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joeloverture · 4 months

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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sebsbarnes · 6 months

Text

co-workers || tangerine

tangerine x female reader (assassin)

summary: "if it took you getting shot for you two to finally, maybe, realize you like each other i would've used you as target practice a long time ago."

warnings: language, violence, fighting, injuries, blood, weapons

word count: 3.4k ; angst, fluff

tangerine masterlist

rocking back and forth on your heels you patiently wait for the bullet train to zip into the shinagawa station. the platform was moderately busy, people dressed for various occasions. some in sophisticated work uniforms, kids bopping along with their school bags, and some dressed for a night out. you, however, were not.

sporting a black jacket, long sleeve turtleneck, leggings, sneakers, and a black bag you could've faded into the growing dark sky but here you are illuminated by the neon lights of the platform begrudgingly watching the bullet train's head lights fly past as it rolled into the station.

you were ordered to be here by your employer at the request of the white death. something about his son and a briefcase of money that needed some extra eyes watching over. apparently, the white death had some gut intuition about the two unnamed men he had hired for the job and wanted your skills onboard. your employer gave you very little detail about what to expect, no description of the briefcase, a grainy photo sent via email of the white death's son who had horrid face tattoos in your personal opinion, and when asked about the men already tasked to the mission your employer replied, 'eh two guys both kind of weird' and left it at that.

you boarded the train and stood near the doors, tight lipped smiling at those who walked by, waiting for the entryway to be clear. kneeling you pulled a small revolver out of a false bottom in the bag and slipped it into an inside pocket of your jacket, next pulling extra rounds and stuffing them into the other available pocket. you fumbled with a small piece of crumbled paper telling you to go to car three and a seat number that the son should be at.

quietly making your way to car three you re-patted your now stuffed pockets, adjusting your jacket and hair to relieve any sort of budding nerves. that is until you noticed the two kind of weird guys your employer told you about.

"well, can spot that fitted suit from a fuckin' city away" the two men stood in front of you who were deep in conversation snapped their necks towards you.

"well darling, and i'd spot that shit box dyed hair from the other side of the fuckin' earth" you couldn't help your arm raising to touch your long, and well dyed hair, at tangerine's rebuttal.

you tried to hide the laugh that threatened to break through as the three of you stood quiet for a few seconds following his comment. lemon broke first pushing past his brother to embrace you in a hug, "haven't see you in a minute, was beginning to get worried."

the three of you knew each other quite well, hell, the three of you lived together for a while. you had been under tangerine and lemon's employer for a long time but shit happens and it was best you found a new employer. lemon was more talkative and affectionate of the two, constantly talking your ear off and giving you hugs whenever he saw you, strictly friends though. tangerine, well, not affectionate and not talkative. it took a while for tangerine to mutter more than five words to you for the longest time. being outright friendly just isn't his nature and you can't fault him for that. the twins cared about you deeply, you knew lemon did within a week. tangerine took more time. it wasn't at the flip of a switch, it was gradual, perhaps may be even more natural.

it was a culmination of things that made you realize the rough man cared and appreciated you. like how after a job the three of you would go eat, you would jokingly (but also quite seriously) say how you were still starving. tangerine would slip you some of his food, 'not that hungry' he'd shrug. or how on missions he unconsciously used himself as a shield for your protection. or when he would come back from being out, holding a plastic bag in hand. 'saw these figured you might need 'em' plopping the bag in front of your seated position at the kitchen table and continued walking before you could comment on the new clothes that replaced the ones recently destroyed on a job.

or how days before you left the previous employer, you, tangerine, lemon, and an additional guy were assigned to a job that did not go so smoothly. it really was no one's fault, no one could've predicted how many men were hiding in the warehouse. each of you sported numerous injuries and lost many weapons but still completed the job. you and the other assassin were alone sitting on the floor when he suddenly started berating you. saying how shit you were as an assassin, spewing hatred and profanities amongst other vile things. you had no energy to fight back, 'maybe you're right' is all you could muster before getting up and searching for a secluded place to sleep for the night. you had awoken from your sleep hours later to the sound of a gunshot, wandering until you found someone.

'tangerine, what was that? i heard a gunshot' you asked the man who was promptly walking away from scaffolding towers.

he looked at you quizzically wiping his hands on his trousers, 'i think you might have been dreaming darlin'' all you could do was rub your head in confusion, 'let's get you back to bed, love.' the next morning only three of you returned from the mission.

"i've missed you, lemon," you smiled pulling away, holding his shoulders to look at him.

you and tangerine exchanged small nods, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips. you turned towards the figure seated beside the men stepping to stand in front of who you assume to be the white death's son. to say something seemed off was an understatement. you gently grabbed the ends of his open jacket bobbing his head back.

"what the fuck?!" you jerked back dropping your grip as his body slumped forward. an older woman a few seats up shushed you.

"what the fuck?!" you whispered harshly at the twins, bug-eyed gesturing rapidly at the dead body in front of you.

"ask fuckin' percy over here," tangerine pointed to lemon.

"i'm not percy?! okay yeah i lost the case but i didn't kill the kid."

"well lemon, if you didn't have the brilliant fucking idea to stash the case, we would've been sat our squeaky fuckin' asses down in the seat not havin' to get up. young. sweet. not all there." tangerine hissed back, poking at lemon's forehead to emphasize.

mildly entertained by the twins infamous banter you sat down watching the two go back and forth before tangerine swiveled towards you both hands flat, palms up, pointing at you, "and no disrespect love, but why the hell are you here?"

"to babysit essentially. i'm here to make sure you two do your job and by the looks of it you done fucked that up. what an honor it will be to be ripped limb by limb by the white death with you idiots."

the three of you sat deliberating what the hell to do next and tried figuring out who else is on this train taking interest in the briefcase and the son. tangerine cleaned up the boy's face with his handkerchief and adorned his face with momonga glasses to hide the fact that he's well...dead.

the twins decided it would be effective splitting up and checking the train cars for the briefcase.

"ill stay here," you spoke as the two men grabbed their things to investigate the train.

"what?" tangerine asked eyebrows knotting together.

"i'll stay here. i'll see if anyone comes back for him," gesturing towards the limp body, "besides, my mission is a bit different. i'm not supposed to be seeking danger. if it comes my way then i can step in."

tangerine smooth out his moustache inhaling deeply seeming to oppose you being here by yourself.

"okay well, right then." lemon nodded stalking off down the train.

tangerine hesitated looking down at you in the seat.

"i'll be okay."

that is until ten minutes later a man sat across from you, "hi. there's a gun under this table."

"shhh," you hissed, "this is the quiet car babes."

the man in the hat and glasses took a moment to look over your shoulder at the sign, you took this opportunity to grab his hand, that held no gun, underneath the table yanking his body forward, table smashing into his shoulder.

"who the hell are you." you questioned, still holding onto his hand.

"ladybug. johannesburg, remember? your buddy shot me after you baited me to the parking garage?"

"so you're after the twins?" you asked ignoring what he said.

"the twins have a briefcase i need. i'm really not looking for trouble here miss, i just want to get the hell off this train and go meditate." he sighed taking his free hand through his longer hair.

"so you took the damn briefcase." you released his hand and brought your foot up to kick him in the groin. while he was hunched over in pain you stood up launching towards him to put him in a headlock, "where's the case."

"look lady," he sputtered, "i really don't want to hurt you."

ladybug punched your forearms to loosen your grip and when you didn't budge, he turned his head to bite your wrist.

"what the fuck!" you yelped springing back. he took this moment to sweep your legs out from underneath you. you hit the floor with a loud thud, the ache in your shoulder radiating down your arm. he leaned over your body giving you a weak smile and in return you kicked him in the face, blood instantly pouring out of his nose.

"shit balls!" he exclaimed. you clamored to your feet and started running throughout the bullet train. ladybug's steps got closer and closer and that's when you felt a burning hot sensation on the back of your shoulder. your movement immediately stopped, groaning as you reached for the knife in your back pulling it out.

"prick." you hissed turning around to face the man. your arm swiped in front of his face, the blade making a whooshing noise in the air. you managed to clip the side of his cheek.

thankfully the car the two of you were now fighting in was not occupied. he gripped your arm throwing you against the wall and stalked towards you. you stashed the blade in your pocket, shrugging your jacket to the ground, opting to fight him with your fists. you dodged the first hit and returned him a hit in the jaw. he staggered and taking advantage of his lower stance punched you in the stomach.

"i don't like hurting women." ladybug exasperated as the two of you continued fighting, punches being thrown, skin being split, bodies flying across the car.

"seems like you're in the wrong line of work, dumbass," you gripped the back of his head slamming his face into the top of one of the seats. the crack you heard made you wince. ladybug's forehead was split, blood running down his face into his eye.

it was obvious his physical state was weakening. he swallowed deeply, eyes flickering to a spot beyond you. before you realized what was happening, ladybug was running towards your jacket where the knife was. he managed to grab it and came barreling towards you. once again the battle was back on. the knife dancing between you two as its ownership changed frequently. you and ladybug were a panting mess with new cuts decorating your bodies. this old piece of shit wouldn't let up. you were becoming exhausted and you needed this to end somehow. the two of you were both on the floor, the blade in your hand. you knew you didn't have enough stamina for another round of fighting, the cuts scattering your body were aching, the large stab wound to your shoulder was now numb. instead, you sliced the closest things to you that would cause the most damage.

his achilles.

ladybug screamed out in pain, shaking hands wrapping themselves around his ankles in some attempt to soothe the sheering pain. you stood, looking over the man, the blood from the knife dripping onto your shoe. you stepped around his cradled body, making your way up the train. tangerine hasn't come past yet meaning he is still ahead. the door swished open but you'd only make it one step in before crumbling to the ground.

immediately you started hyperventilating from the intense pain that seemed to hit every nerve in your body. blinking rapidly as you scooted yourself against the wall. then you felt it. a warm sensation running down your skin, your clothes feeling wet. blood. your body was shaking, open lips huffed out puffs of breath. slowly and carefully, you looked back at ladybug.

your gun in his hands.

he must have grabbed it when he retrieved the knife in your abandoned jacket. fucking stupid.

ahead in the train tangerine heard a faint noise, but nonetheless he knew it was a gunshot. he slicked back his hair and removed his gun from his waistband. he carefully entered each train car, observing anything out of the ordinary. the door in front of him opened and his step faltered when he saw a black sneaker, and then a leg, and then the body as his eyes raked up the slumped figure.

he dropped to his knees, gun now on the floor, "hey tan," you croaked.

"bloody hell," he sighed, his eyes darting across your entire body.

"stop checking me out i don't look my best," you tried joking. tangerine didn't seem amused as he noticed your torn clothes, bloody face, your hair matted with blood.

"that old bag of bones can really fight. but he took a cheap shot when my back was to him," you finally answered. you lifted the hem of your shirt to show tangerine the bullet hole in your lower stomach above your hip.

"jesus," he muttered swallowing thickly. he seemed stunned to see you in this condition. he also seemed lost on what to do. his eyes wouldn't stop looking you over, his hands unconsciously went to your face brushing your hair out of your eyes.

"tangerine stop fucking staring at her we need to help her," lemon had found the two of you. his voice booming causing tangerine to snap out of his daze.

lemon pushed him to the side, immediately coming to your aid. he worked with what he could find. your shallow cuts weren't important. the wound to your shoulder would need stitches later on. the entrance and exit wound of the bullet was causing the biggest issue as you had lost a decent amount of blood from it. lemon continued to do his best as you sat there eyelids half open.

tangerine was silent, more silent than ever before, as if he were stuck in a trance. you slowly moved your fingers towards his hand that was resting on the floor. two of your fingers wrapped around his pinky jerking him out of his trance. this somehow sparked something in him as he shot up from the floor, grabbing his gun making sure it was loaded and set off on a mission you could only assume to be to find ladybug.

your lips pulled down in a frown as he left. you wanted him here. his presence, his touch, his whatever. any semblance of that cocky man you wanted next to you for comfort. you knew you were going to be okay, you were weak right now but the thought of him beside you somehow made you believe you would feel stronger.

lemon let out a soft chuckle as he finished securing cloth to your wound, "if it took you getting shot for you two to finally, maybe, realize you like each other i would've used you as target practice a long time ago."

you slapped his arm, "fuck off."

lemon and you agreed you need to rest, he helped you to sit in an empty seat, propping you against the window.

"alright, now, if anything serious happens i will text you alright. in the meantime, sit here and wait till we come get you, you hear me?" lemon demanded.

sometime had passed and you noticed less and less people on the platforms boarding the train. it was too quiet. your stomach was telling you something was off. you winced in pain as you gripped the armrest to stand up. a bit wobbly but you managed to put one foot in front of the other. as you continued you heard voices close by. the doors to one of the cars was open by bags tripping the sensors. you saw a young girl in pink standing looking scared and him. the greasy haired prick who shot you. he still had your gun in his hand pointed at someone.

tangerine.

"fuck." thankfully you held onto the knife and before he could notice you moving towards their train car you brought your arm over your head, swinging forward, releasing the knife. it lodged itself below ladybug's collarbone. he yelped out in pain stumbling a bit and that's when his finger hit the trigger.

"you bastard," tangerine hissed as the bullet hit his leg.

you took this opportunity while the men were distracted and ran towards ladybug. you propelled yourself onto him, spinning and wrapping your legs around his neck, you removed the blade from his chest and stuck it in the base of his neck.

"you don't touch him," you spit at the man as he crumbled to the ground.

the girl was long gone. now facing tangerine you noticed all the bruises and blood on him, drenched in sweat. his curly hair now laying across his forehead. his jacket long gone leaving him in a white button down that was criminally low on his chest and a vest. you couldn't help but check him out.

he started to say your name but you cut him off, hugging him tightly around his neck, knocking the wind out of him. he hesitated a moment before firming wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into your hair. after a few minutes he pulled back, sliding his hands to your waist to look at you. you held onto tangerine's elbows as his eyes wandered your face.

"darlin'," he started, "i'm- i'm sorry i didn't do anything when i found ya."

you chuckled through your nose, "tan. i'm fine."

"you're injured n' i didn't do anything except fuckin' look at you." he shook his head in disgust.

"tangerine," you said firmly placing your hands on his chest, "stop. i am fine. i am okay. we all react differently to seeing our friends hurt."

"friends, " he half laughed, "you realize i don't see you as a friend."

you paused, hands loosening their grip on his arms. god, you were dumb to think you were even friends. you're coworkers, hell at this point maybe even acquaintances, its been five months since you lived with them. all you could mutter was a shaky 'oh.'

tangerine laughed, "you know love, you can really be dense sometimes."

your mouth formed an 'o' trying to figure out what to say next, "dense?"

"love, i've wanted you the moment you almost sniped my head off in vienna." tangerine chuckled, moving hair out of your face. you couldn't look at him instead you toyed with his open shirt, fingers brushing against his hot skin.

"i guess i am kinda dumb right? should've put the pieces together when you killed anyone who was mean to me." you smiled.

he leaned down gently placing a kiss on your lips. you immediately kissed back, tasting the metallic flavor of the blood that was on his lower lip. your nails ran across his scalp sending a shiver down his spine. tangerine gripped your lower back harder, minding the wound, to bring you in as close as physically possible.

tangerine pulled away from the kiss, bringing his mouth to your ear, "by the way darlin', you spinning around on his neck and what you said was really hot."

"then i suggest we get the fuck off this train soon and i'll show you the move personally."

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inthedoghousern · 3 months

Text

just this once

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!driver!reader

summary: you and oscar are what people would describe as rivals. but a night in monaco, a club, an elevator, and confessions can change everything.

contains: 18+, suggestive content, swearing probably idk, drinking + alcohol, events leading up to sex (?) but nothing too graphic, kinda fluff and angst

5.5k words

a/n: this is too long and there's very little characterization but enjoy i suppose... part II: okay part III: 11:45

You were smiling as you chatted with a guy at the party. The music was blasting around you and the lights were colorful. You were in Monaco, celebrating your first Grand Prix here. Despite being a rookie, you had placed second in the race, an impressive and historic performance, especially since you were the first woman to do it.

