when the imposter is around you. “After. You wanted to make jam, remember?”

“I want to make a lot of things,” he murmurs beside your cheek, his nose nudging aside a stray piece of hair that’s come free from where you’d pinned it up, mouth now on the patch of skin he’s cleared.

“Francis!” You giggle, playfully squirming in his arms. You aren’t really trying to get away. “I need your help. Use those muscles of yours and pulverize the berries. The potato masher is in the second drawer there.”

I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love

He rolls up his sleeves, beginning to crush the fruit while you gather the measuring cups and sugar.

“I know it’s equal parts berries and sugar. Three minutes to boil? And then another three after the sugar’s been added. Oh, I need the whisk, too. And one of the larger spoons to stir. Yes, that one, thank you.” Francis’ copy hands you the culinary tools you’re searching for, retrieved from the same drawer the masher had been in.

Speaking of which, he’s done a great job with the blackberries, making short work of them. For a brief second your mind teases an imagining of something far less pleasant being ground down like that, pulped human flesh, the gore that is left behind when a doppel feasts on a human. Your grip on the spoon tightens until it’s white knuckled and you force yourself to relax. You’re with him, the one that you love, that adores you. Your home. With the beautiful crooned words of longing issuing from the turntable in the background. Those horrors do not exist here. “Those look perfect. I think that’s maybe around six cups’ worth. But we’ll measure.”

Your estimate of the mixture volume proves fairly accurate. You begin stirring the berries in the stainless steel cook pot, watching the seeded dark red mixture begin to bubble, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. The doppel is at the sink, already washing the used bowls and tools.

It’s time to add the sugar. You stir it in, once again timing your task, finally deeming the developing jam ready to be removed from the heat of the burner, switching the knob for the pilot light off as you move the pot to an unused burner.

You can feel the perspiration beading on your forehead as you whisk the heated fledgling fruit spread. Nearly there. Your strokes with the thin wired tool were releasing the natural pectin in the berries now. After that it was just a matter of filling and sealing the jars.

“What’s next? What can I do to help?” The doppelgänger asks, resting a hand on your lower back, where the heat lingers, making the dress cling damply to your skin.

“I think this is actually just about ready to start pouring.”

He turns over the mason jars that had been resting upside down over the tea towel to air dry, lining them up on the counter. You transfer small batches of the jam to a batter bowl, making it easier to fill each jar without spilling. A lot of dishes being used for this. Funny how you didn’t remember that part from childhood. Just the fun of making it with your grandmother.

The replicant screws the last of the lids on. The jam looks so inviting. You can’t wait to spread it on some toast with some butter after it’s had a day or two to set. Maybe just one day. You were really craving it now.

“It’s hot,” the imposter says, dragging a hand across his forehead. “I’m ready to head back into the tub after that.”

You like the idea of that yourself. “You should.”

“Coming with me?”

“I was hoping for an invitation.”

He kisses you and you taste the salt of his perspiration. “You look a little flushed. We definitely need to go cool down. And then heat up again.”

“Francis, you’re impossible. Go get the water running. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

“It’ll be faster with both of us working together.”

You won’t argue with that, allowing him to assist you. Munching on some leftover blackberries as you work side by side. The last of the dishes done. Everything put away. Shutting off the record player on your way to the stairs. His hands work on the buttons of your dress after you’ve turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You loosen his belt. Shove the hem of his undershirt upward after he’s removed the outer layer. He reaches between his shoulders and pulls it free. You kiss the dip between his pectoral muscles lightly covered with dark hair. Suddenly finding yourself hungry for him.

“Should we wait on the bath for after?” he suggests.

“Yes. Definitely.” You switch the faucet off hurriedly, turning your attention back to him. He’s already entering the bedroom. The temperature in this room is hotter than it had been in the kitchen. No fresh breeze coming in through either of the windows. Just that stifling humidity. It needed to rain.

Undergarments removed. He kisses your bare shoulder, humming the song that had been playing the previous evening, when he’d met you at your front door, the start of your weekend together.

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You sit down on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on your thigh as he kneels down. Fingers stained from some of the berry juice, garnet and magenta smudges along cuticles and nail beds. Your hand sinks into the hair you’d trimmed recently, finding it’s already growing long again. You bend to kiss his mouth and he tastes like the fruit, like summer itself, warm and fresh and sweet.

He leans to kiss the breasts that will one day bear the nutrition to feed your child, if it was ever meant to be, sucking gently, each nipple responding to that sensation, rising and hardening, the melody of that love song still emerging all the while.

Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

Then he is between your thighs, every kiss still languid, drowsy, a leisurely summer afternoon gifted in each touch of his lips on your skin. Caressing your legs, the limbs that part to receive him. Gentle kisses on those nether lips, still humming, sending little vibrations into your body.

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

His tongue strokes your clit and you lean back slightly, hands sinking into the mattress, arms braced to either side. His hands curl around your thighs and he sups at your sex, the pace still unhurried, easing you along into pleasure. Delving into your entrance, rolling the taste of you on his tongue before sweeping through the petals back to your bud, massaging it from side to side, up and down, pausing every now and again to plant a kiss on your mound or thigh, suckling the bundle of nerve endings and then dipping back into your canal in short, gentle little thrusts, the tune nearing its end, reaching the final verses, but yours have just started, that thrumming he sends through you, deep inside, an echoing response in your core.

Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You let your weight rest on one hand so you can touch his hair again, meet the gaze of those dark eyes watching you, those depthless pools of desire you get lost in, drowning, a tide that washes you away into your release against his mouth.

You're sweating profusely now, damp inside and out as you scoot yourself back to the center of the bed, making room for your companion to join you.

There is always the little surprised sounding moan when he first enters you, as if he’s forgotten that feeling, rediscovering it each time his cock pierces your pussy. His hips roll against you in slow, lazy thrusts. He combs your damp hair back from your face, hair that has completely fallen loose, natural. He kisses your forehead and cheeks and lips, your jaw and throat and ear lobes.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His voice sounds raw, full of emotion.

“I love you, Francis.” You grind up against his damp body.

His face hovers above yours. “Marry me.” You gasp as he grabs one of your thighs and rocks forward, pushing deep inside of you. “Marry me, be my wife. Stay with me always.”

Your heart pounds. To be joined with him like that. The mark on your arm only a faint pink line now. The traces of the bite completely disappeared. He wanted to put a ring on your finger. Everyone would know, then. There would be no concealing it.

“Be the mother of my children. Be mine forever.”

“Francis…”

“Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you add softly.

A heavy sigh as his body moves against yours, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “My love, my only, mine.” His pelvis knocks against yours faster now. Your knees tightly embrace his ribs. Every part of skin your lips touch taste of salt. His hair is darker, saturated with sweat, the tendrils clinging damply to his forehead. A drop slides from his nose and pools between your lips. The arms bracing his weight near your face are trembling. So close to the edge of bliss.

“Love,” he gasps.

“Yes,” you answer, and he spills into you, filling your womb with his seed.

***

You sit inside the bathtub between the doppel’s legs, resting back against his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and you obey, hearing something being lifted from that basin of water. The wash cloth, you realize, feeling the cool liquid dripping onto you hair, sliding down over your heated face. Repeating until your hair is thoroughly drenched in the bath water, his fingers slicking back those wet tresses, smoothing over your eyes, your cheeks, curling beneath your chin and lifting your face so that he can kiss you. Your eyes open and you see him smiling. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.” A rumble of thunder in the distance. Finally, the rain was coming. “Will we lose the power again, do you think?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t be so terrible, though, would it? Just being here in the dark together.”

“Not at all. I have fond memories of doing that very thing.” He kisses you again and your stroke the damp cloth over his forearms. “I am going to get you a ring, you know. Propose properly.”

“I know.” You lift his left hand and kiss it. “We should tell my parents. Visit.”

“You want me to meet them?”

“Why not? They’ll be your in laws. The grandparents of your children.”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “We will need someone to watch the little ones. When it’s time to make more…”

“How many are you planning on?”

“I don’t know. There’s no specific number. I just want it. Badly.”

“I know you do. I do, too.”

“You’re still scared.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t let anyone harm you. You, or the children. However many there are.”

“I know you’ll be a good father. A good husband.”

His arms tighten around you. “You are my perfect everything.”

***

You do not lose the power that evening.

There is light for your repast at the kitchen table. Still too soon to indulge in the fruits of your earlier labors—pun intended—and neither of you want to heat up the house again using the stove, so you have a simple meal of bread, cheese, grapes, and iced tea, listening to the storm outside, this one much calmer than the last, starting to write a letter back to your parents, beginning with the exciting news of your engagement.

“Do you think your parents will like me?”

You pop a few grapes into your mouth. “Yes. My mom is very similar in personality to me. My dad maybe a little gruffer, but he’ll soften with time. Especially when he sees how well you treat me. He’d probably like it if you asked his permission first. Just as a courtesy. A formality.”

Francis’ copy slices another piece of cheddar free from the block, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell them about us, exactly?”

“Just that we met while I was working. You’re a resident in the building. The truth, you know.”

“But that’s not the whole story.”

You set your pen down. “I can’t tell them what you are. You know that.”

“Of course not. I’m just…wondering what to say. Or what not to say. How to behave.”

You lift the writing utensil again but don’t use it, merely holding it between your fingers. “Just be you.”

He looks over the top of his glass as you resume writing, neat cursive script filling the page. “Don’t forget to mention how handsome I am.”

“Hush, you.” You smirk, tossing one of the crumpled rough drafts at him and he easily catches it, returning your smile.

“And that I’m a good dancer.”

“You are a great dancer,” you concede, pausing again to tear off another piece of bread.

“We didn’t get to dance earlier.”

“We sort of did.”

His eyebrows lift. “I’ve corrupted you. That’s the sort of innuendo I’d deliver.”

“Speaking of which. No talking about wanting kids when we visit with my parents, at least not yet. They’re against premarital sex. Society doesn’t favor unwed women and it certainly doesn’t favor women who are unwed and pregnant. It’s because of the war. The need to repopulate, our purpose to create more soldiers.”

“We’re engaged, though.”

“Yes. But still not married.”

“I don’t want our children fighting in a war,” he says solemnly.

“Neither do I.” You pause, hesitating midway through writing again. “We are at war already. They’ll be born into it, just by the very nature of who they are. What they are.” You sigh, setting down the pen. The letter could wait for now. You don’t like the dark look on the features of the replicant sitting across from you.

“Come on. I owe you a dance.” You rise, reaching for the doppel’s hands and he allows himself to be tugged to his feet. “Go choose a record for us, my love.”

You clear the table while he rummages through the sleeved recordings. You leave the letter where it is. You’ll finish it in the morning, drop it off on your way to work Monday. At least there was one more day of this relaxed comfort, before you had to go back to the reality of the DDD.

You join your fiancé in the living room, positioning yourself with your dance partner, smiling as you recognize the song that starts to play.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“Fred Astaire, singing to Ginger Rogers. Another classic. This song was from the musical Top Hat. A big hit on the music charts.”

The doppel is silent, his hand warm against your waist, the other clasping your hand as you step and sway in a small circle.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And the cares that hung around me through the week

Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“My mom loves that movie. You’ll curry some favor if you mention it. We’ll have to watch it together. The movie house downtown plays classics on Sunday nights. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Two more verses of the song have already passed by.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We should go. I’ll take you.”

“A real date.”

“Yes, a real date.”

You grin, nuzzling his jaw. “I look forward to it.”

Dance with me. I want my arms about you

The charms about you

Will carry me through to

“I like making you happy.” He draws back to look at your features. “I want your parents to like me. I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too.”

“They’ll love you,” you say softly. “How could they possibly not?”

“Because…”

“No.” You release his shoulder, resting a finger against his lips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters. I love you. You, inside of this man.” Your hand cups his cheek. “I’ve been calling you Francis all along. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s…not something you could ever pronounce. The differences in language…”

“I’ll do my best to learn.”

“Sweetheart. Call me Francis. That’s who I am now. Your Francis. Yours.” He kisses you, and you become lost in the feel of it, in the sound of the needle of the record player tapping restlessly now that the song has finished, in the lullaby of the soft patter of the rain outside.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger #the milkman

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 8

| in which you run into an old costumer |

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word count: 3k

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Note: just know that the only reason these updates take so long is because I keep writing plot based chapters and I really just wanna post fluff based chapters 😭

“Thank you for taking me out!” You grinned as you took a large sip of your hot chocolate, it was still definitely not cold enough for it yet but you didn’t care.

Something about hitting your third trimester had you wanting to nest like crazy, it had you going around the estate cleaning and getting guards to help move furniture around.

You really had no right to be doing it but nobody told you otherwise.

Jungkook had come back midday, surprisingly early, he had paused in the entry hall of his home locking eyes with the pregnant menace that had abruptly put herself at the forefront of his life once again.

It was then he realized you definitely needed to get out of the estate.

“If it keeps you from not moving all my stuff around,” He shrugged, leaning back in his seat, eyes flickering from his phone to you.

You frowned, “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what possessed me.” You sighed, “Well I do, they say third trimester can make you start nesting.”

“Nesting?”

You glared are the way he snorted as if not believing you, “It’s a fact, you can look it up.”

“The fuck is that even supposed to be? What are you, a bird?”

“It means you just get the innate urge to just…” you puffed your cheeks, ignoring that look he was giving you, “Clean and decorate and just…I don’t know I can’t describe it! Just wish I had my own place to do that with and prepare for the baby.”

Jungkook sighed, his eyes went from looking at you to dropping down to your stomach, it was round when you had first come to the estate, but it was evident six weeks had passed, “Then maybe it’s time we talk about a nursery.”

You paused, getting ready to take another drink from your cup but it never meets to your lips.

Jungkook sighed, “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but finding your brother has quite literally lead me to dead ends I didn’t even think would exist. You’re almost thirty weeks pregnant, that’s less than three months.”

“Okay yeah I can do basic math, but it’s already been almost two months. Surely it won’t take another two months to find him,” You pressed your lips together nervously.

“Would it be so terrible if you gave birth in the estate? It’ll probably be a better experience than the hospital.” Jungkook commented, picking up his coffee as he took a sip.

It wasn’t that you were against giving birth in the estate, professional staff in the comforts of a bed? That was a luxury every woman could only dream of having, it was more the aftermath of it.

The idea of still living at the estate post pregnancy…it was a dangerous thought, it was too close to the life you had once wanted with Jungkook.

You just weren’t sure how to articulate that too him.

Jungkook finally raised a brow at you, noticing your lack of reply.

“I just…don’t want to get too comfortable at the estate.” You finally spoke carefully, “I don't think that's good for anybody involved.”

“I understand but I also don’t like being unprepared- in any aspect concerning me or my estate, and that includes you whether you want it or not.” Jungkook replied, “Just because a nursery is there doesn’t mean it’ll ever be used, it’ll just be there so first of all, you stop moving all my shit and you have a place to do your bird stuff-“

“Nesting.” You glared, lips quirking into a pout as your hands wrapped around your stomach.

Jungkook’s lips curved a little, “Bird stuff. And second, if it does turn out that your stay is extended, it’ll be ready.”

You still weren’t completely sold on the idea, if anything you felt like it would just feed into the delusion even further.

“Why hello there mama.” Another voice suddenly cut in, grabbing a chair from the empty table next to you both and plopping it on the side of your table.

Jungkook immediately straightened up, eyes glaring daggers that could definitely kill, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Yoongi!”

The man brushed his black hair from his eyes a quirky smirk on his face as he shrugged, “Uh I’m just stopping in to say hello to my favorite barista who got put on bed rest early.”

A smile twisted on your lips, you were familiar with his face, he had been a regular for almost two years, the realization however quickly hit that Jungkook was very acquainted with this man.

You felt flabbergasted for a moment, you couldn’t believe you never made the connection that the regular customer Yoongi was also Underboss business partner Yoongi.

“It’s nice to see you again Yoongi! I can't believe I didn’t recognize you as Jungkook’s partner…” You sheepishly smiled.

Jungkook clearly didn’t share the same sentiment, his nostrils flared and he looked ready to maul his partner.

“Nah probably for the best you didn’t realize. You as well, you look only a thousand times prettier, have that pregnancy glow about you.” Yoongi threw your a wink.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what made him more violent, the fact that you both were already well acquainted or Yoongi so casually flirting with you.

It was part of his personality but it still didn’t make any attention he or any other male gave you, any easier for Jungkook to witness.

“If you aren’t here for business, get the fuck away from our table.” Jungkook gritted his teeth, as if it took every fiber of his being to not right hook.

Yoongi didn’t seem phased, “Oh I was just in the area, been coming to Serendipity for a long while now, and then I suddenly see my favorite barista who’s been gone for two months, of course I have have to say hello.”

“Okay well you said hello, now go the fuck away.”

“Jungkook!” You said sternly, “Don’t be so stubborn, Yoongi can sit with us for a few minutes at least.”

His eyes were a raging fire as they burned into you, his chest puffing but he said no more as Yoongi observed you both, a smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“How are you enjoying the estate Y/n?”

You smiled tenderly, “The company makes it honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without Jungkook and Yeonjun.”

“Yeonjun?” Jungkook looked like he sucked on a sour lemon as he spat the name out.

“I still want my apartment back but I’ve made the most of the it. What about you? Why haven’t you come to visit if you knew where I was?” You asked, curious as to what the man had been up too.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to Jungkook, “Well…let’s just say I was asked to not drop by unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“And it isn’t.” Jungkook gritted.

“Okay well first of all this doesn’t count cause we’re not at the estate, second of all you’re not the only one who has relations to Y/n, I mean have you ever had this woman’s chai? Or her baked cinnamon rolls? Talented hands right there.” Yoongi stretched out in his seat, that playful nature about him.

“Oh don’t flatter me.” You shooed his praise.

“No you deserve all the praise in the world, in fact you deserve-“

“We’re going.” Jungkook stood up from his seat, sick of this if he had to hear one more word come out of his stupid partners mouth.

“Jungkook!” You complained, but nevertheless took his hand when he offered it, “Please visit Yoongi, you’re conversation is always welcomed.”

Yoongi only smiled, sunk into his seat as he watched the tall broody figure practically drag you away, it made him laugh in amusement.

Yoongi by no means kept an eye on you the last two years for his own benefit, but he supposed somethings would always remain thankless.

He had accomplished what he wanted though, evidently no matter how much Jungkook talked- and he talked a lot, it was clear he had grown possessive over you in the last few months.

Yoongi shook his head in amusement, watching the viper leave the parking lot through the window, he was happy to see that old spark in his partner return.

“What was that about!” You complained, immediately dialing the heat down to sixty in the car.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” Jungkook grumbled, hands gripping the steer wheel as if he was trying to strangle it, “If you care about your baby’s safety you’ll make an active effort to not talk to him.”

“Hes been one of my regulars for like two years,” you complained, “How was I supposed to know he was your partner? I never even officially met him! What makes him anymore dangerous then you? Hm?”

Jungkook deflated, obviously not having a good reason, “The difference is I’m protecting you.”

“Oh so you’re saying he wouldn’t?”

“The point,” Jungkook gritted his teeth in annoyance, “Is don’t talk to him.”

