#I do have the original suit reblogged though

[buckys-lover]

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Translation Reblog

You’re coming back from a successful mission with Peter (Spiderman 9411). You were able to stop and capture an anomaly, a variation of Doc Ock, and send them back to their original universe. Upon your return, you make your way to HQ to brief Miguel on what happened. Everything was going fine. You and Peter were laughing and joking around together while giving report, just having a good time.

Meanwhile, Miguel was watching you both intently, narrowing in on the way that Peter casually touches you, the way he looks at you, the smile that reaches his eyes when he’s around you. Miguel was always suspicious that there was something going on between you two. A week ago, his suspicion was confirmed when Lyla mentioned that you two slept together (even though you made her promise not to tell anyone). And he couldn’t stand it.

He keeps his tone clipped and cold. Simply saying you did a good job before dismissing you. You and Peter turn to leave, but Miguel speaks up, telling you to stay behind. You don’t think much of it; after all, you were one of the few people Miguel was close to. Maybe he just wanted to discuss something unrelated. You tell Peter to head out and you’ll catch up with him later. The doors shut behind him, and you can hear them lock. The room is silent except for the occasional beeps and replays of other missions on the screens. Miguel doesn’t say a word as he steps off the platform and walks toward you. Tension lingers in the air as you face each other.

He's the first to break the silence, “What’s going on with you and Peter?”

You’re a bit taken aback, confused about where this was coming from, “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

He shakes his head in frustration, “No me mientas cariño; I’m not blind!”

“Miguel, no sé de que estás hablando.” But you do know. And it’s becoming evident that Lyla snitched on you.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice hardens, and he comes closer, “Answer me.”

You’re starting to get fed up with his attitude. What you and Peter do is none of his business, and you place a hand on his chest to try and push him away, but he’s firm in place.

He grabs your wrist and leans down, a harsh whisper in your ear, “Tell me, what does he have that I don’t?”

It hits you then, and you pull back, narrowing your eyes at him, “Estás celoso?” You scoff in disbelief when you finally take notice of his jealousy. You honestly want to laugh, but the look on Miguel’s face lets you know that’d be a bad idea.

“You didn’t answer me.” He huffs.

You decided then to stoke the flames, “Let’s find out.” Maybe he’d finally cut through the tension and get to what you know you’ve both been craving.

Your heart races as the tension between you reaches its peak. With a daring glance, you take a step closer to Miguel, bodies almost touching. Your eyes lock, and the air crackles with anticipation.

You take in the way his pupils dilate at your words as he leans in, your lips mere millimeters apart, teasingly close. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” He murmured, voice heavy with need.

His admission sends shivers down your spine. Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your chest. You've wanted this for a long time, and nothing's stopping you now. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the remaining distance between your lips. Mouths colliding in a passionate and urgent kiss, all your pent-up desires finally unleashed.

Your bodies mold together as your tongues intertwine, exploring and tasting each other with a fervor born of longing. Miguel's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you even closer while your fingers weave through his hair, tugging gently.

Breaking the kiss, your heavy breaths mingle in the air, eyes locked with an intensity that speaks volumes.

"Don't hold back, Miguel. Enseñame. Show me you're better." Your thighs clench when you hear his growl in response.

Your lips soon meet again in a hungry, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that has been smoldering for far too long. As your bodies press against each other, your hands begin to explore, tracing the contours of each other's forms. Miguel's touch is possessive, his fingertips leaving a trail of tingling sensations on your skin.

You’re backed up against the console as Miguel's lips descend upon your neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He revels in the soft gasps that escape your lips.

He lifts you and lays you down; you can feel the coldness of the metal through your suit. His lips are still on your neck, and you can feel the sharp point of his fangs against your delicate skin. Without warning, he bit you, drawing blood. You gasped at the sensation, feeling his tongue soothe over the bite marks that were already beginning to heal.

“Your biting kink is showing.” You tease, still enjoying the residual sting of it.

“I don’t have a-- shut up.” He growled the words into your neck before biting you again. It was obvious that it was something he enjoyed. A way to mark you up and make it clear who you belong to now.

“Te ves tan hermosa así.” He whispers as he pulls away, eyes glued on your neck, giving a hum of satisfaction over the way you look after he’s staked his claim on you.

You watch him as he brings his hand to your collarbone, tracing the marks gently with his claws before he hooks it under the neck of your suit. You hear it first. The sound of the threads tearing before the feel of cool air.

He ripped your suit. He ripped your fucking spider suit. “Miguel!” The shock evident in your voice as he’s practically torn the suit off your body. He meets your gaze, showing no signs of remorse for what he just did. “No te preocupes preciosa. I’ll make you a new one, a better one.”

You huff at his words; you really liked that suit. But your protest quickly dies down the moment you feel his lips on your bare chest. He’s taking his time with you, marking you up as much as he possibly can. Lips latching onto your nipple, tongue swirling around and sucking while his hand gives attention to your other breast. Your back is arching, trying to get as close to his mouth as possible, reveling in the feeling of him sucking and nibbling your sensitive skin.

“Love these fucking tits.” He whispers against your skin as he holds them in his hand, loving the softness of them and how you react. You need him desperately as his kisses and bites travel further down your body. You’re squirming under his touch, and once his lips meet the apex of your thighs, you buck your hips up into him. Your fingers make their way into his hair, tugging him so he places that sinful mouth where you need him most.

“Por favor Miguel,” You can barely think straight with the way he’s looking at you. “Necesito…” Your words trail off. He looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Qué necesitas?”

You groan in frustration, tugging his hair again to show him what you mean. He just shakes his head at you, not willing to budge until he hears you beg for him. He’s waiting. Patiently. You know Miguel, and he’d wait forever just to prove a point.

You finally give in, “Miguel, please, need you so bad.” He tilts his head, still waiting expectantly; he needs to hear more. He needs to hear how desperate you are for him.

“Ay por Dios! Miguel, I can’t wait any longer. Please- need you…need your mouth. Anything!” You’re whining at this point, and can’t believe how pathetic you sound. But it was enough. That’s what he needed to hear before finally giving you what you craved.

He has your thighs tight in his grip, spread apart in front of him. You meet his hungry stare as his lips latch onto your pussy, sucking at your clit. Your hips buck up, grinding onto his face as a needy moan escapes your lips. He groans, enjoying the pressure, tongue lapping up your juices.

“Tastes so good, so fucking sweet~ could eat you for days…and so wet; todo para mi, amor?” He’s on a high, whining the words into you. Craving you and the way you feel with his mouth on you, trying to keep you close as possible.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you try your best not to crush his face. He takes notice and shakes his head. His grip tightens and presses you closer to him as if he wanted to confine himself in the slice of heaven you carry between your legs. And, God, it feels good. He’s watching you, observing the way you toss your head back in pleasure, how your free hand tries grasping at anything to ground you, the way your body shivers at his touch; he’s learning your every movement, committing your body to memory.

"Need you, such a good fucking pussy- so good…eres mía, solo mía.” The sounds he makes are obscene and he’s rambling, showering you in praise while drunk on the taste of you.

You’re squirming against him, not much movement granted as large hands are holding you down, eating you like a man starved. As if he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Miguel~” Your voice strained, barely able to speak and tell him that you’re close, so embarrassingly close.

“C’mon, be a good girl ‘n cum for me.” He encourages, tongue flicking at your clit to bring you closer to the edge. You gasped as you felt Miguel running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you before working their way inside your weeping cunt, curling up and hitting that spot inside that has you seeing stars. Your grip is still tight in his hair, thighs quivering as your orgasm washed over you, the sensation rippling throughout your whole body.

You’re vaguely aware of Miguel pulling away as you’re coming down from your high, blissed out and hazy. It felt like you ascended to the heavens. In your daze, you look at him, noting the arrogant smirk on his face and his fingers glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. He holds your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning contently at the taste of you.

“I’m guessing Peter could never make you feel this way, huh?” He’s right, and he knows it. But you couldn’t help but want to push his buttons.

You hum in response, “Mm, he was pretty good with his tongue too.” Teasing, waiting for him to react. And you see it; the way his body language changes in an instant at your insinuation.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs and gripping your chin to look him in his eyes, glowing red with anger, “You better watch your fucking mouth, sweetheart.”

“Or what? Qué vas a hacer Miguelito?”

Miguel narrows his eyes at the provocation, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “Ten cuidado, preciosa,” He hisses through gritted teeth as he leans in. His grip tightens, keeping his gaze set on you. “Sigue hablando y verás.” And just like that, his attitude changes on a dime, the anger in his eyes replaced by a hungry glint, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he leans closer to you. You barely take the time to notice that his suit is disappearing as if it were a hologram or nanotech, leaving him naked. You feel his length press up against you, and your eyes widen in shock. He’s big. Already hard and aching for you and you feel his precum drip against the inside of your thigh. You can’t help but wriggle your hips, desperate to feel him closer. “Look what you do to me.” He whispers the words in your ear as he grinds against you. Your eyes take their time looking down. Taking in everything that’s him. His broad shoulders, rippling muscles, chiseled abs; it’s insane how strong he is. You shiver at the thought of what he’s capable of. Your gaze dips further, following his happy trail down just as he’s started teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, “Been waiting for this,” He groans, eyes shining with excitement, “No tienes idea querida.” "Bet it won’t compare, huh?” He asks, still painstakingly teasing you, “Bet it’ll feel so much better than all the times I’ve fucked my fist thinking of you and this pretty little pussy.” You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing, waiting in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. He laughs at your desperation. “Sabías eso, amor? Fantasized about you all the time, about you being mine. Solo mía.” He punctuates that final proclamation by finally entering you. He was taking his time, the stretch of him inching in was a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It was too much; you could begin to see him bulge through your stomach, and you shake your head, not believing that he could possibly get in deeper. “Shh, just take it.” He sighed his words, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him. “No puedo Miguel-” You gasp as you finally feel him fully press up against you. You’re so full you can barely breathe. Instinctually you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him still while you adjust to his size. He pressed his hand against your navel, pushing down slightly, feeling himself. His eyes roll back at the sensation as a groan escapes his lips, wanting desperately to live in this moment forever. "Mírate." He urges, kissing your cheek. “Mira que bien nos vemos juntos, amor.” You listen to him, looking down at where you’re joined, and you squeeze at the sight of it. You rock your hips against him, letting him know it's okay to move, and he pulls out a little before pressing back in, making you moan while he sighs contently. “Look at how well you’re taking me, like you were made for me. Only for me."

The tenderness of his words was contrasted by the roughness of his movements as he began snapping his hips against yours. “So tight,” his words coming out through a strained growl while pounding into you.  “Dios! You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“Feels so good, Miggy-” Tossing your head back as you moan out, pleasure engulfing you, your legs tightening around him, pressing your heel into his back as you tried to get him deeper. His next thrust was a little more brutal, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs.

“Así mi vida, así.” He growled, baring his fangs in a pleasureful grin. "Look at me." You look up at him immediately, moaning his name loosely at the feeling of him so deep inside you. So deep and big and full.

You can barely hold his gaze, trying desperately to resist the urge to roll your eyes back every time you feel him thrust back into you. You reach forward, nails digging into his bicep, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

“C’mon, you can take, can’t you?” He mocks you, his tone condescending, enjoying the way that he has you craving him. “Esto es lo que querías, verdad? But now look at you, can barely handle it-” His words cut off by a groan escaping his lips at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.

He’s right, you don’t know how much more of this you can take as your legs begin to shake and you feel yourself quickly approaching orgasm again. Desperate hands gripping onto the flesh of your hip as he ruts into you. You let out a wanton moan as he slams home again, pulsating around him. “Cuéntale,” His grip on you tightens, sure to leave bruises by the time he’s done with you, “Cuéntale que soy mejor que él.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re nodding your head, babbling incoherently, not even aware of anything you’re really saying. He grins, knowing you’re close, and his ego soars at being able to get you there so soon. He groans as he feels you tighten around him; your eyes shut tight, and your body quivers from the intensity as your climax overwhelms you.

He slows down, trying to give you a moment to come down from your high in an effort to avoid overstimulating your senses. Soon, your body begins to relax as you’re grounded once again in reality. Your eyes are glossy with welled-up tears, and you offer Miguel a blissful smile.

“C’mon Miggy, thought you wanted to show me you’re better, I expected more from you-” You’re breathless as you speak, and it’s obvious to him that you’re just trying to egg him on, but he falls for it anyways. In an instant, he stopped his movements. His red eyes have never looked so menacing before and your breath caught in your throat. Without speaking, he pulled out, and you whined at the loss of contact.

He ignores your objection, opting to manhandle you, forcing you to turn around. He presses you down against the console, ass exposed to him. You put up a struggle in vain as he grabs your arms and pulls them back. You soon feel something wrap around your wrists, binding them. He webbed you. Effectively keeping you bound with something you couldn’t possibly hope to escape from. You felt him yank back on the binding, your hands resting above the small of your back. You hissed at the aching pain, but it was soon replaced by a moan of desperation when you felt the plush tip of his cock line up with your entrance. You expected him to tease you again, to make you beg for it, but Miguel was feeling merciless now. He drove into you without warning, making you take it as deep as he could possibly go. And at this new angle, you swear he was hitting your cervix. Your mouth opened in quiet ecstasy as he had his way with you. He kept your wrists behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped firmly on your hip; you were sure that by the end of the day you’d have bruises on your hips in the shape of his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours, pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult to have a single coherent thought other than wanting more. Miguel’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster in this new position.

"That's better- fucking ruined and creaming on my cock. Who else can fuck you like this? No one, huh? Not Peter, not Ben, no one; only me.”

You’ve given in now, effectively broken, and all the brattiness you had left in you is gone, "Nadie! Nobody- just you, only you can fuck me like this." You choke out, legs trembling, pleasure coursing through you.

"That's right. You’re mine; mine to touch, to taste, to fuck- all mine." He harshly slaps your ass to emphasize his words. You squeal at the contact of his palm on the soft flesh, enjoying the sting it offers.

“Solo tuyo amor.” The words escape your lips in a breathless sigh, your mind hazy, dizzy with desire.  

He’s all you can think of; your senses overwhelmed by everything that’s him. The way he’s holding on to you, the way he feels aggressively pumping inside you, the grunts and groans he makes that are music to your ears. You’re delirious, unable to remember what your life was like before being here with him. Miguel reaches forward, lightly slapping your cheek. “Open up, sweetheart.” You oblige without a second thought, letting his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” Who knew a single word could have you clenching so tight around him? A whimper leaves your lips as you obey his command, getting his fingers slick and wet with your spit. Too soon, he removes them from your mouth, and his fingers make their way down to your aching clit, rubbing tight circles to get you even closer to the edge.

“Uno más querida, solo uno más.” He urges as he speeds up his movements. You’re grinding onto his hand, eagerly chasing your release, having lost count of how many times he has had you come undone.

This one hits you like a freight train, full speed ahead. You swear you black out for a moment, your body buzzing and pulsing with a delightful and all-engulfing pleasure. You’re strung out, not offered a break as Miguel keeps pushing into you.

“Quiero verte Miguel, porfa~” You sob your words out from the overwhelming power of your orgasm, trying to turn your head to see the man who has wrecked you so thoroughly.

Slowing down, he listens to your plea and grants your wish, “Nunca te voy a negar.” Before you know it, he’s torn the webbing off your wrists with his claws and turns you around, having you once more on your back, legs spread open, welcoming him in again.

He slips back into your weeping cunt with ease, resuming his brutal pace as he tries to reach his climax. He grips onto the soft flesh of your thigh, claws slightly digging in as you wrap your legs around him, securing his spot inside you.

"Dime que soy tuyo." He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

"Eres mío, Miguel-" You gasp, raking your nails down his back to prove it, marking him as yours. "Mine, mine; solo mío amor"

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. "That's right. I’m all yours,” His eyes flickered down to the place where your bodies met. Watching your pussy take him in over and over again. “Let me give you all of me- wanna fill you up.”

You unashamedly whimpered at his words, “Please, please Miguel-” Your words are starting to slur as you begin to beg him.

"Please, what? You losin' your words, now? So drunk on my cock you can't think straight?" He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. Rubbing tight circles on your bundles of nerves that have been exploited for the sake of your pleasure. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.

You’re almost in disbelief that you got there so quick, but with Miguel, it was like he knew your body inside and out, understanding exactly what you needed and giving you so much more.

He’ll never get over it. The way you tighten and pulse around him, the way your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip, making it harder for him to hold off his own release. The way your eyes roll back and the heavenly sounds that leave your mouth. He wants to make you feel this good for the rest of your lives. "Ay Dios— You're so pretty when you cum all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings on fire.    "Fuck, gonna fill you up- that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum? Want me to breed you?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as his groans reverberate against your skin. You feel him twitch inside you as he pushes in deeper, emptying himself inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth, trying his best to not let a single drop go to waste.