It felt like the whole weekend had been revolving around you. At the track, there was a sea of fans, journalists, and even employees from other teams coming up to congratulate and talk to you. Now here at the club, it was the same, with stranger after stranger wanting a slice of your attention.

"So how long are you in Monaco?" He asked leaning against the high-top table, with a sly smile on his lips. “We should see each other again.” Before you could answer, you heard a voice behind you.

"She's cant, we've got more racing to do. It's the job." You rolled your eyes, the familiar voice belonged to no other than Oscar Piastri.

You and Oscar’s friendship, if you could even call it that, was complicated. What started as kinship during karting years turned into resentment as you made your way up the motorsport ranks together. F4 British Championship, the Renault Eurocup, F3, F2, the two of you were always close competitors, but Oscar always had an edge. You’d be runner-up to his championships, watched as he got a seat in Formula One while all you could do was keep racing in lower divisions and hope you could prove to any team that you would be a valuable driver.

But now you’ve made it, it’s your rookie season and you’ve finally started to beat Oscar, and it helps when you’re in a Red Bull. Podium after podium after podium, you’ve already blown Oscar’s impressive rookie stats out of the water. As a result, the rivalry between you has only grown bigger.

“Oh Oscar you actually weren’t involved in this conversation,” you say giving him a fake sweet smile. He claims he can’t stand you, but here he is going out of his way to make your night difficult. Typical.

You turn back to the guy in front of you. His name was Alex… William…? You honestly didn’t remember and had no interest in finding out, but it was amusing to see him throw himself at you. Amusing that Oscar came over and has to witness it. "I'm actually here for a few more days," you tell him. You pull your phone out of your bag and slide it towards the unnamed guy. “Put your number in. We can set something up later.” The guy smiles, and you fight back a laugh as Oscar still stands at the table with you two. You had no intention of ever texting or speaking to this man again.

The night goes by in a blur. You’ve lost the guy you were talking to earlier and make your way to the bar to order another drink. Your life feels like some sick joke when Oscar slides up next to you and orders himself another round too. “That guy looked like a prick,” he says.

You chuckle and nod your head in agreement. “Yeah, he did look like a prick."

The media and fans had characterized Oscar as this nice, young, shy guy. But the Oscar you knew was deathly competitive with a bit of a mean streak.

“Why do you care though?” I ask turning to him, cocking my head to the side. “Care what guys I talk to at parties? I mean, if that dude was Zak Brown, sure, I’d see why you’d stop me from stealing your seat, but….” I taunt.

"Alright watch it," he said while shaking his head. You roll your eyes, you know that he can’t do anything in retaliation to your teasing. You were the star now, you were his rival [who’s winning] and you were untouchable.

You finish your drink and turn to the dance floor, “see ya Oscar,” you say flashing him a smile. You can feel his eyes burning your back as you walk away.

This club felt like a time warp. As you danced and talked and drank, you saw gridmates and girlfriends walk past, at one point Lando was up at the DJ booth. Your head is fuzzy and you don’t know what time it is. You push through sweaty bodies to the tables surrounding the room, shuffling around to find your things. Finally, you’re able to find your bag, and luckily your phone is still inside, so you make your way out of the club. You need some quiet and fresh air as you sort out transportation back to the hotel. You were throwing in the towel for the night.

Outside the music was still spilling from the doors, filling your ears with the sounds from the club. You checked your phone, trying to get it to work. Your vision was slightly blurred from all the alcohol, you were probably drunk.

“Hey,” you hear, it’s him, again. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard Oscar's voice coming from behind you. You couldn't help but feel some nerves running through your body. You had just spent the night ignoring him and now he was here. You didn't turn around to look at him, you weren't sure what would happen if you did.

With your phone finally unlocked, you call an Uber. With that task finished, you turn, feeling wobbly, and when you look at Oscar he looks just as drunk as you. “Hey.”

“I’m leaving,” you tell him.

"I'll leave with you," Oscar responds immediately, sounding annoyed. "Why do you have to leave so soon?" He asked.

“Leave so soon? We've been here for hours,” you reply. You don’t address his first statement, but your mind is circling the fact he just decided he was coming with you. He didn’t even ask if he could, if you wanted him to, he just announced it.

"Doesn't mean it's time to go," Oscar said as he stepped closer. He put his hands on your shoulders, his breath smelling like alcohol. "Why don't we go back inside?" He asked. What was he thinking? You didn't pull away, it was the alcohol. You couldn't stop your mind from being hazy, you couldn't help the sensations of his hand on your shoulder. You put your hands on his biceps in response and look at him in the eyes. “No Oscar, I’m leaving.”

For a moment, everything felt as if it was going in slow motion. Oscar stood there, his hands on your shoulders, as you looked directly at the most beautiful most infuriating guy you had ever known. You spoke firmly, but it was clear that you were struggling. Oscar was drunk and stubborn as always, he wasn't letting this go easily.

“Hmmm?” I muse. My brain is so fuzzy I almost don’t notice his grip on my shoulders tightening. “I’m leaving Oscar. You can share my Uber back to the hotel, go back inside, or do something else. But I’m going.” Oscar said nothing. He was breathing heavily against you, his grip tightening even more. For some reason, his grip felt good.

"I'll go with you," he said, finally, his voice was low. “Alright,” you respond. You stand, he's still holding your shoulders, your hands still on his biceps. You don't know how long passes, but the Uber pulls up to the curb and you both let go of each other. You climb into the back seat and Oscar sits next to you, his body barely a foot away from yours.

The journey to the hotel is mostly silent, but you catch Oscar stealing glances at you.

“Looks like you partied a little hard for P9, no?” You tease. "Shut up," Oscar grumbled, you were pushing him right to his limits. You knew that he was angry, but you couldn't help but poke fun at him. You felt good when you could get one over on him for once. For the rest of the ride to the hotel, Oscar is silent. Every time you look at him, he quickly looks away. It was a side of him that you had rarely seen, the way he looked so unsure and uncomfortable.

You both step out of the Uber and walk into the hotel. It's late at night and the lobby is almost empty. Oscar follows you into the elevator, you can feel the heat from his body radiating against you. The elevator doors close and you are in your own little world. He presses the button to his floor: 6, and you press the button to yours: 9. You both stand side by side as the elevator slowly moves up.

The elevator rises, and just like the car journey, Oscar is quiet. A quiet that feels so much more intimate in this small space with the two of you pressed up against each other. Neither of you speaks, you are lost in the moment. It's almost as if the elevator is going too slow, or too fast? You don't want this moment to end.

The bright lights of the elevator and the presence of Oscar sober you up a little bit, just a little bit. You’re hyperaware of the floor numbers changing, getting closer to floor 6, where you and Oscar will have to separate. Oscar's body felt warm against you. You wanted to grab him and hold him close to you, but it would be wrong. You knew that he would most likely pull away from you.

This has to be goodbye.

“Why didn’t you want me to leave the party?” you ask. Oscar didn't expect that question. You could see it in the way his eyes widened before they narrowed back to the previous stoic state. "I didn't want you to leave because..." He said before pausing. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted you to stay, with me." He said, his voice quiet. You don’t respond. What Oscar says makes your heart jump into your throat. You weren’t supposed to be having these conversations, you certainly weren’t supposed to be having them with Oscar, someone who you can’t stand. Someone who can’t stand you. It’s the alcohol you tell yourself.

Ding.

You’re on floor 6.

The elevator doors open, and Oscar doesn't move, instead, he looks at you.

You look back, your mind is racing a mile a minute. He is just staring at you, waiting for you to speak. You felt the heat of his body, the smell of his breath, and the beat of his heart. The air felt so heavy between you both. “You’re supposed to hate me,” you say quietly. Seconds are passing and Oscar is still in the elevator with you. If he doesn’t get out soon the doors are going to shut and you’re both going to keep going up to your floor. Oscar still wasn't getting off, he seemed lost in a trance. It felt like the world had stopped as you looked at him. He didn't respond to your words, his breath was so close to your face.

“Do you hate me?” you say just above a whisper. You are staring at each other now. The elevator doors close and continue up to your floor, and Oscar’s still in here with you.

"I used to hate you," Oscar said, his voice was soft, and you could hear no anger in his tone. "But..." he paused, and the elevator continued to rise. The both of you were standing inches apart. "But not anymore." He finished.

You wanted to grab him. Hold his face. Kiss him. Let him do whatever he wanted. No stop. This has to be the alcohol. It has to be. What would everyone say if they found out you were thinking these things about one of your gridmates? Your competition. Your rival.

What would happen if you just went for it? Just one kiss. You know you’d both regret it, but just one kiss couldn't hurt...could it?

Ding. The doors open. You quickly step back from Oscar, regaining your senses. You exit the elevator and don’t care to check if he’s following you. You hope he’s not.

You walk to your room, still not looking back at the elevator. You get to the door and fumble for the hotel keycard in your purse. You can feel the heat rising on the back of your neck as you think about what just happened between you and Oscar. Your hands were slightly shaking, your heart was beating wildly and you felt lightheaded. You finally get the door open and quickly shut it behind you. You stand in the entryway for a beat before throwing your purse down, taking your shoes off, and lying down on the bed staring at the ceiling.

Was he going to say anything to you in the morning? Would he act like it never happened? What if we both act like this never happened? Was he going to knock on your door?

You lay there in bed, your mind racing. The alcohol was slowly fading away from your system, but the memories were still clear in your mind. You were still feeling the heat of his body against yours and the smell of his cologne. You were so conflicted, you should be upset and mad. You shouldn't be enjoying the thought of him coming to your door and saying more. That was Oscar, you hated Oscar, you weren't supposed to want him.

You sit up. You need to go to sleep and just clear your head of this. You wash your face and change, all the while thoughts of Oscar run through your mind. You look at yourself in the mirror, is that what Oscar saw when he looked at you?

You crawl into bed, you are still on a high after the party and the adrenaline from Oscar. You close your eyes, trying to distract yourself. But as soon as you closed your eyes, you could only picture him. You could picture his lips when he spoke, his jawline. You could picture the look in his eyes when he looked at you. Your mind was so focused on his body, what it would feel like, what it would taste like to kiss him. Fuck.

Your heart stops when you hear a knock at your door. You don't know what time it is or how long you've been lying in bed fighting sleep.

The knock came again; louder this time. You get out of bed, your heart beating quicker with every step you take. Was it even Oscar out there? You reached the hotel door. Your breath was shaky, it felt like your entire body was trembling. This was it. Now you were truly in this. You put your hand on the handle, the knocking continued again, more persistent this time.

As you threw the door open, you came face to face with Oscar. He was standing there, in the same outfit as he had been at the party. He was staring directly at you, his breath was warm as he exhaled. You could swear he didn't even blink at this moment, his eyes were just glued to yours.

“Yes?” I ask. "Can I come in?" Oscar says, sounding a little bit nervous, and more sober than earlier. You’re at a loss for words. A few hours (?) ago the only words you exchanged were about hating each other [or rather, not hating each other], and now he was asking to come into your room.

Oscar was still holding his gaze, eyes locked straight on yours. You could see it on his face, there was something he wanted from you, something that he hadn't been able to communicate until now. "Please?" Oscar said, his voice was low. You had never in the 8 years you had known Oscar seen him like this.

“Okay.” You move to the side, motioning him inside your hotel room. Oscar walks in and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a certain level of nervousness in the way he was moving. He didn't make any attempt to get close to you initially, it was like he was waiting for your permission. “What do you want Oscar?” I ask folding my arms across my chest. “Please tell me what you’re thinking, I can’t do this guessing game thing anymore.”

Oscar didn't respond right away, he was trying to decide what he should say. You could see as he processed through every thought, looking at you as if he was holding something back. After a few seconds, the words came spewing out, he didn't want to waste any more time.

"I want you to kiss me. I want to kiss you. I want you. That’s what I want." Oscar finally admitted.

Your arms fall to your sides and your heart skips a beat. Oh my god. Oscar stands in front of you and your body is heating up, your brain is getting fuzzy, this time it isn’t the alcohol. “Oscar I-“ you don’t know what to say.

It was like time had stopped for the both of you. Your breaths were shaky, the silence was deafening. You wanted to wrap yourself around him. It was all just adrenaline now, just one kiss, that's what you wanted.

You stand looking at each other. You don’t know how long passes. You want him too. You really want him. You need him. But the rational part of your brain is screaming for you to stop. You can’t be with him, as a female F1 driver what would the world say if you got with another driver? What would your reputation be? They would call you a slut. But as Oscar stands in front of you, those thoughts, those warnings are fading away…

He takes a step closer. You don’t move away. He’s close now, too close, but you don’t care. You could feel the heat radiating from his body to yours. There were just inches between you two now. You didn't care about anything else, everything in your body was telling you yes. It was either now or never, your reputation would be the last thing on your mind in this moment.

He brings one of his hands to the side of your face and leans to kiss you. But your lips don’t meet and he hovers just above. Waiting. He wanted something from you, some signal that it was okay to go for it. You could taste his breath as he hovered above you, how many times had you wanted to taste him? You hadn't realized until now how strong this pull between the both of you was. Even if it was just alcohol, it didn't matter, your heart felt as if it would explode with this excitement.

“Oscar” you whisper. You’re looking at his lips, then his eyelashes, his eyes.

“Just this once.”

The words left your mouth in a hoarse whisper like it felt too surreal to speak out loud. One kiss wouldn't hurt, you could tell him that was the only kiss you were going to let him have. He let out a small breath, and then the gap between your lips disappeared. He brought his face down, his lips touching yours. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as your lips met his. As Oscar's hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, it was just you and him. Nothing else mattered. Just the heat, the desire and the love that had been building deep inside of both of you.

He breaks the kiss and kisses your collarbone, then up your neck, and then he’s right next to your ear. “Yeah, just this once” he whispers. You let out a shaky breath, his voice sent shivers down your spine. What was happening? Every minute seemed to take so long in the moment. The way Oscar's voice whispered in your ear, it felt like a sweet melody. If this was wrong, you would never know. The only thing you knew for sure right now was how much Oscar wanted you, how much you wanted him.

His mouth was warm, you could feel the moisture of his lips press against yours. You grab the hem of his shirt and he puts his arms up as you pull it off of him. When you drop the shirt aside you can’t help but stare at his body. His chest, his abs, his arms. You had seen him shirtless before, it was inevitable with the years of training you two had done together. But seeing him tonight like this, just the two of you, it was different.

As you stared at him, he was just staring back, his hair was messy from the way you had pulled his shirt off. It felt like this was the only moment in the world.

His kisses were gentle like he was still trying to get a feel for the moment. You were in each other's grip as if you were locked together. The heat was building up, and you could feel your body burning up. Oscar's hand moved to your top now, pulling it over your head slowly, letting you feel every sensation as it fell to the floor. The way he looked at you as it fell to the ground...it was as if his eyes were going to burn a hole into you.

You’re usually quick with comebacks. Confident. But as you stand in front of him, you’re not insecure, but you have nothing to say. No words to taunt him with, it felt like your usual self was far removed from what was happening right now.

You had never stood in front of Oscar so vulnerable before, his hands running up your body, his mouth kissing your neck. He was treating you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, the way he looked at you it was like he was seeing you for the first time. Oscar lies you down on the hotel bed. Hovering over you, one of his hands on your hip, the other pressed beside your head, holding him up. One of your hands is resting on your stomach, and you reach the other up and run it through his hair. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry for being so horrible to you. I’ve acted…” you trail off. Why are you saying this? Why right now? It was the alcohol, it had to be.

As he leaned over you, his breath was warm on your skin as he listened to everything you were saying. Your heart was beating so rapidly, you couldn't stop the words coming out of your mouth, but for once, you felt vulnerable in the right way.

"Don't-" Oscar said, pulling away from you slightly. "You don't need to apologize. We’ve both been… I don’t know…Everything has just been building for years, it got out of control, us. Whatever us was- is. I think I’ve always wanted ‘us’ to be this though."