You frowned as you twisted to fully look at Jungkook, was he…jealous?

“Are you mad that I’m paying attention to someone else?” You asked upfront, you could only be discreet about so many things.

“I’m not mad”.

“No you’re definitely mad.” You replied pointedly.

“I’m annoyed that my business partner is talking to me outside of business.” Jungkook replied.

“But he was talking to me, not you.” You crossed your arms.

“He was doing that on purpose.” Jungkook huffed.

It was silent for a long moment as you folded your hands into your lap.

Of course you didn’t have to point it out, but truthfully it felt too ridiculous to not? “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

There was another pause.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me,” you replied, a pout on your lips, “You always do this when someone talks to me, men specifically.”

“Do you actually want an honest answer?” Jungkook looked even more annoyed, even so much as throwing you a frosty glance before his eyes returned to the road.

You blinked before a troubled frown slowly curved on your lips, you could think of several ways he’d be honest and none of them you’d be able to fully believe.

“What I want,” you took a breath, “Is to be able to have a conversation without you looking like you’re shooting daggers out of your eyes.”

“I wasn’t shooting daggers out of my eyes.”

You puffed your cheeks, “Well you claim you don’t do a lot of things, that you do in fact, do.”

“How about we just stop talking.” Jungkook replied.

You pouted but spoke no more as you yawned.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You nodded with a small groan, “Yeah, I need to take a nap,” you nodded with another yawn.

Jungkook only nodded in return, eyes occasionally glancing at you, attempting to sleep in the car, when did his life start revolving around you this much?

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #mafia!jungkook

[kakujis]

making bets;

synopsis: you and gojo decide it’d be fun to make a little bet. at geto’s expense of course. ♡︎

ft + wc: geto x reader, 1.3k

warnings: afab!fem reader, pet names (good girl, brat), praise, suguru calls u a whore like one time. 👍, implied multiple rounds, creamp*e, masturbation, u and satoru talk about abo (jokingly) LOL, not proofread, uhh that shld be it.

network: @enchantedforest-network

an: WE MADE IT BESTIES REEAAHH!! here's my entry for @wakashawty's NNN collab! ♡︎ honestly, kei said there was no time limit but i wanted to finish befoee november LOL. and we did it! ngl the texts with satoru were my favorite part to write . KFJSKSKDK. the rest of the collab entries are here!

this honestly should not be this hard, but geto suguru has managed to ignore every single instance of your teasing. even when you press yourself against him, wear a shirt that’s a little too low cut, or prance around in his with nothing else on, he’s barely even spared you a glance. 

he must be a fucking saint at this point. you didn’t think celibacy for him would be so easy. a quick, “mhm” thrown out there, a simple peck on the cheek before work, completely ignoring you in bed and turning over; you’d think you’re nothing more significant than a throw pillow. 

suguru’s not stupid, the second he accepted this bet he knew you’d be throwing yourself all over him. he’s not someone who loses games, especially not to gojo satoru. and this game is easy or so he thinks. 

unfortunately for you, you need to kick it up a notch. you made a deal with gojo before the month even began. you get suguru to lose nnn for the first time, gojo pays you. with three more days left til the end of the month, you’re pretty sure you’ve got to kiss your money goodbye. but satoru’s daily texts remind you otherwise:

you giggle, before checking the time. perfect, he should be home soon. setting your phone down you excitedly pad over to your closet. you bring out the box of toys, buried under a mound of clothing and untouched in god knows how long since you stopped using them a while back. suguru suited your needs so easily, you didn’t really need them.

“uhh..” you furrow your brow, shifting through the contents, “damn how much did these all cost me?” you mutter, before grabbing your old faithful vibrator. 

satoru had a point, and you wonder why you never thought to do this beforehand. it’s his challenge, not yours, and you can definitely cum since he can’t.  you figure the easiest way to rile suguru up, is to do the things he typically commands you to do. there’s been too many times to count where he forces you to play with yourself as he watches, entranced with your fingers pumping in and out of your hole. 

quickly washing it in the bathroom sink, you settle on the bed. throwing off your bottoms, you’re always pleased by the way his shirt bunches just slightly above your hips when you spread your legs. you turn the device on hearing an old familiar purr, and you frown. 

“was this thing always this loud?” you grimace, before shrugging and settling back making sure to lay on his pillow. just a few moments before he’s home, hopefully, he won’t be able to ignore this. 

as you lay back, you focus on all the things you’d like for suguru to do if he were here. for starters, he loves to trail his tongue down from your belly to your clit before he dives in, rolling his tongue over your nub. you think about how he’ll tongue fuck you afterwards, his hands digging into your thighs, keeping you nice and spread. 

it’s easy to get lost in your thoughts, pleasure coursing through you like the blood in your veins. you don’t hear him when he first walks in, calling out for you, too focused on the hum of the vibrator and the fantasies in your head. nor do you hear the hitch of his breath when he finally finds you, fingers deep in your cunt as you writhe and moan on the bed. 

what you do hear, however, is the stomp over as he rips not only the vibrator from your hand but your wrist to ease your digits out of your cunt. 

“hey!” you whine, pouting as he glares down at you. 

“you fucking brat.” he hisses, but with a single peek you can see the tent in his pants as every bit of self control shatters within him. 

“hm? you’re being so mean sugu,” you tilt your head, fluttering your lashes up at him. 

“you know i’ve got three fucking days left and you’re gonna do this?” he shuts the vibrator off, casting it aside with a particularly angry throw. 

you shrug, continuing to feign innocence, “i’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.”

“you know what i mean.” 

“i really really don’t.” you continue teasing, “what’s wrong suguru? you’re so tense right now.” 

he wants to stay angry, wants to go off on you since he’s so close to completion, but suguru can’t deny the way he’s been wanting you, aching for you. every morning the ice cold water rushes to meet him like an eager friend, and he’s grateful for it, sometimes nearly breaking down at the sight of your sleepy face. 

that’s why he’s been distant, it’s easy to pretend you don’t see your partner if you focus on literally anything else. but man, he just can’t take it anymore. he takes your slick covered fingers and runs his tongue over them, making you squeak. 

he grins, murmuring, “where’d all that bark go?” before he’s taking your lithe digits into his mouth and groaning at the taste of your juices. god, he missed this. 

“what about the bet?” you inquire, trying to keep your own facade on, but your hole twitches when his tongue runs a lengthy line on your palm. 

“hm? i’ve got no clue what you’re talking about,” he mocks, releasing his aching cock from its confines. embarrassingly, you involuntarily moan at the sight, mouth watering at his pretty beaded tip. “if you’re gonna act like a whore guess i should fuck you like one right?” 

“so mean sugu- ah!” he gives you no warning as he slams in, your hands immediately coming up to claw at his arms. “fuck.” you hiss, jaw going lax as he sets a brutal pace. 

it’s been so long since he’s felt your fluttering walls around his cock that his head is almost spinning, as his hands come around your waist to lock you in place. your voice comes out in a pretty staccato, your moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls and straight into his ears. even better is how your tits bounce with each thrust, shirt haphazardly pushed up, with your fingers dug into its fabric. 

“shit, were you always this tight?” he grits, knowing he’s not going to last long, not when the drag of his cock against your velvet walls feels this good. there’s no response from you, other than the now incoherent babblings of “mhm!” and repeated “please, please, please.”s 

he grins, “is my pretty baby already going dumb? you missed this cock that much?” 

there’s something about geto’s voice that gets you mewling, and most likely it’s the low-timbre that echoes in your ear and fills your brain with endless haze. breathlessly you whimper out a tumble of “yes”s, before you’re clenching down around his cock, toes curling and eyes rolled. 

“that’s it,” he praises, his own seed spilling into your cunt, “cum for me baby. such a good girl.” he hangs his head back, taking in deep lungfuls of air and you mirror him, sweat now sticking to your body in a light sheen. 

you whimper as he pulls out, but his cock stays nice and hard as he flips you onto your stomach. “hips up,” he says, but he doesn’t let you do it yourself, instead pulling you up himself. you squeak as he pushes back into you, this time savoring the slow stretch of your walls. “we’re not done yet, we’ve got a lot of making up to do.” 

“wait!” you exclaim, suddenly snapped out of your haze as you push up against him. “wait, suguru, wait!” 

“what is it?” he hisses, palm pressed and impatient, ready to push between your shoulder blades to pin you against the bed. 

“i need my phone,” you whine, pouting up at him. 

he blinks. “for what?” 

you giggle, sticking your tongue out before you speak, knowing that what comes out next means suguru is probably going to pop a vein from your antics. 

“i gotta let satoru know he won.”

#NoNutNovemberCollab #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto smut #pibby writing #ermm ok i think thats enough for tags lol

[zazter-den]

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

#please mind the tags cause I did say this series would be dark #I hope you enjoy x.x #zaz drabbles #minors dni #banners by the amazing cafekitsune #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #dragon kirishima #dragon!kirishima #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #bnha x reader #mha x reader #barbarian bakugou #barbarian bakugo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #alpha bakugou #yandere kiribaku #cw choking #kiribaku x reader #cw noncon #alpha kirishima #cw a/b/o #cw dark content #stained glass circumstances series

[byhees]

a kiss.

엔하이픈 희승 ・ female reader + word count 400 genre fluff potential bestfriends2lovers warnings not proof-read suggested kissing mention of food — more

a/n. not my proudest work ㅠㅠ this is my entry for jiji’s valentine’s event !

sitting on a little wooden bench, heeseung and you watch in light amusement as couples briskly walk by, arms linked together, steps having a light skip to them— it’s valentine’s day, otherwise reputable for its title of being a ‘couple’ day.

“this feels like torture”, you’d softly mutter, voice tainted with slight annoyance— leaning back into the tough backrest of the chair, your arms cross over your chest as the umpteenth couple skips by, the girl pressing a quick peck to her boyfriend’s cheek; who’s bright idea was it to sit here in the first place?

glimpsing towards heeseung’s direction, he only feigns a nonchalant expression, mind clearly on something else as he begins digging through his bag; averting your gaze to a tree ahead, you wind up witnessing the sappiest, most drama-like kiss by chance — one that’s under the crowned shade of the tree, with pretty green leaves softly falling around the couple’s figures; it’s dreamlike in the most surreal of ways.

“hey, do you want a kiss?” you’d hear the boy beside you ask, tone almost too light and casual for the context. in an instant, your body freezes, eyes lightly widening, the swell of your cheeks reddening at the abrupt and straightforward manner in which he asked.

“what?” you’d say in response, albeit it comes off as a question in answer to his own— the look smothered over your face is the exact description of flabbergast, the tips of your ears tinted a light red. eyes scanning your reaction, a light laugh falls past his lips, “oh, i meant the chocolate”; and there it is, the little tinfoil-wrapped chocolate in his hand, the silver packaging with the imprinted ‘kiss’ branding gazing back at you— when.. and where, did he even get this from?

“oh, erm..“, you’d stutter in reply, cheeks now flushed from pure embarrassment. “yeah sure, thanks”, you’d continue, quickly grabbing the tiny chocolate, unwrapping it in the blink of an eye, and stuffing it into your mouth.

and just a millisecond after you’ve awkwardly whipped your head to the opposite direction, far too embarrassed to meet his eyes, you hear a soft “but i mean, i wouldn’t mind giving you a kiss too,” float in the air.

and you just pretend like it’s a passing breeze, coughing ever so softly to suppress the sensation bubbling in your stomach— is it fluster or flabbergast, that you couldn’t tell. what is obvious, however, is the scrunch of heeseung’s nose as he looks away, the pretty little letter he’d written last night stuffed into a tiny pocket of his bag— maybe he should find better cues to ask you to be his valentines…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

#૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ? #⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡴꪫ 💌⭐ TiPT୨ৎE ᭡ #kflixnet #enhanet #k labels #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha reactions #enha drabble #enha headcanons #enha soft thoughts #enha soft hours #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung reactions #heeseung drabbles #heeseung headcanons #heeseung soft hours #heeseung soft thoughts #heeseung oneshots

[urbancripple]

To able‐bodied people, wheelchair users have a certain mystique. They’re constantly asking us about how our bodies do or don’t work, whether we can have sex, why we haven't just killed ourselves yet. But despite their intrusive questioning, there is one area that ableds seem to be absolutely certain about: the existence of ultra‐convenient readily‐available accessibility modifications and mobility aids.

As wheelchair users, how many times have we been told to “put some chains on that thing!” As we struggle through the snow? How often is it suggested that we get a hand‐bike so that we can cycle to work like our coworkers? If I had a nickel for every time someone suggested I attach some tried‐and‐true motor to my chair, I’d have enough money to pay someone to invent it.

People are constantly sending me links to articles and videos to supposed life‐changing mobility aids that can climb stairs or move over rough terrain. They tell me that things can’t be that difficult with a constant stream of new, convenient doo‐dads being put out in the world. Hell, when discussing how difficult it is to find a single‐story home in Seattle (existing or custom), the suggestion was made that I simply build a multi‐story home but also put an elevator in.

Here’s the thing though: has anyone, wheelchair‐user or otherwise, actually seen any of these so‐called solutions in person? The stair‐climbing wheelchair? The magical snow tires? The super fast motor? I haven’t. As for the elevators and hand bikes, I can count the number I’ve seen on one hand and I’d need way more fingers and toes to show you the price tag.

Despite their near non‐existence or insurmountable financial cost, people keep telling me I just need to “get me one of those…” and continue to cast my existence and the problems that come with it in a mythical light.

An elevator for your house starts at around six‐thousand dollars. If you want one that doesn’t look like the rickety stair‐lift at your local Eagle’s Club, it’ll cost you upwards of sixty‐thousand.

The price of an average, entry‐level bike is four‐hundred bucks. If you want an accessible hand bike, you’re going to start around a grand.

Custom wheelchair tires can vary anywhere from two to five thousand, often times costing more than the chair they’re attached to.

That stair climbing chair? Eleven grand. Want something that’s a little more “every day”? That’ll cost you seventeen grand. Just need a motor for your day chair? Six grand and it weighs fifteen pounds.

Now, some folks might be thinking “sure, it’s expensive now, but the price will come down as technology improves and more people buy these devices”. But with an employment rate of roughly 7 percent (before COVID) and rules governing the amount of money disabled people on SSI can have in the bank (no more than two-thousand dollars), most wheelchair users can’t even save up to buy one of these devices. And no, insurance won’t cover any it.

A lack of accessibility is not something we can just “tech” our way out of and disabled people should not expected to purchase access to a world that everyone else gets for free. Talking about mobility aids you’ve never used or seen when someone is trying to explain to you the barriers they face in their day to day life due to a lack of accessibility isn’t helpful, it’s dismissive. Quit doing it.

#disability

[shepherds-of-haven]

Happy New Year, everyone! I thought it would be fun to do a little retrospective on the game's progress over the last year... Shepherds of Haven has grown so much from the little demo I posted in January 2018, and it continues to steadily build and flourish in so many different and exciting ways! Here's a look at just some of the things we accomplished in 2023!

I added 143,151 words to the game (2.5 main chapters, 8 new character interludes) in 2023: the equivalent of writing the longest Lord of the Rings book in one year! We also broke our huge 1 million word milestone—without including code—meaning Shepherds of Haven is now officially twice as long as War and Peace, and almost as long as the entire 7-book Harry Potter series... and all in a single game!

A lot goes into game creation behind the scenes, including the coordination and creation of visual assets for the game—like character cards, codex entries, maps, portraits, and backgrounds—fun stuff for the fans (like the MC info template we created), and songs for the official soundtrack. As the game creeps slowly and determinedly towards its initial completion, that also means learning new things as a solo developer to prepare for the future, like learning to build an official website, researching business and tax practices, and beginning to think about how to conduct testing, publishing, and marketing down the road. Much of what I enumerate here hasn't been made public yet and will continue to cook in the background for a while, but I'm very proud of the work I've gotten done this year and will be excited to unveil more in the future!

And of course, for even more Shepherds of Haven content, I've added and completed even more stories for our little library on Patreon (which also has sizable word count at this point): The Bridge of Bones (a Trouble and Riel murder mystery), O Happy Dagger (a dark adventure featuring Briony, Chase, and Red), and The Hunt (a wild tale involving Tallys, Halek, Shery, and new kinds of spirits, fey magic, and Elves) were all serial stories completed in 2023, while Some Kind of Virus is a cyberpunk zombie apocalypse AU that will continue to be updated with new chapters monthly.

A full list of the Shepherd short stories and serial novellas (with links) can be viewed here!

I hope you enjoyed this session of Shepherds of Haven Wrapped! Honestly, this doesn't actually cover everything I've been working on, but some things can't be packaged and listed out neatly, or otherwise won't seem very interesting to anyone else but me! 😂 As we inch through Chapter 9 and get more interludes done (only a few more main chapters to go), I'm hopeful that I'll also be able to find time to work on my next novel, but we'll see if the Shepherds schedule ends up ramping up or settling down as we work steadily towards finishing the main story!

One important thing before wrapping up is to acknowledge your guys' role in this wonderful, wild journey. I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you for your invaluable contributions to the development of Shepherds of Haven. Whether you took the time to share links to the game, supported its growth on Discord or Patreon, left encouraging messages or asked interesting questions, reported bugs, or showcased your remarkable works of fanfiction or fanart, I am sincerely thankful for the unwavering support from this amazing community! Your collective efforts have played a pivotal role in shaping the world of the game into what it is today. Words cannot adequately convey my gratitude for your support, and I am truly blessed to have such a passionate community surrounding this project.

As we step into 2024, I am filled with anticipation for the developments awaiting Shepherds of Haven. Big things are on the horizon, and I am so excited to share these experiences with you! Thank you for being an integral part of this journey, and here's to the continued growth of our shared little world. Cheers to 2024—may it be a year filled with creativity, adventure, and joy! 🎊

#Shepherds of Haven #milestone #update #short story #short stories #Patreon #alpha build #alpha preview #year in review #wrapped #recap #2023 #master post #master list #happy new year #long #long post

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Jeff's Valentine

Summary: Natasha and R go on a Valentine's Day date without Jeff, leaving a very upset landshark in Yelena's care.

Word Count: 3086 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: Nat and Yelena threatening each other, some romcom bashing, otherwise it's all just fluff :) A/N: It's been a few months since the last entry to the JFU, but everyone's favourite landshark is back :) I hope you all enjoy and, despite the title, it's quite light on the actual romance part. Also this isn't proofread.

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe

Jeff mumbled tiredly, finally settled into bed for the night. You’d kept him active all day, taking him to the beach, buying him treats, and giving him all of your time overall which, to Jeff, made your next betrayal even worse.

The landshark hadn’t settled into his own bed that night – despite the plethora of options he had – he’d made himself comfortable on yours, which meant waiting for you and Natasha to settle down before he could go to sleep. He groaned again, but neither of you took the hint, both of you continuing your conversation as if he hadn’t interrupted.

“It’s going to be the perfect day,” Jeff heard you promise. Natasha reached out to cup her hand around the side of your face; since neither of you were even looking at him, Jeff huffed once more and stomped around the bed, clearing the space for him to flop suddenly into a curled-up ball. 