He pulls back, arms braced on both sides of your head, caging you in. He meets your gaze, the red of his eyes barely visible anymore, hooded and glazed over from the feeling of you still squeezing him tight, keeping him locked in. When the haze subsides, his shoulders relax a bit, drawing closer to you. Miguel’s barely audible when he finally speaks again, but you hear his words anyways.

“Aunque tu vuelvas con él, dame otra noche.” There’s a hint of pain in his eyes, unsure of whether any of this actually meant anything to you.

Your heart aches at the allusion that you’d want anyone other than him, and you bring your hand up to his face, gently cupping his cheek, “Miguel, tú sabes que no voy a volver con él, soy tuya, recuerdas? Only yours.”

Relief washes over him as one of his rare smiles graces his face at your words, “Te quiero como a ninguna.” He murmurs as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls away, the start of another sentence on the tip of his tongue, but he’s soon interrupted.

With a flicker of yellow light, Lyla appears beside Miguel. “Took you two long enough! Was wondering when you’d finally admit your so very obvious feelings for each other.” She rolled her eyes behind her pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. “You’re welcome, by the way, this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t snitch about you smooshing booties with Peter.” She adds, beside you now, close to your ear as if trying to whisper. “Lyla!” You swat your hand at her, embarrassed by the thought that she was aware of everything that just happened and mentioning the reason why this all transpired in the first place.

“Alright, alright,” She throws her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, but you owe me for this!” With those final words, she disappears.