His words make your head spin. "Us". "Out of control". "Always".

Always makes you laugh though, as you think back to when you first met Oscar.

“You wanted this during our Arden days? At 14?” You know shouldn’t joke right now, but everything is happening so fast, and you grasp for some sort of control over what you're feeling.

He smiled back at you, he couldn't help smiling. One thing about the way you and Oscar's relationship worked, was it was always full of constant bantering and jabs at each other. It felt right to joke now.

"I didn't say that," Oscar said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But sure, you were attractive back then, even if you were a brat. Yeah, I did look at you during those days."

A grin spreads across your face. What would 14-year-old you say if she knew you had Oscar Piastri on top of you in a hotel room after you podium in Monaco? She would be horrified. The realization was almost enough to pull you out of the moment. It truly was insane. The way Oscar was looking down at you, touching your body, it definitely did feel surreal, as if this was a dream.

"You remember those days?" Oscar asked, his voice soft and low as he shifted down to rest on his elbow, bringing his face down closer to yours. “Of course.” You say, looking at his face. He’s so beautiful. “You wouldn’t let me win a goddamn race.”

He let out a laugh, he couldn't help it, the humor of the situation had gotten to him.

"Damn right I didn't... are you still bitter about it?" He said mockingly, he was back to his usual self. “Nope,” you say with a smile, “because who just got second in Monaco? My first time driving that track in Formula One by the way.” Even in this uniquely intimate moment between the two of you, you are bickering. But it’s perfect.

"Yeah yeah..." Oscar rolled his eyes. "You got lucky that's for sure, this race was a mess." He was back to being himself, the cocky, arrogant version that you were always arguing with. But you felt a different type of chemistry with him right now compared to the racetrack, this time it felt deeper than your usual bickering. You laugh and your hands are on his face again. Now that you have him like this, above you, relaxed, yours; you never want it to end.

You smile and start tracing the freckles and moles on his face with your finger. Just this once. That was the deal. You want to savor every minute of this moment. A moment that after tonight, can never happen again.

Oscar's eyes drifted down and he watched as you traced his face. It felt a little too perfect, the way you traced around everything...the way his breath felt on your skin...the way he was looking down at you with intent, his attention was just on you.

"I like this," Oscar finally said and his voice was hushed.

So do I. Is what you want to say. But if those words come out of your mouth everything becomes too real, and you’re not sure if you could ever stop what was already snowballing between the two of you. You simply hum in acknowledgment and continue to trace his freckles down to his arms, down to his wrists. You even traced your fingers along the top of his fingers.

It was like nothing else existed at this moment, it was just the two of you, your bodies, and the heat. The heat was all that mattered. You wanted to see all of him. Commit. Go all the way. But even now you were mesmerized: his bare chest, back, stomach. You want to run your fingers through him.

Oscar could feel your breath trailing on his neck, the feeling of your fingers trailing down his body, along his chest, and down his stomach. He felt as if any more of him was exposed to your touch, he would fall apart. He was like a hot glass ready to shatter, a moment away from cracking. He was at a loss, he couldn't even think of the next thing to say. All he knew was that he needed more.

Oscar looked at you, his eyes seemed to be filled with pure desire. He was leaning closer to you now, he was only inches away, his breath was touching your lips. His hand brushed past the clip of your bra, teasing every little part of you. Your back, your arms...he was taking his time with this. “It’s okay, you can…” you trail off. Yet again, you’re too embarrassed to say it. You can take the bra off. You hope he gets the hint.

The smile on his face was almost cruel as he looked down at you. Was he really going to take this all so slowly and deliberately? He paused for a moment and then he slowly undid one of the clips. He did it so slowly and so precise, he was taking this at such a methodical pace, he wanted you to feel every. single. moment. A part of you wants to complain. How slow he was being. Both of your lives were filled with speed, in the cars, outside the cars. But most of you doesn't really care that he's taking his time. Tonight was the only night you’re allowing yourself to be with Oscar like this, might as well drag it out.

He did the same thing with the next clip, and then slowly pulled down one of the straps. You did wonder how long he was going to take, it felt like your bra was not supposed to be an obstacle, but Oscar was making it one, on purpose. He had turned even such a simple task into something that felt so intimate.

The moment your bra finally came off a whole new feeling of powerlessness washed over you. You felt even more exposed than before. Your skin felt more sensitive, and everything felt more real. Each movement from him felt like it had double its usual meaning. Your breath caught as he pulled your body closer to him. The pressure of his body against yours was making your head spin. You felt so close to him, the warmth between the two of you was palpable. With each of his kisses, you could feel yourself growing even more desperate for him.

You could feel his finger tracing the outline of your shorts, slowly moving towards the waistband, finger hooking around the elastic. It was happening gradually, so it hit harder when he finally pulled down your shorts. Your underwear was the last barrier, and if it came off, this would officially be something that could never happen again. You were lying under just a layer of clothing. He was staring down at you with his intent gaze. You could feel every move of his, every muscle shifting, his breath hot on your body.

“You too, yeah?” You say with a nervous, breathy laugh. Your hands travel to his pants. And he sits up and leans back a bit, you sit up as well, and start unbuttoning them. It was almost comical, how slow you were both going in this moment. But it was also incredibly intimate. The two of you were both teasing each other in a game of cat and mouse. He was taking it in steps, he wanted to tease, to play, to show you how much he wanted you.

Your hands began unbuttoning his pants, inch by inch, you were both working in unison in the slow teasing. When you finish and start to pull the zipper down, Oscar quickly stands up to take the pants completely off. He wastes no time in getting back on top of you. You smile and hold back a laugh.

His hands are on either side of your head and he’s looking down at you again, you two start laughing. If it was like this one night, how would it have been with you two together all the time? Would you have always been like this? A playful, teasing relationship, where you both were always just messing around, playing jokes on each other.

The two of you are so close, his boxers and your underwear are the only barrier between you now. You are one step away from the edge, one step away from doing something you can never take back. But you also wanted to take that step. It felt so close to happening. It was like your bodies were talking to one another, they craved to touch, to be pressed against each other. Each breath, each movement it felt as though you wanted to become one with each other.

The way the two of you were looking into each other's eyes, you could tell it was just a moment away. Oscar leaned in close to you, close enough to breathe on your neck, “Are you sure?” He asks. You nod and don’t say anything.

He chuckles as you nod. "You're so sure?" You smile and roll your eyes. He’s such an asshole. “Yes, I’m so sure.” Even with your response dripping in sarcasm, it’s set your feelings in stone. You want Oscar Piastri.

Was it the alcohol in your system, was it the buildup of years of tension between the two of you, a mixture of both? It didn't matter, the only thing that mattered now was this very moment, this very moment with you and Oscar on this hotel bed. It was like the rest of the world would cease to exist, all that was important at this moment was the heat between the two of you, it filled you with such a warm, almost calming feeling. You both knew that this was it, there was no going back. But just this once you could let it happen.

part II- okay part III- 11:45

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #op81

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johnkahner · 6 months

Note

I loved your last Johnny Cage work! So good!

Can I request a one-shot with Smoke and he is just starting a relationship with fem!reader who works at Madam Bo's and some guys are giving her a hard time and he stands up for her? I'm a sucker for fluff so as much of that as you can fit.

Thank you!!!

AN: This came out later than I wanted it to. I'm glad you enjoyed my writing! It helps my confidence when I'm writing. Also, Smoke is the character I think I've gotten the most request for lol. I hope I wrote him accurately too. Also made up a random girl because I felt bad if she was unnamed. Not proof read.

Notes: Female Reader, Some random men being creeps

Today felt like any other day. Take orders, get customers their drinks, clean the tables, and repeat. You were wiping down a table while a co-worker, Yu Li, helped by getting the dirty dishes from the table. Yu Li saw some men looking at the two of you. The men were sitting a few tables away. Looking uncomfortable she decided to grab your arm to lead you to the employee’s only area.

“What?”

She shushes you, while directing with her eyes the men eyeing you two like candy. You take note of her actions. Both heading towards the backroom. But you both knew you couldn’t hide back here the whole time while you still had your job to do.

When an order was ready you decided that you would take the risk to go deliver the food to the customer. Not to mention with your luck, it was an order for those men you wanted to avoid.

“Hey, Little Lady. ‘Bout time you got your sweet ass over here to entertain us real men.”

The rest of the man’s group laughs at his comment towards you. You sigh not wanting to entertain this anymore than you have to. You place the order down, and turn to leave. The man that was speaking seems to be this group’s leader. He seems to be offended by your actions. He grabs your arm, and attempts to pull you closer to him.

“Listen sweet cheeks, no need to be a prude. We can make ya feel real good.”

You try to pry your arm away, and you turn your head to make eye contact with a certain ninja.

Tomas rushes over to you. He frees your arm away from the creep.

“Don’t you know how to treat a lady? Not to mention she doesn’t look too comfortable right now.” He pulls you to his chest and hugs you.

“This has nothing to do with you!”

“It does when it involves my girlfriend!” Tomas says your name “I’ll deal with this man. Go somewhere where you feel safe for now.” He kisses the top of your head.

You move out of the way. Not really going to the backrooms, but just staying out of the way of the fight that is about to incur.

Said fight didn’t even last long in all honesty. Tomas was beating the stranger’s ass. While you stood beside Kuai Liang. The door to the backroom opens to reveal Madam Bo. She appears to be very pissed off. She pats Tomas on the back, “Good job Tomas,” she turns to look at the man in pain and his crew, “Now you fools get out of my restaurant! You’re no longer welcomed here!”

Not putting up much of a fight now the group leaves. Madam Bo smiles at you and Tomas then heads back to work. You mosey on over to your boyfriend. Wrapping your arms around him. Nuzzling your face to his chest. He holds you close. After the events that happened on this day that started off like any other day that turned somewhat chaotic. You’re glad that at this moment you have Tomas with you. Also you got a few days off from work. Thank you Madam Bo.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat imagine #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #mk smoke

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vampireloverz · 1 year

Text

can't help it, i want you

pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

words: 3.1k

cw/tw: infidelity (reader cheats on an unnamed boyfriend with bakugou), best friends to lovers, quirkless au, oral (f → receiving), unprotected sex, size difference, light choking (bakugou → receiving), reader and bakugou are kind of messed up people lol, unhealthy relationships

You coming over to Bakugou’s apartment isn’t unusual but your visits have slightly dwindled since you got a boyfriend. He can't help the sour expression that blooms on his face when he reminds himself of that fact.

You’ve told Bakugou his name at least five times now but he’s never bothered remembering it. This fling won't last past the summer, he thought when you told him you were seeing someone. Not that he didn’t think you weren’t great, he just figured you’d realize you can do better. But September is suddenly nearing its end and you’re still going steady.

Bakugou shakes off the thought. Now, at least, you’re sat beside him, no boyfriend in sight.

The routine is easy as ever; you bring alcohol he likes and you tolerate, he wrinkles his nose at your choice of pizza toppings but orders it the way you ask for (he always fights a smile when you kiss his cheek as a thank you), and you both pick a movie.

But you’re too pretty tonight, he has one too many drinks, and the glimmer of cinnamon sugar from the dessert on your lips is all too tempting.

You’re in the kitchen when he kisses you. Well, when he tries to.

He leans into you, heart aching at the domesticity of you knowing your way around his apartment, but you turn your face. Bakugou’s lips graze your ear as he leans his weight onto you, the two of you end up with your faces pressed cheek to cheek.

“What are you…?” you let him press you against a counter, his hands finding your sides.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bakugou mumbles.

“Katsuki,” you sigh, voice tinged with something he can’t place.

He wishes he had figured out his feelings for you before some other guy asked you out, he has no one to blame but his own emotional constipation. It's only been a few months but your new boyfriend is smitten, he doesn’t blame the guy. And Bakugou can see why you like him, sort of. He’s cookie-cutter handsome, nice to the point that it’s annoying, and Bakugou hates him.

He still wishes, wants, waits. He’s been waiting, and the wanting and wishing have grown into a dull ache that swells each time he sees you.

“Do you really like him?” the question tastes bitter in his mouth, the only thing that might be worse is if you say yes.

In the following silence he takes his answer, finding the courage to lift his head and kiss you. He knows this is bad— but fuck, you kiss him like you want him too, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. Your tongue glides against his own and he groans into your mouth, blood singing in his veins like this is the first time he’s truly come alive.

You pull back suddenly, panting like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, “Wait, Bakugou—”

His body pressed against yours feels right, both of you seem to slot together perfectly, “I like you.”

“Katsuki,” you say again, his name sounds best when you say it, “Don’t say that.”

He doesn’t speak, but he presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw, light and sweet. He wishes he could say he loves you.

“We can’t,” you whisper, voice wobbling ever so slightly.

He waits, breathing you in. You don’t move away.

Bakugou has to dig deep to find it in himself to take a step back. Then another, again and again until there’s respectable distance between you two. When your eyes meet, his stomach twists with shame.

Your expression softens after a moment, “I should go.”

Bakugou makes a noise that’s closer to a growl than he’d like to admit, but it makes you laugh, the tension in the room slightly eased. You pat his cheek on your way past him, lifting up on your toes to kiss him quick, then you’re out the door. The press of your lips is chaste and fleeting, but it’s more than he expected.

It’s been a short while since you’d seen each other, even your text conversations have dwindled to almost nothing. The morning after the… incident, he’d texted you something apologetic and vague, never working up the nerve to double down on his feelings. You’d sent him back something sweet and placid, something that made him wonder if you’d be so forgiving if he’d ever kiss you again.

Despite his text, he’s not sorry in the slightest. He got to kiss you, hold you, even for a short while.

At least a few times a week Bakugou finds his cock leaking and stubbornly hard in his hand when his thoughts drift to the feel of your lips on his, your soft little moan when he’d slid his tongue along yours. He has to dig his teeth into his pillow so his neighbors won’t hear him groaning out your name in the dead of night, making a mess all over his stomach and hand.

Having the same circle of friends makes seeing each other again inevitable. Especially when Mina is hosting, something festive and autumnal fit for a mid October party. And she expects everyone to be there— to be fair, her parties are worth it.

Seeing your boyfriend’s arm around your waist for hours though? Definitely not worth the free booze and food. It’s infuriating, and it doesn’t help that you look damn good tonight. Jeans on the right side of too tight, lips shiny with something sparkly— he isn’t drunk enough to deal with this.

Your boyfriend ducks down for a kiss but you full on dodge, his lips don’t even have the chance to graze your cheek. Bakugou has to bite his tongue to not bark out a laugh.

My gloss, he reads your lips and knows your voice is whiny even though he can’t hear it. If he was your boyfriend right now, he’d kiss you until your stupid gloss disintegrated.

He stares down into his beer when he hears the tinkling of your laughter across the room. There's no way your boyfriend is that funny. Frustration begins to bubble into irritation and Bakugou realizes he doesn’t have it in him to pretend to be cordial tonight, he hopes the walk home will cool him down. Bakugou downs the rest of his drink and tells Kirishima not to wait up, then he’s out the door.

He doesn’t make it more than a block before he hears your voice calling out for him.

It takes two shouts of his name for him to finally turn, hands in his jacket pockets and the best surly expression he can muster as you approach, a half jog that is slightly slowed by your heavy boots.

“Katsuki,” the way you’re panting reminds him of the last time he saw you, breathing nearly as heavily with his hands on your hips— “What the hell? You left without saying bye.”

He has to turn his head to the side to rip his eyes away from your parted lips, “Don’t feel good. ‘M goin’ home.”

You finally catch up to him, coming in close to put your hand on his bicep and search under his bangs for his eyes, “What’s wrong?”

Something electric passes through him at the point of contact and he tries not to think so hard about how much time has passed since you’d last touched.

His lips twitch into a smile at your worry, “Go back to the party, have some fun.”

You huff, “I didn’t even get to talk to you.”

He gives you a look, brows furrowed.