“Just the two of us,” you continued. Jeff faced away from you, if you weren’t sleeping soon then there was no point in him staying up.

“Not even Jeff.” The amphibious creature took some issue at that. Gone was his prior sleepy state and in its place – a whole new readiness to fight. What did you mean ‘not even Jeff’? Where would he be? What day could be perfect without him?

You glanced briefly at the agitated shark, but your attention was soon drawn away when Natasha propped herself up on one elbow. Jeff relaxed too, confident in the belief that his other parent would step in to defend him… until she didn’t. What she did do was turn your head back to face her, then leaned in to kiss you.

“I’ll trust your plans, love,” she smirked, “afterall, it can’t be worse than that Valentine’s a couple of years back.”

“In Paris?” you hummed, “romantic destination at least.”

“For the couples who choose to go there, maybe, not the ones on last minute missions. You almost bled to death.”

“Oh, yeah. Getting stabbed isn’t in the plans tomorrow though, don’t you worry.”

“Mmmm, good. I can’t wait to see what is. Goodnight Y/N, and goodnight Jeff.”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff responded, scathingly, though Natasha didn’t know it. He felt somewhat content in his action of wishing you both a bad night, but still fumed from the end of the bed at the fact you had planned activities without him. He vowed never to forget this betrayal and, as he fell asleep, planned to take vengeance in the morning until you reconsidered your plans.

By morning, all was forgotten. Jeff had never had the best memory, but his anger was about to be reignited.

Natasha prised herself slowly and carefully out of bed, taking caution not to wake you as she did so. Unfortunately, that meant walking further away from the bed than usual on her route to the door, and closer to Jeff's corner bed – which he'd retired to midway through the night.

“Mrrrr,” he grumbled, his sleep now disturbed.

“Sorry Jeff.”

Jeff didn’t forgive Natasha with the apology, but he was curious as to what she was up to, so stood up and stretched before padding after her. After slipping through the door, he continued to follow the assassin as she muttered some sort of recipe; he perked up significantly when he realised her destination was the kitchen.

The land shark bounded to her side, purring and butting against Natasha’s legs to attract her attention.

“I’m making pancakes for Y/N, Jeff, do you want to help?”

“Mrrrr!”

Natasha stared at him blankly. “I’ll assume that was a yes,” Jeff heard her mutter, then he was hoisted into the air and deposited on the kitchen counter. “You have to wash your hands first though.”

The redhead shuffled away while Jeff hopped into the sink, where he sat and nudged the tap on in order to wash his hands and his feet and, well, practically his entire body in the end. 

Eventually, he flipped the water back off and fell back to sit with all four legs stretched out in front of him, so that he could show his clean hands to Natasha.

“Very good, Jeff,” she approved, “you can help now that you're clean.”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff beamed.

“Why don't you just sit there while I finish off the batter, then I'll make you one and you can taste test. Sound good?”

“Mrrrrr!” 

“Yeah, thought you'd like that.”

Natasha hurried around for a few seconds more, whisking the bowl until she felt content. Jeff, meanwhile, grew impatient, so grabbed a saucepan from the side and dragged it along the counter, onto the stove, which he then switched on.

Natasha frowned at the action, while Jeff flopped back into his hind legs and grinned incidentally. “I'm not sure how you know how to do that,” she muttered, “but thanks Jeff.”

“Mrrrr!”

As the redhead got to work, Jeff didn't take his eyes off the batter: from the final bit of mixing, to the pouring, to the misshapen thing in the pan, Jeff knew his mission.

“Mrrrr!” he alerted a few moments later. Natasha had gone off to prepare a tray for you, leaving Jeff worried that she would forget about his pancake and feed it to him burnt. She had previous.

At Jeff's alert though, Natasha came running back over to hastily flip the pancake. She patted Jeff's head in gratitude for his warning, knowing she would have burnt it otherwise. She had previous. Then returned to her set up.

Finally, Jeff's pancake was done, and Natasha served it to him with a wide smile. “Look, it's your face, Jeff!”

Jeff looked down, then back at her, then at his reflection in the kitchen sink. He did not resemble this beige blob, but no matter, he could still engulf it, so he did.

“How is it?”

In truth, Jeff didn't have it in his mouth long enough to notice a taste, but he grinned and gave a thumbs up anyway, setting Natasha into action. She began to pour vaguely heart shaped servings into the pan, which Jeff monitored, as Natasha never seemed to know when to turn them. Together, they produced a good stack of heart shaped pancakes which she carried up to serve you in bed.

Jeff followed her upstairs and hurried around to your side of the bed to stare and beg for food, which you sneakily provided, until it was time for you and Natasha to get up and ready for the day. 

You dressed yourself, picked out clothes for Natasha, and even grabbed some of Jeff's things, giving him hope that he would be accompanying the two of you. The feeling was exacerbated when you called him to the car and strapped him into his car seat. His excitement grew and grew… until he realised that he recognised the roads you drove down; he'd been to this place before.

“My favourite nephew!” 

Jeff wagged his tail politely, but turned to you pleadingly. As excited as he was to see Yelena, all he really wanted was to stay with his parents, which he knew wouldn’t be happening if they’d brought him here; he would be left all day, at the very least. While Natasha thanked Yelena again for taking him, Jeff pulled at the ends of your trousers, drawing your attention just so he could whine and plead to you with wide, watery eyes.

“Jeff, you usually love it here,” you crouched down to his level and whispered. His eyes seemed to be getting larger and sadder by the second, so you ducked your head, knowing any more of this and you’d fold to his wishes. “I’ll be back tonight, I promise.”

“Mrrrr.”

“Nat and I are going to be doing couple-y stuff, and you don’t want to be around that, do you?”

“I wouldn’t”

“We know, Yelena.”

“The land shark is better with me,”

“That’s why he’s here, Yelena.”

You ignored the sibling bickering and turned back to Jeff. “Yelena is right, buddy, you’ll have a great day here with her and Fanny, then we’ll be back to pick you up before you know it!”

He whined again but, with great difficulty, you turned away to follow Natasha out of the door, ready to begin the date you’d spent weeks planning. You could practically feel Jeff’s teary eyes boring into your back, so you didn’t dare turn around, knowing you could never leave that sight behind.

Yelena could put up with a lot – The Red Room had put her through a lot – but this day with Jeff had somehow managed to find and push at her limit. You'd been gone for an hour now, but Jeff still sat at the front door, right where you left him, crying and scratching and howling in displeasure. 

She hadn't seen Jeff this distraught since the day they first met, and that was not an event anyone wanted a repeat of. 

“Can you talk to him?” she asked Fanny when the crying got too much to bear. The dog told her head but, after a pointed finger from Yelena, made her way towards the mopey land shark. She wasted no time and judged Jeff harshly for his attention, before springing forward with her front half lowered playfully to the ground.

“Mrrrr,” Jeff pouted, though already noticeably less melancholy. Fanny barked and jumped towards him. Jeff growled, then sprang up, running in circles around the living room to goad the Akita into chasing him. They played like that for several minutes, while Yelena breathed a sigh of relief and settled back into the sofa, glad the whines had finally given way to playful yaps; they were much more manageable.

The two animals did eventually calm down though and, when Fanny went to lay at her owner's side, Jeff followed, climbing into the Widow’s lap rather than snoozing on a hard wooden floor.

“Hello Jeff”

“Mrrrr.”

“You are happy now?”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff shrugged, He glanced to the door, then back at Yelena, before his features drooped.

“They are celebrating Valentine’s Day,” Yelena told the shark patiently, watching his face for any indication of how he felt about it.

“Means they do lot of romantic things together. Couples do. But they must leave you behind because they are a couple, and you are not.”

Jeff frowned and shuffled on Yelena’s lap until his hands were freed. “Alone,” he signed, then pointed to himself.

“Yes, in a dating sense, but so am I. It is not so bad to be alone.”

“Couple. Join them?”

“Double dates are an option, but-”

Jeff cut her off, signing urgently, “You. Me. Couple.”

“Us?”

Jeff nodded.

“I am flattered, Jeffrey Landshark, but we are too far apart in ages, and different species; I don't date anyone even of my own species.”

Jeff looked down dejectedly, his face downcast as he signed “alone” again.

“One day you can find a nice land shark partner, if that's what you want, but Valentine's is not all about couples. There is a lot you can do, little land shark! Treat it as a normal day, spend time with friends, enjoy the alone time… here, let me show you.”

Yelena nodded her head as she stood up, in a clear sign that Jeff should follow her; he took the hint and leapt gently off of the sofa. Fanny looked up at the movement and decided to trail her owner too. So Yelena paced through the house, her two animals marching in step behind her, until she pulled a box out from a hallway cabinet, half-full with crayons and stickers and pink slips of paper. Fanny sniffed it curiously.

“Natasha and I used to do this every year,” the younger assassin explained. Meanwhile, she'd picked the box up again and led the troupe back to the living room table.

“We would watch funny movies and make each other cards. Look, see, this is from your mother-”

A pink card was shoved into Jeff's hands; adorned with a blood-red heart on the front, Jeff opened it to see Natasha's neat, calligraphic handwriting, not that he could read any of it.

“Mrrrr,” he said.

“Yes,” Yelena replied, not understanding him at all, “she was angry with me that year. I threw her out a window a couple days before.”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff tried again, this time signing “can't read” alongside it.

“Oh, yes, she has bad handwriting, hard to read. I will read it for you.” Yelena beckoned for the paper, which Jeff passed back to her.

“Dear Yelena,” she read aloud, “sometimes I am glad I didn't kill you. Lots of love, Natasha.”

“She is very sincere.”

“Mrrrr.”

“Let's make cards. You can give it to your parents when they pick you up, yes?”

Jeff nodded, and the two of them set to work. The TV was switched on and played a collection of rom-coms that the network has chosen to air for Valentine's day, allowing Yelena to laugh at the tropes and throw popcorn at the TV whenever it became too unrealistic for her to believe. In turn, that kept Jeff and Fanny entertained, as they scrambled to get to the fallen popcorn first.

“Mrrr?” Jeff asked at one point, after Yelena had cut and folded the card for him. He had one hand on the front of the card and a red pen balanced between his teeth, which he hovered just above the page.

“You want to outline your hand?” 

Jeff nodded, causing the pen to lower and mark a red line on his hand.

“Okay, let me do it then,” Yelena stepped in, taking the pen off of Jeff. “You want a full outline? If you move your fingers together it is like a heart.”

Jeff tried it, moving his first finger towards his thumb, then his other two towards each other on the other side. Yelena had been correct; thanks to his short, sharp fingers and a rounded hand, it did form a somewhat heart-like shape when traced. 

“There we go. A perfect heart!”

Jeff looked at the paper. The heart was about as perfect as Natasha's pancakes had been that morning, but he considered that maybe the sisters didn't know what a heart was supposed to look like, and he was content to let them live in ignorance. Jeff gave a thumbs up.

Yelena handed the card back and turned to the TV once more.

“Why are they kissing! They just met!” she yelled suddenly, jolting both Jeff and Fanny from their relaxed positions.

“I am sorry,” she grumbled calmly, “they are just dumb.”

Fanny huffed and settled back into her bed, while Jeff went back to colouring in his Valentine's card. And so, they settled into their routine for the rest of the day.

There was, of course, a break for lunch, and then again to walk Fanny (and Jeff, but in his mind he walked the other two). The rest of the time was spent doing arts and crafts in the living room, moving on from the Valentine's card, to friendship bracelets, to Yelena teaching Jeff simple origami.

By the time you and Natasha came to pick up Jeff, late in the evening, the table overflowed with stacks of folded paper, beads, and glitter covered cards; and your landshark blended right in with how much glitter he had spilt on himself.

Natasha gasped and practically ran into the house. You panicked, thinking she would storm in and reprimand Yelena for the mess, but, to your surprise, she headed straight for the table and fell to her knees beside it. “You brought out the crafting stuff!” she exclaimed, in a tone totally opposite to what you had expected, then beckoned you over right before she began to rifle through the mess.

You closed the door slowly, sensing that your original plan to quickly pick Jeff up and head home would be no more.

“What's going on?”

Natasha ignored you, and instead looked up to her sister, “I remember writing this one, you'd pushed me out of a window just before it.”

Your head swung rapidly to Yelena, who shrugged at your expression, “We were only one floor up.”

After knowing the pair of them for years, you knew when it was best to let things slide, and this was one of those times. Further questioning would only yield more questions than answers.

“Y/N, come sit down,” Natasha smiled and pulled you down to her side, “this is what Yelena and I used to do every Valentine's day.”

“Before she met you,” Yelena added.

“Do you mind that I'm joining?” you asked the younger Widow directly, even as Natasha piled heaps of craft equipment in your lap. “I don't want to intrude on a sibling tradition.”

Yelena glared at you for a few seconds, long enough to make you sweat under her gaze, before she eventually broke into a smile and shook her head. “No, no. It is a family tradition, and you are family now. I do not mind. Come, the land shark can show you how it's done.”

With Yelena’s blessing, you shuffled around at the table and got to work making a love letter of your own. The message you wanted to convey came to you quickly, and the page soon filled with your expressions of love. Natasha finished hers at almost the same time, and you all agreed to exchange them at once.

“Three, two, one-”

Yelena pointed Jeff towards you and Natasha, but he shook his head and turned back to her, depositing his card in her lap. Meanwhile you and Yelena had both pushed your cards across the table to Jeff, and Natasha’s to Yelena.

“Thank you, Jeffrey Landshark,” Yelena said earnestly, “I am touched.”

“Hey, I gave you a card too!” Natasha complained, only to be shushed by her sister.

“You are not as special as Jeff.”

Natasha looked to you for backup, but you only shrugged. Though you pulled her into a side hug immediately after, of course, because she might have pushed you through a window if you hadn't.

“This is a bit awkward, huh?” you whispered, smiling against her hair as she rested her head on your shoulder, the both of you watching Jeff and Yelena exchange friendship bracelets and admire their Valentine's day cards. “Put our hearts out there and didn't even get a single card back.”

“You put your heart out there? Oh…”

“Natasha… why does this just say ‘die’?”

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character​ @wolferine

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

#jeff the landshark #jeff the land shark #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #yelena belova & natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #yelena belova imagine #marvel #mcu #ikan writes #the JFU

[gazs-blue-hat]

*ahem!* may I offer a humble prompt for Gaz as tribute?🙋🏻‍♀️

something along the lines of everyone around you and Gaz always saying that you're dating or asking you "are you sure you're not dating?" and you/him always denying it. but at the back of your mind, it leaves a lingering thought of what it would be like to date him and looking over at Gaz and catch him looking at you👀 with the same thought running through his mind.

but you can't really blame everybody else because you're always seen together and you act like a couple so WHAT TF DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT DATING?

(I may not may not be speaking from experience😂)

I FIGURED OUT ASKS EVERYBODY! I'm so so sorry @groguspicklejar for the insane about of time it took me to figure the ask system out. Without further procrastination, here is the story!

Paperwork Shmaperwork

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick X Reader (gn)

WC: 1,265

TW: Miscommunication (In a funny way I swear), Mutual pining, Canon typical language (LMK if I missed any)

Everybody knows you and Kyle are a 'thing'. It's so abundantly clear to everybody who looks at the two of you any time you are together. Kyle and you are practically attached at the hip.

And it pisses Simon Riley the hell off.

He's all for his buddy getting some affection and care but every single time he mentions things to Kyle, he gets a flabbergasted look and a chuckled 'they're just my friend!'.

He's absolutely had it. He knows there's a connection between you two, hell he was it in Tommy and Beth before they got married! In true Riley fashion, he decided to take things into his own hands.

That's how you and Kyle ended up in a swivel chair in Simon's office with a file placed before him. The file in question had his name on it followed by a series of angry scribbles.

"Tell me again what this is about?" He raised his eyebrow, looking at his LT. You nod your head, sitting next to Kyle with your hands in your lap.

"Since you two so 'clearly' are "just friends" I've decided to compile evidence that proves otherwise." Simon leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. Kyle scoffs while you make a confused expression. Kyle opened the folder, shifting it so you could read it too, and began glancing over the tactical writing on the pages.

"Johnny put you up to this?" You have to ask, it's so out of character for Simon to stick his nose in people's business.

"No, I don't need him to tell me what right before of my eyes." The response is cold, but Simon's at his limit.

Kyle rolled his eyes at the first entry. It was dated a few months back and a description of the incident was written down.

-----five months previous----

"Hey, Gaz! Wait up!" You were jogging across the tarmac, a blue cap in your hand. Kyle had been so worked up about this next mission that he had forgotten it at the breakfast table. You were lucky enough to have caught him before the helo took off. 

Kyle turned, smiling at your form rushing him with his hat. He had felt that something was missing but he couldn't tell what it had been. He checked his whole kit about seven times before you arrived with his token headpiece.

"Oh thank you love! Almost forgot it!" He reached out to grab the article of clothing but you simply hopped into the helo and placed it on his head, making sure it was straight.

"Can't have you going off without this! How else would Price be able to identify you out in the field?" 

He chuckled at your statement, patting you on the shoulder and ushering you out of the chopper before Price had another episode about 'authorization' and 'keeping things tactical. 

You stood on the tarmac as the helo took off, waving fondly as your best friend was carried through the air to some unknown destination for some unknown amount of time.

-------

"That doesn't count! Johnny did the same fuckin' thing to him last week!" You sat back in your chair, a blush starting to creep up your neck. The way Simon had worded the report made it seem so clear that you and Kyle were in a relationship.

What you had said was true. Johnny had rushed to give Kyle his hat back but that was after he had stolen it and Kyle was on a war path to retrieve it. When Johnny had gotten the hat back to Kyle, it was a slam on his head and a cackling sprint instead of a soft handover and a pat on the shoulder.

Fuckin' MacTavish...

Simon grunted and just pointed at the next entry, a smug smile on his face under the mask.

---Three months ago---

"And then I said-" The man next to you continued chatting away even after you had told him no less than five times that you were not interested. One person can only say "That's crazy" so many times before they themselves go crazy.

"Pardon me, sir, I need to steal my friend here for a moment." You felt a warm hand at the small of your back, palm just barely touching your shirt.

Kyle

Kyle gently led you back to the part of the bar where he was sitting, along with a few of his old buddies from the CTSFO team he had been working with before he met Price.

"Oh my God, thank you so much, Kyle. You're a literal lifesaver. If I had to listen to one more story about some random topic, I was going to go insane." Kyle laughed softly, the sound buzzing pleasantly in your mind. 

"Don't worry about it. I could practically smell the boredom from here. Can't say we will be much better conversation but at least we won't pester you for your phone number or anything!" Kyle's remark got laughs from everybody at the booth, including you.

His hand never left your back.

--------

"Any good friend would have done the same! It is not okay to leave someone stranded in a situation like that!" Kyle was starting to blush as well. He had never romantically thought of you but he couldn't deny the feelings that were bubbling in his mind now.

You were in a similar situation with your own feelings. Having everything written out like this before you made things so much clearer. You had been tossing the idea of Kyle around in your mind for a few months now. He made you laugh and smile. He made you feel safe in a way that nobody else ever had before.

Perhaps Simon was onto something...