Your gaze meets Miguel’s, who just shakes his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at the fact that Lyla chose such a tender moment to intrude on. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, giggling at the absurdity of it, and soon enough, he joins in on the joy you found in the moment.

~~~

Tagging some of my lovely mutuals and ppl who asked to be on my taglist/might be interested <3

@cozykali // @joaquinwhorres // @sunflowersteves // @fanboygarcia // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @openforjean // @bobfloyds // @buckyytorres // @bvckysmoon // @inklore // @rhettabbotts // @wint3r-h3art // @zstrn // @golden-barnes // @ofstarsandvibranium // @sunmoonandeddie // @bubblebuckys // @ladyelissarose // @thinktankgoldfish // @harmonia-dread // @living-in-a-daydream97 // @eddiesslutwhore // @dilfsfordinner // @tarjapearce // @manyourlookingood​ // @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ // @mraisedto3​ //

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman astv #marvel #marvel smut #fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #dile (cuentale) #sara:writes

[chokchokk]

𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 | park seonghwa x fem!reader x choi san

part one of gangster!mafia!series "𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞"

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Picking your own poison, if poison was given to you in form of bankrolls by venomous men with high demands.

In which Park Seonghwa had a plan and Choi San has ideas.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : noir, smut, angst | korean mafia/geondal!au | ceo/jaebeol!au

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 18.2k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : entitled rich people, workplace harassment, alcoholism, softdom ceo!seonghwa (headman park), half-drunk satoori-using dom mafiaboss!san (mr. choi), both are called by their names at some point, sub-leaning bratty switch servant!femreader, use of (pet-)names (missy, baby, princess), groping, thigh-riding, light choking, light hair-pulling, non-penetrative sex, voyeur!seonghwa, sex in the elevator, counts as mirror sex right, biting kink, manhandling!san, edging, breeding, cum-eating (m), cunnilingus; reader hates the rich except for when they are sexy, implied but not severe age gap, writer does not have daddy kink but mafiaboss!san does, gunshots and death, use of korean proverbs

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : this with the next part will be the origin story for reader, specifically the series synopsis’ first half :) originally, this has been a request, so please read this, if you desire to have a bit more insight to what the series actually is + translations of certain terms (mostly character dynamics) in this chapter !!

tl;dr: since it's all based around korean mafia/gangster/etc, there will be korean culture scattered between the lines. it is all translated, hopefully in an understandable way!!! (please hmu if there are difficulties) i let out honorifics/romanisation, except for "chaebol" since it's an actual word :) that being said, reader's ethnicity is not specified and won't be relevant to the series in any way !! 

smut comes after the second border, and uh,,, i had to shorten that shit (pls dont ask me where) but uh. you’re getting 8k words of smut so buckle up LMAO !!! i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it !!! thank you for likes, reblogs and feedback xoxo (also this is NOT beta-read so pls dont hesitate to tell me about... like.... errors, tags and shit)

[ now playing : money ▸ pink floyd | listen to the playlist ]

It's getting repetitive. They are drinking their ninth bottle of expensive whiskey, smoking their third or fourth disgustingly pricey cigar— what the fuck, is this seriously what the upper men of your nation are doing at some stupid chairman’s dinner party?

“Missy!”

“Me, sir?”

No wonder the economy's fucking shit.

“Yeah, you, missy, give that gent over there one of our divine Denmarks!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give him a kiss too, while you’re at it! What do you think? He’s still got it, no?”

Said ‘gent’, some old, scummy clown— winks at you, his gray eyelashes fluttering towards your direction.

“Yes, sir."

God, how bad you wish you had snuck your phone in to take a picture of these red, drunken, senseless faces, but you're a dutiful servant, abiding by the rules at all times, however difficult it may be. You’re holding in your puke professionally, not even doing something as to grit your teeth, just softly letting your jaw play along to your friendly smile.

“Does your willy even still work that way, old friend?", a cranky, yet humorous voice pitches in.

Agreeing to your supervisor’s offer to earn “big money” may have been a bad idea, but a good choice. Jongho said he’d seen you at your work, took special note of you— even though you weren’t sure where exactly he had observed you, since it’s only been a month of actually working as a servant in the lower tiers of the building— and wanted to give you a chance to swim with the big sharks. “I think you’re best suited for the job,” is what he said to make you giggle and think about your initial rejection of his proposition, “you have a talent for serving.”

Something you didn’t know you had, something you didn’t know someone would see in you ever in your life, “talent.” Sure, maybe you let yourself be persuaded a bit too fast, but it felt very touching that somebody saw you and saw potential, for whatever occasion it may be for. You don’t necessarily want to screw the rules of the hierarchical pyramid or what it was that kept you from being in the proximity of the chairman, but you really need the extra cash right now.

"What does a girl from the mountains look for in being a servant in the city?", had been the question you were asked by Lady Kim who gave you the leftovers of her restaurant at the end of the day, when you had just started with the training– poor, barely standing on your own feet. 

You remember how you explained to her that the buddhist monks who raised and send you here surrounded themselves with wells to remind everyone that water always returned, and you assumed it would work the same with wealth. You also remember how hard she tried to stay kind to you, showing you her sincerest sympathy by telling you that "the chaebol are no joke!" (at least not a joke, an innocent girl like you could laugh about, she later explained) and giving you an extra portion of her home-made dumplings to suit you up.

Her sharp, yet compassionate voice rings in your ears, as you reapply your red lipstick on the way to your target guest. Oh, Lady Kim, what a graceful woman– she put her all into her work for her restaurant to succeed, but had always made a place to share what she had for those who needed it. Such a lovable woman, she must have been well-liked by all around her.

You get it now, the way you had been so naive back then. Floating on the philosophical happy-go-lucky psyche of the city’s promise of prosperity, trying to live the Korean dream strangely enough as someone who was so sarcastically out of touch with it. If you had been in her position, you wouldn’t have been able to be as nice, no, would have warned yourself with a finger pointed upwards as if you were teaching a little kid about strangers, or how your monks said, ‘tigers in the woods’.

“After that cigar, his dick will turn to dust!”

Maybe things would have looked different, if you hadn’t taken that fund from the school’s superintendent, who slid you that card on your table with a smirk on his face. Oh dear, do you remember how excited you had been? You ran through the streets in your worn-out shoes with that plastic sheet in your hand, on your way to tell that the money on it was such a ridiculously high number that you could split— but Lady Kim had got to know it first, the ridiculousness of the rich, with the demolition of her restaurant-building.

“He’s got no cum in his nutsacks ‘no more anyway!”

No warning, no compensation, just everything crushed to pieces to make place for the big corporations; the fancy neon-signs she'd invested in, the ambition of her enthusiastic dreams, your only source of tender charity, shattered to a wreck. You have never seen her since, and can only laugh about how the fancy food of the chaebol—and you definitely know who they are now, those tasteless men gawking at you in the moment—doesn’t even look half as good as her low-cost black bean noodles you could more than afford now. 

The present day-you is less dreamy, but just as lost, forced to work off a debt you hadn’t been informed about when you lived off the favorable “fund”-money. No, Lady Kim, this is all a joke, you would tell her today. A really fucking bad one.

So, making room for another ha-ha in your life, you pulled your eyes up innocently, returning Jongho’s specious smiles. “Is it illegal to collect pocket-money from the rich?” It’s not like you had any doubts at that point, but 'they'll buy you out of prison if you’re good enough' was all you needed anyway to put your uniform on tightly at home.

"Can't even shoot his cum in missy to save his blood!"

Your more experienced co-workers are watching you work with a condescending frown, feeling both jealous you're getting all the men's attention, but also maliciously delighted you're being challenged as the new-coming servant who's obviously of erotic interest to these richlings. They want you to get a "taste of life" for you may be the most goody-goody fawning bitch they have ever seen; just a young birdbrain who has nothing to bring to the table except her body. Young thing won’t hold up, doesn't know who she's working with— though they are quite right about that part, you must admit, you frankly didn’t look up whose money you’re taking right now— she doesn’t know who the fuck she is.

"What? Did his son leave the company, too?"

It’s flattering to know that the other pretty servants look at you and only see some candy-coated muppet, but fairly, your ever-frozen smile on your face doesn’t give them much to work with. You’re simply an annoyance to their routine, and if you could, you would like to comfort them by saying none of the money you’re getting will stay in your hands– they’d be so happy to hear that you’re really worth nothing– but you must stay focused.

“Idiot, he’s only got a daughter!”

So yes, that being said, you’re glad nobody ever asks you about you. Everyone just assumes, judges from what they see, and if what they see is an opportunistic bimbo-girl chasing money, then so be it, right?

"You know, the one he married off to the governor?”

Right. Because you too have not a single second to think nor talk about your past. The present is scarce and the future is fragile, you know it the best. And you owe it to your old men to make the best out of their efforts, don't you? The air in this room may not be the one you inhaled in the mountains, but you still have to use it, breathe, be alive, despite how moldy and spoiled it simmers in your throat.

"Real mad! Anything to avoid that fee, huh, missy? Got no semen and no glory! You really want to give him that cigar?”

So, that taste of life? Fucking bitter, just like how that name 'missy' seeps and sweats on your tongue. You can’t loathe your co-workers for this reason, they're basically in the same wooden, shaky boat as you, but these asswipes here are floating on a fucking yacht. Of course they don't follow some type of code of human decency for you, they don't give two shits about the lowlifes, the poor. They watch them like a spectacle, and because they don't regard you as a human-being but rather a toy, they play with you on strings that are, on the other hand, binding together a big, fat bankroll.

Ka-Ching.

Eyes on the price, Y/N, eyes on the price. You may not own a lot, that's been more than established, but if there is something you have, it's dutifulness, commitment, and proficiency. It will remain difficult to keep inner peace and honor with a job of which "duty" it is to be a deferential, subservient doll, but at least you're alive and well, soon to leave this floor with more money to your name that these fuckers don't know anyway, right? Never let that smile drop, smart girl. You have a talent, just like your supervisor said. Just keep on serving.

“No children-makin' is better for the cheatin'— ha!”, the barren, that fruitless man who’s been made fun of whoops in to stand up for himself, and awaits his tobacco that's being driven to him by your cart.

You open up the wooden chest in which the cheroots, so unnecessarily gold-plated, sit and ridicule you with their rare existence. There are just thousands of dollars sitting in your hand right now, and as you fetch the thick roll with wary fingers, you think, fucking hell, this could feed so many people, and they're just smoking it away like it's nothing, assholes.

The other servants frown at you spitefully during the time you bow down. You're sensually placing the brown cylindrical object into his mouth, a match lighting held to his face to light it up. In addition to the experience, you hold one long stare with his washy eyes, because you assume it will ignite him.

And, oh, how excited he gets.

"Thank you, sir," you chuckle and flutter with your eyelashes, pursing up your lips like you’re an innocent little girl getting a piece of candy behind her parents’ back.

“Just mad! Missy's young enough to be your grandchild, fella!”

You’re aware of exactly what your dear co-workers are thinking, but being ordered to light their cigs and then ogled at is not "baby-treatment” or whatever they’re muttering under their breath, it's your subtle strategy to have that bankroll be slid between your thighs.

"Hey now, I still can get it on! Don't you think so too, missy?"

Dumb Y/N, only has money on her mind. Allows herself to be called "missy", like a dumb fucking slut. 

Hm, kind of has a ring to it, don't you think?

"Yes, sir."

Let them all think you're a dummy. Let them believe, believe each other's words in whatever they fucking want. You're almost too certain it's the secret reason Jongho offered you a place here anyway; "suited for the job", because he deems you dense enough to not understand any of the nonsense these twelve men are babbling, "big money", because he knows you will do anything for it. 

You’ll still take the talent, but if he really thinks the rest, then oh, sucks to be him.

Yes, you haven’t looked up the names of who the men here are for the same reasons they're not using yours, but the second you’re out of this whiny, weak testosterone-drowned room, you're going to write the most thorough blackmail, because you can not listen to their cheating, money-laundering, corrupted bullshit anymore. Getting involved with the handshakers is the last thing you should do if you want to live a silent, carefree life, and you know this too well, but they're not going to believe it was you anyway. They wouldn’t dream of their missy to do such a competent, smart thing. You even know what you're going to write under the letter so they have something to think about in their cells: 'birds listen to the words of day, mice to the words at night'— walls have ears, too.

Ah, the soft, sometimes very cryptic voice of your favorite old monk. Always there to teach you new things, remind you of how to live your life cheerfully. You still believe he would have rather kept you in the mountains and not drop you on a wild voyage into the unknown urban life, but your old man had his reincarnation coming. You should visit his grave again, it's been a while, hasn't it? Wouldn't he be so proud to see you? To see how much his little Y/N has grown and learnt, using his proverbs to restore justice? Well, for what you still can collect of your late mentor, he would probably make big eyes and use his whole body to keep your monetary gift away from him. "Teacher," you would ask, "don't you at least want to save?", and his answer would remain the same;

"Peace comes free."

You feel warm at the distant memory of the bald-headed man warming himself in his orange gown, teaching you about love, harmony and kindness, but that sweet veil of untainted innocence has long dropped from your eyes.

In front of you, you see tycoons continuing having a blast being their shitty selves, and as golden teeth blend your sight, they are entertaining each other by staring at your legs that are covered by your sheer black stockings, whispering their insight of how you'd look like under it, but the mini-skirt only leaves so much for imagination.

"Sweet missy!"

How could you not want to spit into their face? They have bought the war. They have bought the chaos. And why? Just because they can. It doesn't cost you anything to restore some peace, maybe that’s the thing your old man got right.

"Yes, sir?”

“Do you have any Cubans left, sweet missy?”

“A Cuban, coming right up, sir.”

“Hopefully someone’s gonna come after the party tonight!”

Are you humiliated? As someone who lived among the wisest, clearest heads, and was considered just as smart by them to be wished a ‘more fortunate life’ — No.

You couldn’t care less about their perversions. Especially now, when they seemingly don’t care enough to know your name you've introduced yourself with. You are here for one reason, and it's not to prove your worth to the world, it's to secure your place in it, get that parasitic debt off your shoulders.

And if anything, as long you are staying truthful to yourself, there’s nothing that could take away your spirit. That’s what you want to believe, at least. When you’re out of debt and continue with this job, you could spend every day downtown like the other servants, but for you, it's all going to the savings for the family you're going to feed with not one worry in life on the clear land in the mountains, not under a sky that's polluted by light even when the sun has set.

The clock has announced night long time ago. Outside the windows, there shines and roams a loud, restless city under a starless, foggy black blanket, inhabited by people like you who live day by day to make their living, like small flies forgathered in a hive of exhausting labor, buzzing their life away.

It’s what you think every time you peek down the glass room: Seoul has never looked so small. Across and around the ever-flowing Han-River, the metropole is the home of millions who are looking up with their heads far back their necks to the point right here, where you stand, at the center or peak of all the wealth gathered together, inside the highest building standing tall amidst of the tumult, on the 114th floor, towering over the world in a luxurious dining room decorated by exotic animals, marbled statues and most importantly the filthy glimmer of something they call ‘class’.

“Missy,” the chairman calls out for you, raising his hand, right after he’s made another infidelity joke and showed his luxurious wedding ring to the audience.

“Yes, sir?”, you call out, wearing your pristine servant-smile with your hands folded nicely in front of your stomach, voice not tainted by your disgust as to even one note, despite the other servants looking at you with hateful expressions. They wish you the worst; the worst treatment, the worst performance, anything to get you out of this place. 

Maybe they're driven by the same instincts and avarice that makes you hate the rich,  with them just thinking you're taking away their money, but it's free territory here with these predators; you just make for great prey.

It’s a challenge to all of the people involved and the contestants can only win. Will it be another pick-up line? You're going to pick on that with ease. Another joke about your age? That one is never going to get old. There, bring it on, you think, and feel proud of your confident spirit, ready to run with whatever they throw and stash it into your wallet.

“You see those youngsters back there? Get 'em some more ice."

“Yes, sir.”

“Chaps don't know how to drink the good stuff yet, what a waste! Next time, buy 'em the cheap soju from the mart! The ones for 5,000 Won, missy, you know those?”

“Yes, sir.” Your whole face flashes a smile, bowing to accept the task of refilling some ice, dragging your cart across the room, as male laughter rings in your ears. It's as if they don't realize they also drink cheap liquor, but you suppose that's forgettable when they are flushing the fanciest of meats down with it.

"Be careful, missy!"

Are you being too mild by saying you want to ram the green glass-bottles into their heads?

"They bite!”

Maybe choke them with their own money bills?

Yes, “Yes, sir.”

It's a fun exercise to fantasize about how to hurt them, so you thought you would be busy enough to ignore the chairman's warning, but as you are on your long way to the end of the even longer glass table to push your cart towards the men he is referring to, there's a growing feeling inside your guts that oh, the chairman may be ... 

Huh, right for the first time. The quizzical lump expands warmly as much as it is cold, with goosebumps running down your spine, your hands feeling hotter than ever over the metal cart. Your whole body is trying to signal you that something is off on the other side of the table, but you don’t know whether to ignore it or run.

The annoying, empty-minded, impertinent elders, who have been belly-laughing at the chairman's joke a second ago stop with their chatting and only exhale huffs, and prolong them nervously, that’s off. The servants gulping, loosening their crossed arms– that’s off, too. 

“So, uhh… Where was the, uh– food from?”

“Oh, lad, good topic, yes– the delicious food…”

It seems that everyone in the room is trying to fill in the silence with the fakest of laughter, so the chairman can move on from the topic, but you're well over your way there, uninformed to what you're going to be hit with once you halt.

Tycoons like them usually don't need back-checking. You know how to deal with ill-willed imbeciles that only use their estate as a weapon. Their bodies and brains have passed prime an eternity ago. Left behind are only their numbed minds that seek shelter in lust, ecstasy and aphrodisia because nothing else excites them anymore. They’re what you probably would have been if you hadn’t spent your teens brewing tea and listening to the leaves rustle, not experiencing all euphoria and more at a too early age– they’re washed out, just swimming in money they haven't worked a day for, are lazy, weary sloths.

However, opposed to the cloudiness in their class that's only getting more foggier through the many years of monopoly, these two men that are waiting in front of you, and you understand why your lungs are pinging now, they are potent.

Money is power, but twist it around and there is them, with that; a certain force that the rich ooze out by just acting and looking a certain way, and oh, Y/N, how they are, how they are looking at you right now, best believe you have to hold onto your strength like it's a small purse.

'Youngsters', he said— 'they bite', he said.

They have been rarely reacting to the chairman’s words, notwithstanding being the ones to be the most respectful in this meeting for their young age, just looking at each other with unamused eyes. Even the director who is older than the chairman lets out his best holler every time, but these two have not laughed once at his jokes, not the slightest chuckle has left their mouths to flatter or satisfy the chairman.

Interesting.