“I came tonight to…”

To see you, hangs heavy in the air. The long eye contact touches on awkward, heated, your hand is still on his arm.

“Can I walk you to your place?” he spits out, fumbling to fix himself he hurriedly adds, “Unless, uh, your boyfriend minds.”

“He’s getting a cab.”

“So?”

“So walk me home.”

The curve of your smile is sweet and easy but your eyes have glint in them that’s far too knowing. Something flutters in his stomach, he nods, “C’mon.”

You kissed him. Bakugou is sure of that. Mostly sure, anyway.

He’d walked you home as promised, no funny business. Both of you platonically catching up, until you invite him in— want a drink, Katsuki? with that same sweet smile— and now he’s got his hands up your shirt and your tongue in his mouth. Your tacky gloss smears onto his lips, something tinged with artificial sweetness that spreads over his tongue like cheap candy.

“Does it feel this good when he kisses you?”

His question goes ignored as you chase his lips with a groan of frustration when he doesn’t give you what you want. You huff and grab the front of his shirt, holding him steady as you pout up at him.

“Does it matter?”

Bakugou grins, that’s all the answer he needs.

“Nah,” he concedes as he unclasps your bra, “It doesn’t.”

The only other question he asks is if it’s alright to take off your underwear, his grin growing wider when you give him an enthusiastic yes.

You make a noise in your throat, something close to a whimper when his fingers pet down your slit, “Fuck, Katsuki, what are we doing?”

Bakugou almost laughs at your tone. Guilt. Guilty but not showing signs of wanting to stop his fingers pumping in and out of you. Guilty, but your cunt gets wetter when he thumbs at your clit.

Not guilty enough, maybe not guilty at all.

Guilt or lack thereof becomes the least of his worries when you start to beg for his mouth on your cunt. The moment he drops to the floor he’s sure his knees will bruise but can’t find it in himself to care. Bakugou turns his face to bite at the softness of your thighs, groaning at the warmth of your body. You whine for him, his tongue, and your hands are in his hair, tugging insistently.

As much as he wants to get you off, he needs to memorize you first. He leaves sloppy kisses down your leg until his face is pressed against the seam of your thigh and hip. Bakugou can’t help it, he sucks in a deep breath, the heady scent of you makes his eyes roll back.

You squirm and pull his hair again, “Come on, perv,” but your tone is affectionate.

He gives in, adjusting so your thighs press around his ears as he licks a fat stripe up your pussy. The taste of you is sweet and bitter and better than all of his fantasies because it’s you. You’re soaking his face and he loves it, he can’t help but touch himself as he laves his tongue over your clit, following the rhythm of your rolling hips.

Bakugou honest to God moans at the way your pussy twitches when you cum, his cock throbbing as he wonders what it would feel like to have you cumming around him. When he finally recognizes your moans aren’t wordless, his balls tighten and twitch— he’s cumming because you’re moaning his name.

Your moans quickly become overstimulated whines when Bakugou redoubles his efforts, arms curling around your thighs as he works his mouth over your cunt. He needs to make you cum again, he just has to, he might never get to feel your twitching clit on his tongue again. Your hands in his hair turn painful but he likes it, loves the feel of you shuddering as your first orgasm rolls into the next, your taste and moans even sweeter the second time.

He rests his forehead on your trembling thigh, eyes closed and trying to regain some composure while he catches his breath. He doesn’t know how he’s going to act as if he hadn’t just lived through one of his top three fantasies. Neither of you move for a long while, nothing but the sound of deep breaths and ambient noise from outside.

Eventually, his legs start getting pins and needles, so he finally rises. He thinks you’re asleep for a moment but you blink your eyes open, looking like it takes great effort to do so.

“Hey,” you whisper, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

He bends down to kiss you, breath catching when your tongue traces the seam of his lips, licking away the taste of you. Your smile doesn’t budge when he pulls away.

His voice is hoarse when he tells you, “I’m gonna head home,” even though all he wants to do is curl up beside you and sleep with you in his arms.

“No, hey, I’m—” you yawn long and hard enough for him to chuckle, “I’m up, I’m up.”

Bakugou nudges your cheek with his knuckles, “You’re gonna pass out any minute now.”

“Stay,” you whisper, pulling him to sit beside you on the bed.

“Sure,” he says easily, pleased you want to fall asleep with him there, “I’ll lock up on my way out.”

“No,” you protest, “Stay.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou swallows harshly, feels his brows furrow. This whole… hookup— affair? Can you call what just happened an affair? Whatever it was, it was a bad idea. He never wanted to make you a cheater.

His eyes trace over the curve of your hip, the empty space beside you on the bed, the look on your face that’s anything but regretful.

“Yea, ‘course.”

Bakugou doesn’t know why he’s not really upset at being the other woman. Sure, you might have a boyfriend but you keep finding your way back to his place— finding your way underneath him.

Sometimes, oftentimes, you have to reach over and silence your phone— both of you ignore the name on caller ID— and he tells himself that this guy is a temporary distraction for you, he’s got nothing on your ten years with him. Bakugou loved you first. Bakugou has loved you for longer. He’d let you shatter him into a million pieces just to feel your touch. He’d put himself back together just for the chance that you’d do it again.

It takes until mid-November for him to realize all the cliches and stereotypes are true, almost too movie-like. Late nights at work, lying by omission, sneaking out of parties (you go now, I’ll leave in ten minutes) to hook up in each other’s apartments or cars, hiding hickeys. He even finds himself cagey around his phone as if he’s the one with the boyfriend.

But beyond that he goes about his days like normal. Not an ounce of guilt as he waits for the next opportunity to see you. And somehow he doesn’t blame you. You’ll leave him soon, you told Bakugou yourself.

Somehow he doesn’t mind not being able to think clearly when you’re involved. He knows it’s fucked but can’t pretend to give a damn when your nails are scratching down his back and you’re moaning his name like he owns you.

There’s no way someone is knocking at his door at this hour. Bakugou burrows his face deeper into his pillow and ignores it. But the knocks come again, hurried and insistent. He groans and cracks an eye open to check his phone for the time.

2:54 AM

No notifications.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, determined to fall asleep again.

Another short burst of someone’s knuckles and he rises, trudging out of his bedroom with a scowl and determined to throttle whoever has woken him up. He rubs the heel of his palm into his eye as he opens the door, “Somebody better be fucking dead—”

He hardly has time to register that it’s you at his door before you’re kissing him. You’ve never kissed him out in the open like this, he doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss back, only pulling away when he remembers what time it is.

“Hey, what’s going—?”

“He dumped me,” you tell him. You’re grinning.

Bakugou sucks in a sharp breath then lets it out in a slow whisper, “Yea?”

Then you’re kissing him again, hands on his chest pushing him back into his apartment. The press of your lips holds a desperation he doesn’t remember being there before. He loves it.

The path to his bedroom is easy to follow, even in the dark, the two of you have done this dance more than enough times. Clothes fall by the wayside without so much as a word, you both know why you’re here.

You’re where he likes you best; underneath him and waiting, wanting, wet because of him.

He needs to be inside you so badly, he can’t reach for a condom quickly enough. The bedside drawer is almost in reach but you grab his wrist and redirect it to your bare breasts, nipple hardening under his palm. Bakugou’s cock throbs when you shake your head at him, he thinks he might cum on the spot.

“Gonna let me fuck you properly now?” he asks, voice steady like his desire for you isn’t strong enough to make even his bones ache.

“Yes,” you reply, and the word sounds a little bit like a sob.

He loses himself the moment he sinks his cock into the tight, wet clutch of you. Bare for the first time. You say something but he can’t hear it over his own heartbeat, too wrapped up in the way your cunt feels impossibly warm around him.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing as he starts to move, “I missed you.”

You make a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan, your tits moving attractively with each thrust, “Me or my pussy?”

Bakugou’s head hangs between his shoulders, hair falling into his eyes as he barks out a rough laugh, “Yes— both— dunno.”

It feels even better to have you like this. Fucking you without a condom, yes, but knowing you have no obligations to anyone else.

Bakugou holds himself above you with his forearms on either side of your head. Close enough for your breaths to mix, close enough to kiss you until his head spins. He almost keens when you nip his bottom lip, he takes the sting of your teeth with pride.

“You’re mine,” you tell him, your hand curving around his neck. You squeeze, nails digging into his pulse, and the headrush makes him moan.

“Uh-huh,” he replies through a smile, voice strained when your hand tightens minutely, “Yours. All yours, baby, fuck—”

You grin at that, pulling him down for a kiss and wrapping your arms around him. He lets himself be pressed close, needing to feel your heart close to his.

“You mine, baby?” he asks, turning his face to kiss your arm.

You nod enthusiastically, “Yes! Yes, please, I’m gonna—”

“C’mon,” he grunts between hard thrusts, eager to feel you cum around his cock, “Say it, say it back.”

When you gasp and moan, “I’m yours!” Bakugou swears you mean it.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #📝 — bnha #bakugou 🧡#💒.txt #no beta we die like men o7

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just-some-guy-joust · 6 days

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Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side A: Round 1

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Evergreen | She/her | @insertsona

shes just kind of chilling tbh . she's technically unemployed (didn't feel like it) and spends most of her time vibing . her ex recently returned to the city after randomly disappearing for years and she was just kind of oh hey glad youre back . her most interesting trait is that she takes part in a fighting tournament once a year and wins it usually . and shes transgender

Promos: evergreen is a character in my oc universe teunia! shes a side character in the main story the tourney and a slightly more main character in the unnamed prequel that i think abt very often (but have yet to develop . bc im too busy thinking abt my dr oc constantly)

teunia's folder -> https://toyhou.se/InsertSona/characters/folder:3849690

Zephyr Fey | He/him | @lord-plague

An averagely built guy who somehow managed to join the military force of his fortress city without a birth certificate, ID, and with dyed hair. Nobody knows where he came from, nobody knows why he is here but there he is. No magic or superhuman abilities or prodigal skills but my god does he make great goo bowls with greater personalities (nobody wants the goo bowls and he does not know why). That one friend that keeps trying to alleviate awkward situations with jokes and random laughter.

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

EVERGREEN IS LITERALLY SO JUST SOME GUY. despite being a repeat champion for the tourney she lives in a shitty studio apartment . she had a girlfriend that was also her rival and then they broke up and she was just oh ok! her hobbies include vibing, hanging out, etc. shes like those old guys you see watching planes take off or construction occur . nobody knows where she gets her money from . her ex's new partner is a friend of hers. she doesn't even bear any relevance to the first main plotline because she's too busy doing other stuff she just happens to also be in the city while the horrors occur . sometimes shell go to the local coffee shop and just not order anything . i wanna be her friend . i havent actually posted her on tumblr . shes so some guy that most of the facts abt her character i can think abt are so mundane i never even bothered to write them down

[no extra description provided]

#tournament poll #oc tournament #ocs #some guy joust #evergreen #zephyr fey

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lucidreamer-uwu · 1 year

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What's on your D.D.D.? || Brothers Edition

~ What I think would be on their D.D.D.s ~

LUCIFER

His D.D.D. would be absolutely filled with documents. All the saved student council minutes of the meetings are there. All the projects, files, program flows, everything.

His email app would always have pending and/or unread notices. Emails he would frequently get are usually from RAD officials, Mammon's debt reminders, and other miscellaneous emails. And his emails would always have that 99+ bubble notification on the app. And no, it isn't spam-

Keeps notes for each of his brothers and Diavolo. Mammon's note has the most content, rivaling the amount of stuff that's on his to-do list note.

A MILLION alarms. He keeps the alarms as his reminders just in case his memory fails him. Which was rarely, but he still wanted to make sure. His alarms would be mainly his wake up call, feeding Cerberus, feeding Beel (or making sure he isn't about to go on a rampage), an alarm to leave the house, an alarm for the late bell, and one that is unnamed but is secretly to check on you.

His calendar app is PACKED. He always has meetings or things to do, deadlines, submissions, the whole burnout recipe.

His camera roll would sometimes be FILLED with random photos and photos of Belphie and Satan giving him the finger because they managed to get their hands on his D.D.D. Otherwise, it's usually filled with pictures of art like paintings and stuff.

Would have pictures of you and his brothers. He'd also save any pictures that are sent in his chats if it proved to be memorable or of importance to him. Also has a secret private safe where he stores all the photos that he gets sentimental over. That safe is locked tight with a password that changes every hour of the day, fingerprint required, and face recognition. If the app senses that you are not Lucifer, it will set off the curse he had conjured, take a picture of the intruder, and shut down the entire device (I bet he has his brothers' baby pictures in there). The only willing selfies he takes out of his own initiative is with Cerberus.

Normally he wouldn't have game apps on his D.D.D. but he had to download one because Luke and Levi influenced Diavolo into playing a multiplayer game and Diavolo asked him to join so that he could get more friends in the game because he needed to unlock an achievement. He did want to download the copy emoji expression game after he played it on Mammon's phone but he didn't wanna risk another incident.

Phone wallpaper would range from photos of artworks he finds good, and inspirational, motivational banners/quotes from artists he admired.

His music would be composed of vintage records, probably podcasts, and deep focus classics.

Has broken his D.D.D. because he tried texting his brothers while he was furious.

His storage is full most of the time.

MAMMON

This boy has accounts on any and ALL the banks of the Devildom. So he'd have a dedicated folder where he collates all those bank apps.

He's part of the student council so he has at least SOME files for that. He keeps it to a minimum though. His email and social media accounts are more cluttered than Lucifer's because he's often too lazy to keep it in check.

His notes app contains all his debts — and something of a ledger too. He keeps track of them not with the intention of paying them off, but to remember who to avoid.

He sets alarms to wake himself up in the morning so Lucifer doesn't beat him to consciousness, but he always manages to hit the snooze unconsciously before he wakes up. So he's extremely thankful if you're the one he wakes up to and not an angry Lucifer about to kill him, or a pissed off Levi who was ordered to wake him up.

Has some event reminders in his calendar app just so he doesn't forget to go to his part time jobs and his magazine shoots. Other events would include everyone's birthdays. (Like he'd actually forget your birthday, but he likes the look of it there anyway)

The guy's camera roll has TONS of pictures of the latest watch models, jewelry, expensive brands of clothing. Would also have pictures of his brothers doing goofy things. Has lots of party pics too.

He doesn't bother putting his brothers' pictures in his private safe. Instead, he keeps them in sorted albums — one for each brother. He keeps his blackmail folder, however, in the private safe.

His private safe would have pictures of you obviously. Your selfies together, the pictures he takes of you, with your knowledge of course, and maybe some candid shots of you sleeping and walking around or doing school work too. Besides that though, there are also images of things he wants to get you in there, like matching outfits, things he think that you'd like, clothes he thinks would look great on you, and all that. He can't risk you finding out before he actually gets it for you, he wants it to be a surprise!

Has FPS games on his phone and some multiplayer games too because he thinks that single player games are boring. Also because sometimes, it's the only way he can stay connected with Levi when he locks himself up in his room.

Lock screen wallpaper would be the best #bestfriendgoals selfie of the two of you and his home screen wallpaper would be the cutest picture of you two being all cuddly.

His music playlists would be composed of heavy metal music, pop music he likes to dance to, slow dance songs he imagines dancing with you in, rap music, and sweet love songs he has yet to gather the courage to send you.

The only one of the brothers who hasn't lost his D.D.D. Mainly because he doesn't want to even think about the price he has to pay for a new one.

LEVIATHAN

He only keeps a few school related things on his phone, neatly organized into one folder just in case he really needs it.

His email rarely has any back logs, mostly because of the fact that he regularly reads his mail to stay updated with news about any of his anime subscriptions.

Despite claiming that he's a shut-in otaku who has no social life, his social media — both personal and all his fan accounts — get a lot of notifications per day.

Notes app would be filled with his personal otaku errands, what merch he needs to get his hands on, games list, and school schedule.

He sets alarms to wake him up in the morning because he knows he can't rely on his broken sleep schedule to get him up on time. Most times though, he stays up to hear the alarm without a wink of sleep, then proceed to sleep after turning it off.