Simon grabbed the folder from Kyle and shook his head, pulling two more files out from the drawer of his desk.

"I already got the paperwork for you two. The documents are all in there so there's no need to go bother Price about it. The deadline for those documents is in three days so I suggest you both get your shit sorted out quick." Simon folded his arms and started working on a different piece of paperwork, leaving you and Kyle gaping at him like fish. 

Simon looked up at you both, rolling his eyes and making a dismissal gesture with his hand. Neither of you had to be told twice as you stood and exited the room, closing the door behind yourselves. 

You both stood outside of the office for a long while, not knowing what to say or how to act. Kyle opened his mouth to say something at the same time you did.

"Do you thi-"

"Want to g-" 

You snickered and gestured for him to go first. He smiled and rubbed the folder between his fingers.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to talk about this...paperwork over a pint?" he was blushing a bit and he couldn't quite meet your eyes.

You nodded, smiling as you looked down at the documents in your own folder.

"Only if you bring that good pen that everybody is always trying to steal." You couldn't help but gently nudge him with your elbow

"It's a date then. Say 6:00?" He was already pulling his phone out to mark the time in his calendar.

"How about now?" You turned your head and smiled. Kyle did the same, placing his hand on your lower back to lead you to his quarters on base.

"I like that plan."

He never removed his hand from your back.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #request #call of duty

[aeraras]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ <pre 1 : birth>

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[thedroneranger]

The Last Unicorn

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Javy "Coyote" Machado

Synopsis: Getting caught between Natasha and Javy leads to a unique experience.

Note: A horribly late entry for @sushiwriterhere's Top Gun Threesomeissance 2023 event—thank you for inviting me to participate! I have a bad bout of writer's block, but forced myself to push through and write this. Took longer than expected, but I wanted to finish it. It's also my first threesome, so I welcome feedback but be kind!

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, ffm, threesome.

Word count: 5.3k

Javy hated when Natasha flirted with other people. Every phone number, every touch pissed him off. 

“Hold that glass any tighter, and you’re gonna be wearing your beer.” Jake said as he sat down next to Javy and tracked his best friend’s gaze to Natasha. 

She was on the other side of the bar, hand wrapped around a beer pint while a fresh-off-the-carrier ensign made her laugh. Jake never could figure out Javy’s infatuation with Natasha, and he also couldn’t figure out Javy’s refusal to admit he had feelings for her. 

Jake had lost count of the number of times Javy had drunkenly told him he and Natasha were purely physical. Every time Jake just nodded his head and drank his beer. Mentally, he would run through the rolodex of moments that said otherwise. 

But now Javy and Natasha were in some sort of argument, and not speaking to each other. Not unusual. They would kiss and make up eventually.

Both Jake and Javy were deep in separate thoughts when you approached. “Are you ready for another round?” You asked with a smile. The two men nodded as you walked away to get them fresh beers. 

You’d been working at The Hard Deck long enough to recognize Jake and Javy. You knew they were friends with the bar owner, Penny. You also knew Jake could go home with anyone in this bar. Javy, too. While Jake usually took advantage, Javy always left with the same brunette. 

Jake and Javy also recognized you. They made half-hearted passes at you only when Penny wasn’t around, and then made sure to make up for it in tips. 

You were convinced Penny had threatened them about fraternizing with her staff. It made you chuckle to think that Penny would shake down her customers before her own staff. It also sounded very much like Penny. 

Natasha, the brunette Javy usually went home with, either was exempt or just didn’t care. She shamelessly flirted with the bartenders. 

You found her attention flattering. 

Any man with functioning eyes thought you were attractive. Of course, this meant you put up with a gamut of flirting, catcalls and comments. It was the most exhausting part of your shifts.

However, Natasha’s flirting felt less burdensome. Probably because she was a woman and knew more about how you ticked. Or maybe Natasha wasn’t even flirting with you? How did you know?! Were you being presumptuous? Confusing friendliness for more? After all, other women didn’t flirt with you. Or maybe they did? Maybe they did but were more subtle, and you just didn’t have a clue? You were used to subtle-as-a-neon-sign men.

Sometimes you caught yourself daydreaming. Are women better kissers? Are women truly better lovers? You had had your fair share of subpar romps with men. Are women actually better at li—

Shoot! Javy’s beer overflowed. Focus! You needed to focus. You wiped your hand, snagged a clean glass and poured another beer. Smile back on, you took the fresh pints to Jake and Javy. They thanked you, and you turned to find the next patron in need.

Natasha was staring straight at you. You bit your lip, clenched your fist and headed in her direction. “Hey!” She greeted you while leaning across the bar top. 

“Hey!” You echoed, also leaning across the counter so you could hear better.

Jake and Javy watched your exchange. “Goddammit, she gets off on breaking the rules.” Javy grunted. 

Jake sniggered as he took a sip of his beer. “I think she’s genuinely into her. She doesn’t hit on any of the other bartenders.” They continued to watch you and Natasha while sipping their beers. You laughed at something Natasha said, and she gently touched your arm. Then you took her empty glass to replenish her drink. 

An idea struck Javy. He gulped his beer and pushed the empty glass toward your side of the counter. Always attentive, you noticed and noted to visit him after giving Natasha her pint.

Natasha kept her eye on you as you floated over to Jake and Javy. Both men were so focused on you, they didn’t even notice Natasha glaring at them. She watched as Javy said something that made you laugh. 

Then, of course, Jake chimed in. Heaven forbid he not be in the center of attention. She scoffed as she sat her beer on the counter.

Javy was flirting with you, and Jake was wingmanning for him! Natasha couldn’t believe her eyes. Penny was nowhere to be found when Natasha needed her the most. It was calculated. Normally, Natasha was the flirt. She sought out people to piss off Javy. 

“What are you up to?” Natasha said under her breath. She practically chugged her beer and flagged you down for another. 

All night, you volleyed between Javy and Natasha, refilling their drinks and politely engaging with them. You were completely oblivious to the silent war raging between the pair. 

As the night went on, the bar grew busier and Javy and Natasha couldn’t have all your attention. While you were serving some other patrons, Jake sidled up to Natasha and leaned on the bar beside her. 

“Bagman.” She spat without looking at him, sticking her face in her pint. 

“Bird brain.” He turned and waited for her to react. 

She glared at him as she set her drink down. “What’s Javy think he’s doing?”

“Getting under your skin, and I’d say it’s working.” His gaze went from Natasha to you. You were busy pouring a line of shots. “Just remember she’s not a piece of meat.”

Natasha was stunned. “There’s rich coming from you!” She told Jake. 

Jake gave her his million-dollar smile and leaned in. “Leave the usin’ and abusin’ to me.” He grabbed his beer, ready to return to his perch on the other side of the bar. “Stop playing with Javy, too.”

“Why don’t you impart that wisdom on your best friend? It takes two!” Natasha shouted as Jake disappeared into the crowd.

By the time Jake settled into his seat beside Javy, Natasha was chatting you up. He knew exactly what you two were chatting about. Based on your body language you hadn’t committed yet. 

Both forearms on the counter Natasha leaned toward you. You mirrored her stance so she could speak closer to your ear in the loud bar. 

“What time do you get off work?” she asked. 

“Bar closes at two, but since I have seniority I can leave first if the crowd dies down,” you explained.

“How about a nightcap at my place?” Natasha followed up.

You were taken aback. You weren’t ready for this moment. “I’ve never been with a woman,” you blurted.

“Same rules apply.” Natasha playfully winked. “No pressure. However, I’d love to have a drink with you, at the very least,” she said in earnest. “And I’d be happy to be your first.” Natasha paused. “Whenever you’re ready.” You both smiled. 

“I’ll keep you posted.” You confirmed before parting to serve another patron. 

Javy and Jake watched the exchange from their seats. “Looks like you won’t be in her bed tonight.” Jake referred to you.

Without skipping a beat, Javy said, “Nah, all three of us will be in Nat’s bed, instead.”

Jake nearly spit out his beer. He had never heard his best friend be so bold. They looked at each other. “You’re serious aren’t you?” 

“As a heart attack.” Javy confirmed. The jukebox queue mellowed and the crowd thinned as Jake probed Javy about his plan. Once he was informed, Jake disappeared to take his pick of the Hard Deck smorgasbord and go home. 

Meanwhile, Javy continued to watch you as you ended your shift and accompanied Natasha to the parking lot. He figured he had time for one more beer before joining you.

Until then, Natasha was focused solely on you. The drive to her place was short, but the playful roast over your music choices helped you unwind.

Once parked, Natasha led you by the hand into her apartment. She kept up the banter as she let you choose the wine. Everything felt easy as you nestled together on the couch. 

Warm from the wine, you pliantly slipped onto Natasha’s lap. Her hands ran from your knees to your thighs and then rested on your hips as your hands explored her arms and neck.

Finally, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers. Your hips rolled forward a little, which enticed Natasha to bring her thumbs to the creases of your thighs. Your lips fit perfectly against hers, and you smiled into the kiss when she did. 

Your tongue swiped along her bottom lip, and she gladly premised you to deepen the kiss. Natasha met you by curling her fingers to your hair at the base of your skull. 

The tension had you moaning into her mouth. You broke the kiss to allow her to press wet kisses down your neck. Eyes shut, you bit your lip as she continued to pepper you with affection. 

Preoccupied, you barely noticed as her hands slipped under your shirt and massaged you through your bra. It wasn’t until her fingers dipped past the lined lace and pinched your nipples you acknowledged her. She smirked and repeated her motions to pull more noises from you.

You were a moaning mess, leaning into her touch and rocking your pelvis against hers. Natasha encouraged you with every touch of her lips and caress of her fingers.

Natasha managed to get you out of your shirt and had your jeans unbuttoned, when a sharp knock on the door nearly sent you rocketing through the roof. She tried to keep you going but you were distracted.

As you and Natasha attempted to untangle yourselves so she could answer the door, the knocking grew more rapid. You shooed her away with one final kiss. She kept a smile on her face until she turned to face the door. 

Fortunately, you weren’t within sight or earshot. Before answering, Nataha took a deep breath and put on her signature smirk. 

“What do you want, Machado?” She leaned on the doorframe as Javy stared at her. He looked casual with his hands in his pockets and the top few undone buttons of his shirt exposing his chest. 

“Are you looking for a third?” He asked coolly. 

Natasha had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud as she stood straight up. “You can’t be serious?”

He shrugged. “Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” He stood square to Natasha. “I know you’re game.” Javy reached out and dipped two fingers into Natasha’s front pocket, pulling her toward him. 

She stared at him as she took a step closer. “Why were we mad at each other?” she inquired. Her gaze dipped from his eyes to his lips momentarily. 

Javy shrugged again. “Can’t say I recall.” He was slowly closing the gap between them.  

“Me either,” Natasha said. She could feel Javy’s hot breath in her face.  “Apologize, and I’ll let you in.”

He smirked. “Apologize for what? I thought we forgot what we were fighting about?” He stopped moving, awaiting a response. 

“I’m convinced you were at fault.” She closed the gap, pushing her lips against his. Natasha cradled Javy’s face as his arms wrapped around her waist. 

After a few seconds she pulled away. “It’s her first time with a woman. I don’t want you to ruin it.” She gave him a dangerous look. 

Javy couldn’t help but smile. Natasha’s concern for others was one of the endearing things about her. “It might be helpful to have some familiar energy in the mix.”

“Everything is her choice,” Natasha told him. 

“Absolutely.” Javy agreed. 

“Even you joining.”

“Even me joining.” He agreed. 

Unsure of what was taking so long, you’d put your shirt on and buttoned your pants. The wine was too enticing to pass up, so you poured yourself another glass and paged through an old aviation magazine Natasha had laying on the coffee table. 

Finally, she reappeared with Javy. “Hi!” You hoped you managed to somewhat mask the surprise in your voice. 

“Hey,” Javy replied casually with a bright smile.

“Wine?” You offered as though it were your home. Javy looked at Natasha who gave a slight nod. The three of you sat down, drank wine and bantered. You were tucked between the pair on the couch. Javy’s arm laid along the sofa behind your head, while Natsha’s hand rested on your thigh.

When your glass was empty, you stood up. “What are you doing?” Natasha asked. 

“I was thinking I should get going. I don’t want to impose on your evening.”

Natasha passively waved her hand. “If anything, Javy imposed.” She threw him a look. He nervously scratched the back of his head and flashed a cheeky smile in your direction. 

“I’d love for you to stay and finish what we started,” Natasha said. “I’d love for both of you to stay, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Your gaze floated to Javy. “It’s your choice,” he said. “I don’t want to impose but I’d love to stay. Participate, even. If you’ll have me.”

“He’s very enthusiastic.” Natasha added as she glanced at him and pat his knee. He grinned. 

In your wildest dreams you’d never imagined you’d be propositioned for a threesome. Let alone by a couple. Actually, were they a couple? Before your thoughts could swirl too much, Natasha slid her fingers into your hand and pulled you back onto the couch between them. 

She looked at you as she let her knuckles skim up your arms. “What do you say?” 

You were looking at her lips. “Do you do this often?” Your gaze came back to meet hers. 

She shook head. “This would be the first time.” Her knuckle traced your jaw. “Javy and I only sleep with each other.” Natasha was looking at your lips, leaning closer.

“I haven’t been with anyone recently and am on birth control,” you replied.

Your tongue darted across your lower lip and Natasha’s pulled into a sweet smile. “Perfect.” Your lips finally met.

Her hand found the back of your head and guided you as she deepened the kiss. Soon you were kneeling on the couch cushions with your knees slotted. Natasha rocked herself against your kneecap for some friction, and you mirrored her actions. 

A small moan escaped your lips as you caught her knee just right. “Holy, shit,” Natasha mumbled as you continued to make out. She pulled you further up her thigh, so you were closer. Your chests touching and her hand wrapped around your hips. Your hands were loosely splayed over her shoulders. 

“Let me take you to bed.” She huffed as she pulled away. Her pupils were dilated with desire. You felt so powerful as you stared at her. Her chest heaved, waiting for your reply. 

A groan had her looking past you. You turned to find Javy at the other end of the couch. He had given in and was palming his hard-on. “Do you want some help with that?” you asked. Both he and Natasha looked at you. 

Natasha combed her fingers through your hair. “Only if you want to,” she said softly. You looked between her and Javy. He continued to massage his bulge. Silently, you slid from Natasha’s lap, and slipped onto the floor in front of Javy. 

While you moved his hand and began to unfasten his pants, he scooted to the edge of the sofa. Together, you slipped his jeans down his legs and tossed them aside. Your palms ran up his thighs as you leaned forward into his lap. 

A smile graced your lips as you thought about how Javy’s face wasn’t the only pretty thing about him. Then, you gingerly took his length in one hand, letting your thumb swipe over the tip. Precum slicked the pad. Javy watched as you brought your thumb to your mouth and sucked his essence from it. 

His lips quirked at the soft pop! your lips made. A hum rose from your throat as you leaned forward to kiss his abs. Javy’s breath hitched, which made you smile.

You sprinkled kisses across Javy’s abdominals and thighs. Finally, your lips touched his cock. He twitched so hard when you finally kissed his tip, you thought he might instantly cum. Palms planted on the floor, you slipped the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. A light groan escaped Javy.

It was intense, but you held his gaze and you continued to swallow him inch by inch. Your tongue laved along the underside of his cock. You enjoyed the thick pulsing vein, which you softly prodded now and then. The first time, his hips bucked. The second time, you felt his length twitch.

Javy was first to break eye contact. Once he was completely down your throat, he couldn’t help but loll his head against the back of the couch and moan. A smile crept across your features the best it could for having a thick cock stuffed in your mouth. 

A hand grazed across your shoulders as Natasha knelt beside you. “Can I touch you?” she asked. You nodded the best you could. Natasha’s hand was in your hair, combing it out of your face. She placed soft kisses on the back of your neck and along your shoulders as she situated herself behind you. 

Lips still on your neck, Natasha’s hands reached around to unbutton your pants. Then she dipped a hand in, following the plane of your belly. She smiled against your neck. “No panties. You little minx!” She kissed you more. 

“You’re so wet,” she cooed. Her fingers easily slipped through your slick and tugged your clit. You moaned around Javy from her touch. “That’s it.” Natasha’ voice was sultry in your ear. Almost involuntary, your hips began to match her rhythm as she sandwiched your clit between her fingers and slid them back and forth.

You moaned around Javy’s cock again. This time, you gagged a little. “Holy, shit.” Javy’s breath hitched again. “Nat, tell her how good she is.” His voice was strained.

“But baby, do you want her to take you to completion? So soon?” Natasha asked.

“You decide,” he responded in a single breath.

Natasha’s hand disappeared from between your legs. You were disappointed at the loss of stimulation. But her hand soon was tugging your roots, easing you away from Javy. Her other hand replaced your mouth, sliding up and down Javy’s length. 

“I didn’t think you could look prettier, but you're gorgeous after sucking his cock.” You felt yourself clench around nothing at her compliment. She also swallowed your whimpers as she covered your mouth with hers.

Once again, you were in Natasha’s lap, grinding against her thigh as she licked into your mouth. She had one hand down the back of your pants, palming your ass while the other was still pumping Javy. You’d managed to get your hands up her shirt and were massaging her through her bra.

“Fuck!” You broke apart as Javy sprung off the couch. He hauled you up by the elbow, and Natasha quickly followed. You stumbled and Natasha helped steady you with a hand on your hip as Javy led the three of you to what you assumed was Natasha’s bedroom. 

He let his hand slide down your arm until your hand was in his. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, pulling you until you were tucked to his chest. You’d been looking at his lips the whole time and met his gaze, giving him a small nod. His kiss was softer than Nat’s. Javy’s palm came to rest on your cheek. When you parted, he let his thumb glide across your bottom lip.

Natasha stepped behind you and slid a hand back into your unfastened pants. Her chin rested on your shoulder. You looked back at her and turned to face her. She smiled and kissed you before walking you backward toward the bed. You let yourself fall onto the mattress when your knees hit the edge. Natasha helped you shimmy out of your pants. 

Before you could move, she was on her knees between yours, placing kisses on your inner thighs. She held your gaze as she slipped one of your legs over her shoulder, and pushed the other back for better access. “Relax,” she said between kisses. You watched her. Your heart seemed like it might pound right out of your chest onto the floor. 

She held your gaze as she placed the lightest kiss on your cleft. Then, her tongue dipped between your folds. You exhaled with pleasure as her broad tongue glided the length of your clit and then narrowed into your hole. Her free hand found yours and entwined your fingers as she tongued you. 

You couldn’t help the moans escaping you. You also couldn’t keep your back on the bed. Only Natasha’s hand was keeping you grounded as you writhed above her.

Unnoticed, Javy made his way over to the bed. He shed his clothing and slid beside you. You turned to look at him. He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead, then your nose and finally pressed his lips to yours. Again, his hand found yours. He and Natasha both supported you as you moaned and arched your back off the bed. That delicious tension was building low in your stomach. You wanted Natasha to get you there so bad. 

“Javy,” Your breathing was ragged. “Put your cock in my mouth.” There was a pause. “Please.” He let out a light laugh as he maneuvered to cradle your head and slip himself into your mouth. You moaned as his tip stretched your cheek. Languidly, he continued to thrust into your mouth sometimes hitting your cheek and sometimes the back of your throat.