Both black-haired, the one you get to first has his mane gelled back, a cigarette hanging out his scarred mouth, as you approach his seat with your cart walking carefully practiced steps. His white shirt is opened up to where chains, most importantly a silver cross, hang from his collarbones to his chest that’s covered with scars and scratches you can’t quite identify how they got there. This man looks gigantic, muscular, dangerous. Shoulders terrifyingly broad popping out his black vest, he sits on his seat with widened legs, thighs flattened in his also black pants, fastened by a leather belt, and with his white sleeves pulled back to his elbows, his slightly tanned forearms only appear more huge after the rather average-looking wristwatch catches your eye, just when you stop with your cart in front of him.

“That old geezer just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”, he chuckles, the Gyeongsang-provincial dialect rolling so naturally off his tongue. Everyone else in the room has been faking their speech to cosplay a charm they didn’t possess, but even the slight lisp and lull from the drunkenness are not hiding how deeply masculine and sincere this man’s voice sounds. It’s a mixture of the sarcasm you've gotten used to by now, but also a brashness that the older men lack, and you’re a bit embarrassed to say it’s working you up a bit. "Empty carts rattle loudest, I say."

A wintry breeze goes through your breast and you feel your eyebrows flinch. You haven't heard that grandmotherly expression in so long, that it does feel somehow refreshing to reconcile with it, but maybe the whisk you sense shouldn’t feel as comforting given the way the man is looking up to you brazenly with a bit of atrocity in his appearance. He is far away from the serene sketch you drew to save the vision as you left the village, he is what you felt when you took your first train, asphyxiated by the big masses of people who you would never see again— an unhomely, yet intimate feeling of... adventure.

He glances through you smoking his cigarette with no hands attached, and it moves at the corner of his lip as he talks. Wait, cigarette? Missy, did you forget to bring him a cigar?

"Let's see when he runs out of words."

“It’s alright, sir,” you answer, suppressing a slight chuckle because yes, you too have been wishing the chairman would finally shut the fuck up, but haven't expected anyone to say it out loud that boldly. You watch the male in front of you take out the slim roll from his mouth with his thick fingers that are covered with silver rings that all look different and not matching each other, blowing out the smoke whilst maintaining eye contact with you. “If you require, I can bring you a cigar, sir," you say, but he waves his hand to brush off your offer.

“Ah, they give me bad breath.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please," the man progresses instantaneously, scratching over the vertical scar at his lip-corner with his thumb, his ciggy continues to burn, "Do be so kind and give brother his ice," then smiles, "he needs to preserve his cold head.”

“You are one to talk about keeping mouths shut,” the ‘brother’ answers, voice velvety and adequate despite dissing the man that’s sunken unmannerly into his seat, while he, on the other hand, is sitting up straight, his black suit buttoned up, tie set cleanly under his ironed pearl-white collars, elegantly decorated by a golden pin. A Greek "π" is chiseled into it, and you recognize it so well for you’ve seen it written all over the tall buildings you drove by on your way here. His hair is combed evenly to the sides and the more you look at him, he’s just— wow, flawless, prestigious, expensive. Everything about him is crystal clear; his rich voice, his unblemished skin, his eyes, oh god, you just noticed those eyes, how does such a shameful man have such pure eyes?

Orbs— and they're not innocent as much as you can't say they're not guilty— are looking at you with a defiance that is suffocating, as if you ought to do everything perfectly, not miss a single twitch of his eyebrows to understand whether he's enjoying or disapproving of the situation.

Well, is he enjoying you or disapproving of the way you're listening to his partner's order to refill his ice?

Huh. No fucking idea. He probably doesn't, but you must do it still— must still serve.

It feels irrationally sheep-headed, but hey, being a sheep is your job, is it not? Being in this herd is keeping you alive, and even in this situation, where you are following the orders of the blackest of sheep, no, wolves that can't be covered by any fluffy wool— you must mow your best.

"Ohh, brother, it's been a while since I heard you talk! Feels lonely droppin' all the good sayings by myself."

You’re serving Choi San and CEO of PARA-conglomerate, headman Park Seonghwa.

Sat right across the chairman, the percentage this couple holds of his company-share is more than most of the attending seniors combined, which makes them stand at the top of the guest-list. You couldn’t have missed their names, even if you’ve made the attempt to, and the other information you’re getting is just your co-workers whispering hurried words to each other, and it seems to you that you may be more in need of them than ever.

You already eavesdropped on them a little, and to be honest, you didn’t need any real confirmation that everyone in this room was unlawful and corrupt, but it is good to know you really don’t have to feel guilty stashing those bankrolls into your purse.

The man that is licking the tail of his scar at his lip, rolling his neck, clicking with his mouth and tapping his fingers onto the table, he is rumored to be the boss of the Choi-Clan, the infamous ‘Mad Dog of Namhae’, whose face had been unknown. The chairman has made a drunken joke about allegedly trying to sell him off to the government— “everybody act like you don’t know, okay?”— and nobody had taken him seriously, but once the supposed mafiaboss had entered the room, an hour later than everyone else, and sat down comfortably like nothing was strange about his heavy breath and slightly purple knuckles, nobody dared to say something else.

If you’d heard beforehand that you would be meeting a CEO and a mafiaboss today, you don’t know if you would have acted any differently. Thinking, here comes the chairman, his jesters, the mafia-guy, the chaebol; ah, all the motherfuckers aligned, let’s get to work, shall we? 

But this does challenge you a bit, indeed. If they just weren’t so young and intimidatingly good-looking, fuck, you could have treated them in the same cookie-cutter way you’d been at perfectly.

Maybe a bit of change-up won’t hurt, you were starting to get a bit too irritated anyway.

"Control yourself."

“You wanna see him dead too, brother,” the smoking male sneers— you’ll call him ‘Mr. Choi’ for now— pointing at his companion to accuse him of being a yawner, his cigarette stuck between his fingers.

Headman Park smirks with a short twitch of his lips that makes you think you just imagined it, but none of his extremities has moved since you came here: Every single action he takes seems so... calculated, thought through, measured, planned out. He is the only one to have brought a briefcase to the dinner, and looks a little bit out of place with his sober expressions which seem to you as if he was observing the whole room in its possible entirety, not leaving out a corner in his sight uncovered.

"Want," he parrots, face dropped to a neutral visage, highlighting the only word that seems to be bothering the CEO regarding his vis-à-vis' statement, eyes darting down  to Mr. Choi having his fingertips pointed towards him.

"Don't you become pushy with the words now, brother," the mafiaboss teases him, and tugs his sleeves up to his elbows again, eyeing you up and down while you're passing him with your cart. You discern his interest in the pockets of your skirt, or what is there underneath, instantly, but before you can think that the man may be just the same as the others, he cracks his knuckles. “Old geezer might die on his own at this point, look at how he's smoking his raisin-lungs away."

"Poetic."

So much for hearing government and company secrets, here are these two joking about the chairman’s death. You need the chairman a little bit longer if you want to earn money, but the idea of him dying soon isn’t too bothersome.

"You gotta get used to my Korean way of speaking, brother! Then we can communicate correctly!”

With your ears sharpened, but your face presenting unconcerned, you devote yourself to headman Park to refill his bucket, ice cubes jangling down the iron jar, whilst Mr. Choi stretches his arms behind his head, raising an eyebrow towards his elder who isn't hearing him out.

“Thank you,” headman Park says, very briefly and precisely. The tong you put in the bucket for him to use almost tips, and you don’t know whether he does it on purpose for he’s been frozen still all during the dinner, but with his reflexes, he prevents it from falling before you can, but if that wasn't surprising enough, he grazes your skin while returning.

Soft, uncalloused; not a single ounce of labor roughed up these hands, it seems. They tickled you featherly, and right now, you are looking for some type of confirmation in those black spheres of his to know that you're allowed to exhale and react to his touch, because you gasped slightly and have held your breath ever since.

Nothing. You are the first one to look— no, shy away from his stare, getting your hands in front of your abdomen again, your fingers searching for each other, fiddling around by themselves without your knowledge. 

Mr. Choi lets his wrist-watched hand fall between his lap, neck tilted slightly to the back, licking over his canine tooth with a grin, and it appears to you that he's either noticed his associate's small gesture or how headman Park is still staring at you. “You wanna do something, don’t you, brother?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Mr. Choi shakes his head to irritate headman Park and make him explain himself.

“This is not business.”

Headman Park glances down his whiskey, droplets of water have formed around the brim of the cold glass. It is untouched. 

"I see you aren’t enjoying the whiskey, would you like something else to drink, sir?", you ask, trying to finish your job and get away from here before you get ideas that don’t include money between your thighs.

"The Fillico, please," the male answers, not having glanced away from your eyes once to inspect your cart, where the black, long bottle, donning a crown and wings adorned with Swarovski-crystals, awaits you to be grabbed.

"A glass of cold Fillico Black King!", you exclaim, your surprise of the particularity that anyone would drink water at the chairman's dinner can’t be hidden, and then hum, "Coming right up, sir."

“You’re really something, brother,” Mr. Choi wheezes, taking the last pull of his cigarette, watching you fill up a new glass for his unrelated brother with the finest mineral that can be bought to-date, pricing around 6 Billion Won, or 4500 US Dollars per bottle. “Wouldn’t you say it’s difficult to not be smokin’ or drinkin’ in this business, Y/N?”

Sure, whatever ‘business’ a man like him is talking about. “Yes, sir." Wait, hold on, did Mr. Choi just say your name? 

“You don’t look too impressed,” the male grins, seeing how you’ve narrowed your eyes in confusion.

"Pardon me, I was just– how do you know my name, sir?”

Mr. Choi shrugs as if to say ‘I dunno’ and presses his cigarette out on the table. It sizzles out, like your head is also slowly deteriorating. He throws the bud into the CEO's ice-bucket— headman Park is not even minorly irritated by it— and then, with his ringed fingers, goes through his hair, setting it loose behind his head. He’s picking on you, and you surely feel picked out, that's all you can think. It's so unusual to be hearing your name, not because it hasn't been said during the dinner, but because—

"Y/N Y/L/N, a pretty name for a pretty servant like you, huh?"

Your heart somehow flutters. A stalwart man like him taking your name into his mouth is nothing you hear on the daily. Deep, manly. It's not flattering, no, it sounds wrong, feels so dangerous for a guy like him to be taking something so personal and turning it into his possession, like you're slowly going to lose yourself in the words he speaks in a lax manner. Your name is precious to you, and it just drops off his tongue like it's candy. Where on earth does a man like him get your full name from?

"Sir," you insist, dipping your fingertip under your fingernail, fidgeting.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya prefer that stupid name ‘missy’,” Mr. Choi chuckles and fetches headman Park’s full glass of whiskey, his dialect draping out his mouth.

“Or do you secretly enjoy it," he grins, and with his eyebrows raised, Mr. Choi drinks up his acquaintance's booze in one big gulp, letting the glass fall down on the table with a thump, breathing out, "missy?”

People drink whiskey neatly, you know that. The guests have been doing it all evening, but that's for two ounces. Headman Park had a glass full of the oak-colored sherry liquid with an uncommonly high alcohol percentage placed in front of him. A taunt from the chairman maybe, to subtly scorn them about their apparent boyhoodish inexperience, but Mr. Choi makes it look so adept: The strong alcohol flows down his throat smooth and speedy, even though he did misplace the rim by an inch.

There's whiskey dripping down his chin as he glances over to his side, smirking at his neighbor who's blinking frozen, as well as the other guests, who are seemingly just as irritated that the mafiaboss got you as flustered as you look like.

You’re left with your mouth slightly open, shotting down a glass of whiskey shouldn't have looked as barbarous as Mr. Choi made it appear. Like a striking attack, baring his claws, he growls out the herby aftertaste. "'Scuse me, 'got really thirsty there."

The mafiaboss goes over his lips with his tongue, watching your hand play with the seam of your skirt, where he knows a handkerchief is buried in your pocket.

“Aw, shit, I got wet,” he wails over-dramatically, looking down on himself and then again locking his eyes into yours.

“Wanna clean me up, baby?”

“Pardon?”

Much to your continued bafflement, Mr. Choi smiles, and as he sees you taking a second to confirm what he said, he continues talking to you like you’re a hooker.

“Don't like that one, Y/N?” Again, with the name! Where does he get the name?!

“Sir, how—“

“You have introduced yourself to us,” headman Park finally reveals in the high Seoul tongue, perchance by pity, and you inhale, a bit embarrassed that you didn’t come to think of it earlier. What is happening to you? Is it because you’re finally away from those sleazes, that you’re being so light-headed? Lack of training? Sexual attraction? God, that’s a rookie’s mistake, Y/N, think about them as targets, not objectives. The objective is to not end up in a bed with them, remember? That’s like, rule number one. Even though nobody told you about the Mafia while you were at training, that’s a valid argument.

Don't let your guard down, you’re in a room with the men of men, no maybe the men. The most influential men you could be meeting in Seoul right now, aside from how little is known about them.

Whether he's a real chaebol or not, PARA-CEO Park Seonghwa is definitely the nephew of good ol’ chairman over there, just leeching off his money even if today is the first time the man is visiting his distant uncle who is definitely a bit sour about the fact he took so long to connect with him. Money has its sources and sometimes, most of the time, it’s nepotism. There you go, the explanation of his wealth and why the male is so well-mannered sitting on his seat. He’s woven into the conglomerate-family, been made CEO to keep him that way and all in all, you could care less about him, if he just wasn’t the only person that was kind of nice to you. Just thinking about his eyes makes you a bit dizzy, but you can get that fixed by turning your eyes to the mafiaboss.

Mafia and chaebol don't usually associate, for reasons that are rather obvious. Mafia’s rule the underworld with the overworld’s laws, and the chaebol rule over what laws the overworld decides on, digging their hands into the government like it’s soot, planting and pulling crops wherever they can profit from it. Money.

It’s sickening every time you think about it. How many people in this room could pay for your whole life? No, how many can’t pay for your whole life and beyond? You can count them with one hand and they’re all wearing the same clothes as you. 

Money knows where it belongs; that’s a phrase you made up the day you were told about the crippling debt by the letter and the bank declining your card. It sounds similar to your monks' sayings of water's ever-flowing life, but if water returns, money drifts. It wanders across the citizens, but follows a direction it's always bound to end up. Just like today, with you getting bankrolls to graze the inner space of your legs, only to know it’s going to end up in the same fingers that gave it to you.

So, where do headman Park and Mr. Choi get a say in this? Do they get a say in this?

“I did introduce myself, how could I forget? I’m sorry, sir,” you admit and let out a laugh that is half intended to sound as nervous as it did, and half regrettably filled with authentic uneasiness.

Old chairman, what does he know? Have those teeth really ever sunk into flesh? You can’t play with your fate here, but by hook or crook they intrigue you so much. You haven’t expected guests that aren't ass-kissers of the chairman, and apparently your talent only goes so far. You have no idea what to do with them to satisfy them except letting out your real thoughts and you can’t do that, definitely not in front of the man.

But you feel so connected to them. The caution everyone has, it confuses you just as much you're amazed by it, and you want that, you want that kind of safety. Every guest here has money, but not every guest has their authority.

“It’s alright, everybody makes mistakes, baby,” Mr. Choi smirks and musters you again, rubbing the liquid away from the corner of his lip with his thumb and kissing the remaining alcohol away, savoring every droplet of whiskey, but also savoring you by keeping his thumb leaned into his opened mouth, eyes looking sultrily at you, you might as well just—

“Mistakes, San. Beware of them,” headman Park falls in and his companion finally sways his eyes away from you, hand backing down. “Talkative drunkard.“

“Brother,” Mr. Choi sighs and grabs the glass from his neighbor that's filled with ice cubes to murmur, “I’m not that drunk," swinging it around with concise flicks of his wrist to enunciate his words.

With the couple bantering, you think you can calm down. Maybe you were overreacting. Bootlicking some birdbrains is a way easier life than to follow these two.

"Hey, baby?”, but there's another call of the bird of prey.

“Yes, sir?”, you answer, fingers letting go of your skirt that has thrashed your skin by how you abused it. You don’t even know when you started to react to the name 'baby', but truth be told it’s better than ‘missy’ by miles. Being over here is better than being over there by miles, that is unchangeable.

“Could you get me clean? This is kinda sticky."

With two fingers, he grabs the collar of his shirt and flails it softly, ice clinking in his glass, as he shows you his indeed quite syrupy breast.

"Yes, sir."

You nod towards the crevice that is the space where his muscles meet, and before your eyes can get lost in the plump thews, you collect yourself so you can do what you were asked for; getting your hands on his body.

“Please.”

“Ahh, I liked you more when you were quiet, brother! I don’t wanna call you a party-pooper, but c'mon! It’s your plan, and I’m just— doin’ my part.”

Mr. Choi twists his upper body a bit so he’s still able to hold the empty glass behind your back, though it feels more caging in than it should, when you lean forwards to softly tap his skin with your handkerchief. His arm hovers next to your hip and his upper body is extended wide around you.

“What do you say, baby?”, the male asks, and you harrumph to take your mind elsewhere from how rock-hard the mafiaboss feels under your hand, how his cologne smells so rich and inviting, and how— “Wanna be bitten?”

“Pardon?”, you ask, not understanding the context of Mr. Choi’s question, but without fail grasping the intentions of it.

The male grins, and you’re unsure as to how he got his hand on the bottle of whiskey from your tray as quickly as he did, but it’s there, in the hand that’s across your hip, and from then on, everything you do seems risky. His bicep is curled around your thigh so he can fill himself another glass, and if you take a step back, your ass will be pushed against his arm, but if you step forward, you’ll land on top of him; a straining dilemma that only inflames your guts the more you think about it.

“San,” headman Park grumbles quietly, seeing you struggle to stand on your feet.

“Agh, come on, brother, 's all going well! Live a little for me, will ya? Watch me and follow,” Mr. Choi nags with a juvenile pout and takes a disgruntled sip from his drink, making your imaginations reality by pushing you with his forearm with no forewarning. You trip closer to him and his arms raise, as you have to find safety on his shoulders to not fall into his crotch.

“Oops, ‘scuse me, baby,” he grins, feline eyes glancing up to you, your bust in his view. The other men are grumbling, fussy, yammering— if they knew, they would have done that with you a long time ago!— and in your head, you don't know whether you should be doing this at the chairman's dinner and not somewhere in a stripclub or just, god, anywhere else.

“It’s okay, sir,” is what you answer, and the short silence would be the perfect opportunity to scuffle back to your original stance, but you saw his ever-growing, throbbing bulge in his black suit-pants and it is staring you down.

Everything about him is so big…

“Really, baby?”, Mr. Choi asks, eyebrows pushed together, lips formed into a pout, feigning an expression of worry.

“Yes, sir,” you say, the big question of 'what is the goal here?' unnerving you, but with the quick, harsh movement of his leg against the back of your knee, you're—

“Sir!”

Sat on his thigh, your butt is bouncing on the hard flesh, fingers dug into his shoulders deeper due to the shock, ribcage moving up and down as you’re breathing fast and anxiously. At this point, you’ve gathered the attention of many who are seemingly more excited about the situation than you are, silencing all around, while the chairman continues to crack drunk jokes on the other side.

Mr. Choi chuckles at your nervousness and puts his glass down. “Aww, look at you, baby,” he coos, his rough, calloused fingers trailing between the inner space of your thighs that’s pushed into his leg. “Need a little break?”

As you sit there— securing yourself on the table, feeling his hand sit between your legs, you become lighter with each passing second, tingles being sent down your abdomen. Could Mr. Choi please stop smirking like that? It’s going to make you lose your mind, lose every thought of what you were trying to achieve at this table tonight.

“The chairman doesn’t allow breaks, sir,” you murmur, trying to cling onto the last sense of service you have, “I have to stay here.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper for the CEO in front of you to become curious, but loud enough for the mafiaboss to scoff and massage his hand deeper into your flesh.

“Sir, I really—“, you try to protest, but Mr. Choi uses his other finger to signal you to come closer to his face. You do as you’re told, his warm breath hitting your ear after you lean backwards.