His alarms are also scheduled every thirty minutes before his anime shows are coming up.

This boy's calendar is almost as packed as Lucifer's but in an entirely different genre. Anime events, comic cons, cosplay events, merch release, anime releases, birthdays of his favorite anime characters and their voice actors, and the birthdays of his brothers', Henry's, and yours of course.

Camera roll would be filled with mostly anime pictures obviously, and cosplay outfits he likes. Some of them are of his brothers and Henry. And a good portion would also contain merchandise screenshots and photos.

Private safe? PFT as if he has a private safe... — he does but denies it because it's filled with selfies of you two and pictures he's saved of you from group chats and private chats he has. He also keeps pictures of him cosplaying in there. He'd die if anyone saw what was in the private safe, but would somehow be excited by the fact that someone had guessed his password, because only TRUE Ruri-chan fans would be able to know it!

His D.D.D.'s storage space has been long gone and is running on a single megabyte because of all the games he's had installed on it. He has a hard time choosing which game to delete whenever a new one catches his interest. It takes him HOURS to decide.

He thinks that having IRL photos as his phone wallpaper is breaking the otaku code and a total normie thing. So he has an anime lock screen and home screen.

Has anime playlists and soundtracks for DECADES. This was another sole contributor to the murder of his D.D.D. storage. (I'm convinced he likes to dance to the rhythm of "kiss kiss fall in love!").

His D.D.D. has been dropped in the toilet more times than he's willing to admit.

SATAN

A fair amount of his D.D.D. contained school related files. He was the student council secretary after all, so he has almost all the documents that Lucifer has on his D.D.D.

Unlike the first born however, Satan likes to keep his email tidy and rid of clutter no matter how stressful it was to handle all of RAD's emails.

He doesn't use social media often, even Levi's on it more than he was. But that doesn't falsify the fact that he gets a lot of fan mail and love messages. He's blocked a lot of them already, but somehow they still keep coming and don't ever seem to run out.

All his pranks and plots are stored in a safe folder of his notes app and regularly updates it, noting down which ones failed, which ones succeeded, and makes sure to also take note of how to further improve them.

He has a list of books to read in his notes app too. And a brief to-do list. Also secretly notes down things he think would be fun to do with you.

Has a short set of alarms. One for the morning, one for the night, and one for when it's time to feed the kittens at RAD.

His calendar would only be filled with the most important events like his brothers' birthdays, yes — even Lucifer's, your birthday, and events at RAD.

On the contrary, his camera roll would have a variety of contents ranging from every cat in the Devildom, pages of books he fancies, blackmail, embarrassing photos of Lucifer, you, and aesthetic library pics that he's sent you.

However sad it might be, he keeps a private safe so that he can keep the pictures of his brothers from the Celestial realm having a great time before he existed as himself. It's also where he keeps pictures of any memorable moments he genuinely finds comforting when he's frustrated. He'd rather die than have any of his brothers find out about it.

Doesn't have games on his D.D.D. BUT does have photo editors for entertainment purposes. His usual subject being Lucifer.

Lock screen wallpaper is of a bundle of cats on the sidewalk of some alleyway of the Devildom. Home screen wallpaper would be a picture of your soft smile. Makes him smile whenever he unlocks his phone to you.

He has classical music and podcasts on his D.D.D. Anger management podcasts mostly.

Misplaced his D.D.D. once and found it weeks later under a pile of books in his room. The screen was cracked.

ASMODEUS

He doesn't have space on his D.D.D. for anything school related unless it's a screenshot or picture of homework or projects he needs to submit.

It doesn't matter what app it is, social media, email, messaging app, it's always full. His inboxes never seem to be empty. No surprise there. He spends his time scanning them to give him an ego boost when he's bored.

Notes he takes are mostly the must have beauty products he needs, different self-care routines, and make-up, skin care, and moisturizing tips. Also takes note of the outfits he has to get his hands on, and ideas for his new product lines/ideas.

His alarms wouldn't be as hectic as some of his brothers' were. Just one for every essential. He's more of a timer kind of guy. He has a gazillion timers saved for 15 minutes, 30, and so on, to keep track how long he's been doing things. Being stunning requires self-control and discipline too you know!

He doesn't save birthdays on his calendar because he believes that if someone meant that much to you then you'd 100% remember their birthday without having to note it down on your calendar despite your busy schedule.

He does however, keep track of all the fashion events on his calendar. When the new season's wardrobe comes out and whatnot.

OBVIOUSLY, his camera is filled with selfies and self portraits of himself. He absolutely loves scrolling through them. He also has selfies with you in them. He takes selfies with everyone he likes so there's one photo album for that too. And one for all the miscellaneous pictures of clothes, make up, and cute color palettes.

Honestly doesn't have a private safe. His sentimental pictures are out in the open and he isn't afraid to flaunt them.

He has about one or two games on his D.D.D. He isn't good at them but he doesn't like getting left out when you play them with his brothers and the others at school.

His phone doesn't have a picture background. It has one of those aesthetically pleasing phone themes he likes having so that his apps are cutely designed as well.

He likes to listen to pop music, breakup songs, and love songs. But he also keeps party music on his phone too, along with some soothing background music to fill in the silence when he's taking some "me" time, which was often.

Don't ask him how his D.D.D. got stolen five times. He'll throw a fit and rant til the devildom freezes over.

BEELZEBUB

Just in case anyone needed it, Beel keeps student council stuff on his D.D.D. It wasn't as organized as Lucifer's or Satan's was though.

It wasn't as if he neglects his email or the messages he gets from random people, but it looked like he did because he's got piles of fan mail and school emails. He actually tries his best to answer all the heartfelt messages he gets when he has the time.

His notes were simple. Whenever he wanted to eat but couldn't, he'd type down whatever food came to his mind and was sure to have it later on. This way, he was fixated on the feeling of excitement rather than his hunger.

Also takes note of the food he wants to share with you and Belphie.

He doesn't have an alarm to wake him up because Belphie's alarm clocks have that covered. He has alarms for practice and classes though.

He takes note of all the big games he has upcoming on his calendar. Saves every important birthday and every important RAD event on it too.

His camera roll would strictly be anti-food because it's only torture for him. It does have pictures of his brothers, you, the purgatory hall residents, the demon lord's castle residents, and his game team.

His private safe has any picture with Lilith in it.

Like Asmo has games he knows you and his brothers play because he likes to spend time with you guys too.

Phone wallpaper would be a picture of the whole family, and a gym quote for the lock screen.

Workout music took the majority of his playlists.

Because he's tasted a D.D.D. before, his only comment was that it needed a bit more seasoning and hellfire mushrooms.

BELPHEGOR

The only school related files he has on his phone are homework and some student council documents that Lucifer requires him to have.

Like most of his brothers, his social media, email, and messaging apps are overflowing because he rarely checks on them and is too lazy to go through them when he actually looks at it.

"Notes? You guys keep notes?". He only takes notes of errands in case he forgets and the random date ideas he plans to take you on.

Alarms don't work on him but he keeps a ton of them anyway. One for every class, one for the morning, one for every single action he only absolutely HAS to do for the day. His brothers are starting to get annoyed because they were the ones being disturbed and needed to wake him up to shut it up because he made it so that only he could turn it off.

Calendar app is a ghost town. It only had the occasional birthday events and some important dates he wanted to remember, nothing important. He's too lazy to commit to organizing something as tedious as that.

Camera roll has pictures of him sleeping because his brothers often like to take his picture when he sleeps and has the audacity to tell him to send it to them afterwards.

He has one dedicated folder for his brothers, one for you, and one for others. He likes to take pictures of the stars so it's mixed in with pictures of the purgatory hall residents in the "others" folder.

He keeps any photo of Lilith in his private safe too. He also keeps the pictures of his brothers being sweet to him in there. He'd die of embarrassment if any of it got out.

Has any game that any of his brothers tells him to get — except Levi because he can't process anything he says when he talks about games. He'll try anything once. He often forgets to delete them though so most times he complains why his phone acts up, until Levi tells him about his storage being full.

Constellation, galaxy, starry D.D.D. background.

He saves any loud music he can find. He uses it to stay awake and plays it on full volume through his earphones when he's studying.

His D.D.D. has endured many falls from various heights. One time it fell from one of the top floor balconies of RAD because he fell asleep using it.

Hello my dreamers! It's been a while since I've last posted, hope you didn't miss me HAHA! I hope you liked this post and I know my inbox is overflowing but I'm still working on them I assure you! So keep those asks coming!

Also! If you want to be part of the tag list that I will create, comment "dreamer!" in the comments and your username will be saved to the list! If you don't want to be part of it anymore, simply send me a dm and you'll be removed.

Keep dreaming, dreamers! ♡

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blo0mmie · 1 month

Text

....Thinking About Yandere!Siren.

🧸Cw: Yandere in General, Obsessive & Possessive Behavior, Violence was implied, Unwanted advances, Unnamed Character, Reader's gender was not mentioned, Reader was mentioned to be a captain. Unprofessional writing, proof-read

🧸W.c: 9.9k & 900+ words (I reach the notes's limitations lmao)

🧸A/n: Shoutout to @screeching-bunny and her works! This writing was inspired by her (if you could already guess by the style I used)

Yandere!Siren who's always the talk of the town. A never-ending rumors and tales about this terrifying beast, living across the darkest depths of the sea and torments every unfortunate boat/ships who's brave enough to cross its deemed range, has been passed throughout generations.

Yandere!Siren that despite its massive, and not-so-positive, influence across the place, has never been truly identified nor had someone witnessed its true form to tell exactly what it looks like. Always been behind the fading murmurs of the waters and a fragment(s), of what is fortunate enough to be left of the already submerging ship, that swims back across the shores.

Yandere!Siren with a motive alongside its origin, remains ambiguous and a true puzzle towards the people. On why and how such a petrifying creature appeared one day and decided to ruin the peace and causes fear and Carnage across all the places that close to its 'territory'. Not even the most ambitious scientists nor avaricious politics had enough guts to bite the bullet and seek the monster themselves. Often making assumptions and false information in order to feed the media.

Yandere!Siren with its everlasting violent tendencies. Ready to snap or submerge any boat/ships within its vision field. And unfortunately, your vessel found itself trying to cross the unforgiving tides.

From a child's dream to the captain's reality.

Your lineage is renowned for its formidable members, revered for their bravery and leadership as commanders. They've played a vital role in your city's maritime activities, navigating the seas to fetch valuable goods while ensuring the safety of all aboard. Every citizen, politician, even foreigners from other lands, recognized your ancestors worth. If not for the constant negotiation with them for something, then just blunt praises and recognition for all the things they had done for the city. Exaggerating, I know but, hey. If you're living in a time where a beast was your neighbor, do you really have any options?

The people make this abundantly clear as when a news of a new offspring from your family has arrived, all hell breaks loose. People go nuts left and right as gossip and debates spread everywhere like a wildfire on the first day. Some say that you're gonna grow up to be a handsome lad. with a charismatic allure that can make any gals, and/or guys, falls and their underwear with a just passing glance and a perfect built that can make a god jealous or thirst. While some argue that you're gonna be a beautiful gal. Delicate yet dangerous as you toy with your victim with nothing but a sweet word as you point the tip of your sword in their neck or your heels between their thighs-

When the mayor of the place catches the wind of this, he immediately throws a weak-long celebration. Gifts, food, message, blessing, wishes, marriage proposals- yeah you got everything. From the humblest citizens to the most influential figures, joining to celebrate your birth. marking the significance of your presence in the family.

Every moment of your childhood felt like hell to the earth. You were bombarded with proposals from various sovereigns, allies, and political entities, some even from distant lands you haven't heard of. All the while, you had to juggle rigorous training and education to become a capable commander. And amidst it all, you felt the weight of constant scrutiny, not only from your guardian but from other things as well. as if every action and decision were under intense observation. Not to mention, the seldom time of being alone was almost unattainable. It was utterly exasperating and icky.

But despite all the endeavor along the way, you had tucked it all out and achieved the ambition you, and all of your family, have wanted; becoming a proud captain and owning a crew.

""Captain [Name]! The tides have been unusually rough lately... Is it safe to continue?" One of your subordinates cries out in fear as thunder rumbles across the dark sky, causing the said person the shriek. A gust of wind was follows, threatening to push the ship back, but you maintain control of the helm, preventing disaster. As the storm continues on, you glance over the dark waters, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind. The whispers of the townsfolk echo in your ears, tales of the dreaded monster haunting these very seas. But you're not about to give up now! No, you have to move on. Not when a heavy expectations and responsibilities resting upon your shoulders.

"We'll press on," you declare firmly, your voice cutting through the howling winds. "We cannot falter now, not when we are so close."

Your crew exchanges nervous glances, but they nod in silent agreement. Going back to their rightful position, trusting in your leadership. With grim determination, you steer the ship forward. As the ship battles against the relentless storm, a sense of uneasy hangs heavy in the air. The crew's nerves are stretched taut as they scan the churning waters for any sign of danger. Suddenly, a deafening roar pierces the raucous night, causing everyone to freeze in fear.

"What was that?!" one of your crewmates cries out, eyes wide with terror.

You grip the helm tighter, your heart pounding in your chest. "Steady, everyone. We must stay focused." No, no, no, no,

But before you can take another breath, a massive shape emerges from the depths, towering over the ship like nothing but a mere toy. The Beast, with its frightening form, flickers throughout the heavy fog and bullet rains, with the help of the lights thunder, with nothing but its silhouette and sharps teal eyes, glaring down at your ship- no, direct at you.

"It's the beast!" someone shouts, their voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. With every fiber of your being, you fight to maintain control, steering the ship away from the creature's clutches. But as the monster closes in, you catch a glimpse of its gaze. its eyes blazing with primal fury yet there's also something in there, something not akin to disdain- no, it's the opposite, rather.

A loud cackle breaks through the air, causing you to snap from your internal thoughts as you glance back at the sky. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and your heart skips a beat as you hear the haunting words, "FOuNd yoU~"

You turn to face the source of the voice, your eyes widening in horror as you see the monstrous silhouette looming over the ship. Its gaze fixates on you, an eerie intensity burning in its eyes. "Fascinating," it purrs, voice was strangely smooth and soft despite the turmoil currently occurring. "Hmm? Why, you are even more beautiful up close, so.... fierce, so mature~ In fact, even more beautiful than any of your ancestors"

"The f*ck"

Yandere!Siren who's actually a primordial deity of the place, so, so long that no tale or history was recorded about them and their existence.. Struck by an unfortunate event that leads to a drastic change into themselves forever. Once ascended from a celestial and pacific figure that shows love and mercy to all creatures, was now descending to vindictive omnipotent that wrath remained ranging like a seas.

Yandere!Siren that upon the day they decide to cause destruction, was the day a mortal decided to approach them, your first ancestor. Deciding to try striking a deal with the cruel beast in order to ensure the safety of the nation, despite knowing the possibility of a nasty outcome. But it seems that fortuna was on their side when the monster complied. Finding a sick amusement that anyone, less a mortal, has enough guts to not only approach them but also settle a bargain. But alas, they will humor the idea, till they get bored, of course.

Yandere!Siren who's actually behind to ALL the achievements and success of your ancestors all along. Ensuring every blood of your lineage was safe when sailing his seas while still causing turmoil to the rest. Making it as if your blood was blessed by some kind of god to even return in one piece after sailing through the curse seas.

Yandere!Siren that counts every passing days, years and decades. Till the news of your birth reaches him.

"....what?" you gawk, the revelation hitting you like a tidal wave.

"Well, yeah. But that's all about it, little captain," the siren replied nonchalantly, its voice echoing through the cavern as it leaned its weight against the ground, resting its head upon its scaly shoulder. The occasional motion of its crystal fin swayed against the water. The splinters of your, now broken, ship float aimlessly against the waters.

You, however, remained silent, trying to process the flood of information the former deity had just dumped on you. So, all this time, all this effort, it was all a bluff? The achievements, the pride, even the stories they had told you as a child, had led you to believe that your bloodline was special. But it was all a fraud.