Javy and Natasha fell into complementary rhythms. “C’mon, come for me,” she coaxed you. She switched to two fingers pumping in and out of you, making sure to hit that spongy spot each time. You felt your vision fading as your orgasm grew nearer. 

Finally, you tumbled over the edge with Javy’s cock filling your mouth, Natsha’s fingers stuffed in your pussy and her mouth sucking your clit. It felt like your whole body came off the bed as you writhed and moaned. Javy and Natasha held your hands through it all.

As you came back to your senses, you heard them praising you. You were laying between the pair as their fingers softly skimmed your curves. You felt flush as you looked at Natasha. “That was amazing.” She smiled in response. “Maybe the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” 

“Nat definitely knows a thing or two,” Javy added. You turned to look at him. He had the proudest grin. 

Natasha’s soft laugh drew your attention back to her. “Javy’s no slouch.” It was cute to hear them talk up each other.

“Can I try to repay the favor?” you asked.

“Gladly.” Natasha smirked and leaned in to kiss you. Before it got too heated, she broke it to ditch her clothing. Quickly, she returned to you, palming your breasts and rolling your nipples until they hardened. 

Curious, you dropped your mouth to her nipple and swirled your tongue around it until it peaked. You showed the other the same attention and then alternated between sucking on each. Natasha arched into your affection. Her hand tangled in your hair as you pleasured her.

Javy watched you two before slipping off the bed. He reached for you and dipped his hands into the hinges of your thighs to position you on your knees at the end of the bed. You moaned and released Natasha with a smack. Before Javy pulled you away, you placed a kiss on each pert nipple. Natasha followed you, nestling her hips into your arms, so you could wrap your arms around her legs and easily bury your face in her pussy.

Javy lined himself up behind you, sliding him length between your cheeks, and then he slid his tip through your puffy, soaked folds. He grunted, letting his pelvis hit your ass. 

You canted forward slightly, bumping your nose into Natasha. She softly chuckled as you gasped. The tip of your nose was now wet. She looked at you and then dropped her gaze to herself. Your eyes followed to see her middle and index fingers spreading her lips. “Oh!” You watched as her fingers slid down her clit and disappeared inside her.

She and Javy exchanged looks above you as he pushed himself into you. A gasp escaped you as Javy slowly sank into you. You spread your knees wider enjoying his thickness. He kneaded your ass as he let you adjust to him. 

“Doesn’t he feel amazing?” Nat asked as she continued to pump her fingers in and out of herself. “Javy, is her pussy amazing?”

“Yeah, baby. So tight. So warm.” As he found a pace he liked, one hand moved to your clit. The other found purchase on the bed as he leaned over you to kiss Natasha. She happily sat forward to press her mouth to his.

“Oh. My. God.” You said with each thrust. Javy continued to draw tight circles on your clit. Fists filled with bedding, you braced yourself the best you could. You were still bumping into Natasha occasionally.  

Finally she pulled away from Javy and got back in her initial position. “I can’t wait any longer, can you please put your pretty mouth on my pussy?”

“Will you tell me what to do?” you asked innocently. She moaned, turned on by your naivety. 

“Of course.” She winked at you. 

As you lowered your head, Javy thrust just right to hit your G spot. Your breath hitched and a curt moan left you. Attentive, he repeated his actions and you rewarded him with more moans. 

Natasha couldn’t stand it anymore, she laced her fingers in your trusses and guided your lips to her heat. “Stick your tongue out. Flat.” You did as you were told and Natasha ground her slit against it. 

She sighed and continued stimulating herself on you. Enjoying the sensations at both ends, you felt the tension in your belly building again. 

“Suck me.” Natasha let go of your hair and guided you until your mouth was on her. Without hesitation, you pressed your lips flush to her clit and sucked. She tossed her head back as you applied more suction.

Instinctually, you slid two fingers into her hole. She gasped and began to roll her hips in tandem with your fingers pumping in and out. You loved the silky feeling of her on your fingers. 

Resting your mouth, you pressed the pad of your thumb to Natasha’s clit. You never had your fingers in a pussy other than your own. Wanting to please Natasha, and curious, you changed your angle with each probe. Finally, you found that rubbery patch on her upper wall. 

Her breath hitched and she squeezed around your fingers. You zeroed in, come-hithering your digits against that spot and putting your mouth on her. 

“You’re a natural.” She moaned as she put her hand on the back of your head and pressed herself against your face. You hummed against her pussy, and she clenched her thighs around your head. 

Javy helped hold Natasha’s thighs wide. Still buried between your legs, Javy leaned over top of you and placed a hand on each of her kneecaps. You alternated between sucking on her clit and dipping your tongue into her while he held her open.

“Keep doing it,” Natasha whined, closing her eyes and biting her lip. Suddenly, her eyes shot open. “I want to ride your face. Javy, flip her over,” she commanded. 

No time to react, you yelped as Javy easily rolled you on your back. He slipped back into your pussy and moved at a listless pace. His hands traversed your hips and belly. 

Meanwhile, Natasha demanded you stick out your tongue as she straddled your head while facing Javy. Immediately, she began to slide back and forth against your broad tongue. “Yes! Yes!” she chanted. You could tell she was close to her peak. To help push her closer, Javy put his month over one of her nipples and palmed the other. Your hands moved to grope her ass and spread her wider.

Nat stopped moving, and you and Javy took over. You laved your tongue all over her, sucking her lips, nipping her clit and planting kisses here and there. Natasha gasped when you began to tongue fuck her. She moaned and bounced a little against your face, which was the final piece to her twitching against your mouth.

You continued spreading Natasha and plunging your tongue into her heat. The task proved difficult when Javy guided Natasha’s head between the two of you. She stroked your clit with her tongue and fingers. Meanwhile, Javy began to pick his pace back up, thrusting into you.

The tension in your stomach tightened, and you were on the verge of overstimulated. Your head lolled back on the bed and your back arched as your second orgasm washed over you. Natasha and Javy worked you through it.

About to cum himself, Javy said, “Look at me,” to Natasha. She stared at him with doe eyes as he pulled out of you. A few pumps of his fist, and warm viscous ropes glazed Nat’s face. She gasped as the last drops hit her skin. Javy helped her climb off you, and he encouraged you to clean her up.

She knelt beside you on the bed, palms planted. You swiped two fingers across her bottom lip, before pushing them into her mouth. She licked them cleaned, and then sucked them before giving you your hand back. You then cleaned the rest of her face with your tongue.

Natasha pulled you on top of her and lured you into a makeout session. While the two of you kissed until your lips were numb, Javy snuck away. 

He returned just as you separated. He cleaned you up with warm damp washcloths and planted a kiss on each of you when he was done. He also brought you water with electrolytes. Then, he tossed two of his t-shirts at you while he pulled on boxers. 

The three of you climbed into bed, he and Natasha on either side of you. Natasha rested her head on your chest and lazily drew circles on your thigh under the sheets while you were tucked into Javy’s side. He pressed kisses to your temple every now and then, and his fingers played with Natasha’s hair.

You were nearly asleep when Natasha pressed a couple kisses to your jaw. You moaned. “I don’t think I can do another round tonight.”

“But you want another round? Or two?” Natasha’s tone was hopeful. Your heart fluttered at the thought. Tonight was easily the best sex you had ever had. Why wouldn’t you want to do it again?

Javy’s hand rubbed your shoulder and bicep. “I can speak for both of us when I say we’d love another round. Many rounds.” He kissed your forehead. 

“Let’s sleep on it and discuss over breakfast,” Natasha suggested as she settled back into her spot with her head on your chest. “Javy’s a unicorn in the kitchen.” The three of you giggled before exchanging goodnight kisses and nodding off to sleep.

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[twisted-tales-of-all]

Just as the Kids Predicted

Summary: When the new student mentor catches first-grade teacher Mr. Yang’s eyes, he tries to keep his crush to a minimum. However, when they get too drunk at the annual holiday party and confess their feelings for him as he drives them home, he begins making moves, and a snowstorm during a staff-only workday helps them move things along even faster. Pairing: Yang Jeongin x afab!Reader Genre: fluff, smut, one-shot, collab Tropes: teacher!AU, forced proximity, mutual pining Word Count: 6k Contains: cursing, alcohol consumption, drunken confessions, snowstorm, pet names (babe, baby, love), lots of heavy kissing, sex in a classroom, unprotected sex, handjob, fingering, begging, teasing, praise, temperature play (cold room vs hot bodies), overwhelming orgasm (fem. receiving) A/N: Welcome all to Our first entry to the 16 Days of Smutmas! We hope you've all been enjoying everything so far and will enjoy this piece as well! Also, special thanks to @binniebeams for helping me figure out my banner<3

He never thought that simple things could affect his feelings, but seeing all the kids accepting you as the new mentor brought a smile to his face. Your general kindness to the staff and students alike warms his chest. Your offers of help never fail to cause the butterflies in his stomach to flutter. You affect him in ways the kids use as examples of true love, and he tries his hardest to keep things professional.

And he's done so well so far. Despite the strength of his crush, he breezes through the first four months of the school year without a slip-up. Even when you visit his class daily thanks to little Ethan acting up, he keeps his emotions in check. Even when his first-grade class begins shipping you two together and singing their little songs about your alleged relationship, and he sees you redden at the idea, he doesn't mention how cute you look.

"Morning, Mr. Yang!" Your joyful voice greeting him brings a smile to his face.

"When are you going to use my first name, Miss Y/N?" He teases you by calling you the same way the kids do.

"I'm sorry," You giggle out at his adorable fake irritation, continuing, "It's just a habit after working with the kids all the time."

"I'm starting to think you don't actually know my first name."

You puff your cheeks at his claim, jokingly upset that he'd even think that, but he stands there and waits for you to prove otherwise. To egg him on, you dramatically spin on your heel and walk away. Wondering if his assumption is correct, he follows, calling after you with an underlying disappointment in his voice.

"Oh, come on, Y/N! You didn't actually forget my name, did you?"

Stopping without warning, you turn around to confront him. Before you can speak, however, Jeongin runs into you, unable to stop his momentum quickly enough. You both turn red from embarrassment and stumble over apologies. In your apology, you address him using his first name, so he instantly feels butterflies in his stomach and stops talking.

"See, I didn't forget."

As the first bell rings, he bids you farewell for the time being. He walks over to his class with the joy of a little puppy thanks to the interaction. His class notices and tries to ask about it to distract from the tasks for the day, but he quickly brushes off their questions and starts the class.

Just before the first-grade classes go to lunch, Mr. Yang calls you over to help with a little boy throwing a tantrum. His whole class is so excited when you walk in that you have to scold them, but you look over and find their teacher staring at you as well, making you flustered. Bringing the boy to the far corner to talk, you hear giggles from other students as the teacher tries to remember where he left off. After calming down the boy, Mr. Yang sends them to lunch, leaving the two of you alone.

"Thank you for helping. He always responds better to you for some reason."

"No worries, it's just the job. I'm sorry that your kids get distracted when I come in."

He laughs and waves away your apology, explaining that kids will always be drawn to a new distraction rather than whatever they're learning at the time. Then, he asks whether you'd like to join him for lunch, assuming you don't get another call. You agree, walking with him to the staff lounge to grab your lunch. As you sit together to eat, the vice principal walks in and sees you, using the opportunity to talk to you both about upcoming events.

After reminding you of the schedule for parent conferences and holiday break, she brightens her tone to ask, "And you're both coming to the holiday party, right? It'll be so nice to get all the staff together to celebrate and let loose a little!"

You joke that you can't imagine certain staff members letting loose, even for a party, but you also confirm your planned attendance, "Not sure how long I'll stay, but I'll definitely show up. My car is out of commission right now until I can save up to fix it, so I have to figure out transport first."

Jeongin makes sure to take mental note of your situation before confirming that he'll be there whether he wants to or not, "The other first-grade teachers refuse to let me spend the holidays alone this year, so they'll bring a task force to drag me there if I don't show up."

"They'll drag you?!" Shocked that the teachers who act so nice to you would threaten violence against Jeongin, you can't hold back your reaction.

As the vice principal laughs and leaves the story for Jeongin to explain, she walks away wishing you well. Jeongin sighs at the thought of reliving the story but begins telling it regardless.

"I didn't show up to the holiday party last year. When they asked why, I made the mistake of saying that I've never had a good time at holiday parties before. Now, they're forcing me to join this one to break the cycle."

You can't help but laugh at him as he puts air quotes over the last few words and rolls his eyes after. You come to their defense, claiming, "Well, you don't know until you try. They're just trying to help you have a great time here - don't be too upset with them."

"Not you, too! I guess now I really have to go; even the new mentor is telling me to."

As the warning bell rings, you both finish up lunch. You're pleasantly surprised that you weren't called to a class for the full break, but right as you throw out your trash, you hear your name over the walkie. You respond before wishing Jeongin a good rest of his day.

Since conference week means shorter days for the kids, they get a bit hectic. So, you bounce around between classes all week, and Jeongin only sees you in passing or for a short time when his students act up. Although he can feel the empty feeling in his chest as he misses the small interactions between you, he pushes that feeling down and reminds himself that he'll see you at the holiday party tomorrow.

As the last day before vacation wraps up, you see him in the copy room, so you approach, "Hey, Jeongin, why are you working when vacation is starting?" 

"I have to make sure I have everything ready for when we get back to work. I don't like to leave it for the last minute."

"Oh, that's smart. Get it done now so you can forget about work and have fun tomorrow~!"

"That's my only other stressor. Then, I'll be able to enjoy my break."

Lightly hitting his shoulder for his lame joke brings a cheesy smile to his lips that makes your heart skip a beat. You try to stabilize yourself long enough to tell him that you'll see him tomorrow, but your words don't roll off of your tongue as well as usual. Despite your choppy sentence, Jeongin happily says he'll see you tomorrow, claiming that he's excited to spend some more time with you.

As you go home, you question his phrasing. As you wonder whether he meant the comment towards all of his coworkers or specifically you, Jeongin beats himself up for letting such an obvious flirt leave his lips when he thinks you only see him as a friendly coworker. As you both wrestle with yourself over the conversation, you both land at the same - completely incorrect - conclusion: "We're just friends."

Following this conclusion, you also decide to use alcohol to forget your feelings, and, with the party quickly approaching, it's the perfect opportunity. Drinks with good company always go well. You go to sleep with that idea in mind.

Meanwhile, Jeongin stares at his closet as time ticks by, wondering what the perfect casual party outfit would be. He puts together a few outfits before falling back to the first one he put together - a pair of khaki cargo pants with a simple white turtleneck and a long black coat. He readies the outfit and goes to sleep hoping for a good day.

As you both get ready for the party, you can't get each other off of your mind. Even when you remind yourself it's just a day to drink with friends, his face keeps popping up. Despite his constant reminders that you don't see him the same way, Jeongin can't help picturing how wonderful you'll look.

He arrives right on time to save his coworkers from wondering if he'll show. However, this doesn't save him from constantly checking the door when people arrive, eagerly awaiting your arrival. As he slowly sips from the cup of mystery juice that was shoved into his hands by a fellow teacher, he keeps himself within eyesight of the door at all times, but he didn't even need to.

When you arrive about an hour after the party starts, an eruption of voices welcomes you, "The newbie is here!" "Hi, Y/N!" "Oh Y/N, I'm so glad you're here!" "Ooh, look at Y/N! Who are you dressed all cute for?"

As you laugh off the comments, you curse yourself for choosing the fancier outfit. Despite both of them being similar to what everyone else wears, you should've known they like to tease new employees at get-togethers like this. As Jeongin sees you, he takes a massive gulp from his drink, hoping for the alcohol to keep him from thinking improper thoughts about you.

By the time you reach Jeongin in your circle of hellos, someone already handed you a drink. You take a sip as you approach him, only to find that they threw extra alcohol into your cup. You try to hide the wince from the feeling of drinking such a strong mix, knowing your colleagues will use your reaction to tease you.

"Hi, Y/N. Glad you made it. Did they make your drink too strong? I can go get you a new one, if you want."

"No, no. They want to test me. I saw it in their eyes. I'm not standing down." You tilt the cup towards him slightly as a mini toast before taking another swig and letting the liquid warm your body.

As he watches the effects of the drink flush over your face, he finds that the alcohol is enhancing his feelings for you rather than burying them, so he decides not to drink anymore for the night. This also leaves him the opportunity to be a designated driver for you, since you mention paying for a taxi to get here.

You two spend a lot of time together, with plenty of teasing about being 'the lovebirds' from your coworkers. They also make sure your cup never runs dry, so that they can see what happens when you get properly drunk. Since you know your limits and love playing competitive games, you pace yourself enough to slowly give them their satisfaction, but never fully.

As the party begins dying down, you mention that you should probably call yourself a ride home, but a handful of people get upset about you drunkenly getting into a stranger's car. Silently thanking everyone for giving him an easy way to jump in, Jeongin offers to drop you off at home, stressing that he hasn't had any alcohol in over two hours and that he'd feel better knowing you got home safely. Although you fight a bit at first, you eventually agree, accepting his offer and saying goodbye to the rest of the group.

Despite being mostly stable, Jeongin stays close to you, ready to catch you or offer himself as a crutch if you need one. He opens the passenger-side door and helps you get in, even buckling your seatbelt for you. He's so focused on your safety that he doesn't even register how close he gets to you, but you notice and feel the thumping in your chest quicken. As he walks around to the driver's side, you take a couple of deep breaths in a sad attempt to stabilize your emotions.

As he buckles up and turns on the car, you thank him again for his kindness and enter your address into his GPS.

"Don't even worry. I'd much rather be certain you're safe. I don't know what I'd done if something happened to you tonight. Oh! You live close to me! How convenient!"

You mess with the radio a bit, landing on what might be the only station that isn't playing Christmas music. Even though you don't usually listen to the sappy love songs they play, you've had more than enough holiday cheer today, so you'll take it. Mindlessly, Jeongin sings along with some of the songs, leaving you in awe of his hidden singing talents.

"Wow, I love your singing voice, too." You blurt out, the mix of alcohol and amazement dropping your filter before you can notice.

"Too?" He chuckles, "What else do you love to say it like that?"

With a hazy mind, you forget that you've chosen to hide your feelings and erupt into your confession, "Well, your regular voice, for starters. Your face - especially your smile. Hmm... the way you act with the kids. Oh, even your fun little teases at me. There's a lot to fall for, you know! That's not even scraping the surface."

As you finish, you look up to see that the car has stopped. Looking over at the man next to you, you find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed in your direction. Suddenly, it hits you that you just admitted your feelings so strongly, directly to your crush. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth, but you babble out some apologies for your ramblings, insisting that he can forget everything that you said if it makes things easier.

"You like me?" He asks, an excited tone held back for your confirmation. After you nod, he adds, "I've liked you for a while now! I can stop hiding my feelings now, right? Thank you, fate and alcohol, for this moment!"

As excited as the kids at school when the cafeteria gives them cookies, Jeongin pulls back onto the road to finish the trip to your house with a giddy smile. Although it takes a bit longer for you to register his words, his smile contagiously reaches your lips as you recognize that he reciprocates your feelings.