“Baby,” he cackles, and his lips touch your earlobe, the smell of the smoke fading out his mouth.

“I practically own that wimp,” and Mr. Choi lets out a chuckle before his voice lowers an octave, “Let me own you, too.”

His tongue grazes over your sensitive skin as if he was a snake trying to convince you of eating the strange fruit, and you shudder forwards in surprise, his growl still vibrating in your ears.

You should get yourself together— yeah, that sounds like a good idea, if it just wasn't for the fact that this is exactly how you've been presenting yourself the whole evening. You're cornered, and not only by him, but your actions and it's, oh, old man, it's something. It's something that broadens the playground that was set out in front of you, something that gives you more to play, no, more to be played with.

The other guests are gawking already, forgetting about their prejudices when it comes to the 'youngsters', just happy to be seeing their missy in action.

The mafiaboss sighs, breaking his whispering and speaking louder than before. “But if you cherish so much about that old geezer, he’ll be taken care of, no? Maybe even better than before, or am I wrong here, brother?”

He clicks with his mouth— is it a habit?— and looks at headman Park, who rolls his eyes, as if they’re sharing some secret you’re not a part of. But before you can fall into further confusion, your legs tighten around Mr. Choi’s wristwatch, as his thumb strokes the surface under your skirt one time, right across your cunt which has been heating up since the first time you saw the reflection of yourself in his silver cross. A pant leaves your mouth and you have to grind your ass over so you can somehow clench your legs together.

“You like that?”, Mr. Choi sneers, chuckling into your ear, as he continues to move his thick finger against your clit. "Of course you do. Let me hear more of those cute sounds, baby.”

You grab his bicep, heat crawling up your abdomen against his forearm, your crotch feeling more and more buzzed as the male works his fingertip into you. Nobody says anything, just murmuring insignificant sentences to keep up the chatty mood.

Headman Park in the meanwhile, crosses his arms, catching the attention of the mafiaboss.

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

Mr. Choi flashes an eye-smile and keeps groping your cunt, you melting more and more into his lap and under the heated gazes of the crowd. Your servant-colleagues don’t know what to do, or no, maybe they knew exactly that this would happen and think you deserve all of this shame, just in general not helping you escape the touch of the mafiaboss.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything,” headman Park says, looking indifferent, but his words don’t cross out the possibility that inside his pants, his cock isn’t growing too, how his arms are crossed, clenched around each other.

“Come on, baby,” Mr. Choi growls into your ear, “give that fucking bore a show, won’t you?”

You’re split open. He’s strong, oh gosh, so strong, taking not more than one push to grab you by your thigh and spread your legs, make you slip on his crotch, as he closes his knees together to support you from down under.

“San,” headman Park warns, but his mouth stays slightly open, tongue pressed against the surface of his upper teeth, suppressing a grin.

You flatten your back against Mr. Choi’s torso as an attempt to hide your face behind his neck, and breathe heavily against his freckled skin, the cold exterior of his pearly accessory grazes your chin.

“What?”, the male asks, taking his glass, his arm slithering under your armpit and his chin resting on your shoulder as he sips from it, not to forget the hand that is still pushed into the now moist fabric between your legs, moving in circular motion.

Headman Park doesn’t answer and folds his hands together, placing his elbows on the table, fingers touching his lower lip.

“Geez, brother, you should feel this cunt right now,” the mafiaboss wheezes, almost hiccuping from his excitement, “so fucking hot, you won’t believe.”

“Make her louder.”

Even Mr. Choi was surprised to hear that come out of the reserved CEO's mouth, and as he chuckles and takes the last sip from his whiskey, he puts down his glass once in for all to accept headman Park’s order.

With a slight lean forward, his free hand wraps around your neck and you gasp for air. Mr. Choi’s legs are spread so when you have to tuck in your pelvis, you can feel his bulge under your cunt. At this point, you don’t care for the piercing gazes anymore, and the chairman might as well give you a nice tip for the sight of you grinding your wet pussy into his biggest investor’s clothed cock. You’re such a master profiteer, Y/N, Jongho was right.

“Fuck, missy,” Mr. Choi grunts and he’s so frustrated he can’t take off more of your clothes, but it doesn’t prevent him from following the order when headman Park mutters, “grab her breasts.”

It is one shameless show.

You becoming needy and whiny on Choi San’s lap, the mafiaboss grinning, as CEO Park Seonghwa’s eyes are unmoving from your sullen, aroused expressions— it has persuaded the audience to want their own slice of fun, but even with hands wrapped around their no-use cocks, everybody in the room has their eyes sealed on the young servant whose only job was to refill some ice.

Mr. Choi can feel it; what a slut you are on top of him, how eagerly you’re grinding your cunt over his bulge, and how jealous the others are watching— and this includes all the blokes that are watching with cigars in their mouths, but also the servants that would have gladly taken your seat and not rub their hands over old, moist, wrinkly skin.

“Sir,” you whimper, as Mr. Choi knobs your breasts, his tough hands cupping each tit, just like headman Park commanded him.

Fuck, how he wishes to be able to see your face as well as well as headman Park does, but the sobby whines might as well do.

“So noisy on my cock,” Mr. Choi snarls, “you’re practically begging for attention, missy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you hiss and the mafiaboss inhales sharply, gasping, his cock jumping, very turned on by your sudden spunky tone. Bingo.

“Did you hear that, brother?”, he whales, tempting the headman to interact with him more as the main viewer of his performance, but the man to his friend is only raising an eyebrow. “Baby's got some zest in her. You like that, don’t you?”

Mr. Choi continues to coo headman Park into defeat, “You like ‘em feisty, brother. I know you, chief execution officer, sir. You wanna ram your cock into this little missy's pretty mouth, just admit it.”

Little missy's pretty mouth. "Say that again, shitbag," you hiss, but Mr. Choi grins and pries into your bust, working folds into your freshly-ironed shirt. "Listen, brother," he breathes, "It gets your cock fucking going, doesn't it?"

The mafiaboss chuckles and adds, so only you can hear it, "Definitely gets my cock going, baby."

Headman Park scans the room, and you can see how he shakes his head, and looks at Mr. Choi with a slight distaste. “You may leave soon.” 

“Really?”, Mr. Choi grins, beaming, grabbing your hips forcefully in the joy of it, and while the CEO’s words leave you misled, you sigh into the pressure of being pressed down deep into his muscled thigh, your cunt pulsating through his flesh.

“Change of plans.”

“Alright," he murmurs, just as offended as you are by his lack of reactions, but quickly catching up on his lust to hear, see, feel you more. "But not before I make this baby come."

“Punster,” headman Park jeers and it does occur to you that you’re hearing more of his soft voice than before, but when he looks at his wristwatch, you suppose you’re not doing well enough for him. Look at me, you rich-ass prude, you think and whine, being moved across Mr. Choi’s thigh by his own hands. Your clit feels hot, like it is seriously going to burn and fall off, but you, fuck, feel so good; the sounds just keep leaving your mouth, your high approaching very soon.

“How long were you thinking, brother?”, Mr. Choi asks and is nibbling at your neck, as he rams you over his thigh, fighting with the pace you're breathing wispy and digging your nails more and more into the glass-table until your fingertips turn white.

"Five.”

“Five? Make it ten.”

“You only last ten?”

“You can be such a bully, brother,” Mr. Choi fleers, and you have no fucking idea what they’re talking about, since you are feeling your orgasm coming in less than a minute, stars appearing in front of your eyes. “Make it ten.”

The male takes note of how you're bucking in your pelvis and uses his canine teeth to make your neck flame on, his hand placed roughly around your throat, as you become more sensitive to every move. "Sir," you whisper, a knot forming in your stomach.

Your clit is begging you for mercy at this point, demanding you to get the clothes off your legs so your slick has some way to escape, but you're drenching Mr. Choi's suit-pants in your wetness with stuttered heaving, ready to moan loudly in any second now if you could just find that one fucking spot—

"Are you gonna cum, baby? Right in front of everyone?", he murmurs against your neck and you nod repeatedly, raving your clothed clit on his thick, pillowy muscle, desperately chasing your high. "Come on," he snickers, "Show them what kind of slut missy is, huh? Such a good fucking slut for us, aren't you?"

"Yesyesyes," you whine, not caring for anything than your release, and Mr. Choi is being so kind as to continue breathing heavily into your ear to make you melt into bliss, but nothing gets you on more than the gentle smile that headman Park is sending your way, head slightly tilted to the back— is he nodding? Is he finally approving? Oh, fuck, you think, and you're doing the best job darting your hips non-stop to continue feeling your cunt be stroked by Mr. Choi's flesh, pursuing the CEO's praising acknowledgment. "Good fucking slut on my lap," the mafiaboss cackles, "come for daddy."

"You fucking weirdo," you falter, not wanting to call him "I'm never gonna call you—

Mmmuh!" Mr. Choi grabs you by your hair and tugs it harshly, making your back arch and your head rotate to his side. In the open mouth, his tongue plunges into your throat, the taste of woody herbs and bitter alcohol are flooding your tastebuds. Smearing all of your lipstick, his mouth is pressed against yours like he's sealing yours shut. You convulse your lower body in surprise of the sudden act and holy shit, get that one spot over your clit that's also stroking your gaping entrance, your body releasing all of its heat into one blaring, roaring zap, with your eyes rolling back your head, your stirred voice screaming, "FUCK!"

There is a gasp heard through the dining hall and you're not sure whether it was the chairman, a servant, or headman Park in front of you, but as you are spasming on Mr. Choi's thigh and your back arches to his chest, you feel like the world is expanding on you, peeping, intrusive onlookers cramming out their money to thank you for the show they got, white trickling through the linen of their underwear. 

Coming down from your high, weakened and all the while more aroused by the mafiaboss whispering the words "good girl" into your ear, you try to open your eyelids to catch headman Park putting on some black leather-gloves he got from his briefcase, muttering something under his breath to the mafiaboss.

“Go."

What the fuck?

Mr. Choi hooks his arm under your legs while he re-applies his lips to yours, and lifts you up like the pretty princess you are to most of the gawkers that don't stop watching, when he stands up.

Everybody has their eyes on the kiss the mafiaboss and servant missy are sharing, but headman Park doesn’t even look at you, when his partner starts carrying you to the elevator that's waiting for you at the wall about in the middle of the dining table, and just retrieves his open briefcase from the floor. Has he had enough of you already?

“Where are we—“, you breathe, but Mr. Choi kisses you silent, tongue forcing its entry, preventing you from figuring out what's happening, after the mafiaboss puts you down in front of the door and pushes you against the frame roughly. Cheering and hooting encourages him to continue rubbing his thumb over your skin as the other ringed fingers are holding your thigh, and you're pressed against his leg, virtually fenced in by Mr. Choi while he pushes the button for the lift to come.

His eyes are squinting to the side while he works his lips against you, in a way confirming that all of the guests (except the CEO) are begrudgingly anticipating the next actions of the mafiaboss, not caring how the headman is slowly pushing his seat away from the table to get more leg-space, which you seem to be the only person noticing it.

The golden door opens with a bell dinging the elevator’s arrival, and Mr. Choi grabs you by your ass, leading the way inside it. You can't see it correctly with your eyes closed, can only feel his big arms push into your frame, but he even makes for a show-like exit, burlesquely saluting the audience with two fingers, clicking with his mouth. It must really be a habit, you think, and giggle into the kiss.

The men attempt to throw bankrolls into your space and some succeed, some don't, but while you're glad your plan worked out, you aren't too sure what you've just done with, or for the mafiaboss.

Your heated kiss continues and because you want to feel him, you unbutton his shirt that doesn’t need that much working, three buttons being pushed open by your jellylike hands. Before you can unclothe him though, Mr. Choi pushes his arm against the mirror next to your head, stopping you to take a look at his wristwatch. He strokes his hair to the back with the other hand, revealing some of his meaty abs, and once he’s reached the backside of his head, he slides his fingers down his neck and around his Adam's apple to scratch it, announcing, “Ten minutes on the clock. Shit, brother's dick must be fucking exploding in his pants right now."

“Sir?”, you ask, overwhelmed by the words that are not making sense in your head, but also distracted by his hand that’s around your tie.

“Given he really could've finished in five but,” he yanks you towards his face. “I wanted to have you a bit more for myself, missy.”

He smiles, very arrogantly like the patronizing fuck he is, like he knows how strong he is, what a dominating aura he possesses, but at this point, in between the mirrors and on this black, marbled floor, you are not at the chairman’s dinner anymore, aren’t a servant anymore– you aren’t bound to any authority, are you?

“If you fucking call me ‘missy’ again, I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”

Except for the moment that you’re talking to him, a mafiaboss, whose breast is marked by— and you can see it very clearly now for it fits perfectly into yours— hands that have shared the same, if not a similar experience with you.

“How’d you know I was into biting, baby?”

And holy fuck, his back looks even crazier.

“God, sir,” you breathe out in awe and a little bit of fear. You can count the lines of red scratches on his back and as you finally let his shirt fall from his shoulders, the reflection of his muscles, how they relax under your touch. You become starstruck. Everything about him is so scarring, but fuck, how it attracts you, the wildness, the savagery— there’s something so free about him.

"What, baby? You like what you're seeing? How naughty..."

Ten minutes aren’t a lot, but Mr. Choi makes his best attempt to hurry over the trivial parts of fucking you. He steps closer, your ass hitting the handrail, legs crossing together, and your buttons pop in one rip, as his two hands rupture your blouse open. He lets his shirt drop to the floor, all the while his lips clash against the nook of your neck, making you sigh under the luminous lights of the elevator and grab his neck. You’re getting hazy, horny; damn, it’s been so long you’ve had a good fuck. Satisfactory sex is another luxury you were postponing for later.

With his lips sewn on your shoulder, kissing and forcing his tongue against a spot he deems especially tasty, the half-naked male unzips your skirt to finally reveal the black pantyhose that looks soaked in your slick. After he chuckles at the sight of it, Mr. Choi licks over his lips and cups your jaw with his hand, drawing a trail of insatiable kisses across your skin.

“Still wanna bite my dick off?”, he asks with a sly smirk, breathy, having caught your aroused look locked on his silver chains, his jacked upper body inviting you to get your mouth in there until it’s molded around your teeth.

“Come on, baby,” the male provokes you, “You think I’m gonna fuck you just like this? Think I’m gonna ram myself inside your cute fucking cunt ‘cause I’m such a big scary fucking man?”

You inhale sharply. “N- no, I…”, you breathe out, letting your tongue run over your teeth.

“Aw, baby, am I making you shy?”, Mr. Choi hoots, “I didn’t think you were a shy one. You were pretty noisy on my thigh for your cunt, weren’t you? Getting all the sounds out for brother to hear them… You really served a show there, baby.”

Your mouth only lets out stammered gibberish– you have never learnt how to talk dirty, but Mr. Choi uses your opened lips to ram his tongue into it again anyway, and you're almost proud to say you've gotten used to it.

He breathes rashly through his nose, and he tastes less of bourbon but more of dulcet desire, mixed in with the red of your lipstick sitting on his lip. Your knee strokes his erection while he gets his hands behind your back to get your bra off, lips clashing and raving against each other. “Letting your body talk for you?”, Mr. Choi husks, panting at having his overstrained cock touched. He relieves you from the pressure around the bust and continues to ramble. "I knew I could have a lot of fun with you the second I laid my eyes on you.” You pant and reunite your lips with his. "Little missy, such a whore for the rich."

He’s overconfident he’s seeing right through you, it infuriates you. Mr. Choi massages his hands into your breasts, the cold rings grazing sharply into your warm flesh, and as your knee is still between his crotch, you huff. You can be a whore for the rich when you’re earning money, but right now, you’re doing things for your own pleasure.

“Are you going to have a lot of fun with me?”, you sing-song in a high-pitched female voice to the mafiaboss that’s immediately taken aback, and you know the word 'missy' is on top of his tongue again, when you interrupt him with a quick jab of your knee into his groin. "Shit-eating fat-cat."

Mr. Choi grunts, head tilting down. His feline eyes meet your foxy ones, and while you weren't preparing for a staredown, the mafiaboss smirks and bites his lip. 

He has a lot to say, you can see it. There’s something glimmering under the lust-drunken layer behind his eyes, and it’s deep, goes deeper, but for some reason, the mafiaboss, who just so despicably couldn’t hold his mouth, doesn’t let out the words that’s crossing his mind.

“Sir–” 

Wrong deduction.

Mr. Choi scowls in laughter, and you guess he meant to joke with you, but he means to play with you much more, when he, once again, lifts you up, by your waist this time, and balances you on the handrail.

Resting his forearm on your thighs to stabilize you, Mr. Choi digs in his pocket to fetch his cigarette box, looking at himself through the mirror and shaking some strands out of his face. "Shit-eating fat-cat," he repeats with a lisp, pulling out one of the slim rolls with the corner of his mouth, and he continues to chuckle, as he glances at you through his eyelashes, "you should've said that to the old geezer when you had the chance to, baby."

"The chairman?"

No answer. Mr. Choi lights his cigarette with a zippo, and keeps it lit in his mouth, as he, with no forewarning, tears open your pantyhose from your crotch with both of his hands, spreading your legs wide. You have to get your hands around his head to be able to keep yourself on the handrail.

“Why do you look so scared? Think I’m gonna fuck you?”, he lisps. “I’m just taking a good look, baby. What a pretty cunt you got there, baby.”

You gulp. Mr. Choi slides his index finger across your heated folds through the fabric and your cunt clenches together, wanting to be filled up. “Sir,” you sigh, and the mafiaboss pulls in smoke from his cig, raising an eyebrow.

“What, baby? ‘You need something?”, he asks, “You’re not a fucking servant anymore, or do you need to be ordered around, missy?”

You try to look angry, but Mr. Choi only pouts and presses his finger through your panties, soaking them in your slick that’s gathered at your entrance. “Desperate to please the money-man? So wet for him…”

“Fuck you,” you mewl, but Mr. Choi knows what he’s doing when he thumbs your clit and exhales smoke into your face, hiding his face for a short second which gives you confidence. “I need you… to fuck me.”

“What did you say, baby? I couldn’t hear.”

“Please, sir, just… fuck me, please…”

“Louder.”

“God! Just fuck me! Didn’t you say we have ten minutes? Make them fucking count!”

“There we go, baby. My slutty little missy. Oh, baby, you’re growing on me, brother’s gonna hate that.” 

You huff and Mr. Choi slides your panties off your legs, taking a short glimpse at his wristwatch. “Damn, ten’s really a short time.”

How many minutes have passed? Ten already? You know you said it, but you mentioned it only because it made sense, if you’re honest, you have no clue what the time is worth for. Aren't these the men who have time for gold?

The biting smell of tobacco enters your nose, making you cough out loud. Is smoking even allowed in the elevator? Wait, wait, wait, no, maybe you should worry about other things, for example what you're going to do when those ten minutes are over, when all of this is over. They clearly have some type of plan and thing they are carrying out right now, but you don’t know how much you’re invited in there. 

Mr. Choi finishes his quick break, inhaling one last puff and keeping his cig between his lips again, and his hands unbuckle his belt in silence, while you contemplate.

Clanking, ruttling, and steps begin to thump behind the door— have any of you two even pressed a button? The mafiaboss looks concentrated, fixed on your cunt, taking out his throbbing, panging cock out his underwear, stroking it a few times to god, fuck, finally get to touch it after having been dry-humped hot.

Squelching, huffing, and voices echo through the floor— is that the chairman you hear? You can only yelp, when Mr. Choi drags off your panties and slathering his thick fingers across your folds in one, then penetrating with another forceful movement.

"Fuck!", you hiss out, grabbing the handrail next to your hips, trying to balance yourself on it still. The mafiaboss snickers into your ear, and tours through your cunt, all the while it appears that all hell is breaking loose outside.

BANG!

"Sir, what—!"

"Shhh, baby," Mr. Choi hushes you, and takes out his cig with the fingers that are now glistening with your wetness, placing it on top of his lips vertically to the scar that is accompanying his smug smirk.

BANG!

"You got nothin' to worry 'bout, baby," he lulls, "we're just eatin' the pheasant and the egg here," and exhales smoke into your face out his mouth-hole, which distracts you from the third, fourth—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another proverb, pheasant and the egg— 'two birds with one stone'. Mr. Choi unfolds his hand as if he was counting the minutes, or the shots— wait, yes, shots! Fuck, those are gun-shots, right? You've never heard something so loud ever in your life, where does someone get guns from in South Korea? What even would they need guns for? Why would they use them? What the fuck is happening outside?!