Of course, it made sense. Who would be foolish enough to navigate these treacherous seas without being torn apart by the beast? Surely, there had to be something more than mere luck protecting your ancestors. But then, why attack you now? If the siren had spared your family before, what made you different?

"Why did you decide to attack me now?" you demanded, frustration and confusion mingling in your voice. "If you let my other family members off the hook easily, even granting them goods on return, then why target me?"

"The siren's haunting laughter reverberated through the cavern, sending shivers down your spine as it revealed the grim truth. "Ah, little captain, you truly are a naive one, aren't you? Well, I couldn't possibly blame you. Not when you grew up in a grand household, feeding your little mouth with nothing but lies.~" it taunted, its voice dripping with malice and affection.

"You see, long ago, your ancestor made a deal with me, if you're still unaware of this part," the siren continued, its gaze piercing into your very soul. "In exchange for safe passage and 'blessing' for the rest of your family, they decided and offered up their 12th descendant as a sacrifice to me."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the realization splashed upon you. You were that 12th descendant, the unwitting pawn in this charade.. Your entire existence had been predetermined from the moment your ancestor struck that accursed bargain.

A surge of anger and betrayal welled up inside you, threatening to consume you whole. "How could they do this to me?" you seethed, your voice trembling with rage and despair. You clutch your sword into a fist. the siren merely chuckled sweetly. As if watching a child, throwing tantrums, before its eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Oh, my dear pearl, they did it out of desperation," it cooed, its voice dripping with honeyed venom. "But don't worry, my little captain. I assured you that you are more than a sacrificial lamb to me."

Yandere!siren that takes you to its former castle, deep within the darkest depths of the ocean. Despite the passage of time and the siren's descent into madness, the place remains pristine and serene, untouched by the chaos of the surface world. Handing you a pearl that could possibly help you breathe under Proclaiming that it's your new home from now on.

Yandere!Siren who refuses to transform you into a merperson like itself, insists on keeping you with legs instead of a fin. It finds strange amusement in comparing your anatomy to its own, often tangling its fin with your legs or positioning itself between them, resting its head against your lap. When questioned, it responds with, "Your flesh was split in two, unlike mine. I wonder how wide it can stretch before reaching its limit"

Yandere!siren that's very attentive to your every need and desire. If you long for something shiny, it swiftly fetches it without hesitation. Even if you feel homesick or yearn for the surface, it begrudgingly complies, though always keeping a watchful eye on you from the depths below. It decides when to return you home, flooding the city without hesitation should anything happen to you.

....Think about Yandere!Siren

🧸A/n: Woah. First post and already long

#🧸.yandere writer #yandere teratophilia #yandere siren #yandere monster #yandere x reader #yandere god #🧸.long post

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oharabunny · 7 months

Text

imagine miguel pining for you but he finds out you are fucking someone else, but not in the way that he thinks

Word Count: 3591

Warning: 18+, mdni, switch!fem!afab!Reader (dom to sub), switch!Miguel (sub to dom), unnamed sub!malethird, jealous!Miguel, aggression, MMF threesome, cuckholdery (not on Miguel), p in v, fingering, blowjob, some spanking, porn without plot, not beta read, oneshot

Imagine Miguel was pining over you, obsessed, I mean. For awhile, basically almost ever since you joined the Spider Society. You have a smile that shines brighter than the sun. Your eyes twinkle when you look up at his tall figure. Your scent always lingered wherever you were at, in the most pleasant way. He always paid attention to every little subtle quirks and habits you have. From the sway of your hips as you move, to the way you squint and pucker your lips in deep thought. Besides the fate of the multiverse, you occupied the remaining space of his mind, which was a lot. Even sometimes to the point the thought of you would distract him from his work when he smells you coming from behind. You didn't even know the sheer effect you had on this guy.

Imagine Miguel overheard your conversation with Jess one day about your type in guys. You tell her you don't engage in those types of thoughts since you never really gave it a real, serious thought before. At first, Miguel is disappointed to hear that, but quickly recovers to the fact he had a chance due to your perceived innocence. How hardworking and dedicated to your job you must be. You were always so busy with so many things, you probably never even had your first time yet. He could already feel himself hardening in his suit at the thought of being your one and only.

Imagine Miguel was agitated to the fact you were not answering his messages and calls over your dimensional watch one day to join an emergency meeting he ordered, despite it being your off day. It wasn't just you he called, mind you, so you were being incredibly rude for ignoring his messages and making him and the other Spiders wait. It didn't help that his feelings for you only served to agitate him even more than usual. He had enough of waiting for you as his patience was as thin as paper. He headed to your dimension to fetch you himself.

Imagine Miguel barged through your window to your living room in your apartment. His heightened senses could already hear sounds coming from your bedroom. Sounds that made his blood run cold. It was moaning. It wasn't you who was moaning, but another man's. He stalked to the bedroom door silently and leaned in to hear because he refused to believe a sweet, innocent girl like you are hooking up with some rando, but he was also too hesitant to see it for himself.

"Oh! Y/N!! R-Right there! Aaaah~! Mmm~"

Now that didn't sound quite right. Why was the scumbag's tone like that? There was a hitch in his voice. Too high pitched imitating a girl. He had enough of listening in and swung open the bedroom door, and he couldn't believe his eyes.

Some small framed, small dicked man was tied up pathetically to your headboard with your webbing with his legs up over your shoulders as you fingered his ass with two, while wearing women's lingerie and stocking.

As for you, you weren't anything particularly special, you weren't even wearing a bra even. Just a tank and booty shorts.

The little man's voice hitched and sobbed, "Y/N! W-Why's he here?"

You didn't even flinch nor acknowledge Miguel's rude entrance. You slid your hand across his chest and your body against his to cradle and caress his form. You cupped his cheek, turned his face to Miguel, and looked up at Miguel directly into his red eyes. He has never seen you give that look to anyone before.

His face was still masked but you can see his jaw grinding, seething at the sight before him. His fists were balled so tight his claws drew blood in his palm. All this time, he thought he knew you like the back of his hand, but you had a darkness that you kept away from him too well.

"What. The. Fuck. Are you doing?" Miguel's voice was low and dangerous. He wanted to rip you away from that lowly man, if you can call him one, and fuck you properly. To put you in your place.

You were his, and his alone.

"Aw, looks like we got caught by the big man, he doesn't look too happy with us." You teased your little man with soft little pecks on his cheek as you trailed down to his neck and stroked his tiny cock up and down with just your thumb and pointer finger making a ring. You never once broke eye contact with Miguel.

That only angered and infuriated him even more. You were teasing him, and no one makes fun of Miguel O'hara and live to tell the tale.

His heavy footsteps could be mistaken for stomps as he walked up to your bed to yank you off of your little fling and hold you up by your tank top, dangling over the floor.

"I never took you for a whore." He growled in your face.

"And I never took you for someone so presumptious and...nosy." You smirked before going straight to the point. "Why do you care about an employee's private life?"

He couldn't recognize you at all. You were always so gentle, kind, sweet, and understanding. What happened to you? It was like something posessed you.

His grip on your tank top only tightened.

"You were supposed to answer your calls and messages when I send them. In case you forgot, we have a meeting today." He avoided the true answer to your question. "Now let's go."

He was quite literally about to just drag you as is, without your Spider suit. He didn't care if you were underdressed. That was your fault for ignoring him when he needed you. For being such a slut. Even if you were never his to begin with.

You never once flinched at his apparent anger. Actually, something about it turned you on.

Ah, he was jealous.

Yes, you had noticed his likened interest in you, but you never gave it much thought. He wasn't really your type. You preferred smaller men. You loved the thrill of being in control and to feel powerful. You loved watching the way they squirm and cry in pleasure when you hit the right spot inside. You loved watching small cocks grow triple in size that you normally can't see with ones that are already big to begin with.

Miguel is a big guy, in every sense of the word. You can tell. You don't usually enjoy submitting to big men. It wasn't...your thing.

So you wonder to yourself, why were you about to do your next move?

Your gaze turned sultry and your previous smirk fall into soft smile. Your hand made its way to his crotch. You can feel the definition of his large veiny cock. Precum threatening to drip through his unstable suit. You palmed his clothed cock up and down, even gave his balls a gentle squeeze.

"Then what are we going to do about this?" You practically whispered.

Now it was Miguel's turn for his voice to hitch. He tried to swallow his moan as he didn't expect you to come onto him all of a sudden. He didn't move to stop you, however.

Your other hand slid along his strong muscular abs, up up up, over his chest, neck, until you reached his mask and ripped it off his face to reveal him in a panting mess. His fangs protrude as his mouth is agape. His eyes dilated and filled with want. His hair disheveled with strands dangle over his angular face.

"You want this." You said as if you spoke his mind.

But his own denial caught up to him and pushed his unwanted thoughts away, and dropped you to the floor. His gaze was a war of emotions that you can't depict. All you knew he was only trying to suppress himself, for one reason or another. It didn't matter to you.

You stood up to press your perfect, curvacious body against his hard one. He can feel your two large mounds against him spurring his mind from what he originally intended to do. You were too close. Far too close for comfort.

He ducked and wrapped his arms around you in fevered desperation and kissed your lips hungrily. This kiss was a sloppy mess. He stopped in between breaths to kiss your jaw and neck. His hands roaming all over you trying to memorize every nook and cranny.

With your super strength, you shoved him off in annoyance. You glared at him coldly.

"I didn't give you permission to touch me." You said flatly.

He shot you a confused look until you moved closer to him and guided him into your bed. You made him lay on his back and moved his arms above him. You were about to use your own webbing to his wrists, but his eyes began to panic and his breathing quickened.

You didn't need him to tell you that he didn't want that. You softened your gaze at him in understanding. You gave a light peck on his cheek, right under his eye.

"You will be okay. I will take care of you." You said in the gentlest voice you can make. "But you have to be a good boy for me. You have to listen to me. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded.

And you were not satisified with just that.

"You need to use your words, you big baby. Say, yes ma'am."

"Y-Yes, ma'am." His voice was shaky. His sensitivity was peaking and he couldn't help but buck into you as you are straddling on top of him. Your clothed pussy deliberately pressed against his hard cock. His arms move down to try and grab you again but you swatted them away.

"Do not touch me until I say so." You commanded.

"Yes ma'am!"

He learned fast.

"Now, deactivate your suit." You ordered but it was gentle. And he does, without a second thought. Your hips start to roll and glide along his veiny cock. You made sure you could feel his big cock from every inch of your clothed pussy. The thin fabric of your booty shorts gave nothing to separate between the two of you. He even notices that the loose thin material of your shorts bunched into your puffy, needy pussy. You weren't wearing panties. You coated his cock with your slick. The way you angled your hip allowed your clit to also glide along.

Your hands were at first on his abs to stablize yourself, but when he revealed his glorious pecs, you couldn't help yourself but to cup them with your hands and massage and squeeze them roughly. Your fingers would pinch and roll his nipples. You ducked down and captured his left nipple into your wet mouth. You sucked and flicked his nipple with your tongue. You even bite down his mounds, causing a sharp pain, before quickly consoled by your soft tongue.

His fists were balled into the sheets. He was doing everything he can to not touch you, as you ordered. His claws were escaping and were tearing your sheets. His back was arching, pressing his chest more into your mouth.

A string of undecipherable words fell out of his mouth. All of these sensations were too much for him. He was too stimulated. Tears were welling up in his eyes. He wanted to say something but his heavy pants were getting in the way of his words.

He whimpered.

Your mouth lets go of his nipple in delight. Never had you seen the most proud and ferocious manly man trembling in a pathetic mess right under you.

That deserved a reward.

You leaned into his face and peppered sweet kisses along his cheek and licked away his tears. You brought your hand to his jaw and captured his lips into a deep kiss. Your tongue poked at his lips for permission, which he lets you. Your tongues battled against each other with not any one particularly winning, rather it was more of a dance.

He pulled away first.

"P-Please! Let me touch you!" He begged. Tears threatening to well up again. "I need to be inside of you!"

You didn't answer him just yet. Debating it in your thoughts. Sure you enjoyed making him a sobbing mess underneath you, but it didn't change the fact that he was BIG. You weren't too experienced with bigger cocks.

Before you could even give an answer, the forgotten little man, your lover turned third, had also whimpered in desperation for you. "Please don't forget me, Y/N!"

He seemed to be palming himself during the entire ordeal and squeezing his nipple.

"I need you too." He sobbed.

Your gaze that was fixated at Miguel turned over to your little lover. "C'mere, sweet boy, I didn't forget you."

You pulled yourself up from Miguel to reach for him, but Miguel pulled you right back down to him.

"Don't touch him!" His eyes were red flared with anger and jealousy. "You're mine!"

As if he had enough for your taunts, he sat up and flipped you over. This had surprised you which didn't give you time to react. He pinned your arms to the side of your head. He glared down at you with a mixture of resentment and lust. You were too surprised at this switch, so he took the chance to finally devour you.

Hot kisses that were nothing like the ones you gave him. His were needy, hungry, and rough. He wasn't afraid to bite your neck and suck on it. A moan escaped from you. You never felt this way before.

Now it was his turn to straddle you. He ripped away your tank top and shorts with ease and threw away all the shredded fabric aside. He kneeded your breasts and gave them a hard squeeze.

"I should've never given you the day off. Shouldn't have let you go home. You fucking whore."

He slapped your breasts.

You moved your hands to cover your mouth to stifle a moan, but his hands shoved them back to the side of your head.

"You're not covering your mouth. Be my little slut that you are. I want you to scream till the whole neighborhood hears you."

All of his senses are clouded and reason all gone. His movements were animalistic as he bucked his cock on the lips of your folds to catch more slick. The only mercy he was going to give you.

"Now take it."

He plunged right in so hard and so fast. You convulsed and screamed. You weren't used to being this full, nor this level of pain and pleasure mixed together.

His pace was brutal. You looked down. Horror struck your face. He didn't even bottom out yet.

"This isn't even all of me." He smirked. One hand hovered your clit and his thumb drew circles on it. Nothing gentle about it. The sheer shock of electricity caused you to scream.

The pleasure of your clit being roughly massaged convulsed your walls to tighten and loosen. He used it as an opportunity to go all the way in. His balls slapping against your ass as he pumps into your swollen pussy in full.

You tried to put your hands on his shoulders to leverage yourself but he swatted them away and say: "Do not touch me till I say so."

He lifted your legs and folded them over your shoulder lifting up your hips in consequence which allowed him to reach even deeper into you. Even more so when he stepped onto the mattress with his foot.

You couldn't stop sobbing. Drool was flying out of your mouth, but you couldn't give a damn. This was new levels of high you had never even begin to imagine.

You were so cock drunk that you couldn't focus on anything or anyone. However, you still tried to focus on him, his eyes, and when you do, your eyes widen in pure realization that he fully intended to breed you. Breed you till your belly was swollen.

He was getting close. You could tell too with the way his pace picked up in speed. You were close too.

Somehow, your little lover creeped up into your mind. Perhaps a little guilt from the fact that this had been intended to be between you two.

"W-Wa....it!" Your words sputtered out. You tried to reach him with your hands again.

He shot a cold glare down at you. "Don't. Touch."

"H-He ne-eds to cum!"

Then, he halted. He harshly grabbed your face.

"Even when I punish you, you're still thinking about other men." He looked at him. His tiny cock was still trapped in that frilly white lingerie he probably chose to wear. Fucking pervert. The two of you.

But he couldn't help but see an allure in that little man's eyes. That remniscent look he desperately craved. He was quivering and desperate. Yes, he indeed needed a release, badly.

He wasn't going to get him off though. No, he won't touch his little thing. He has an aversion to it. He wants it to disappear if he's going to let him cum.

"Come over here." He ordered and gestured over as he slowly moved inside of you, maintaining his high so it doesn't go away. He was going to finish inside you no matter what.