Arriving in front of your home, you hesitate to leave, but Jeongin quickly unbuckles and rushes to open the car door for you.

"You're so sweet, Mr. Yang." You tease him as you exit the car by using that name again.

He pouts, asking you to call him a better name, "Anything but what the kids call me. Please."

Holding your chin to think up a name, you decide to lean into the lovey-dovey angle, "Okay, Innie~. I'll call you cutely from now on, I promise!"

His cheeks flush at the nickname, and he stumbles over his next words, "Ah, thank you. So, uh... Y/N, shall we call this day one? Er, I mean - do you want to date - er... Can I be your boyfriend?"

Out of embarrassment, he looks off to the side, but you ask him to lean in closer to you so you can whisper something in his ear. When he gets close, you leave a kiss on his cheek and giggle as you make your way to the front door, "Is that a proper answer?"

As soon as you're inside, you start dancing happily around your home in excitement. Jeongin smiles brightly the whole drive home and similarly begins excitedly flailing around in the comfort of his house. You both feel childish for feeling so strongly about the start of a new relationship, but neither of you cares since the overwhelming joy feels so great. When Jeongin gets to bed, he faces a bout of insomnia that he hasn't had since childhood - he's so excited for what's to come that he can't fall asleep. Even though he still has nearly a full week before the staff prep day - and he can't even be sure that you'll be there, since you might not have anything to prepare as a mentor.

As young, blossoming love tends to do, Jeongin keeps you on his mind all week long. He can only hope he's taken over your mind in a similar fashion, as the smallest things remind him of you out of nowhere. All sorts of questions come to mind: Does Y/N like sweets? What music is her favorite? Does she have any phobias? Do they prefer calling or texting?

Suddenly, while preparing a smoothie that begs him to wonder about your favorite drinks, Jeongin's phone dings. It isn't his usual text tone, so he grows interested immediately and unlocks his phone to find a message on the school's app. Since vacation started, only messages marked as urgent ping him, so he's even more confused. However, he can't help but laugh as he opens the inbox to see your name. Your email immediately apologizes for surpassing his DND protocols, but it continues on about how you'd like to thank him for driving you home and not having another form of contact. You leave him your phone number, suggesting that texting will be more convenient. Since the work emails are monitored, you leave no indication of anything beyond a friendly coworker relationship, but Jeongin smirks as he finishes reading it. He quickly adds your number to his contacts, saving your name with a heart in the notes.

Thinking up a witty first message, Jeongin lands on referencing your drunken confession: Couldn't wait all week to find out more things that'll make you fall for me?

Within five minutes, he sees you reply, snarkily asking whether he wants to wait all week before talking to his new girlfriend. He has to admit, he might've gone crazy if he went all week thinking about you without being able to reach you. Now that the option is there, he's quite relieved. Especially as the text banter between you two shifts to include compliments and flirts. You lay on your bed, kicking your feet the whole time; His smile never fades as he leans into the phone so intently after every new message.

The day passes quicker as you occupy each other's time, and he nearly forgets to ask about the prep day. When you say that you need to sleep soon, he quickly asks: Oh, before you go, will you be using prep day? I wanted to know whether a beauty would grace my presence on Friday :P

You roll your eyes at his comment before explaining that you sadly do need to prepare more disciplinary notes and good behavior cards, so you will be there. His heartbeat speeds up when he reads it. Giddy at the idea of seeing you again without the kids around, he responds by expressing his happiness and wishing you a good night.

Although you text each other throughout the day, it isn't taking over your lives like yesterday's conversation. You both have plans, so the messages are slow and sporadic, but reading every message brings a smile to Jeongin's face, and his friends point it out quickly. Since they've been friends for over a decade, these friends know Jeongin's cues instantly, even though he initially tries denying their teasing claims that he's finally dating.

"Come on, Jeongin. There ain't no way you can hide that smile. Out with it; who is it?"

With a sigh, he gives in, "You remember how I told you that we got a new mentor for the kids?"

"Told you he liked her!"

"Oh, shut up. Let him talk! We finally got the baby dating, it's a big moment."

"Baby? Big moment? Come on, it's not that big of a deal. They confessed while drunk, and now we're together. That's all. Nothing big."

"Nothing big? Dude, if you got a runken confession, that means she was thinking of you a lot."

"Probably kept it hidden for a while, too."

Taken aback by his friends' thoughts, Jeongin flushes as he entertains the idea of you having a crush on him for a while. Maybe they're right; maybe you liked each other early on and kept hiding it from the other person.

"Mommy! Mommy, look! That's my teacher! Mr. Yang! Hi, Mr. Yang!"

Quickly greeting his student and their mother, Jeongin's mind drifts away from the thoughts of you for a moment, only for the student to bring you up.

"Where's Miss Y/N? Are you not together today?"

As his friends try to contain their laughter, he explains that you aren't always together, even at school. As the kid dives into how you're together whenever you can be, Jeongin stumbles over trying to explain. Luckily, the mother makes up an excuse to pull them away, apologetically waving to Jeongin as they leave. Once out of earshot, his friends let their laughter erupt.

"Dude, even the kids ship y'all! That's so crazy!"

The rest of the meet-up consists of catching up on everything, including a massive focus on the relationship. It wears him out, so he falls asleep almost immediately after lying down. When he wakes, he quickly pulls on a casual outfit fit for the freezing weather to prepare his class materials.

He arrives and greets a few coworkers on his way to the copy machines. Walking into the room, he sees you alone, with your back to the door. Passing you, he slides a hand into the small of your back. You tense up, not knowing who touched you, but you relax when you see his face next to you.

"Morning, Innie. Do you have a lot to prepare?" Although you keep your focus on the machine, you quickly turn on the cute tone and nickname for him, which warms his heart on this cold morning.

"Not too much. I finished most of it before break. Only a few more copies and some work in switching up the classroom decor. How about you, babe?"

You quickly look around to make sure nobody heard him before lightly hitting his shoulder, "Not at work! I don't want them to tease us yet! I don't have much left to do. I can help you organize your room if you'd like."

"You sure you don't want to head home? It'll probably be really cold in the room since the heater doesn't run over break, and I heard that it's supposed to snow today. You're okay driving in it?"

"Oh, don't worry. I don't really think it'll be much snow, and I've handled snow plenty of times before."

As you both finish up in the workroom, he grabs his papers and leads you to his classroom. The clouds in the sky look thicker and darker than earlier, but you don't pay it much mind. Instead, after checking your surroundings for listeners, you joke that his breath shows more since he's clearly the hotter of the two of you.

"I can make your breath show clearer if you want to try me." He rebuts, making your brain freeze at the thought.

He unlocks the room and holds the door open for you as the lightest bit of snow begins falling. He quickly runs through the plans for the change but looks at you and loses focus. Even all bundled up in the cold, you look so cute that he can't resist.

"Can I kiss you? You look so adorable."

After you nod, he holds your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. Even though people talk about sparks, this feels nothing like that. Instead, it's warm, comforting, and welcoming. However, as it continues and you snake your hands around him, the kiss blends into an urge for more. By the time he pulls away, your body has heated up in anticipation, with your breath pooling thickly into the air as you try to pace it back to normal.

"Told you I could make it clearer." He snarkily jokes, trying to move his focus off of his urges to learn you fully and completely.

Suddenly, something thumps against the door, making you both jump and separate. Jeongin approaches the window to see the cause, finding a snowstorm brewing outside and a pile of snow against the door.

"Uh, Y/N, how long were we kissing?"

You look at the clock to find that its hands have jumped quite a bit, "Maybe 15 or 20 minutes? Why?"

You rush to the door to look outside, but you can't push it open. Your eyes widen as you look at your boyfriend, wondering what to do now.

"We're stuck."

"Fuck. I have some snacks and water, but I don't know how long the storm will last."

With the snow blocking the exit, the room grows colder due to the lack of insulation. You bring out your phone to check how long the storm is predicted to last.

"It's a dead zone. I saw it as a blessing since the kids can't play on their phones in class, but it's the opposite now. And wi-fi is shut off for the vacation to save money, so we just have to wait."

He begins pacing as you curl into yourself on one of the desks, trying to get as much warmth as you can. Noticing you shivering, he stops pacing to offer his coat. You decline, insisting he'll just get cold instead.

"Well, I can hold you instead, then. Is that okay?" He holds his arms open as he waits for your response.

Although you find it a bit embarrassing to accept so quickly, you pull him around you before you can offer a proper verbal response. Whether the urge for warmth or the desire to move forward with your boyfriend drives your quick acceptance is unclear, but the feeling of being in his arms warms you in both your body and soul.

"Thank you, Innie. This really helps."

You settle with your head on his chest, becoming acutely aware of his racing heartbeat. However, he's far too distracted by the fact that you pulled him in between your legs to think about that. A tent begins to form in his pants, and he thanks everything for you being far enough back on the desk that it only hits the material and not your thigh. His luck runs out quickly though, as you become uncomfortable leaning forward and scoot into a more comfortable position. Feeling the warmth hit your thigh, you quickly joke about it.

"You sure are warm there. Share it with me, why don't 'ya?"

Looking up, you watch his face quickly turn bright red at your comment, and you feel his member twitch at your words. Unsure of the meaning behind your words, he looks down and meets your eyes. The lust in your eyes is anything but subtle, and he catches it as soon as he looks.

"Is that really what you want? You want me to warm you up more? The hug isn't enough?" The more he speaks, the more he teases, but all he wants is to confirm your consent.

When you lock your lips with his, it shocks him, but it answers his questions well enough. He lets you lead as you snake your hands under his shirt, the sensation of your cold fingers melting in the warmth of his back egging him on more than either of you expected. He deepens the kiss by gripping your hips, massaging small circles into the soft flesh with his thumbs. Instinctively, you grind your hips, but he holds you still, not wanting to move past the make-out session yet. As you melt into each other, the snow outside has already settled, and the storm quieted. But you'd never know - not when you're both distracted, with the heat of your actions clouding up the window and obscuring the view outside into a blur of grey and white.

The blur of your bodies becomes harder to distinguish where one ends and the other starts as you reach into his pants and set him free. As the air hits him, he winces, but the warmth of your hand quickly combats the cold air. You stroke his length as you continue to kiss, feeling his breath catch in his throat before he breaks the kiss, his head falling back as the sensations of your handjob overwhelm him. Your lips fall to his exposed neck, making him melt further into your touch. As you feel his body slowly lower itself, you stop and tell him to get ahold of himself or lay on the desk himself. He quickly puts his dick back into his pants in response.

Eager to prove himself, he grabs your arms and places them around his shoulders before tapping your legs to get you to wrap them around his waist. He lifts you up and brings you to his desk - one more solid, bigger, and a bit taller. Although you expect him to place you on top of it, he stops a bit before it, letting you down to stand leaning against it. He places a quick peck on your lips before turning you around to lean over it. He kneels down, pulling your leggings down with him. With a hand around you to keep you from leaning too far forward, he uses his other hand to tease you through the thin fabric of your underwear. You cover your mouth to hide the sounds you find embarrassing, but it only makes Jeongin more eager to hear them. Moving your panties to the side, his fingers rub between your folds, using your slick to lube up his digits. Slowly, he inserts a finger, curling it up once it's fully inside. Your sounds become harder to hide as he hits the right places, egging him on. He pulls it out completely, adding another finger as he enters again. The stretch of your walls earns him a barely-muffled moan. He continues moving those two fingers, feeling your body react as you rock your hips against his hand.

Kissing the soft skin on your backside, he coos, "Does it feel good, baby? You just need my fingers to become a total mess?"

Unable to form a full sentence, you simply whine in protest, with one word leaving your lips, "More~."

"Y/N, that's not how we ask kindly. Let's use our words properly, now, love." He halts his motions to let you speak.

"Jeongin, I need more. Please, can you fuck me?" You beg, your breathing heavy in between your words.

"Since you asked so nicely."

Removing his fingers, he undoes his pants, pulling his pants and underwear down together. Holding himself at the base, he runs the tip between your folds, teasing you a bit more. You beg him to put it in, but he doesn't listen. Instead, he rubs his length in between your folds, coating himself in your juices. He ignores your whines and pleas, taking his time to make sure it'll feel good and as pain-free as possible for you both. Although you're truly glad he knows how to prepare properly, your lust wins out, begging and bucking your hips in an attempt to rush him along.

When he finally feels ready, a silence pairs itself with him lining himself up as you both hold your breath in anticipation. As his tip passes through your entrance, a light pain surges through your body as he stretches you out. He praises you as he continues, bottoming out after a while.

"Good job, babe. I'll wait like this. Tell me when you're ready for me to move. You take me so well. You're so warm and tight, hugging me so nicely."

"Jeongin, less talking, more moving." Your lust still finding its way out on top, you know you won't be satisfied until he moves; the pain will fade into the pleasure.

"Are you s-?"

You grind back against him, cutting his words short. Finally taking the hint, he pulls back and thrusts back into you roughly. With your walls tightening around him the whole time, he tries to focus on something other than the sensations so that the experience lasts longer for you both. His grunts fill the room first, louder than you expect. When your moans join, it brings a cocky smile to his lips and some extra determination. He moves faster, hitting all the right places without trying.

"Jeongin, yes!" Just like that babe~ keep going!" The words fall mindlessly from your mouth, encouraging him well as you near your climax.

"Are you close, Y/N? Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock."

The grit in his voice sends you over the edge, and your orgasm overtakes you so strongly that you nearly collapse. Your legs shake as the sensations ripple through you, somehow desperately forgetting how to hold up the rest of your body. Your vision goes white for a moment before returning to you as a blurry mess of color and motion. Noticing the strong reaction, your boyfriend stops his movements and holds you tightly to keep you steady and aware.

In a whisper to limit the toll on your senses, he coaxes you through it, "I'm right here, Y/N. You did so well, and now you can rest and relax. We can lie down for a bit to calm down, okay? Let me pull your pants up for you - there we go. Now, carefully, let's move back from the desk and lie down."

You don't even register when he removed himself from you. Usually, the emptiness strikes you as soon as someone pulls out, but your orgasm must've been too strong for you to notice. As your vision slowly refocuses, you notice that he's draped his coat over you as you lie there together. When you try to move it to cover you both, he gently stops you.

"Shh. Stay here like this for a bit, love. We have time, so you can take as much rest as you want. I'll be right here next to you."

"I wasn't getting up, Innie. I just wanted to share the coat-blanket with you."

"I'm warm enough. I just did a full workout, after all." He pets your head as he reassures you.

A thought pops into your mind that makes you sit up quickly despite your previous statement, "Did you get to finish?"

He shakes his head, "But it's okay. You seemed really overwhelmed, so I wanted to make sure you were okay. It felt really good; I don't need to finish when I had that good of a time."

Although you fight with him over it for a bit, he eventually convinces you to lie back down with him. You cuddle until you nearly fall asleep. To wake yourself back up, you get up to check the door. It's still difficult to open, but you manage to crack it open a bit. Jeongin brings you inside and slides through the opening, and you watch him shovel the snow out of the way with his hands. When he gets the door fully open, you greet him with a kiss before holding his ice-cold hands in yours, trying to warm them up for him.

"The kids will get a kick out of this story."

"Hell, I think they would've tried to plan this themselves if fate hadn't."

#cultofdionysusnet #16 days of smutmas 2023 #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids i.n #stray kids jeongin #yang jeongin #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz smut #skz i.n #skz jeongin #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin smut #i.n fluff #i.n smut

[sleepingdeath-light]

myers’ girl ; 18

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 1048

content ; sexually explicit content, public sex, vaginal sex, wall sex, rough sex, choking, possessive sex

fandom ; halloween / slashers

pairing ; michael myers (any) x cis female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Being known as ‘Michael Myer’s girl’ brought with it a great many unique experiences, both good and bad. Good, like people going to great lengths to avoid you on the street which meant that you had more than your fair share of personal space to do with whatever you wish. Bad, like the cashiers in the local shops refusing to look at you or otherwise acknowledge you as you buy what you need, making things much more uncomfortable than they ever ought to be. Good, like feeling safe no matter where you went or who you were with because the only killer in town was your boyfriend and nobody wanted to piss of the infamous ‘Shape of Haddonfield’. Bad, like people leaving all sorts of defamatory and insulting graffiti all over the five-times-repainted walls of your home: ‘whore’, ‘traitor’, ‘cunt’, and, of course, ‘Myers’ Girl’ (usually misspelled in a slightly different way each time it was written). 

Just calling your experience a mixed bag would be the understatement of the century.

But so long as you had your Michael by your side you found yourself (mostly) unbothered by the behaviour of your previously chipper and chatty friends and neighbours. He was all you really needed, after all… even if sometimes he thought you needed to be convinced of that yourself, which lead to some of the most enjoyable but mortifying moments in your relationship.

Moments like this.

—————

Your position was precarious to say the very least and had you been able to form a coherent thought you might have just complained about it: the palms of your hands were pressed flat against the spray painted, white panelled front wall of your house, the decorative wood rough and damp beneath your skin as you tried hopelessly to try and brace yourself against the slippery, splintered surface; your legs were spread as widely as they could go with Michael’s heavy boots placed on the inner side of each foot to keep them in place, the tattered remains of your knife slashed underwear and jeans just barely hanging on around your knees, exposing everything from your thighs to your midsection to the cool autumn air (and anyone who might walk past your home); one of his large, calloused hands was wrapped around your throat, thumb rhythmically caressing over one side whilst the rest of his fingers periodically tightened and relaxed, giving you just enough room to breathe whilst making it abundantly clear what he could do if he got the impulse; his cock, thick and long and hot, was pounding into your dripping pussy from behind, hips slamming so hard against your ass that had it not been for his harsh grip on your body you’d have surely gone flying whilst he filled and stretched you to the brink over and over again.

It was mortifying, humiliating, degrading, to be fucked so primally against your own home, the only thing separating you from the rest of your neighbourhood being some tall bushes and that feeble fence you really ought to replace. One neighbour going on a midday stroll away from being caught with your pants around your ankles and a dick stuffed inside of you whilst you drooled and whimpered like a bitch in heat — if they could even see you with Michael’s imposing figure looming over you, that is.

Not that that would make your reputation any worse, being ‘Myers’ Girl’ had already murdered your social life more than any act of public lewdness ever could, but it was more about the principle.

Then again you were much too distracted to bother thinking of anything beyond his hands on your body or his length stretching your cunt beyond what you thought possible. Too caught up in the feeling of that large hand wrapped around your throat as it tightened, and relaxed, and tightened, and relaxed, a warning so deliberate that even your pleasure-fogged mind couldn’t miss it. Too preoccupied with the wet slap of his skin colliding with your own as he pumped that thick shaft into your pussy with so much roughness and speed that you felt less like a partner and more like a glorified cock sleeve. Too engrossed with way his other hand groped at your chest and waist, keeping you in place and exploring what belongs to him at the same time whilst only making your mind fog worse and worse as you started to mount your peak. Too far gone to think as you lost yourself to the sound of his voice, rough and scratchy and quiet from lack of use, as he panted and grunted under that mask of his, the well-worn latex just barely brushing against your ear with each and every thrust.