"Oh, fuck!", you moan out, before fear and realization can crawl up your scalp and take away your lusting for the male, Mr. Choi has jerked his hip up, his cock gliding into you smoothly as if your cunt was made for him, the length and girth perfectly curling inside. Your back arches, at least as far as you can arch it, and he grins bemusedly at your jolted reaction.

BANG!

With every blast that follows, Mr. Choi is thrusting into you, first slowly, but then adding more speed and vigor as he goes, or as the blasting goes, making you shakily watch yourself be wrecked by the broad man through the reflection on the other side, your legs dangling with his rough movement.

You don't know how he's fucking you through your tightness, because with each ducking of his hips it feels like your inner walls are expanding more and ungodly more, as if he was piercing you in half.

Small puffs of smoke leave Mr. Choi's mouth each time he pants out raspy "oh baby"s and loud claps of him slapping your ass overtone the screaming, scrambling noises outside, as you two work your lower bodies against and into each other, growing more passionate, throbbing feverishly.

"Fuck, baby," Mr. Choi hisses, cigarette tilting in his mouth, as his face frowns together. "So fucking good for daddy, aren't you? So fucking tight and wet, such a good fucking girl—"

The screams outside are dying down, but the mafiaboss and you are getting louder, breathier, lustier; with your head falling backwards, hitting the mirror, the twisting feeling of fear and the ecstasy to be bouncing on Mr. Choi's big cock mix up like one hellish drink, boiling and churning inside of you.

Smashing both his hands on each of you ass-cheeks to dig his fingers into them and get more stability to ram into you so fast, and oh boy, it's so fucking fast, you're going to spiral— Mr. Choi sputters, "Are you gonna come? Are you going to come for daddy, baby? Greedy baby gonna take daddy's huge fucking load?"

The male is unraveling, his once low, stable voice turning into a whiny, hoarse, cracked mess just like you, practically urging, begging you to finally take the name ‘daddy’ into your mouth.

"Come on baby, say it for me, huh? Feels good to be my slut?", he disentangles, "Be a good slut for daddy, baby."

"I'm not gonna call you— that, fuckhead!", you moan, though your insides are curdling together to finally be released, the knot tightening with each drop of sweat that is forming on your boiling face.

"Really? Think you can afford to misbehave, baby?", Mr. Choi snickers and spits his cig on the floor, your ass being handled at an insane speed, his cock slipping in and out of you with rough ease. He takes it upon himself to dig his teeth into the nook of your neck, biting you heftily, your pulse knocking against your throat, as you feel his cock run in and out of your cunt. Your head goes light and dazed, but before you can gasp out your high from being fucked, bitten, sent to bliss, the male sinks you deep into his cock fully, it does not give you the last thrust you would need to—

"Fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum," you whimper, needing to tremble, but unable to move because his hands are restricting you from any movement, and you continue to bring out a string of weak "pleasepleaseplease" that bounces back from the mafiaboss, who is raising an eyebrow, waiting for the magic word to be spoken out of your wet lips. Tears have formed at the corner of your eye and he thumbs it away, grinning coyly.

"Fuck you, I'mnotgonna fucking, ugh—!", you sob, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aww, you wanna hate daddy so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuuuck you!” Whines leave your mouth, wanting to cum, wanting to move, wanting for Mr. Choi to continue fucking into you and not wipe away your tears.

“Just say you love me, baby,” he heaves and returns his hand to your hip.

Thrusting into you once with a clap against your groin, to make your cunt clench around him, and then twice with the last blood-curdling BANG! from outside, his cock is deep inside you. He feels you tighten, pulsate, craving to be released, but Mr. Choi will not move again to your liking until you finally let go of yourself, which riles you up with no hope.

"F— Fuuuck, okay!", you scream out, annoyed, angry, wanting to fucking cum; "Daddy!", you sob and Mr. Choi smirks, instantly getting to work to toast the adieu of your pride. Thumb on your clit, he circles around your sensitive bud to double the tension you feel through all of your body, while you gutter, "fuck me, daddy, please, make me cum, please, daddy, please—"

He laughs, no, howls— elated, animated, drunk, and then, with his strong, buff fucking arms, pounds you into his cock like a punching bag, your ass hitting his pelvis so many times until you have to use his gelled hair as a last resort to hold yourself up and not push yourself from the handrail with your head against the mirror, but he holds you, holds you steadily in his grip.

"Good god, good fucking missy, such a good fucking slut for me, cum all over my cock–   all over my fucking cock, baby," Mr. Choi grunts, and the string that was keeping you balanced snaps, your orgasm hitting you like that makes your insides tighten around the mafiaboss and his throbbing girth, your whole body being flushed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure which you drink up whole. His cockhead rubs against your sweetspot, you riding out the high while seeing nothing but bliss.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, and your fingers grip into the thick skin of his back, and with Mr. Choi's hips not stopping to hit your pelvis, there are additional, injuring, deep red marks on there with every thrust. You’re scratching him like a beast wanting to tear up its prey, but the beast is fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. His cock does not stop grazing against your deepest spot, tears rolling down your heated cheek, and your mouth is unable to get out the words you want it to when you get the feeling that he's going to cum soon.

"O- out," you warn him, but the mafiaboss makes a disappointed face, “I– I really can’t afford a child, p-please pull out–!”

He draws his eyebrows in, scoffs and looks you deep in the eyes, his muscular body tucked in, murmuring, rambling out his whiskey-painted throat, “Is that really your only problem, baby? That you don’t have enough money?” His forehead leans against yours and your eyelids flutter open– you are being a mitt around his dick– and he pouts in pity, his iron cross hanging from his chest, as he talks to you.

Mr. Choi gets his hand flat on your lower belly and presses down on it, feeling himself bulge inside you. He moves his hips slowly, his cockhead dragging across your sweetspot, while he gutters, “you’d look so sexy as a mother, don’t you think, baby? With the tummy and all.”

“S- sir, please I–”

"Come on, do you think I don’t have enough money to pay for a fucking kid? God, how fucking annoying– I’m not that kind of man, baby,” Mr Choi growls, his voice vibrating against your cheek, as he charges his forehead deeper against yours, “I still got some honor.”

You shake your head, unsure whether there are pills for after in the pharmacies, or whether the mafiaboss will really be there to be with you as he promises, but Mr. Choi continues to beg in his low breathy, guttery voice. “Baby,” he rumbles, pressing even harder on your abdomen, your ass being pushed into the handrail that you’re sure it’s going to leave one red straight mark, and his cock is almost exploding from the edge, “Let me, no, let daddy cum into your tight cunt, baby, please.”

God, he wants you. He wants you so bad, doesn’t he?

"Y- you should see yourself," you chuckle, stroking over Mr. Choi's gelled hair, and his head tilts up a little bit as your fingers get tangled in his black locks, the white of his eyes making him look like a wild dog waiting for its treat. "F-fucking do it, you fucking slut."

"Fuck, baby," he laughs, out of breath, "You’re really a price."

Mr. Choi hammers his hips into you, until the stars in front of you all look like wishes falling from the sky. Both of you feel it, how his cock just feels so right, fits in like your cunt is a fucking glove which is full and getting even fuller.

"God, fuck," Mr. Choi grunts from the bottom of his throat, his hot cum lading into you, and it's like your lower body is melting with it, becoming heavier with every drop he's unloading inside.

"Take all of my fucking cum," he husks and your faces clash together for one finishing wild kiss. Mr. Choi sucks on your lower lip, as he fucks his ejaculation deeper and deeper into your hole with slow thrusts, until he bucks up his pelvis the last time and moans out a raspy, “perfect fucking missy with a perfect fucking cunt..."

Ding!

For a man that uses his mouth so sparingly, his tongue surely works wonders.

"Sir, are you—"

Headman Park has entered the elevator without a word, pulling off his leather gloves, and with Mr. Choi stepping away, he has all the place he requires to get on his knees and throw your leg over his shoulder, his wet and warm muscle delving into your throbbing cunt. You've been bereaved of the time to inspect what was behind or around him when the door closed, but maybe that's irrelevant anyways. What is relevant, is how impatient, but also how careful the CEO remains, and how he still tries his best to slowly sift his tongue into your folds, feeling every inch of your wetness. He’s been dying to do this.

"Fuck, sir!"

"Please," the CEO chuckles, hastily pulling the black leathery from his hands to put it back in his briefcase that he's been carrying, but he doesn't miss your cunt once, purling over your clit and glancing at you. "Call me Seonghwa, princess."

You could cum right here and there, just at the sight of this pretty man looking up to you, who has laid out his first name and put it into yours, scream it out loud until everyone hears what a princess you've been made of.

Princess. You knew his eyes were different, but you didn’t know they saw the world differently too. Oh, how you wish you could see more of his world.

"Aww, what? That's why you're still a foreigner in our country, brother! 'Can't be dropping our titles," Mr. Choi huffs and lights himself a second cigarette, filling the elevator with smoke and tobacco. How his breath really doesn't smell is questionable to you.

Just like you, the CEO, or how you're allowed to call him now— Seonghwa, ignores his partner's words, laps over your clit with his tongue, gently easing into your cunt with his clean fingers, and your soft sighs are like a reward for him, for whatever he's done outside.

"Respect, brother, 's all about respect..."

You tighten your thighs around Seonghwa's neck. The charcoal-haired has closed his eyes, sighing into the taste of you, and you are flawlessly overlooking the loud mafiaboss, just completely concentrating on the commitment the CEO is eating you out with. His head fits magically between your legs, he works his fingers so flawlessly into you, this must be fate— and if it's not, you're going to make it your future in any which way possible. You're falling. No, flying; never coming down.

"Seonghwa," you whine, and your hand glides over the hooked male's forehead, his hair feeling smooth under your touch as he presses his tongue slowly— in circular motion— against your clit to keep you on the high, but not in a way that would make you trip over.

"Mmf," the mafiaboss in front of you huffs, clearly attracted, enticed by the way you've exhaled the other male’s first name, scratching his temple with the fingers that are holding his cigarette.

"Whether you wanna call me San or 'daddy', baby," the scarred male, no, San, the fucker grins, "I'm gonna be hearing both either way."

"Fuck—", you moan out, having to take a breath because of how Seonghwa has curled his fingers into you with his tongue ready to shovel anything into his mouth that comes out, "you, fuckhead!"

The CEO is giggling a bit, finding your tone very amusing— and he tries to tell you this by looking up and slanting his eyes a friendly way, no, a way that you've never even conjured up the fantasy to perceive him, the cold-faced Park Seonghwa who hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol tonight. What pureness in a man...

"I liked 'fat-cat' better,” San snickers and goes through his hair that definitely needs combing, turning around and looking at himself through the mirror, though his eyes squint towards Seonghwa's reflection on the other side, now again lost in your cunt, taking off his jacket and folding it in half behind his back.

"Brother, you're eating my cum, by the way," the mafiaboss jabs, puffing out smoke while he's decidedly getting hard again in his trousers. San really can't hide his emotions on his face, can he? His lips are pursed, eyebrows slightly pulled in— how obvious. The man is jealous and doesn't want to admit it, you're sure of it.

"Shut up," you hiss, having become a bit comfortable with teasing the frustrated, outwitted mafiaboss. Ten minutes were definitely too little for him, but you've already rid his thigh, let him cum inside, and Seonghwa is simply too good with his tongue right now.

"Fuuuck," you whisper, and feel every drowsy twirl of his finger inside you, but it's slow, so slow, Seonghwa is swerving around every sponginess inside you, savoring the contraction of your inner space, and how your muscles tighten, when he licks over your clit, he enjoys this; enjoys you.

And so it continues, Park Seonghwa exploring every detail of your cunt as if he's a sommelier tasting the rarest of fluids, appreciating every drop that lands on his tongue, his fingers making sure that they don't go to waste.

"Shit," San comments, "I should've eaten her out, too."

The CEO is not cocky about it, about the way you are grabbing into his hair and squirming, how he has to slightly lift you up so you don't fall from your position. And then, when Seonghwa thinks your taste has perfectly coated his palate, speeds up.

"Fuck, sir," and the title slips out of you, like a habit you can't change for good when you feel so small. The CEO between your legs doesn't mind it though, at least doesn't say anything on it and just lets his fingers hit your sweet spot until there is a distinctive "Seonghwa" leaving sighed out your lips.

"I'm going to—", you announce, but the male has been long aware of it, preparing himself more access by bending his upper body to angle himself across your cunt, giving his partner a better view on how you glisten in arousal.

San in front of you is standing frozen, with his cigarette slowly burning out in his mouth, and you recompense the lack of his cock in your cunt by moaning louder, so your voice can vibrate around his erection. He grins and gets a tongue to his canine tooth, naked upper body still glowing in sweat, muscles shining, cock twitching every time he hears you breathe, and breathe more intensely, "make me cum, Seonghwa, please!"

"I knew you would taste delicious," Seonghwa murmurs, silently, rather for himself, and this must be how he sounds when he's drunk, because he is so high on your taste, "but this is ambrosial, princess."

You curl up your pelvis, and Seonghwa holds you by your hips, as his tongue picks up in speed, drawing out every word he hasn't spoken tonight on your labia, stamping them into your clit, all the while his fingers row in more and every last drop.

"C- coming~", you purr, and your eyes close down, your hands deep in Seonghwa's scalp, exhaling the weight of your worries, that flushes down into the man who seems to have none in his life, and he breathes into your hot cunt through his nose, not letting go of it until he's made sure that your hips tremble around his head. "P- please, f- fuck, fuck, feels so good—"

Pumping the remaining come into you, Seonghwa licks up your cunt and kisses your clit until you go completely flaccid, your arms giving in, but Seonghwa catches you by your hand, kissing your thigh with his swollen pink lips.

With your body relaxed, your ass feels a bite sore, having been prodded into the iron rail for so long. You grab into Seonghwa's hand and try to push yourself up, but ultimately fail at getting yourself into a more comfortable position.

"San, hold her."

"Huh?", he asks, "'Need something more snuggly, baby? Or what did you call her again, brother?"

"Princess," the CEO answers immediately and you have to suppress a girly giggle, as Seonghwa turns his head around, lips still pressed against your thigh. He presumably sends San an admonitory look to hurry up, and gets up from his knees.

The mafiaboss shrugs, not offended by being ordered around. He puts out the cigarette against the mirror and cracks his neck by rolling his head around, his thick neck dousing into your sight as he does so. He's so intimidating, you think, but he's on his way to coast those monster-arms behind your back, hands down to each of your hamstrings to, "up you go," pick you up like real royalty. The giggle escapes your mouth but you don't feel the slightest embarrassed nor do you have a reason to be. You are sunken deep into San’s cushiony arms— his muscles make for a great seat, and hovering, air hitting your hot cunt, as your legs spread for the CEO in front of you when you fall into the elbows. You yelp, but the giggles just keep coming, making San in the mirror in front of you wink at you, cackling, "you like that, princess?"

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied by your enjoyment of this position and approaches you once more. "I have yet to kiss you, Y/N," he says with his sweet voice, and his gentle hands find your chin and waist, your eyes blossoming open for him to stare into.

Even San shuts up now, and you suppose he is too taking part in the beauty that is the embrace of you and Seonghwa; two sets of lips, crazing each other, meeting for one flowery affair, breathing out small vapors of life. You can taste yourself, which means that Seonghwa is fully consumed by your aroma.

God, you think again, your cunt tingling at how Seonghwa tugs at his tie, pulling it side to side as he kisses you— the golden 'π'-pin clanks shrill to the floor— everything about Seonghwa is so...

Clean?

You are inhaling the mellow smell of his satiny skin, and the CEO unbuttons his shirt with proficient, skilfull flicks of his fingers. He is so handsome, handsomely pretty, and even when it’s drenched in your fluids, his skin shines on its own, like Seonghwa has a light shining within. Once you can see his bare chest and get lost on the smooth surface, your eyes dive down, admiring his slim, yet very muscular physique.

Seonghwa gets his tie and drags off his shirt by tugging at one sleeve with his hand, the white fabric revealing the rest of body with one clean pull that matches one of the curtains.

"W-", and you have to jump back with your head to get the full spectacle that's presented in front of you, exhaling in awe— "Wow.."

"Not so blank, our brother, is he?", San chuckles from behind of you and lowers his head to press his chin against your temple, surveying the same sight.

Two colossal, monstrous dragons, red and black, are colliding, looped, entangled all around Seonghwa's right arm, fighting for dominance on his skin. The raven hydra has its jaw wide open where Seonghwa looks to his shoulder with a rather shy smile once he sees your reaction, baring its teeth towards his heart, while the crimson dragon ends at the CEO's wrist, sitting on top of his pulse.

"Would you believe me it was brother's idea, baby?"

"As if," Seonghwa murmurs, folding his shirt into a square.

San chuckles again, re-shuffling himself and pressing your back close to his stomach, granting the back of your head to rest at his collarbone. "I asked her if she would believe, brother."

You watch the delicate lines, the elegant strokes of tint meeting on his skin, but while your first impression made you believe they carried a certain viciousness with their svelte bodies, the second sight presents you a different image of two forces maneuvering into each other as a reminder that they both co-exist as supreme. It's not one another they're reviling against, it's the bearer of the both who is threatened by their fangs. Their existence is a warning reminder, but also a sign of pride.

"I believe it's... beautiful."

“Aw, you’re so sweet, baby.”

You haven't seen many tattoos in your life, none in the mountains, and even in the city the only observable tattoos were those of the sleazy guys in alleys that wait when you're done with your job to gape at your uniform. They got tigers and other animals roaring on their bodies to hide the fact they don't have the fighting skills to keep up, but for Seonghwa, a CEO, to have this amount of ink under his skin is a commitment and to imagine he’s hiding that under his ironed shirt and black jacket, no, that you are seeing it right now, it’s… You’re overwrought, steamed up, aflame.

"Wanna touch it, baby?", San asks, and you nod eagerly. Seonghwa chuckles, “Go for it.”

You let your fingertip ghost over the dragons' scales, tailing their curvature. Goosebumps form on Seonghwa's arm and his hand finds its way to your head, stroking your cheek, as you meet the red beast's eyes.

The mafiaboss whispers, almost sentimentally, "No blood or tears."

Another expression, which proves to you that the tattoo was undoubtedly his idea, but you see it, the romance that is spoken from the male's skin, regardless of the little insight you have on both of them. Loyalty, reverence, creed, a belief and a duty, and before you know it, you want Seonghwa to enwrap you with his arms and never let you go, which he does.

His slender hand cloaks the left side of your head, and he pulls himself into a kiss, while he unbuckles his belt with his other hand.

You don't know how much you understand of this situation, no, you don't know how much you want to understand of this situation.

You've been on your own. That's all you ever had after you left home: Your body and soul, the windstorms of the mountains pushing you from the back to keep going, and you've lived your best life living for yourself that way, in bliss, in ignorance— in peace, but what is peace in a place where you can't move by yourself? In a world that’s maimed by the rich, and sure, it may be that you’ve chosen your path, but you were never walking a road that was yours, always trailing behind something.

Nameless, that’s what you thought you would need to be.

Your monks wanted to be called their title like everyone else, it would have been disrespectful to ask Lady Kim for hers which you now regret, and not even as a secret did your old man tell you his name, but you— you, Y/N, you have a name and you want to scream it, live it as loud as you can, hear it echo back with a volume that feels stronger when it rings back.

You could have settled on being acknowledged by your supervisor to earn some good money, but this is what you’re here for, aren’t you? Why you trusted your gut to stick to the scary men? Why you walked to them with confident steps, even when a nervous knot was forming together inside you? Did you go as what, an act of defiance? One of independence? To prove yourself that you were still standing on your own feet?

"Speaking of, brother..."

Yes, with no shame.

"You really enjoyed yourself back there, didn’t you?”, San asks. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

Seonghwa is kissing you down your breast, observing closely how you breathlessly react to his tongue twirling around your nipple.