"Sit on her face. Put your cock into her mouth." He sternly instructed. He lowered your legs, spread them outward, and pulled you down so your pussy was at the edge of the bed to give your third a room. "Y/N, suck."

Your little lover does he was told and sat on your face with his cock in your mouth. You didn't complain either. You began to suck his half hard cock and it grew bigger instantly. Though, nowhere near as big as Miguel's. He still fit perfectly in your mouth and throat. Your tongue swirled and your cheeks hallowed on his cock, causing him to bounce up and down into your mouth.

Miguel, on the other hand, reached back to his brutal pace in your tight pussy and watched as this perverted guy fuck your face. Knots began to form in his chest.

He slapped his ass, which rewarded him a girlish yelp. Then he slapped it again. And again. And again. His small ass turning pink to a glowing, stinging red which Miguel would contrast with a firm yet consoling grope.

You sucking him wasn't enough, Miguel thought to himself, as he remembered when the beginning of this encounter. He let go of your legs which you weren't ready for so they fell limp at first, but you didn't want to lose your connection to his cock so you wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him inside you.

Miguel groped your third's cheeks before spreading them apart and stuck his thick, long pointer finger inside.

"A-AH! MIGUEL!!" He cried and arched his back.

Miguel smirked at this and started pumping his ass. His finger curled up and played the inside of his tight walls to find his perfect spot. He then added another finger inside and continued pumping him. He lost his strength and bent over your face to grab anything to leverage on.

How he managed to give equal focus to the both of you were beyond your comprehension, because he never once stuttered. No matter how many things he had to do separately, he did everything in a rhythm.

You were so unbelievably full from both ends. Your climax was coming. You moaned into your little lover's cock so loud it could be confused with a scream.

Miguel and your little lover were not too far behind either. Just a few more thrusts here, and few more there. You all came crashing down and coated your insides white.

None of you moved from where you were as you all rode out the highs and catching your breaths. Your legs fell limp letting go of Miguel who stayed inside you for some reason. While your little lover eventually did exit your mouth and rolled over on to the bed, completely spent.

Miguel slowly pulled out, but not without lifting your hips up first.

"W-What are you doing?" You asked shyly; your breath still shaking.

He shoved his fingers into your puffy little pussy. "I can't have it go to waste." He simply said. That statement alone tightened your walls around his fingers.

When he felt sure enough that his cum won't leak out, he laid you back down gently. He walked away for a second to go dig in your closet to cover. Oh, and to get your suit too.

You laid prettily on your bed with your little lover all spent just like him. Eyes hazy and you both stared at each other. Both faces inches apart. You get closer and closer.

Until Miguel abruptly lifts you off the bed, wraps you up in a towel, and takes you away from him. His suit was already back on, and he fired up the dimensional portal.

"When we get back, I'm cleaning out your mouth with my cock, you greedy slut." You glared at him with everything that you have.

He smirked, rejoicing to the fact you enjoyed this, even if you won't admit it.

"You better be fucking ready."

The End.

A/N: Okay this one was longer than intended because I was just going to jot down random ideas and let it be chaos, but it surprisingly came together as a decent oneshot. Mind you, this is the first time I ever wrote a complete story, regardless if it's a oneshot. I'm open to any feedback. I'm not very good at dialogue usually. I'm also actually still new and fresh to this whole tumblr setup. So I apologize of how plain and unaesthetic my posts and page are. இ௰இ

I also gotta thank my new friend @miguelswifey04 for encouraging me to write it out! Hope you enjoyed it. Now go take a shower. Lord knows I need to cuz I wrote all of this in one go.

#miguel ohara x reader #across the spiderverse #spider verse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #bunnyludes

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crusadingcookie · 1 year

Note

Hey i was wondering if maybe u can do a fic where reader is part of taskforce 141 and most of the time is super focused on the mission and her orders but seems out it it bc its her daughter bday or sum ,and they find out she used to have a family (husband,children the while shabang) but they were murdered or died in a terrorist attack. I just want something really angsty 😭💀

spring daffodils

Also on AO3!

Pairing: TF141 & fem!Reader, mentioned Reader x unnamed!Husband

Summary: It’s been years since the tragic death of your husband and daughter at the hands of an enemy target you were tracking at the time. On the day of what would have been your daughter’s birthday, something in a mission causes you to break down in front of the rest of the task force. Or: 3k words of the reader crying and Task Force 141 comforting her

Word Count: 3k

Content Warnings: fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, brief argument with Ghost at the beginning but nothing too bad, Reader was married and had a child, mentions of death (including death of a child), brief mention of blood, Reader has the codename “Tigress”, this is all strictly platonic, Tigress has that widow trauma so no time for romance, no beta we die like Tigress' family, it's for the angst plot guys I swear

A/N: Thank you for the request, I’m sorry this is kinda late but I hope you enjoy it! The ending is a bit meh but I already felt bad with how late this is. I tried to make this as angsty as possible but with some comfort and a bit of fluff at the end.

It was spring when you first met him. You were back home after a long, tiring time of non-stop tours and missions. You decided to take a small break of a couple of months before specialising further in your military career. A new café had opened near your home and you often found yourself there, spending the afternoon in the cosy shop. It was where you first met him. You had just picked up your cup of coffee when something bumped into you from behind, causing your coffee to spill all over the front of your shirt. You turned around, ready to have a word with whoever knocked into you when you were met with a ramble of apologies and promises to buy you a new coffee. Soon you found yourself sitting with the man in a private corner of the café, a hot cup of coffee in front of you and a promise of a new shirt to replace the coffee-stained one. One date quickly turned into two, the both of you enraptured with each other. And after a few years, a golden ring adorned your finger. After a year or so of the two of you being married, your daughter was born. A little human being who brought joy and innocence to your life, who did not know of the true horrors her mum faced to keep people like her safe.

=====

And it was spring when they died. The trees were starting to bud and the flowers were starting to bloom again. The sky was finally clear after months of grey clouds and cold winds. Mother Earth was once again encouraging and welcoming new life when their light was snuffed out. A bitter irony.

The family of crows which lived in your back garden sat in the branches of the tree overlooking your driveway. Watching as you made your way across the driveway and to the front door, observing like a bad omen. Only for you to discover the bodies of your husband and daughter. Shot dead in the very living room of your own home. It was like a silly game of Cluedo, whodunnit and with what? Except this wasn’t a silly game of Cluedo. You knew exactly who had ordered this to be done.

Their deaths were because of your line of work. A tragic event born from a multitude of failures. The target you were chasing at the time with your old squad had sent out the hit on your family. In a last-ditch attempt to attack your squad in some way. And if he couldn’t get to your squad directly, then he would hurt them indirectly. And that he did. Somehow it got out that you had a family, it shouldn’t have. Someone back at base fucked up because that information should have been strictly secret to prevent these types of situations in the first palace. It should have been redacted behind a big block of black ink on your file. But in the end, your target was the one with the last laugh whilst you were forced to deal with the sight of your husband and daughter murdered in your own home.

Since that day you have thrown yourself into your work. Sinking in an endless ocean of mission after mission, wanting to give up and stop swimming and yet just as the last breath of air leaves your lungs you find yourself breaking the surface yet again. A never-ending cycle of peace until the storm of grief strikes anew.

Without anyone left back home, it was easy to dedicate everything to the military and a few years later you found yourself recruited by no other than Captain John Price himself. This new task force, the 141, was the closest thing to family you had experienced in a long time. And yet, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to tell the boys about them. About your husband and your little girl. A part of you reasoned that there was no need for them to know, what was the point when their fate has already been engraved in stone and nothing can change the outcome of what happened. Or maybe you were just too much of a coward to confront what happened that day.

What you couldn’t ignore was the current date. Its significance is seared into your mind, a constant reminder of what could have been. Of what you have lost. And of course, the task force was assigned a mission on this day of all days. At first, the mission you and the rest of the task force were on was going well. You always prided yourself in being professional and focused when it came to missions. You knew the seriousness of the situation and followed orders given to you.

And then it all went to shit. You were already feeling off the moment you woke up. Not even looking at the small desk calendar to remind yourself of the date. As if you haven’t been counting down the days. Like clockwork, waiting for the guilt and grief to wash over you until the tsunami passed and you waited until another 365 days passed to repeat the process.

You and your team had cleared the abandoned village the enemy had set up base in. You were ordered to search and clear one of the buildings in case there were any enemies in hiding. As you methodically made your way through the house you came across what clearly used to be a child’s room. Toys were strewn about, but what caused you to pause was the sight of a teddy bear dropped at the foot of the bed. Intel had informed you that the village was forced to flee as the enemy forces occupied the area, some resisting and resulting in civilian deaths. Your eyes zeroed in on the blood splatter on one of the teddy’s ears, the fake fur matted with the dried liquid.

“Mum, can I get that teddy pretty pleaasee?”

“Alright sweetie, but only this one okay?”

“Yay thank you! I will name you… hmmm… Sir Stripes!”

You honestly did not remember much after that. The rest of the village was deemed clear and soon you were on the flight back to base. You fought to keep yourself together just for a few more hours until you were back on base and could grieve alone within the confines of your own four walls. Your team watched with concern as you sat, back straight and staring ahead at the hull of the plane.

A hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your memories. You recognised the face of the pilot and it took you embarrassingly long to realise the rest of the team had already disembarked the plane. You mumbled what you hoped was an intelligible apology and made your way over to the locker room. Thankfully the room was empty, you loved your teammates that was without question. But right now, you didn’t think you could make it much longer until you broke down. With practised ease, you stripped yourself of your gear and it seemed you were lucky enough that no one came to find out why you were taking so long. You should have known by now that luck typically doesn’t go your way. Just as you put away the last of your gear a voice from the doorway interrupted you.

“Care to explain what’s up with you today?” With a deep breath, you turned and faced Ghost. Your lieutenant was standing in the doorway of the armoury, already out of his field gear, although he looked just as intimidating in his normal attire.

“I don’t know what you mean, the mission was a success.” You said, attempting to feign ignorance. Of course, Ghost saw through that.

“You were out of it” Ghost replied, his eyes piercing into yours, his sharp gaze never leaving you.

You stayed silent, hoping that he would drop it and let you go so that you could inevitably cry in peace. The two of you stood in silence, staring at each other until Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, looking even more imposing in the doorway.

“Don’t bullshit me Tigress. You were clearly out of it, hell even Soap noticed and you know it takes him long to figure this kind of shit out.”

“The mission was a success, so I don’t see why this is an issue.” You huffed, starting to get irritated at the man’s persistent probing. Any other day you would be happy to know that the infamous Ghost cared. But right now? Right now you just wanted to be left alone. You just wanted to stew in your grief, let the dark thoughts remind you of what happened. You had to keep the walls up. They can’t know how fucked up your life was. How you failed to protect them. You don’t deserve their comfort.

Ghost shifted at the slight tone in your voice. If it wasn’t clear before that something was bothering you, now it definitely was. “It becomes an issue when one of my soldiers is not thinking clearly in enemy territory.”

“Look, Lieutenant, it's getting late, we’re all tired. This won’t happen again.” You sighed, exasperated by both the exhaustion from the mission and the emotional toll it took on you.

You pushed past the man and made your way to the task force’s shared kitchen area. Hoping to get a fresh glass of water and some snacks before your inevitable break down. Of course Ghost, the stubborn man that he is, followed you. He wasn’t done with this situation and in his own way wanted to make sure you were okay so that you wouldn’t be distracted in future missions. You ignored the rest of your team sitting in the room and beelined straight for the kitchen cupboard, taking out an empty glass.

“This isn’t a joke Tigress. One mistake and it can cost you your life out there”

“I know that!” You exclaimed in response to Ghost’s voice, not turning around to face the man who had followed you to the common area.

“Do you? Do you know that? Because today, out there it seemed like one of my soldiers was ready to put her life in danger because she wasn’t aware!”

Ghost waits for an answer but when he gets none he continued, “I can’t have you out there acting as if there is nothing for you to go back to back home”

“Well, there is nothing back home!” You yelled out, setting the glass not so gently on the counter. Immediately you closed your eyes in regret of your outburst.

Ghost faltered for a second, the rest of the team watching you with your back turned to them

You faced the wall, feeling the sting grow stronger in your eyes. You tilted your face up towards the ceiling, hoping it would stave off the tears. The muscles in your jaw tensed as you clenched them in an attempt to keep your composure.

“Tigress?”

You took a deep breath and turned to face your team. They watched as you faced them, your lip quivering as you fought to contain the sobs building in your throat, eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at any second. You rapidly blinked your eyes at the moisture building up in them.

“I’m gonna go to sleep,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Hey, don’t pull away from us, please. Tell us what’s wrong” Gaz was the first one to break the silence, he got up and moved to stand in front of you. “Are you alright?” he asked, stretching his arms out towards you in a silent offering.

At the sound of his gentle voice the walls you so desperately built to shield your own heart broke. And with them your last composure. You sniffled a few times, inhaling the air up through your nose as your face twisted with both the emotional pain and the effort of not breaking down. You shook your head softly at him, words failing you at this moment due to the lump in your throat and the tight coil wrapped in your chest. You practically dove into Gaz’s outstretched arms, allowing yourself for the first time in years to have this comfort. His arms came down to wrap around you and in the safety of his embrace, the first sob escaped from where you tried to bury it down. The tears quickly followed and found their way down your cheeks.

The two of you stood there for what felt like hours, Gaz gently rocking you from side to side. Years of built-up grief and anguish finally escaped from where you had buried those feelings deep within your heart, bubbling up into a series of broken sounds escaping your lips. After a few minutes, your sobs calmed down to a few quiet hiccups and sniffles. Another arm joined to draw comforting circles on your back, you tilted your head from where it was resting against Gaz’s chest to see Soap standing next to you. A warm smile on the Scotman’s face.

“I- um…” you trailed off, your words interrupted by yet another sniffle.

“Take your time lass,” answered Soap

You sent him a watery smile and pulled your sleeves over your hands to wipe at your eyes as well as your running nose. You coughed to clear the croakiness in your voice and took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.

“I had a husband years ago. We were married and even had a little girl together. This was before I joined the task force and everything,” you paused to accept a tissue from Price, you blew out your nose before continuing. “And well, they were both killed because of my involvement in a case. The target we were tracking sent out the hit.”

“Kid, I had no idea.” Price said, taking your used tissue from your hand and replacing it with a clean one. He may deny that he is the dad of the team, but all of you knew he cared for every single one of you.

“I didn’t want any of you to know. I tried putting that shit behind me. Didn’t want to talk about it, so I left it out of my file.” You explained and with a weak laugh you continue, “she would have been eight today. Her dad would always buy her those supermarket cakes, and if I wasn’t home she would insist I get one as well so that I could eat some cake too.”

All of your teammates’ hearts ached seeing how much pain you carried, how long you probably suffered and grieved for their losses without having anyone to comfort you. Never before had they seen you with this much pain in your voice, you were always the one who got the job done on missions. Who seemed like they had their life together and returned on leave to a happy home life.

You looked up after dabbing at your eyes with the tissue to see Price standing in front of you. You didn’t think you had any tears left in you but at the sight of your Captain, the unofficial dad of the team, with his arms out wide offering you a hug and a soft look in his eyes you felt the tears well up once again.

You accepted Price’s hug and you felt the distinct lump in the back of your throat build up again and as much as you tried to will it away, it persisted and soon more sobs were forced from you. The smell of cigars and smoke enveloped you in the warmth of his embrace. Price only pulled you closer to his chest at the sound of your sobs, allowing you to fully bury your face into his shirt, no doubt wetting the fabric with your tears.

Soon Gaz joined you two, tears of his own in his eyes. Price reached up with one of his arms and pulled the younger man in. Soap followed shortly after and finally, you felt gentle yet firm arms enveloping all of you. You looked up to see Ghost, a rare soft look in his eyes and a silent apology for having pushed you for answers earlier.

You felt safe here in the big, warm group hug of your teammates and slowly your sobs dwindled until they completely died down.