It was too much and yet precisely what you needed, with every movement and sound pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, finally, something snapped and you were sent spiralling into a climax so intense that you’d have surely collapsed to the floor had it not been for Michael’s strong grip on your body. Coming so hard that your vision whited out and your senses were so overwhelmed that all you could do was call out for him, too far gone to notice or care how loud you were being as he continued to fuck you through your climax.

Not even altering his roughness as he went, not caring to make it easier on you as you started to straddle the line between overwhelming pleasure and overstimulating pain and your moans and whimpers turned into sobs and gasps. Only slightly loosening his grip on your neck to let you breathe better when you started to pant and wheeze for air. Only barely slowing down when you started to tremble and quake beneath him, giving you just enough change to stop you from being in too much pain without compromising on his own wants too much — but he didn’t stop, not for more than a second at a time, anyway.

This was about showing you who you belonged to, after all, and Michael Myers wouldn’t be content until the only thing you could say was his name — and until you were screaming it so loudly that even your farthest neighbours knew how proud you were to be his girl.

#sleepingdeath #minors dni #minors fuck off #minors don’t touch #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #female reader #female reader smut #slasher smut #slasher x reader #smut #halloween x reader #halloween smut #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut

[mischievous-piltovan]

Of Atlas and Sisyphus (NSFW)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader Themes: Romance, Fluff, NSFW, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn. Word Count: Roughly 8000 words Synopsis: You're a tech-savvy Spider that landed a position in Miguel's lab by tinkering with your gizmo. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep a fondness for the man for taking hold, so you've been trying your best to manage your crush with the tools at hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel has been dealing with a very similar problem.

An accident during a mission led both of you to face these feelings.

Or

Two headstrong and emotionally constipated idiots can't communicate their feelings despite being over 30. 

Trigger Warnings/TWs: blood, wound, piercing damage, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, miscommunication, emotionally constipated idiots, a bit of power imbalance because boss x underling (but ever so slightly), masturbation.

A/N: this started a silly NSFW one-shot but then I needed some yearning to make the sex part feel powerful and now we're here. Oops. Also I was VERY dramatic in my writing, pardon my self-indulgence.

A/N²: Reader's special Spider powers are linked to fire. She uses highly flammable webbing that conducts flames to burn her enemies (without killing them). The source of fire are her palms - they naturally conduct heat. So it's like: she shoots her web from the underside of her wrists and grips the ropes to light them on fire once they latch on an enemy. Anyways, just to clarify. Huge thank you to my lovely beta-readers @uniquedeerwitch @tantei14 and @zaunitearchives for lurking_kitty every single entry on the Discord Server. Part 1 | Part 2 (soon)

「Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the hill everyday so he could become worthy of sharing the weight of the sky with Atlas. Atlas carried the firmament on his shoulders to protect Sisyphus from the monster his plight kept caged - himself.」

"I expected more from you," Miguel said, looking down at you from his lab's platform. His arms crossed over his chest in a commanding instance.

"Miguel, I caught the Anomaly." You protested, annoyance seeping through your words.

"But you almost didn't," he retorted "Had Lyla not warned you, the Anomaly would have escaped your feeble attempt at securing it. You were careless."

"I had everything under control" you rebuked through gritted teeth. 

"That wound you sustained begs to differ" Miguel responded, cocking an eyebrow at you. You looked away with an exhale, one hand coming up instinctively to cover the bloodied tear at the side of your suit, right below your rib cage. Had it not been for your accelerated healing factor, the gash the Anomaly left on you would still be very much open and bleeding. At your lack of response, Miguel turned back to his console. "I will accompany you on your next few missions to make sure it doesn't repeat itself."

"Oh the fuck you will," you snapped back at him "It was one mistake, O'Hara! I don't need chaperoning!"

"Until you prove to me you don't, you will have it" He simply responded, his focus on the many screens in front of him. You opened your mouth to protest but gave up before any words came out, there was no point in trying to argue with Miguel. With a loud exhale, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the dark chamber.

As soon as your steps could no longer be heard, Lyla popped up next to Miguel.

"Miguel, I think this has been going on long enough" She stated, looking at where you disappeared.

"Nothing's been going on" He retorted without missing a beat, his eyes still glued to the monitors in front of him.

"Your bio readings say otherwise," She jabbed, bringing up a second screen next to the one Miguel was working on. He looked at it from the corner of his eyes and didn't take much to notice what Lyla was referring to - his heart-rate, oxytocin and cortisol levels were all higher than his usual. He sighed, closing his eyes. At that reaction, she concluded, "It's been like that for a while, but it gets worse whenever you interact with her."

Miguel took a deep breath before responding "It's complicated."

"Lashing out on her won't solve anything" Lyla's words stung. They cemented the guilt he started feeling as soon as you turned around and left. He lost control yet again, a dreadful habit that has been putting down roots whenever you were involved.

"I know," was all he could muster. He could try to explain why he did it, how watching you get hurt stirred the beast inside of him, how he had to fight to keep it chained down yet again as it tried to claw its way out, how the amount of effort to do so has been increasing as its constant struggles had been wearing down its shackles, how on top of that he had to act as your leader, how this whole circus left him with little to no mental capacity to anything else, how his attitude was but an outcome rather than a thought out action. But in the end there was no justifying it, he was wrong.

"You care a lot about her, don't you," Lyla spoke in a softer tone. Miguel took a long breath before responding.

"You could say that."

Miguel had been torn about you for quite a while now. He considered himself intelligent, especially when it came to Genetics and Bio-engineering, but he would be lying if he said he could fully understand his own feelings sometimes. Let alone be aware of them, Lyla was the one who figured it out for him when she noticed a pattern in his biological readings whenever he came into contact with you.

At first he denied it even to himself, rationalizing the good feelings he had towards you as being a matter of fact. You were exceptionally capable, had a formidable intellect and could perform your missions with ease (seconded only by Jess and himself), he felt he could count on you and that in itself was a novelty to him. Sure, you were very easy on the eyes too but he had felt attracted to other Spiders in the Society before, it wouldn't be a first.

But then all thoughts start circling back to you, despite not necessarily having anything to do with you in the first place. Like how he'd wonder what kind of food you preferred whenever he sat down to eat or what season you liked more when he noticed the air getting crisper. He'd start noticing smaller things about you, charming details that encapsulated who you were at your best, like the melodic cadence in your voice whenever you were close to finishing a project at the lab or how small your hands were compared to his. 

The last straw came one day on a particular slow morning at HQ, when he went to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and an empanada. He heard the sound of your laughter all the way across the room and the sight that greeted him upon turning towards you was like a punch to the gut: you casually talking to a male Spider while he rested a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly there was anger, dread and a sense of possessiveness overcoming him all at once.

And then there was the 'oh'.

That was the push the metaphorical askew tower he had been piling his conceptions of you needed to finally click into place, every piece neatly connecting together at the same axis - his undeniable infatuation with you.

That's when everything started tumbling down - he didn't know how to navigate these murky waters. He foolishly let it grow unattended, unpruned and now it grew to the point it consumed him. Your presence used to soothe him, now it drove him insane - as if the slow burn of a growing fondness he didn't know he nursed through months blasted him all at once, engulfing him in an overwhelming inferno shaped like you. 

His desire was the very next thing that assaulted him, overwhelming his thoughts. He didn't know if it was because of his spliced genes or because he had a tendency to neglect his more primal needs in the face of work, or if it was a combination of both. The matter of fact was - his body screamed for you and he couldn't just ignore it. Your presence at the lab was enough to send him into a spiral in need of release, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. Even just trying to concentrate on his work was futile, your scent plagued him and for the first time in a while he loathed his modified genes that heightened his senses. He lost count of the amount of times he fucked his hand in pursuit of some relief, but that reprieve wouldn't last long. Soon he was snatching whatever personal belongings you left in the lab to bring it to his nose while he tugged at his cock.

All of that because the very idea of offering this onslaught of feelings to you felt wrong. Not simply because of the obvious power imbalance your respective positions in the Society bestowed upon you, but because of who you both were. Despite technically being a Spider-Man thanks to (some) of his powers, he was anything but; Everyday he was faced with countless joyful rays of sunshine, glowing around HQ in the form of different variants of Spider-People, a stark contrast to everything he was. There was no hero in Miguel O'Hara, the fire that burned within him was not the cozy glow of a hearth, but the destructive power of infernal flames; everything about him was demonic, from his talons to his venomous fangs and blood-red eyes. He'd literally take shots to keep his DNA in check as to not lose what little humanity he had left.

He was corruption, ruination… And you didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that.

But the demon within him desired you, lusted for you, and Miguel gave everything he had to keep it sealed away inside of him. And of course this took its toll, to sustain this control Miguel had to completely change his approach towards you, distancing himself as much as he could while maintaining a somewhat professional facade. Yet, the demon would jump at every opportunity to seize control, and he'd often find himself gravitating towards you and the warm glow of the dynamic you cultivated in the lab, only to pull back as soon as he noticed his short-comings. 

Miguel yawned, rubbing his tired eyes as he felt the strain of overwork settling in. He grabbed his mug, taking the last sip of his already cold coffee as he checked the time - 3 in the morning. He groaned, there was still plenty to be done before he could even consider calling it a night. Dejected, he grabbed his empty thermal carafe and made his way to the cafeteria to fill it with more coffee. 

However, before he could reach the Lab door, his nostrils were assaulted with a very familiar fragrance - your scent. On pure impulse, Miguel turned on his heel and followed the aroma. Yes, your scent usually lingered a while after you called it a day, but this was different, it was stronger. Soon, he found out the reason why - you were still in the lab.

Resting your head on your crossed arms atop your work station, you slept peacefully as your body gently rose and fell to the rhythm of your breathing. Miguel noticed the project you were working on earlier that day unceremoniously shoved to the side with a myriad of tools in a messy array near it. You must have dozed-off in the middle of working on it.

He took the time to watch you, to commit the scene to memory. As creepy as he felt, there weren't a lot of opportunities he could indulge in just admiring you from afar without worrying about it setting-off your Spider-Senses. Right now in the calm hours preceding the break of dawn, he had you all to himself. 

You looked beautiful. 

His heart ached with yearning. Your scent in the air added to how serene you looked and his own exhaustion made him desire nothing more than to hold you, to nuzzle your neck and savor your musk as he carried you to the nearest bed only to have a decent night of sleep in each other's arms. To wake-up the next day greeted with your adorable disheveled self in pure domestic bliss. To kiss your puffy lips good morning as he caressed your face, and maybe letting wandering hands escalate it to something more… lecherous.

Miguel left the carafe on the nearest surface as he approached you. Would you like that? Would you give him the privilege of indulging in your most vulnerable state? Would you give yourself to him as he wished to give himself to you? Maybe the only thing keeping it from happening was a leap of faith…

He hovered his hand above your shoulder. Maybe he should do it, all it would take was waking you up and talking to you. Maybe just going straight to physical contact, grabbing your hands in his and pouring everything out in the open. Or taking the risk and kissing you while gently cradling your face. There was no one at HQ right now, even Lyla was busy taking care of surveillance for him, the moment was ripe with opportunity. 

But then you let out a little whimper in your sleep, disrupting the steady rhythm of your breathing and Miguel flinched. The shock was enough to snap him out of his daze and he quickly withdrew, harshly reprimanding himself. He had foolishly loosened the leash a bit and that was enough to stir the beast inside of him, as it growled ready to pounce. He had to get away from you.

Miguel rushed out of the lab as fast and stealthy as he could. Once he steadied himself, he sent Lyla to wake you up and send you home. He returned to the lab only after making sure you were gone.

He passed by your empty workstation briefly only to retrieve his carafe, and was greeted with a forgotten article of clothing - your scarf. He grabbed it on a whim and was overcome with an urge to keep it. He knew he shouldn't, but the scarf was intensely doused with your scent and the demon inside of him was agitated. He kept it against his best judgment, it was to keep the monster at bay, he justified. 

That night Miguel shamelessly defiled the scarf, keeping one side bunched up against his nose as he used the other extremity to furiously tug at his cock. 

He watched helplessly as his relationship with you crumbled, all his own doing for the sole purpose of protecting you from himself. The resentment came in the form of him being a dickhead and the target was more often than not you. Today's mission debriefing just accentuated this reality. He just hoped you would understand.

—-----------------

You didn't. 

1… 2… 3… 4…

You counted your reps as you hit the lowest point of your deep squats, inhaling through your nose as you descended, exhaling through your mouth as you ascended, the barbell heavy on your back. In your frustration, you decided to hit the gym area of the Strength and Conditioning Sector at the Society right after you left Miguel's lab to try channeling it into something productive.

You made sure to perform some first aid to your wound, wrapping your torso in bandages to protect it. You hoped that your self-administration of medical attention paired with your accelerated healing would suffice. Up until now, it was working just fine.

5… 6… 7… 8…

The Strength and Conditioning Sector was empty as it usually was at this time - early evening. It gave you the freedom to keep the lights as low as possible, so you could let the soothing image of Nueva York's skyline at night in through the tall glass panels. It helped you calm down.

Today it wasn't doing much to cool your jets though.

9… 10… 11… 12…

This was all so frustrating… He was so frustrating… After all you've done for the cause, after all you've done for him, this is your reward - being treated like you're faulty wiring, an unturning cog. Leave it to boy genius Miguel O'Hara to treat his team as mere assets instead of people.

The amount of effort you've been putting lately to not fuck up, to surgically cover all your bases has been gargantuan, of course you'd end up faltering. You should've known your energy would start running out at some point, but ignoring your body signals and underestimating the impact of prolonged periods of time neglecting your needs, all for the sake of efficiency and productivity had basically become second nature. Add that to the fact that Miguel has had his eyes trained on your every movement lately, it was a matter of time when you'd slip and he'd catch it.

All of that because you were far too stubborn to simply confront him as to why he started being an ass out of the blue.

13… 14… 15… 16… 

Not to mention how all this commitment was relayed towards a cause you didn't fully believe in - Miguel's Canon Event Theory. Of course you wanted to help people, - you were a Spider-Woman after all - and working towards assisting as many people as possible was definitely ideal, but the CET wasn't that. The amount of holes and questions unanswered bothered you, gaps that could very much disprove the Theory altogether.The fact that all Spider Society's collective effort was channeled towards it was troublesome at best.

You brought it up to Miguel after your first few months as a member of the Society, but he just shrugged it off. As time went by you began to understand - it wasn't a theory, but a hypothesis. A hypothesis born from the crippling guilt of a man who lost everything. An ill-rationalization of his misfortune that he used as a coping mechanism. 

And then you began to understand him. And that's where your problems started.

17… 18… 19… 20…

Miguel O'Hara - tall, handsome man, with an intellect to die for. Miguel O'Hara whose sharp cheekbones and dry sarcasm pierced you every time you interacted, even more than his fangs could. Miguel O'Hara who, under all that brooding persona had a sad, lonely individual who would surface briefly in the fleeting moments of stillness you two shared. Miguel O'Hara who had your heart between his talons and he didn't even know it.

It all started after your first day at HQ. As soon as you got back to your own dimension, you sat down at your desk with your shiny new watch and your handy tool box and began disassembling the portal device. You were mesmerized with Nueva York and the technology the year 2099 held and, as an Engineer, you were dying to get a better grasp at its intricacies. After you were happy with your tinkering, you reassembled it back together as if nothing ever happened, completely unaware that the device held a security system that had already sounded an alert back at HQ.

The next day you were promptly summoned to Miguel's Lab. After a good scolding that made you believe you'd certainly be kicked out, you were surprised to be offered a position as Miguel's assistant in his Lab. The prowess you showed in dealing with a technology so removed from your own reality proved him you were the person he was looking for - turns out having to deal with broken watches from the numerous of daily casualties every day was taking too much time and effort and he was in need of someone to handle this menial task for him. Golden chance to dive even deeper in this new technology, of course you accepted.

Big mistake.

The days passed and what started with an acknowledgement you definitely found him attractive, turned into a little crush. Your stupid lizard brain began craving his attention and you'd find yourself panicking a bit whenever you two interacted. 

That's when you decided you needed to nip this feeling to the bud.

You used your gathered knowledge of 2099's technology and the tools at your disposal to develop and build your own project - a device to automate the process of fixing watches. 

"It's simple: it assesses the type of damage in this scanner, sending the information to its own database, while also devising the best solution to each case" you said as you showcased the device to Miguel and Lyla "It then either remove and replace the damaged part OR discards the whole watch, amalgamating and recycling the materials to produce a new one entirely."

"Impressive!" Lyla responded. Miguel only hummed, his eyes slowly scanning the machine in front of him. You had hoped that by automating your job you'd no longer be needed in the Lab and thus would be able to distance yourself from Miguel and prevent any feelings from further blossoming. 

Turns out that the best employee is seldom rewarded with more work.

"I have some projects that are… stalled at the moment," Miguel said after a while "It would be very beneficial to have someone to bounce ideas off of some of them."

It would not be long before the silly infatuation grew into raw and unapologetic love, and you hated every second of it.

You hated how he made you feel like a teenager in love again, the very prospect of seeing him filling you with a mixture of elation and anxiety. How you could easily spot him in the crowd, proof that your subconscious was actively seeking him. Despised how your gaze would automatically land on his back whenever you got distracted from whatever you were working on at the lab  (and you would mentally slap yourself back to work once you realized it). Detested how the most innocent of touches, such as the accidental grazing of his hand on yours sent bolts of electricity through your whole body, making you yearn for more.

And you'd think there was some respite once you got to the safety of your home, away from the very source of your torment… Yet, it was in the stillness of familiarity that the risqué side of this infatuation took hold. Your mind wandered to him, wondering how it would feel to touch his bare skin, to trace every curve and crevice of his toned body massaging the stress of the day away. Would he enjoy it? Would he let out little sighs or loudly groan as you worked the knots away? Oh, how you'd like to help him relax, gently coaxing him to release all that pent-up tension in you.

Your hand would snake down the hem of your underwear almost on its own as the thoughts became more salacious. The whole ordeal only made facing him the next day even harder.

Miguel O'Hara had the power to turn you into the most pathetic version of yourself without moving a muscle. And for that he could never find out about any of this, the very thought utterly mortifying.

So you decided to pour all your feelings, all that love you harbored for him into the one thing you could do about it - assisting him. Becoming worthy of sharing the weight of the Multiverse he carried on his broad shoulders. You studied the multiverse in all its intricacies to the point of proposing viable solutions to eventual conundrums. You used your newfound knowledge of 2099's tech to hone your own equipment and even underwent an ongoing restricted training routine and diet in order to optimize your body for better performance during missions. All of that to help make his life easier, if only for a fraction.

But that alone couldn't shield you from the roller-coaster that was navigating the pull of your feelings against the pull of your rational mind. On a particularly difficult day, you reluctantly decided to ask Lyla to help you on a (non-ideal and very unhealthy) solution you had been marinating in the back of your head for a while.

"Lyla, do you have a minute?" You called out for the AI on your watch. Her little orange sprite appeared instantly.

"What 's up?" She asked cheerfully. You swallowed hard before speaking again.