"You left me no other chance," the older male hums, coating your circular buds with his saliva, bringing out your heavenly sighs every chance he gets, stroking himself to the sounds of your pleasure.

"Well, I would have made sure you still fucked her, brother."

“Sure,” Seonghwa lisps and positions his cockhead at your entrance. 

You try to grab San's shoulder behind you, as the male pushes himself inside, and your torso rotates to the side with your eyebrows pulling together, your cunt being spread apart.  “F-fuck,” you exhale, and Seonghwa kisses the corner of your lip to soothe you. Your cunt squelches around his cock and your hips roll by themselves, wanting to take more of his length.

"Shit, look at her go," the mafiaboss woos, "Fuck yourself out, brother."

"Think you’ll miss this?", Seonghwa snickers and it must be the first question he has asked today. “Y- yeah, you will!”, you snap, feeling eager to be acknowledged for how good your cunt wraps around his throbbing heat. 

“Oh, princess,” the CEO laughs, and your stomach drops because of how pretty his laughter sounds, and he caresses your cheek, only making your confusion and desire to finally uncover what the two men have obviously been keeping from you grow bigger. You don’t want to say it abruptly, but you three are naked, in a confined space, skins pressed against each other, so you believe you’re worth some type of explanation– or are you not?

“C- can you tell me what’s going to happen?”, you whine, and Seonghwa moves his hips, grabbing you by your waist to get his whole length. “Are you, fuck, going to leave me?”

“I dunno, brother, you call it,” San mutters. “It was your plan.”

“D- don’t!”

“It’s barely my plan anymore,” Seonghwa breathes, bucking his pelvis in, his cockhead being sucked in by your sensitive cunt.

“Don’t leave me!”

“You needed a distraction, brother, I got you one.”

“No,” Seonghwa chuckles, but in his heat, he kisses you and glances up at San while his tongue brushes against your lip. “But I’ll admit she saved us some jail-time, San.”

They continue talking over your pleas, and though you would have loved to ask a second time how the night was going to end, your brain has started to give into the pleasure once San folds your legs together, holding you by your hamstrings, giving Seonghwa an easier angle to fuck you senseless. 

“F- fu-huuck,” you breathe out, and your eyes are disappearing behind your molten, droopy eyelids, with Seonghwa cumming for the second time on your abdomen and cleaning it up with his handkerchief, and you don’t even know when it was, that San crammed out his cock   again, but you can definitely feel the difference of his girth, when he re-enters your used cunt, your legs shakily landing on the floor. They feel wobbly, your thighs having gone loose, and the mafiaboss has to hold you by your arms behind your back to support you.

“Can’t take it anymore, baby?”, San whispers into your ear, and his voice is low, very low, you don’t know how much time has passed since you could make out any of his words, but it feels like you’re back here, in the elevator, and Seonghwa is putting on his belt again.

“I c- can!”, you manage to whine out, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to return to your small apartment, not wanting these two to be gone from your life. “I can!”, you repeat yourself, when San lets out a mockful cackle. “You’re not going to fucking leave me here, San!”

“Who said anything about leaving you here, baby?”, he asks you, and he does mean his confusion, but the sarcastic undertone makes you desperate grow desperate. San frowns. “What did I tell you, baby?”

“You aren’t telling me shit, San!”, you sob, and his cock running through you prevents you from finding a braver voice, his two hands find your wrists to bind them together in his grip. “Aren’t you such a smartie,” he growls into your ear, hot air hitting your dissolving ear.

“Brother,” San calls out, and the addressed man is busy opening up his briefcase, getting on his knee. “I’m still waiting on you, y’know.”

“If you had stuck to the plan, th–” Seonghwa murmurs, but the mafiaboss falls into his word. “Then we would have fuckin’ send the bitch to prison and someone else would have him killed him, but there! You know I didn’t come with the fucking patience for that, brother! Geezer was getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killed?

“And don’t you talk back now,” San warns, “It was you who killed all of ‘em, so you figure out how you’re going to carry that one out.”

Killed?

“You already know how I’m going to carry this out.” Seonghwa smirks. “But you’re stopping me, San.”

“Augh, brother, you’re too sober for your own sake!” San’s cock is too deep in your cunt and your body is too much in his control for you to stop moaning like a bitch, but in your head, you’re puzzling together tonight’s happenings.

Expensive whiskey. Ice cubes. Ten minutes, gunshots, black leather gloves– “killed.”

Oh, Y/N.

“What did you do with the chairman, Seonghwa?”, you moan out, feeling how the mafiaboss is ramming himself into you at a sloppy, greedy pace, prolonging how much he can be inside you before he comes again, and you don’t know whether his heavy breathing can cover up the silence that it takes for the CEO to react to your question.

Seonghwa is still kneeled on the floor, when he rotates his head, smiling, his eyebrows pushed up. “What do you think I did?” His second question of the day.

“I- I,” you stutter, but San shakes his head, and interrupts you with his voice still loose from the alcohol, “you really don’t know how to keep up a good mood, brother!”, grabbing you by your chin and yanking your head up. “Lemme make my baby cum first!”

You can’t see Seonghwa anymore. You can barely see anything anymore, you’re counting your fifth or sixth orgasm of the night, cunt growing hotter with each time San thrusts into it, and with your breath being cut off, you slowly feel your arms lose their responsibility, tingling up from where your wrists are crossed behind your back. His cockhead is flaying against your g-spot and your thighs tremble at how used you’re being, eyes falling in, throat feeling tied up.

“S- San,” you manage to cough out, back arching for your final cry of pleasure, and San grins, letting go of your wrists, which makes you immediately fall to the front, finding safety against the mirror with both of your hands. He smacks his hands against your ass and lunges into you until your whole breast is pushed against the cold wall. 

“Come on, baby, come for me,” San roars, and you wail, tired, exhausted, feeling the orgasm drown you like another wave in the ocean of bliss you’ve been swimming in, whining out, “coming, coming for you, San!”

The mafiaboss presses himself against your back, his silver cross being imprinted into your neck, as he unloads himself, his last drops of hot cum overflowing out of you. “Fucking slut… So fucking good…”

He kisses your jaw repeatedly and looks at how tiredly closed your eyes are in the mirror, cooing “aww, baby.” San strokes away a strand of hair and gets himself off your body, pulling out. “You look like you need some sleep, baby.”

You are trying to catch your breath, grabbing the handrail to hold yourself up, as it sounds like San is putting on his shirt again. They’re gonna fucking leave you here, aren’t they? Leave you here in the elevator with the– with the fucking bankrolls on the floor of the fucking men you fucking– Oh god… Keep breathing, Y/N. Keep on breathing.

“I mean all I’m saying… you know… lobsters and crabs are friends, pal.”

What the fuck is he on again…

“You’re making this hard on yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything, just sayin’ that she just grew on me, that’s all.”

Your legs tremble, as you try straightening them to stand up and see what the two are scheming again, but as you turn your body around, ass against the handrail again, you hear a very unfamiliar clicking in front of your forehead area which is not coming out of San’s mouth.

“You’ve grown soft. That’s what you did.”

“Ahhh, fuck you, brother.”

“Pathetic.”

You see a hole, and it also doesn’t take you long to see Seonghwa ready to pull the trigger, the mafiaboss leaning into the corner of the elevator, arms crossed, looking at you with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, pressing the button that leads to the lobby.

The night is over.

“A- are you going to– oh my g-god, are you going to kill me…?”

“Yes, princess.”

Your heart is going to burst, you could puke out so many words right now, but you don’t know what to do. You don’t want to die, not when you felt so fucking alive– you– fuck, you should feel sorry that your coworkers that they didn’t deserve to go the same way as the asswipes did, because you’ve long realised that the bangs were their skulls being crushed by the bullets, but at the same time you couldn’t care any fucking less about them right now. You just have to survive, that was the only thing that mattered since the very beginning. This is about your life. Your precious fucking life.

“Ah…”

Your body is too weak to hyperventilate, but your brain is working overtime. Do you run? Attack them? No…

Seonghwa hasn’t moved an inch away from your face, and you take it upon yourself to raise your hand and slowly push the cold, black gun to the side, so you can look him in his eyes, but he forces it back there.

“Please don’t kill me… I can do so much for you! I– I,” you stutter, trying to gather all the knowledge your monks have taught you. “I– I’ll do anything! You– you saw me, didn’t you? I have– I’ve been told I have a talent for serving! I– I can do anything, please, I beg you, just…”

You fall to your knees, and they burn on the glassy floor, your hands folded in front of your abdomen. 

“Just please, let me live…”

You’re not greedy. You’ve only taken what you were given, and tonight, you’ve been given so much. Too much? No, it couldn’t be…

“Brother.”

There are tears flowing down your eyes, and you feel so sorry for yourself. You miss your old monk, and hope that you may be reincarnated to a butterfly that he can admire, just so that he can look at you with his adoring eyes again. So someone can want the best for you once in your life–

“Brother?”

So anyone can finally love you for once in your life.

next part coming soon... series masterlist | main masterlist

#cromernet #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #park seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenario #ateez smut #ateez x reader #chokkiwa #chokko #drivebyme

[cc--2224]

I Told You So

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Tech realizes that you are more precious to him than he originally thought, and though he is upset that you didn’t listen to him, he is more upset that he nearly lost you. And he intends to finally do something about it.

Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Slight canon typical violence and mentions of injuries in whatever plot this has, smut; oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!), porn with feelings, possessive Tech, slight praise kink? language

Notes: I don’t know where this came from, it has been a minute since I’ve written anything remotely spicy let alone an actual smut fic. But please let me know what you think!

Word Count: 5.5k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Edit: Thank you all for the likes and reblogs!! I hope you enjoyed it 💚

"It is unwise for any of us to go out on our own, we should be working in teams of two." Tech pointed out as you were gearing up for your mission. You were to locate and rescue a Republic senator who had been imprisoned by the Separatists and bring them back to Coruscant.

"There's an odd number, we can't go in teams of two." You pointed out. "I can handle myself, I don't want to divide your squad." 

Ever since you had teamed up with Clone Force 99, you had gotten to know them well, but you still felt like an outsider. In some ways, you were, but you never really felt like one of the team. It wasn't uncommon for you to be the odd one out for teamwork, and to you, this was no different.

In truth, you had always hoped to be partnered with Tech when you were given the briefing, but his talents were more complementary with one of his brothers. Ever since you met him, you were drawn to him, his brains, his demeanor, the way he lit up when speaking about something that interested him which ended up being nearly everything. He was handsome and skilled, and he welcomed you into the squad immediately, over the following months, you began developing feelings for him.

It never hindered your performance on missions, not only because you were never paired up with him, but you were good at compartmentalizing your feelings from your work. You wanted to get closer to him, but there never seemed to be a good time, and even if there was, you just didn't know how to bridge the gap. 

"You can join Crosshair and myself, it will be safe for you." He suggested.

"We'll cover more ground in three groups. I'll be fine, I doubt there are even going to be any platoons that far out." 

Tech shrugged, "Suit yourself. I will send you the coordinates for our rendezvous point. Keep your comm on."

You nodded and left the Marauder with your equipment. 

You had no idea that this mission would be more dangerous than many you had encountered, but Tech knew, he always did.

As you approached the outskirts of the village, you saw a clear path straight through to the compound where you suspected the senator was held. It seemed a little too good to be true, there should have been droids out here, not full platoons, but someone keeping watch. 

You drew your blaster to be safe, and crept onward, keeping an eye out for anything out of place. You could hear chatter over the comms of the others checking in with each other, and then you heard Tech say your name. 

“All clear. As I said.” 

Tech didn’t reply and you lowered the volume on your comm, still keeping it on, but not wanting to draw attention to yourself. 

You had made it about halfway through the clearing when you saw blaster fire strike about ten paces to your left. You looked up, trying to see where it came from when you saw a platoon of B1s headed your way. 

“Easy work.” You mumbled to yourself, aiming your blaster forward, shooting them as they neared you. 

It was easy work at first, but there didn’t seem to be an end to them. When you’d shoot one, two more would appear, and before you could even disable a squadron of them, a tank appeared over the horizon. 

“Kriff.” You said. 

You considered calling for backup, but your pride couldn’t handle Tech telling you that he told you so, so instead you took a grenade out of your pack and threw it toward the platoon. It didn’t seem to damage the tank, but it at least got rid of the marching battle droids.

If you had raised your comm to ask for help, you would have heard Hunter say that the target was secure, and call for everyone to return to the ship, but you were the only one who didn’t check in. 

“Tech, Crosshair, you two go find her. Wrecker and I will bring the senator back to the ship.” Hunter told them. 

They left their post and headed to your last known location.

“Why didn’t she just join our team?” Crosshair finally asked.

“I did suggest it, but due to her stubborn nature, she was certain she would be fine on her own.” Tech’s tone indicated his annoyance. He wanted to be as annoyed as he sounded, but more than anything he was worried. 

He liked having you around, you were always willing to listen to him prattle on about whatever topic was on his mind. You were kind, you treated him and his brothers well. The idea that you could be taken from them had never crossed his mind until now. Unlike you, he had no idea of the way he felt about you. He had rarely had feelings for anyone before, he didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. All he knew was that he didn’t want to sit through a briefing without you, or ramble on about some useless topic without you intently listening, and he didn’t want your last conversation to be the last conversation. He didn’t want to be right about this one thing. 

When they saw the explosion in the distance, he began to fear he was right.

The tank fired toward you, it missed its mark and you were able to avoid a direct hit, but the explosion was just a little too close. You were sent flying back from the shock wave, and you could hear buzzing in your ear before everything went black.

If you hadn't gone out on your own, someone could have been looking out for you. Tech could have been looking out for you, just as he insisted upon.

But instead, you were so certain you could handle yourself that you had gotten yourself in trouble.

You woke up in your bunk, bandaged and sore, but still alive. You didn’t know what happened, and you weren’t exactly eager to find out, but you knew you had to face everyone eventually.

Wrecker smiled at you when you walked into the cockpit, “Well look who’s finally awake!”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, instead looking at the back of Tech’s chair. 

You heard a sigh, and then Tech turned his chair around, eyeing you up and down.

“Something you need to say?” He finally asked.

“What happened with the mission?”

Hunter spoke, “Got the senator. We’ll be arriving on Coruscant shortly.”

Had you really been asleep that long?

"I told you you should not have gone on your own." It seemed Tech was tired of the small talk.

You looked at him, unsure of what he wanted you to say. “I was just doing my part of the mission, nothing I did was out of line. I didn't know there would be that many droids on the outskirts." It was a losing argument, and one you'd rather not have in the cockpit of the Marauder in front of everyone, but Tech didn't seem interested in anything but the argument.

"Precisely. If you had gone with Crosshair and I, you would not have encountered those droids. And now you are injured because of your own mistake." He had raised his voice, something you’d never heard him do.

You flinched slightly at his words but he continued, “What happened to keeping your comm on? We were trying to reach you.”

“My comm was on!” You retorted, “Just turned it down so I wouldn’t be spotted.”

“Yes well, a lot of good that did you.” He responded sarcastically. “We might not be there to save you next time. Keep that in mind before you choose to do something so reckless.” He turned away from you, facing the front again.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the back of the chair, "I didn’t ask to be saved, in fact I’d rather be back there with the droids. Maybe then-"

Hunter cut into your argument. "That is enough, both of you." 

He looked at you with his eyebrows knit together, "Go lay down, rest is going to help your injuries, arguing is not."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, you turned and went to your bunk.

After you were out of earshot, Hunter spoke to Tech.

"What was that about? You can't just yell at her, she got hurt, she learned her lesson already."

"As I have mentioned, she would not have-"

"Stow it. We all know what's going on between you, even if you don't. You need to figure it out before your next outburst." Hunter turned in his chair to face the front of the ship again. Tech looked on at the dancing lights of hyperspace.

Tech didn’t speak to you for the next week. The five of you were granted time off after saving the senator and you had all decided to spend it on Coruscant, but with the tension in the ship, it didn’t seem like much of a vacation.

You knew that all you had to do was apologize, but you didn’t feel like you did anything wrong. 

You knew the others were getting tired of yours and Tech’s attitudes; they all knew that it was more than just the mission. They knew about your feelings for each other, and they knew how worried Tech had been as he treated your wounds and bandaged you up. 

The only thing they could do was to force a resolution.

“Okay, we’ve had enough.” Hunter said loud enough for both you and Tech to hear at opposite ends of the ship. “We’re all going out. And that includes the two of you.” 

He slammed down a flyer he had found for a gondola ride through the upper levels, complete with all the sights Coruscant had to offer. 

“Is that really necessary?” You asked, glancing at Tech from the corner of your eye. You couldn’t think of anything less beneficial than the five of you being cramped together in a confined space you couldn’t leave.

“It isn’t a request.” Hunter informed you. 

You sighed and left the ship, followed by the others, and finally Tech, and you made your way to the park where the dock was located.

The five of you slowly arrived at the front of the queue, and when it was your turn, you were shoved into a gondola along with Tech. None of the other batchers joined you, but before you thought to exit, the vessel's door had closed and you were moving. 

You sat down on the bench across from Tech, still avoiding eye contact by looking out the window, arms crossed. 

Tech still kept his silence. Even a week later, he was still considering Hunter's words. Was there something between him and you? He knew he didn’t want to lose you, but that was completely normal, wasn't it? And even if it wasn’t normal, that doesn’t mean whatever he felt was reciprocated. But if you did return his feelings, he knew this might be one of the only chances he had to act on it, to tell you how he felt.

When the gondola had reached nearly the top of the track, the view overlooking the Jedi temple, he sighed and finally looked at you. 

"You see, I... I felt responsible for your injuries."

"You felt responsible?" You repeated after a pause. "Wasn't it my fault that I got injured? For not following your oh-so-wise plan?" 

You were acting petulant, but your emotions were still running high and the confined space didn't help.

"Well yes, if you had done as I suggested, you would have been free from injury."

"Right, because you know everything."

"Crosshair and I left with zero injuries. So yes, this I know to be fact." 

"Do you really have to say 'I told you so'? I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that I got hurt because I didn't l-"

You didn't have time to react before you felt Tech's lips upon yours. One hand was on the side of your face and the other was digging into your waist.

The vessel rocked slightly at his movement, causing you to grip onto the bench. Your eyes were still wide at the sudden contact, but when he didn't back away, you closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, moving your hands to place them on his chest. 

He stopped to take a breath, his lips still hovering tantalizingly close over yours, breathing you in, committing your perfumed smell to memory.

You closed the gap this time when you decided he had enough time to catch his breath.

His tongue darted out and swiped across your lip, asking for access to explore. You allowed it, moaning into his mouth when you felt his tongue against yours. 

In one swift movement, he sat on the bench and pulled you into his lap, resuming the kiss once you had situated yourself. 

Your hands moved up, resting on his shoulders briefly before snaking your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. You could feel his strong hands massaging your thighs before resting on your ass, testing the waters by giving it a squeeze, you bucked your hips slightly in response. 

You could feel a coiling sensation in your stomach, a heat pulsing through you, and pooling out onto your panties. You wanted him, and you could feel based on his actions and the stiff bulge in his pants that he wanted you just as badly.

He broke the kiss, and moved his head back, causing you to chase after his kiss. He put a finger to your lips and smirked.