“I have some pictures I can show you guys,” you disentangled yourself from the group hug to move to one of the couches and took out your phone, scrolling past pictures of the task force members as well as pictures of your old team. You finally found your favourite picture, it shows your husband and daughter together, a tiger plushie clutched in your daughter’s hands. Your team gathered around as you showed them the picture.

“Wait, is that why?” Soap began to ask and you nodded.

“They were her favourite animal. And when she found out about codenames, she practically insisted on that being my codename”

“So like a secret spy!”

“Yes sweetie, it’s a secret spy name”

“Can you choose your own?”

“We can, or it’s a nickname given to us by our friends”

“Ooo how about Tiger? No! Tigress!”

“That’s an amazing idea, honey”

You took a moment to stare at the picture, smiling at how happy they both looked in it. Your hand which held the crumpled tissue reached up to lightly dab at the tears welling up in your eyes again. You accepted another tissue from Ghost this time, where he got them from you had no idea but you were grateful for it anyways.

The rest of the evening was spent with all of you sharing various stories from over the years. Tucked in between your teammates, tired from the emotional day, you felt a sense of home. Something which you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

#female reader #cod mw2 x reader #reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x reader #taskforce 141 x reader #141 x reader #angst #fluff #taskforce 141 #cod ghost #cod soap #let me know if there are any mistakes #thank you and i hope you enjoy

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lesbiansforangusmcdonald · 4 months

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Ok, finals are over, so now I can FINALLY post my Pepe Sylvia theory about Porter actually being evil that has been ruminating in my head ever since I saw season 2! (spoilers for s2 of fantasy high, obviously)

(sorry if someone’s talked about it before and I couldn’t find it, but like WE NEED TO DISCUSS THIS BEFORE S3!)

Ok, so I noticed something when Ragh talked about the first time he saw Kalina in episode 4 of season 2 (“Heartache on the Celestine Sea”). He says that he saw Jace talking to some elven woman (who is revealed to be Adaine’s mom, Arianwen) and to “someone he couldn’t see. I just assumed somebody was invisible.” This is most likely Kalina, as Arianwen was there to get the Nightmare King’s crown and Kalina could have been helping her do that. However, this is important because, since Ragh could obviously see Kalina later on, this is a point in time when he couldn’t see Kalina.

Then Ragh says that after he saw that, Jace and Porter came to talk to him, and “Porter did some barbarian healing with me.” This seems normal enough, as Ragh had just been in a huge fight, but Ragh stipulates that “I didn’t feel that injured, honestly.” So this line already makes it seem as though Porter may have had some ulterior motive for healing Ragh.

Then, Ragh says that as he was walking home after this, he was approached by Kalina, who threatened to kill his mom if he said anything about seeing Arianwen at the school.

(the clip of the scene is here, if you wanna watch it, edited slightly for clarity)

So this makes me think that Jace and Porter knew Ragh saw Arianwen at the school, knew he would probably tell the Bad Kids about it, and Porter intentionally passed Kalina to Ragh through healing in order to ensure his silence.

AND if you’re thinking this may be a bit far-fetched, I’ll remind you that Landren Leir, the cleric of the unnamed goddess who infiltrated the elven Galicaean church after the fall of the unnamed goddess, also passed on Kalina via healing of the high-elven clergy, which she was then murdered for.

But in order to pass it on to Ragh at all, Porter must have been infected with Kalina as well, so here are some of my theories of what that could mean;

1. Porter had no idea he was infected and was just trying to heal a student.

I mean, totally possible, right? From most of the other angles, Porter seems like a decent guy; he supports Fig in barbarian class, he’s part of a community at his local gym, and he did get sucked into a palimpsest when Kalvaxis/Goldenhoard was trying to take over the school — why would that happen if Porter wouldn’t have been opposed to what Kalvaxis/Goldenhoard was doing? And there are plenty of people who are infected with Kalina and never show any symptoms, and therefore never know. It could have been totally innocent. BUT it’s just a little too convenient, isn’t it? Ragh sees Arianwen at the school, and then right after he’s “randomly” infected with Kalina? It just doesn’t seem like a coincidence.

2. Porter knew he was passing Kalina onto Ragh, but wasn’t aware of the full plot to steal the Nightmare King’s crown.

I mean, also possible, right? Maybe Jace put Porter up to it, maybe he knew more than Porter did about the whole situation? Porter wasn’t initially mentioned as talking to Arianwen, maybe Jace just manipulated Porter because he knew that Ragh would trust Porter as his teacher. BUT I think that it would be kind of weird for Porter to be in the school, be infected, be around all of these other people who are in on this wider plot, but they don’t get him involved. Maybe they thought he wouldn’t go for it, thought he was too nice, but I’m not sure. I mean, I think this theory has more merit than the first one, like it’s possible, just would be a little weird.

3. Porter was in on the plot to bring back the Nightmare King.

I mean. Like I know this may not be another Loose Duke situation. But it’s possible! Like, he’s in the right positions! He works at the school. He has the trust of some of the bad kids. He didn’t openly support Kalvaxis or anything he did. Maybe their larger organization (which they do hint that there are more people throughout the world that want to bring back the nightmare king throughout the campaign) thought that he should lay low and hold onto the trust of the bad kids, just wait until the right time to strike. Again, the fact that he would knowingly put a student, one of HIS barbarian students, in such serious danger, in order to protect the larger interest of bringing back the Nightmare King, does not stack up well against him.

So, do I think that Porter will end up being the big bad of season 3, or even the elusive season 4? No, probably not. BUT I do think that he’s sus as fuck and we need to stay on our toes, because he could turn out to be more of a threat with the right opportunities.

#I’m still WILDING over this tiny find #because like !?!?!? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN BRENNAN?!?#is this another loose duke situation or are you just fucking with us?#it’s driving me nuts I hope we get some clarity one way or the other #fantasy high #fh #fantasy high sophomore year #fantasy high junior year #fhsy #fhjy #d20 #dimension 20 #dimension twenty #Porter #d20 porter #fh theory #emily axford #brennan lee mulligan

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rejectedfables · 1 year

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I think often about Jin Guangyao’s “[I murdered] my father, my (older) brother, my wife, my son, my teacher, my friend” quote. I think about how Jin Guangyao, a man known for self effacing politeness to the point of taking blame and shame onto himself to alleviate the tempers of others, in this moment takes complete responsibility for "murders” that he absolutely did not commit. And I think about how the audience both in the story and outside it, take his words at face value.

I think there are multiple ways of interpreting who this quote is about. Obviously Father = Jin Guangshan, Wife = Qin Su, Son = Jin Rusong, those are clear. I think (older) Brother could either be Nie Mingjue or Jin Zixuan. I think "teacher” could be Wen Rouhan or Nie Mingjue. Friend could be Nie Mingjue, Su Minshan, or Xue Yang.

So I think the ONLY options for [brother, teacher, friend] (in that order) are:

NMJ, WRH, and SMS

NMJ, WRH, and XY

JZX, NMJ, and SMS

JZX, NMJ, and XY

JZX, WRH, and NMJ

JZX, WRH, and SMS

JZX, WRH, and XY

I also saw a translation where he said “friends” plural, which would reduce the list to:

NMJ, WRH, XY and SMS

JZX, NMJ, XY and SMS

JZX, WRH, SMS and NMJ

JZX, WRH, XY and NMJ

JZX, WRH, XY and SMS

However, given the importance of his relationship with NMJ, I feel like we can safely eliminate any that exclude NMJ entirely. Similarly, there cannot be characters mentioned here who are unnamed or unknown to the reader, as that wouldn’t make any Doylist sense. We are left with a list that consists of Nie Mingjue, either WRH or JZX or both, and possibly XY and/or SMS.

Regardless of which of those combinations you use, he did not directly OR EVEN DELIBERATELY murder everyone on that list. Let’s go through them:

Jin Guangshan: Yes, he deliberately ordered and orchestrated his father’s death. Outstanding, earned, poetic, no notes. (Okay maybe SOME notes, but like, listen. Listen.)

Qin Su: Qin Su killed herself. In the animation, Jin Guangyao used the skull-piercing nails to force her suicide, but this is not canon to the novel. Bicao claims that Jin Guangyao must have killed her to silence her, despite her suicide having many witnesses (including us! the readers!), but Wei Wuxian (who WAS THERE) speculates that she couldn’t handle the reality of her marriage, as illuminated to her BY Bicao, or the prospect of societal shame if it got out. However, even IF “your actions drove her to suicide” were the rubric here, that’s still not quite the same as “you murdered her”, nor does it seem to be the outcome he was hoping or planning for. “JGY murdered her” is factually inaccurate, and a blatant propaganda tactic being used against him-- but perhaps it felt emotionally true to HIM because he’s grieving his DEAD WIFE and he FEELS responsible.

Nie Mingjue: JGY spent something like 5+ years suffering physical and verbal abuse and explicit threats of death by Nie Mingjue, then was tasked with killing Nie Mingjue by his father. He did so in a sneaky way, so as to not endanger himself further or get punished for (or perhaps cause an inter-sect conflict/war by) killing the leader of a rival sect.

Wen Rouhan: JGY stabbed him in all adaptations, A+, war hero.

Jin Zixuan: JGY, on his father’s orders, orchestrated a situation that led to Jin Zixuan’s death. We cannot know for SURE that JGY wasn’t aiming for his death but we CAN say that “Wei Wuxian accidentally compelling Wen Ning to kill the ONE GUY PRESENT Wei Wuxian did NOT want to kill” (OR “WN killing JZX of his own accord against WWX’s orders”) would have been a weird bet to make. This seems highly unlikely to have been JGY’s goal, but it was certainly caused by a situation he created. He also did not actually literally kill the guy.

Su Minshan: Su She died to protect Jin Guangyao from Nie Mingjue’s fierce corpse. Jin Guangyao is only “responsible” for this in the vaguest or terms and worst faith of interpretations. Technically Su She wouldn’t have died there if not for JGY on multiple levels (wouldn’t have had to protect him, NMJ’s fierce corpse being JGY’s fault, wouldn’t have been present at all if JGY hadn’t summoned him there, etc.), but if Jin Guangyao describes this as “I murdered him” that’s... a stretch. Again, like with Qin Su, this feels like something he might say because he FEELS responsible, rather than because he actually is.

Xue Yang: JGY ordered Xue Yang’s execution (or possibly ordered a fake execution, but this seems less likely) directly before he fled, injured, to Yi City. He did not die here. Later, after reconnecting and while still following Jin Guangyao’s orders, Xue Yang was killed by other people in opposition to Jin Guangyao’s wishes and plans. Again, TECHNICALLY Xue Yang would not have died when he did were it not for Jin Guangyao, but describing it as “Jin Guangyao murdered him” is QUITE a stretch. Due to the title of the “Villainous Friends” extra, which is about JGY and XY specifically, XY seems the most likely candidate to me for “Friend” in this quote, which is bizarre because I think his death is actually the LEAST connected to Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangyao wasn’t even present, nor did Xue Yang die FOR Jin Guangyao-- just on his payroll. BUT perhaps he still felt guilty for ORDERING his execution, and simply his willingness to HAVE Xue Yang killed counted enough to make the list.

I’ll get to the last one, but I’m pausing here to say: What all of this means is that no matter who is or isn’t on that list, it is NOT an objective list of factual murders. It is a list of people who’s deaths Jin Guangyao FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR.

Even before we get to who counts as teacher, brother, or friend, even JUST his wife solidifies this. But it isn’t JUST her either-- even if we cut SMS and XY (the other two BIG stretch candidates) from the equation, that leaves us ONLY with NMJ(friend), WRH(teacher), and JZX(brother). And Jin Zixuan is the other one that really should not make the list of people JGY “murdered”.

This is a list of people who’s deaths Jin Guangyao FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR.

Which brings us to the last one:

Jin Rusong: The quote (I believe this is a fan translation, but not sure) "One of the opposing sect leaders lost the arguments [about the watchtowers], and went into a murderous rage, killing Jin Guangyao and Qin Su’s only son. The boy had always been a good child and the couple had loved him dearly. Under resentment, Jin Guangyao tore down the entire sect in revenge” is, to my knowledge/memory, the only real account we’re given of what happened. “Lost the arguments and went into a murderous rage” doesn’t sound like the child was found dead some time later, and they had to investigate. It sounds like it happened in public, with witnesses, immediately.

In the same scene where Bicao convinces an audience that Qin Su, who famously killed herself on screen in a room full of people with a (now) known motive for suicide, “must have” been murdered by Jin Guangyao-- in that same scene others speculate that Jin Rusong, who was famously killed by a political opponent in a “murderous rage” most likely DURING A CONFERENCE, “must have” been murdered by Jin Guangyao.

I think "I angered an opposing sect leader so much that he killed my son" being translated by JGY into "I killed my son" is EXACTLY IN LINE with the rest of his list. How is that different than "I ordered Xue Yang's assassination, and later put him in a situation that caused others to kill him" being translated to "I killed my friend"? Or “Su She died to protect me” being translated to “I killed my friend”? Or “I didn’t anticipate my brother’s unwitting involvement in a covert operation would get him accidentally killed, which no one wanted, not even the guy who did it” being translated to “I killed my brother”? Or “I tried to protect my pregnant fiancé/wife from a horrible secret I only just learned, which would ruin her life, and when someone confronted her with it TO HARM ME she couldn’t live with it and killed herself” being translated to “I killed my wife”? It’s the same!

I do not believe that Jin Guangyao killed Jin Rusong. I believe “I murdered my son” is an example of the way that Jin Guangyao speaks about himself-- always taking the maximum responsibility onto his own shoulders. If he was in any way responsible, than he was completely responsible. If he FEELS responsible, then he MAY AS WELL have murdered them.

The context of when he says this quote also matters towards how we interpret it’s meaning. He was already attempting to flee the country, aware that the cultivation world was actively turning on him for crimes that he did AND DIDN’T commit. He was surrounded by people he thought cared about him, all of whom seemed determined to stop him from achieving a safe exit. He had had all the horrible things he felt responsible for (regardless of how directly or deliberately he was involved in those events) thrown in his face by said loved ones, while they looked at him with horror. Su Minshan had just been killed trying to PROTECT HIM, and now it looked like it had been for nothing anyway. Huaisang, who he is shown as doting upon throughout their decades long relationship, has just manipulated Lan Xichen (do I even have to go into how important Lan Xichen is to him? Please say no, please say this much at LEAST is universally understood) into BEING THE ONE to STAB HIM.

In this moment, he believes that he’s going to die, and be reviled in death by society and his loved ones alike. He knows there’s nothing left he can say or do, he hasn’t had time to process Su She’s death, and Lan Xichen has JUST (accidentally) betrayed him (which he also hasn’t had time to process).

And also, notably, he had very recently been IN POSSESSION of the TIGER TALLY.

AND HE’S BEEN STABBED! To my memory this scene happens while he’s missing an arm and LAN XICHEN’S sword is still INSIDE HIS GUTS. His emotions and reasoning are probably NOT the most calm or rational right now (blood loss, pain, fear, grief, influence of the tiger tally, etc.), and this “confession” should be taken with that in mind.

I just think a lot about how “I murdered [everyone I’ve loved except for you]” is such a raw and telling line, given the context. Even if it’s more like “I murdered [everyone I’ve owed devotion to except for you]”, that’s still so painful. He blames himself for all of it. All of it! The world celebrated Wen Rouhan’s death, but Jin Guangyao added it to his personal list. Jin Guangshan is arguably the most reprehensible character in the entire story, and ruined every part of Jin Guangyao’s entire life, but he’s on the list. He did everything in his power to protect Qin Su, and when she found out the truth he continued offering her ways he could protect her, but she chose to kill herself, and she’s on the list. He tried to improve the world with the watchtowers, and someone retaliated by murdering his son, and he claimed responsibility for that too.

He knew he was being blamed for their deaths, knew it was propaganda and slander and bad faith, but he blamed himself too. So he just... accepted it. I did it. It was me, I murdered them.

And so, so, so many people, in his world and in ours, were so, so eager to agree

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