"I need your help with something," you said in a whisper. Miguel wasn't around, but you decided to be extra careful all the same "But Miguel can't find out."

"I know he has granted you full access to all my features, but he can override the secrecy protocol if he so wishes," She responded "I cannot guarantee he will not know it."

"It's all right, It shouldn't pique his interest unless you bring it up to him," You said "Could you avoid that?"

"Sure thing." She agreed. 

"Very well… " You said, pausing to take a deep breath "I need you to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in my dimension."

"Oh" Lyla exclaimed before a knowing grin made its way into her features "Ooooh, I knew it! You have the hots for Miggy!"

"Shhh, keep it down!" You urged her "Yes, and he can't know that. I just need a way to channel this into something else… Into someone else."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just confess to him?" Lyla said matter-of-factually "We don't need to buy a new Miguel, honey. We have a Miguel at home."

"Don't be absurd," you answered, ignoring her joke "I'll be lucky if he just laughs at my face." 

"Your call," Lyla yielded.

In the end she couldn't find a Miguel variant alive in your dimension. And so your plight continued with no end in sight and a lot of damage to your psyche.

21… 22… 23… 24…

But recently, something changed.

What was a relatively amicable relationship you and Miguel shared before started turning sour seemingly out of nowhere. The usual sarcastic banters you two engaged with whenever you worked together in the lab disappeared, his tone shifted to something more distant, akin to professional and he rarely ever left his platform anymore. 

It's not like the two of you were particularly close before, he was your superior after all, but there was a level of mutual understanding that had blossomed from your shared work at the lab when the ordeal of monitoring the Society quieted down a little. It was a friendship between peers of the same interest, the exchanges ripe with dry sarcasm and teasing. Sometimes even flirty (or so you thought).

"You have my condolences …" Miguel spoke approaching from behind you, the tone in his voice a harbinger of mockery. But still, you took the bait.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" You asked, turning on your stool while pulling your protective goggles up to face him.

"The educational system in your dimension truly failed you, did it not?" He bent his torso over the desk you were working on, a hand on it supporting his weight, his other hand on his hip. With him closer, you could clearly see the smirk he casted at you. You rolled your eyes, bracing for the impact.

"Why would you think that?"

"Oh, it is very clear to me you can't read since you're blatantly ignoring the safety protocol from the manual I gave you for the usage of the very tool you're holding."

"Eat shit, O'Hara," you playfully smacked his abdomen with your elbow. "I read the protocol but this way of using it is way more efficient and safe all the same and you know it."

"Oh, you're the expert now then? I should be having you writing the documentation on tool usage instead of having you working the machinery huh?"

"You know you need me here, O'Hara." You smugly quipped, looking at him… but he didn't promptly respond. You watched his eyebrows rise up at your words, his burgundy eyes searching yours for something you couldn't quite catch while the tension his pause bestowed made you start worrying your words might have been misinterpreted. Even worse was that little delusional part of you that made you believe such an action held any semblance of reciprocation to your feelings.

After what felt like an eternity he spoke again. His voice dripped with something sweeter, but still with the familiar tinge of spice your banters usually carried "I'm certain you're the one that needs me."

The abrupt end to this dynamic would have saddened you. Heck, it'd have somewhat relieved you at the prospect of some reprieve from your roller-coaster of emotions… If it wasn't for his new constant surveillance.

Miguel started to watch you like a hawk, analyzing your every move under a microscope, never missing a chance to criticize or nitpick whatever you were doing. Suddenly your work at the lab wasn't as efficient, the missions you went on didn't produce as many good results and even the way you addressed the other Spiders wasn't ideal.

All that pent-up frustration of navigating your feelings for him became good fodder for the shift in your own tone. You couldn't help but become petty, picking fights at every chance you had. 

"I already told you are using that tool wrong," came a baritone voice from behind you. 

You sighed, pulling up your protective goggles. The ire inside of you was already boiling, readying you for the imminence of combat. "And I already told you this is a more efficient way to use it."

"You are going to hurt yourself if you keep at it" He responded. His own tone getting stricter.

"I need to get this done by the end of today and this way of using it significantly cuts time," you insisted. Voice picking volume while you smacked every word with venom. "And speaking of time, you are very much wasting mine, O'Hara. So it would be everyone's best interest if you could kindly fuck-off."

Before you knew it, you started resenting him. Whenever he complained about your endeavors, you spat back at him, seldom escalating the situation. At times your bickering would turn into a shouting contest, the noise reverberating outside the Lab. More often than not you felt the urge to lunge at him during these fights, to pin him to the ground and shut him up - you just couldn't figure out if it was with a kiss or a punch across the jaw.

And today only served to rub more salt on the wound.

25… 26… 27… 28… 

On a mission you thought you had wrapped up well enough, you paid a little less attention to the aftermath and the Anomaly broke free, piercing you with a sharp projectile. Lyla's sudden warning was the only thing that kept your enemy's attack from striking a more vital area. You were able to dislodge the bolt and recapture the Anomaly, this time being able to bring him with you to HQ. But Lyla's appearance meant only one thing: Miguel was watching you. And he had a front row seat to your failure, the scolding from before was practically a given… But still made you fume nonetheless.

You poured every single bit of you into this man and his Society, was it not enough? What could you possibly be doing wrong to prompt this keen surveillance out of him? Couldn't he just tell you instead of intensively watching you as he waited for an opportunity to belittle you once you inevitably fail? To put you to the test despite everything else you've done for the Multiverse so far? Was that even a failure? You caught the Anomaly and brought it here. Your mission was a success. It was an undeniable success. It was a GODDAMN SUCC… 

"ARGH!"

The sound of the barbell hitting the floor behind you echoed through the empty room. You fell to your knees, grasping the bandages over your wound as you felt a warm liquid seep through it - blood. 

You got careless. Again.

As your mind wandered and the anger of your pent-up frustration took over, the conscious effort to keep tension away from your midsection to avoid exerting unnecessary pressure on your wound faltered and the extra weight you held forced it open once more. So much for training to better the body.

It didn't matter, your accelerated healing factor would fix this… in time. With a resolute exhale, you got up and decided to wrap up your training for the day. As long as Miguel didn't find out about this mishap and it didn't affect your performance, it should be OK. 

It WOULD be OK. You were gonna make sure of it.

—-----------------

Your mission the next day was brought directly to you at your doorstep.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" 

You woke up in a jolt as Lyla's sprite sprung from your watch at your bedside table, bathing your otherwise dark bedroom in a yellowish glow.

"Lyla! What was that for?" You barked, voice still raspy from sleep. The tell-tale warm brightness  announcing the morning's arrival was nowhere to be seen, meaning it was very early. Too early to have HQ calling you.

"Get ready. We tracked an Anomaly in your Universe, a Green Goblin variant" the AI said, her usual playful tone gone "Miguel's on his way here."

You groaned as she disappeared, your first mission right after being put on probation and it started at an ungodly hour in your very own dimension. You maneuvered yourself out of bed and was bitterly reminded of your wound as soon as you tried to rotate your torso, the pain flushing the rest of sleep out of your system. Today you learned your superhuman healing factor couldn't miraculously stitch together a deep wound overnight, especially one you foolishly tore open a second time.

For a moment you debated if it was wise to throw yourself at a mission in your current state, but you swatted that thought out as fast as it came to you. They'd be able to summon another Spider to this mission no problem if so you wished, but you couldn't possibly give Miguel the satisfaction of learning you were careless enough to not only sustain an ugly wound, but  also made it worse by being stubborn. Not to mention the utter distaste at letting him and someone else save your dimension in your stead - not happening. You could manage a little pain, you just needed to be careful. 

You changed into your suit and equipped your gear as fast as you could and soon you were on your apartment's building rooftop. You were greeted by Miguel's back as he scouted your New York's (Santa Iorque) skyline. You loathed the blooming fondness, the heartache the sight still caused you.

"Go back to HQ, O'Hara. I'll handle this one myself," you spat. He turned his head slightly, the eyes in his mask narrowing down.

"You don't get a say in this" he retorted.

"Fine. Try not to get in my way, then" you jabbed, walking over to his side. You could feel Miguel shifting a little as you scanned the horizon for any sign of the Anomaly.

"Lyla, what's his location?" Miguel spoke to his watch. 

"Still working on it," the AI responded, her sprite typing on a little computer "I'm experiencing a lot of interference, the cause is still unknown."

"What do you mean interfe– "

Before Miguel could finish, the loud bang of an explosion ripped through the air, leaving behind an expanding cloud of greenish smoke. You and Miguel briefly nodded at each other before rushing towards it.

Spotting the perpetrator wasn't hard. Cruising above a crescent-shaped hovercraft stood a figure you could only describe as a techno-imp with jester undertones. You jumped over them as they threw a second explosive, intercepting its trajectory mid-air with your hand, and launching it skyward as you landed on a rooftop nearby. The greenish explosion almost looked like fireworks.

"Well, that's what I'd call a ban… ugh, nevermind," you turned to your very annoyed opponent, if the frown on his display-like mask was anything to go by "Look, I'm not in the mood for snarky banter, so let's get this over wi–"

Your Spider-senses kicked in just in time for you to dodge a barbed javelin-like metal bolt. The sudden movement made your wound hurt, causing you to hold back a gasp. Miguel's red webbing ensnared the Goblin before they could fire a second one and just like that it seemed like the mission was over.

But the Goblin's right feet move to a button on his hovercraft and the next thing you know a piercing high-pitched noise reverberated all around you. Miguel's webbing glitched a few times before disappearing and you watched him panicking as his stupid holo-suit started glitching as well. 

In a less tense moment maybe you'd feel embarrassed about his now half-exposed torso, but the Goblin's disappearing from your field of view proved more concerning. Suddenly, your senses kicked in again and you quickly glanced at the scene of a very distracted Miguel trying his hardest to revert - or at least stop - his forced undressing as the Goblin reappeared behind him, quickly closing in with their javelin gun ready to shoot. 

You panicked. Miguel had his attention elsewhere, the piercing noise completely muffled the sound of his incoming attacker and he didn't have Spider-senses to alert him. 

You had to save him.

On instinct, you lunged yourself in their direction, shooting your own web at the Goblin. But they spotted you, redirecting his aim, while you set the flying ropes of web ablaze. It all happened in a second, the web ensnared then just as they shot the javelin, your fire rapidly consuming the web until reaching the Goblin, the flames briefly engulfing them. You tried dodging the javelin again, but the whole ordeal was too much for your wound, the pain roused enough to snatch your attention for a millisecond, the exact amount of time you had to move away from it. 

You didn't move away from it. 

The javelin pierced the spot under your ribs right where your wound was. You fell on the rooftop with a loud thud, rolling a few times before stopping, leaving a trail of blood behind. You managed to open your eyes to see the Goblin hovering away in retreat and Miguel turning his head to you having seemingly managed to fix the glitch in his suit. You watched realization kicking in him as the eyes on his mask widened. 

"¡Puta madre!" Miguel shouted as he flinged himself to your bent over form."This is why you can't go on missions by yourself." 

"What?" You barked in pure incredulity, despite the searing pain below your rib cage "This is gah –…this is your fault!"

"How is this my fault?" He retaliated, crouching beside you as he tried to assess your wound. You swatted his hand away before he continued "You're the one who got careless. Again."

"I was protecting you, you mmnph–" you scrunched your face midsentece trying to get up, the motion sending another flash of pain through your system. Miguel tried helping you again, but you held his wrist in place before he could touch you. You had a point to make "You ungrateful fuck! Your lack of Spider-Sense was gonna be the end of you. This literally wouldn't have happened if you weren't here."

"You talk big for someone bleeding out" he retorted, freeing himself from your grip. His movement accidentally made you lose balance and you had no strength in you to regain it in time, but Miguel caught you before you hit the floor "Lyla, send someone to pick her up and take her to the Med Bay."

"Don't you dare… " you tried sounding assertive, but the pain reduced your voice to a whimper at best. Wound or no wound, you still had a mission to finish.

"¡Por dios! Can you quit being so stubborn for five minutes?" He spat back at you "¡OYE, LYLA! I need assistance!"

But once again the AI didn't respond. Miguel groaned in frustration and tried his best to dial the commands on his watch while holding you as you tried your best to trash your way out of his grip. But no matter what he did, the gizmo's only response was a continuous static noise paired with a greenish blank screen "¡Que carajo! Why's this thing not working?? LYLA! Can you hear me?"

Miguel groaned again, considering his options. You were losing a considerable amount of blood and the Anomaly was nowhere to be seen. He picked you up with one arm, trying his best to not jolt you.

"O'Hara… put me down," you complained, but there was no force to back it up. You started feeling light-headed on top of the pain.

"Shut-up," save your strength he meant to say, but that would convey more than he felt necessary. There was no time for frivolities and sentimentalism, he needed to act fast. With Lyla and his team off-line, his best option would be taking you back home. 

He tested the integrity of his neon-red webbing, but it was no use - the quick work he did to stop his suit from fully disintegrating was crude at best, he was grateful to at least have prevented its meltdown in time to not be left completely exposed. He retracted his suit from his fingertips up to his wrist, getting his organic web shooters free - its string wasn't as strong as the neon-red artificial ones, but for aerial traversion it would more than suffice. Miguel positioned your torso over his shoulder with care, hugging your legs together with an arm (a part of him painfully aware of how soft your thighs were) and jumped off the rooftop, slinging himself away to your apartment.

You hated how comforting the warmth of his body was against your own, how his scent, a mixture of oak, spices and his own musk, was undeniably helping soothe the woes of your current predicament. The gentle way in which he held you, taking extra care to keep your body from wobbling too much while he carried you made your heart ache almost more than your wound was. It was in times like these, when his stoic facade faltered, giving way to the caring and sensible self underneath, that you remember why he held your heart. 

Soon, you arrived at your apartment building. Miguel climbed through your bedroom window, gently placing you on your bed. He took the cover off of one of your pillows, handing it to you.

"Here, press this against your wound to stop the bleeding," he said, the mask of his suit retracting to reveal his angled face "Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"I–, y-yeah, it's in the cabinet under the bathroom sink," you answered. Taking the cover from his hand, you quickly folded it in half and did as he told you, wincing a bit at the contact. Miguel was back with the medical box not long after.

"You'll have to let me take a look at it," he said, placing the box on the bed next to you. His words were demanding, but the tone conveyed nothing of the sort - it was a question, he was asking for permission.

"Y- yeah, of course," you answered, uncovering your wound. Miguel kneeled next to bed getting closer while bringing his hands to your torso. You watched entranced the furrow in his brows as his red eyes darted quickly left and right, his digits gently probing the area around the wound. 

"Doesn't seem to have pierced anything serious," he muttered "But it's odd…"

It was your time to furrow your brows "What is?"

"The wound from yesterday should've be in a more advanced state of healing," he said "you do have the hastened healing factor in your power repertoire."

You tensed a bit, looking away. The last thing you needed right now was him finding out about your mishap at the Conditioning and Strength sector yesterday. But of course, Miguel being Miguel caught that little shift in your body language.

"What happened?" He asked right away, bringing his eyes up to you without lifting his head.

"There was… an accident yesterday," you began, trying to find the words. As much as you didn't want him finding out about the Gym incident, there was no point in lying. Better try to soften the blow "Exerted myself too much and the wound reopened."

"Dios mio, that's why the gash was so deep…," Miguel mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose "Why the shock were you exerting yourself when you should have been resting?"

A surge of anger started blooming in your chest at his inquiry. It was risky to go into a training session with your wound, you knew that. You also knew there were a million other ways to blow off steam if that was all it was to it. But increasing endurance, enhancing conditioning, building up muscle - all of these were connected to improvement. This self-imposed never-ending quest for leveling up all in the name of helping Miguel, in an attempt to placate your feelings for him.

All for him.

Maybe you should have stopped to consider your well-being instead of going straight to the brawny way of amping-up yourself. There ought to be something else that could mindlessly soothe your nerves while also working as a method of improvement - the way exercising often did -, but yesterday you weren't exactly thinking. There was no bandwidth left to think, you were just so fucking tired.

Tired of putting so much effort in the pursuit of the right to share the weight of the responsibility he carried. Tired of seeing your comfortable platonic relationship you two once shared start to wane seemingly out of nowhere, despite all your efforts to prove yourself worthy of his good graces. Tired of how, despite all of this, your heart stubbornly kept yearning for him.

You were in dire need of respite.

"This is such bullshit," you croaked, clenching your palms into fists. 

"What did-," Miguel couldn't finish. With a loud exhale, you shoved Miguel's hands away from you while throwing your legs down the other side of the bed. You hurled yourself up, the adrenaline from your anger fueling your body was the only thing keeping the pain and dizziness at bay.

"I'm done. I quit Spider-Society," you barked through gritted teeth, making your way to your wardrobe while pressing the pillowcase to your wound. You knew you had some strong compression tape in there that should keep yourself from bleeding out until you were done with the mission "I'm catching the goddamn Anomaly. I'm not letting my universe get nuked today, but after that I'M FUCKING DONE."

"Stop! Get back here, you're in no condition to be moving around like that. Let alone finish this mission."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," you barked back, rummaging through your wardrobe. "I'm still this dimension's one and only Spider-Woman. I have a duty with these citizens and I'm gonna protect them."

Suddenly, you felt your wrist being held. You turned around only to meet Miguel's eyes. But instead of finding irritation you found… helplessness. 

"Please, stop… " the abrupt shift of tone in his voice chipped at your rage. There was caution, fear and a bit of… desperation? It made you pause, if only for pure bewilderment.

"Why should I?" the flames of your ire had been subdued, but the heat of the ember underneath still burned hot "Our priority is catching the Anomaly and safeguarding this dimension."

He exhaled, casting his eyes down to where his hand met your wrist. When he brought them back to meet your gaze, you were presented with his familiar stoic frown "You're going to jeopardize this mission in your current condition."

There it was, the spark to reignite your wrath.

"Shut the fuck up, O'Hara," you snapped, yanking your wrist away from his grasp. "I don't care about your mission, I just need to catch that Anomaly and save my city." You turned to him, angrily pointing at his chest, "YOU shouldn't be here. YOU are also an Anomaly! Get the FUCK out of here, O'Hara. I'm DONE being your silly little plaything!"

The knot in his brow softened a bit at your words. 

"You're not my plaything." He uttered, a bit unsure.

You stiffened, your eyes unfocused darting left and right contemplating the stuff you just said. You bitterly realized that in your fury, you had let out more than you needed to. You searched his face for disgust or discomfort but found a concerned confusion in his eyes.

Swallowing your pride, you decided to press on.

"I'm so tired, Miguel," you muttered in a long exhale "I've been trying so hard, working so much to help keep the multiverse safe… But it feels like the more I do, the worse you treat me." You felt your legs start getting wobbly as the adrenaline waned down, but you had a point to make. "No matter how hard I try, you tell me everything I'm doing is wrong…" you let your hands fall to your sides as the dizziness came back full throttle. With half-lidded eyes, you met Miguel's face once again before muttering "Why am I… even… here…"

"Because I need you"

You barely registered Miguel's response before you collapsed. The last thing you remembered was him rushing to your side as everything became black. ---------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

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