"You must be patient, the gondola ride is near the end of its course, and I still have more to say about the mission." 

You frowned in protest, feeling all that heat suddenly dissipate as he gently pushed you off of him.

"Not to worry, the Marauder is nearby, no one else will be there and we can continue our conversation there, if that is what you want."

You nodded in agreement.

"I apologize, but I will need to hear an answer before I can comply."

"Yes, I want that." You said too quickly, trying and failing to not sound too desperate.

He smirked again. "Good girl. You and I still have much to discuss."

You whined slightly at his praise, then waited for the door to open as you neared the dock.

After disembarking, Tech grabbed your hand, pushing past the people exiting their respective vessels. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair were nearby, but you didn't see them as Tech ushered you back toward the landing port.

"I guess they finally talked about it." Wrecker had said, staring wide-eyed after you two.

"We should probably give them some privacy so they can talk more." Hunter shook his head, smirking toward the ground.

"Just as long as they don't talk in my bunk." Crosshair said as he crossed his arms.

The door to the Marauder wooshed open, and the two of you hurried on board. Tech was back on you before it could close again.

He pushed you back into the wall, pinning you there as he kissed you. Placing hot kisses on your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could.

"Do you realize how worried I was when I saw you?" He asked between kisses. "When I heard the explosion, when I rushed over only to find your body on the ground?"

He stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes, "I thought I lost you before you were even mine to lose."

"Tech.." You tried to move a hand from his grip to place it on his face, but he tightened his hold on it. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not want your apologies.” He told you, “I want you by my side, I want you to be safe. I…” He kissed you again, this time more roughly, eliciting a moan from you again. “I want you to be mine.”

Behind his goggles, his pupils were dilated, his eyes half-lidded.

The coiling feeling returned. Your stomach was in knots. You had never seen Tech like this before, you hadn’t seen him behave so possessively, and you wanted to see more of it.

"Then make me yours." You said, only a whisper. “I want to be yours.”

His mouth found yours again, not bothering to ask you to give his tongue space to enter but instead forcing it past your lips. His knee slotted itself between your legs, close enough to tease you, but not close enough to give you friction where you desired it most. You bucked your hips trying to find it on your own, and he smiled into the kiss.

"What do you want, mesh’la?" He asked you.

You bucked again in response. He removed one hand from yours and brought it down, pushing your hips back against the wall so you couldn't move them again.

"I told you, I need to hear your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I-I need you."

"Then I should not keep you waiting."

He let go of your hip, and with the hand that was still holding yours above you, he guided you over toward the console.

"Here?" You asked.

"Well, of course." He guided your hips downward so that you were seated. "I cannot help but think about how pretty you would look while I fucked you right on the console of my ship."

You let out an involuntary moan at just his words alone.

He caressed the side of your face, and with a feather-light stroke across your jaw, he tilted your chin up to meet your gaze. Despite his words just a moment ago, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips once more, and his hand slowly traveled down your neck, over your breast, down your stomach, and rested at the hem of your shirt.

He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly and he pulled your shirt up over your head. He tossed it onto the seat behind him and then looked at you, admiring the newly uncovered parts of you.

"Beautiful." He whispered. Out of everything done so far, this one word was enough to make you blush, you tried to turn your head away but he stopped you.

Leaning down over you, he placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your collarbone, trailing down to your breasts, still obstructed by your bra. His lips kissed the top of one, while his hand held the other over the fabric. You reached behind your back and unclasped it, giving him access to another part of you where you wanted to feel his touch.

He tutted quietly. "I could have done that myself."

You rolled your eyes jokingly and he resumed allowing his lips to explore your skin, now alternating between kissing and sucking. And where his lips weren't, his hands were. Squeezing the flesh, thumbing over your nipple while his mouth worked on the other.

Soon, he continued his exploration, and as he neared your stomach, he lowered himself down until he was kneeling between your thighs.

His gaze was hungry as it focused on your center, his lips formed a tight line, holding his mouth closed to prevent his tongue from hanging out.

His hands were on your knees, he trailed them up your thighs, stopping at the waistband of your pants, once again looking up at you to ask your permission. You situated yourself to make it easier for him to remove them, and soon they too were discarded, thrown back toward the pilot chair. His hands were back on your thighs, prodding the soft skin, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on each of them, sucking them enough to leave marks.

You whined, both at the sensation of him marking your legs, but also at the lack of sensation where you really wanted him to be.

He smirked up at you, and then spread your legs further apart, slowly moving his face toward your aching cunt. He could see how turned on you were, and he licked his lips before speaking.

"Stars, you appear to be soaked."

"Mmhm." Was all you could manage, all your attention was on the fact that he was inches away from giving you the friction you needed.

"Cyar'ika.." He scolded. "Words. You need something of me, what is it?"

"I... I just need you, I need your mouth, your fingers, your cock, I-I need to feel you." Your desperate words turned his gaze dark.

"Good girl, telling me everything you want," his praise caused you to squirm, trying to close your thighs just to feel friction, but he held them open.

"You enjoy it when I call you that?"

"Gods, yes." You moaned.

He hummed in response, keeping that knowledge filed away.

He finally pressed his face forward, nose rubbing against your clothed pussy. You whined in response. He dragged the tip of his nose upward, knowing exactly where you wanted to be touched, and he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, relishing in your whines and pleas for him to finally take them off of you, and soon he relented, letting them join the rest of your clothes before he dove in.

He ate you like a man starved, licking you through your folds, tasting as much of you as he could.

"G-ah, fuck, Tech," you cried out, your hands reaching for his hair. The feeling of your hands gripping his hair causing him to groan.

His lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between sucking it and circling his tongue around it. He could feel you squirming at his touch and he reached one hand up, resting it on your hips, hoping to help anchor your.

With his other hand, he circled your entrance, teasing you, making you beg him to touch you before he obliged.

He slid one long finger into you as far as he could, pressing against the spongy walls, exactly where you needed to feel him.

He let go of your clit and let his tongue run up and down your folds, getting another taste of your juices.

"M-mmo-" You began to say, being cut off by the feeling of his tongue making another swipe up.

"My apologies, you will have to repeat yourself." He looked up at you, his face slick with your arousal.

"More, I need more."

He raised an eyebrow and plunged another finger into you. Your head rolled back and you cried out.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes!"

Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling his face back into you. His hot breath fanned against your cunt and you sighed in contentment.

"Gods, you are a needy thing." His purred, his voice vibrated against you as he attached himself to your clit again.

He sucked on you while his fingers made scissor patterns inside you, all the while you could feel the coil start to tighten.

"I'm close-" You cried out. He didn't change anything about his rhythm. He strived to get you there, he was eager to please you after he had been so harsh toward you earlier. His tongue circled your clit and he could feel you pulsing around his fingers.

You could feel the heat growing in your stomach, your moans got louder as you got closer. He slid his fingers out, and before you could complain about the loss, you felt his tongue swiping up and down before dipping inside you. His fingers resumed drawing circles on your clit as he drank from you.

Your thighs clenched together, forcing him to stay exactly where he was, you muttered out a string of curses as the coil finally snapped and you cried his name as you came undone. He kept lapping at you until you were through.

You released your hold on his hair and he stood back up.

"You taste magnificent," He smirked, licking your arousal off his fingers before his mouth found yours again. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he leaned you back onto the console. You shuddered when you felt his stiffened cock press against you. His hands began grabbing at your breasts and your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in.

"You are perfect." He said as he began kissing every piece of you he could. He locked onto your neck, he kissed you fervently, then gently bit down, giving you a mark that would be difficult to hide from the others, not that they didn’t already have an idea of what was going on here. But that’s what Tech wanted, he wanted to show everyone that you were his. 

"Tech.." You said quietly,

"Mm?"

"I want to see you." You pushed yourself back up onto your elbows and looked into his eyes.

For a moment, just for a moment, he froze, but soon enough, his hands moved to the fastener on his pants.

"Let me do that."

He smirked and helped you off the console gently.

You worked on the buttons on his shirt first, unbuttoning them slowly, placing gentle kisses on his chest as each loose button reveals it to you.

He tilted your chin up and leaned in for a kiss, pressing against you. You could feel his stiff bulge press into you again and your hands moved faster to unbutton his shirt.

You pushed it off his shoulders when it's finally unbuttoned, and you looked at his toned chest. You knew he'd be strong but it was still a surprise to you. Your fingers danced across his torso, feeling the muscles under his smooth skin, before finally landing on the fastener of his pants.

You look up at him, just as he did for you, asking for his permission. He pressed his forehead against yours in response, you smiled and kissed his lips, then moved to undo the fastening. He helped you to slide his pants off, and he stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side.

You could see the outline of his cock much clearer against his briefs and you could feel your mouth water, you clenched your thighs together, not wanting to wait to feel it inside of you. He raised an eyebrow at you.

"You desire it so badly?" He asked you, forcing your gaze away from it and back up to him.

You nod quickly, "Yes."

He smiled then rutted his hips against you, "Then please, continue."

Your hands moved to the waistband of his briefs, he moved his lips to yours again and you returned the kiss before kissing along his jaw, then his neck. You peeled the waistband down and he hissed as his briefs grazed across his cock. They had soon joined the rest of the clothes and you looked down.

You bit your bottom lip and you started to lower yourself down but he stopped you. You gave him a confused look, and he smirked.

"There will be plenty of time for that at a later time. But for now,"

He continued by guiding you back onto the console, laying your back down and he stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Yes," you assured him.

You felt his cock rub against your folds, before he positioned himself at your entrance.

"Ready?" He asked.

You bucked your hips in response and he pushed himself in without another word.

You arched your back as you felt him stretch you open, if there was any pain, it quickly turned into pleasure as he buried himself in you inch by inch.

When he was fully sheathed, he gave you a moment to adjust before he started to move. He started out slow, he made sure that you were used to the feeling of his thrusts before he picked up the pace.

"Gods, you are taking me so well, cyar'ika."

You replied with a moan. You bucked your hips to meet his pace and he smirked.

"Is there something you want?"

"Mmm p-please, go fas-faster" you answered between thrusts.

"Very well," He obliged, his hands gripped onto your thighs and he buried himself again, quickening his pace at your request. He looked at you as you took his cock, the way your back arched, how your tits bounced with each thrust, the way your face contorted in pleasure.

He tightened his grip on your thighs, you took that as a hint to wrap your legs around his waist and he moaned in response, feeling himself go even deeper inside you.

"You are so perfect, such a good girl for me." Your walls clenched around his cock at his praise.

He thrusted into you harder wanting to explore the new angle he was permitted.

“Fu-uck,” you whined.

"Is this okay?" He asked, unsure of if he was hurting you.

"Gods, yes!"

He set a brutal pace, but you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts each time.

Tech could feel himself nearing his climax, his pace started to become slightly more erratic. He slid one hand down your thigh toward your center. He circled your clit with his thumb, intending on sending you over the edge with him.

Your walls clenched around him again at the contact. You were getting close again. Your moans grew louder as you neared the edge.

"That's it," He said, he wanted to feel you come undone again. He continued circling your clit as he thrusted into you. "Be a good girl and come for me once more, come on my cock."

Your second orgasm crashed over you without as much of a warning as the first, your legs tightened around him, he slowed his thrusts down, helping you through it, and he moaned at how your walls constricted him. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Wh.. Where do you want me?" He asked.

"In-inside," you said, still overcoming the last of the waves of pleasure.

He didn't ask any further questions, he buried himself as far as he could before he stilled, his cock twitching inside you as he painted your walls with hot ropes of his seed.

He moaned out your name as he finished, feeling himself soften inside of you, he pulled himself out of you and you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, your tongue darting into his mouth.

He returned the kiss, holding you close to him, and his hands traveled across your thighs, before lifting you up from the console.

“I love you.” You told him, resting your head on his shoulder as he held you. “I think I always have, but… In case it still wasn’t obvious.”

He smiled and carried you toward the refresher, sitting you down on the counter when you arrived, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Perhaps it was not obvious over the last week, but now, I would have more questions if you did not.” He smiled at you, “I love you too. But next time, if I ask you to join me on a mission instead of going off on your own, please listen to me.”

“But look where it brought us.” You replied with a smirk.

“Perhaps that is true, but for your own information, you do not need to nearly get yourself killed in order for me to fuck you. You could have just asked.”

He grabbed a towel before he quickly left to retrieve your clothes and clean off the console. Tech soon returned to you and turned the water on, helping you off the counter and guiding you to the shower where he joined you. It didn’t take long for his lips to be on you once again. 

While it was your stubbornness that led you to this point in the first place, you were suddenly very eager to see what would happen on the next mission, should you and Tech finally be paired together.

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #the clone wars #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb tech #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tech x reader #tech bad batch #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tech smut #the bad batch smut #bad batch smut #tbb tech x reader

[ineffable-endearments]

Hello, everyone!

In light of Neil Gaiman's comment that Amazon is close to officially renewing Good Omens but hasn't done so yet, I think those of us who can should start sending physical postcards to Amazon Studios!

The TL;DR of this post is that you can easily send a postcard from MyPostcard.com for about $3 (USD, I'm sure other currencies can vary). The Web site will print and mail it for you, so you don't have to do any printing or mailing yourself. The postage is included in the $3.

If you don't already have an image or card you want to use, you can just use one of mine above. Some of them are small because of small source images, but the site seems to resize them appropriately for the card. There are bigger versions in a Google Drive folder that you shouldn't have to be logged in to see.

You can send the postcards asking for a third season of Good Omens addressed to Jennifer Salke and Vernon Sanders, co-heads of Amazon Studios, at:

AMAZON STUDIOS 1620 26TH STREET, SUITE 4000N SANTA MONICA, CA 90404 USA

@fuckyeahgoodomens was the first to post this contact information for Amazon, so thank you, Ixi.

If it's something you don't mind, I would very deeply appreciate reblogs on this, since it works better if lots of people see it! No pressure if you don't want to, though.

And if you have Questions, click through below for my reasoning on all this.

Why should we send postcards to Amazon Studios?

We've made lots of noise online about renewal, and we've done a lot of streaming Good Omens. But I haven't seen much discussion of sending physical mail or, specifically, postcards.

Mail takes up space in the real world. It's slightly harder to ignore than email. It's way more attention-grabbing than posts on X or Tumblr or any other social media site. Because postage is required, physical mail can also appear more "committed."

Postcards specifically are great because of their convenience for the recipient. No one has to open them to read them. All it takes is a quick glance to see what we're asking for, and realistically, a quick glance is the best we can ask for in a corporate office. That's why I'm emphasizing postcards over regular letters (although really, anything helps).

Is sending postcards really going to motivate Amazon to make more Good Omens?

Postcard and letter-writing campaigns have helped get shows renewed in the past. Star Trek: The Original Series is a good example of a series that got another season after a letter-writing campaign. This article has more examples.

We don't actually know what's going on in Good Omens's case. Maybe postcards would make a difference; maybe they wouldn't. We can only make our most determined effort at making sure we're heard, and sending mail is part of that.

The cost of sending a postcard is too much for me.

I understand that sending a postcard will not be an option for many of us. This post isn't intended to try to push you into spending money you don't have. If you still want to find a way to participate, you can also send an email to [email protected] with your comments about wanting Good Omens 3. It's not physical mail, but it is still a personal message from a customer.

In fact, people who are sending postcards might want to follow up with an email, too.

Do we have to use your postcard designs?

No! Not necessarily! You can use anything.

As long as the message you write includes how much you want Good Omens 3, your postcard's image doesn't necessarily have to relate. You could send a souvenir postcard that says "Greetings from Los Angeles, CA / Tadfield, England / etc" from your local post office and just write your message on the back.

Technically, even a plain index card should be thick enough to mail as a postcard, at least by USPS standards. Just write your desire for Good Omens 3 on it, put a stamp and Amazon's address on it, and make sure it's at least 90mm x 127mm (3.5in x 5in).

Isn't Amazon Studios going to notice a bunch of postcards being mailed from the same Web site?

I'm sure they will. But the messages will each be unique, and again, they'll know each card represents a person who had to order the card and postage themselves.

Speaking of unique messages, what should I write?

One sentence is enough. Definitely indicate that you want Season 3 of Good Omens. If you want to add more, you could also write a sentence or two about how much you love the series so far.

Above all, be polite and straightforward! Remember that sarcasm and jokes often do not come across well in print, so it may be best to stick with simple statements that can be taken at face value.

What address should the cards go to?

The co-heads of Amazon Studios appear to be Vernon Sanders and Jennifer Salke; you can address them by name, although I'm guessing it will be someone else who does the reading/glancing.

Amazon Studios's address is:

AMAZON STUDIOS 1620 26TH STREET, SUITE 4000N SANTA MONICA, CA 90404 USA

Where did you get these images?

The images for the nightingale postcard and the Crowley postcard are screencaps from directedbypiper.

The Please Do Not Lick the Walls and Fell the Marvelous posters were downloads from the Amazon X-Ray feature.

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies postcard was adapted from cover art I did for A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine. Most of it is my own, although the mottled background is an extremely blurred version of a free stock texture from Pixabay, users chrisfiedler and/or humusak.

The bookshop postcard is a promotional image from Amazon used in a Den of Geek article.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #renew good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

[britany1997]

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Three

Hey besties! I hope y’all enjoy the next installment of this series!!! This one is gonna have a lot more lore, and plot developing so I hope you like learning a bit more of how things work in this AU:) Thanks for all y’all’s support on this fic!

Poly Lost Boys x Fem Vampire Reader

Reblog to support my writing, and comment to tell me you’d like to be added to my Taglist for this fic, or my main Taglist!

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two

California, 1986

Paul’s eyes widened as he realized who you were to him. You wished you could have stopped the word that fell from his lips.

“Mine.”

No.

‘This can’t be happening,’ you thought to yourself as you fought your instincts to keep the same word Paul has uttered to you from bursting out of your own mouth.

Even if you could ignore the fact that this man had been hitting on Maria not five seconds ago, this wasn’t what you wanted for your life.

All the big choices in your unlife had been largely dictated by some dude with a god complex. How could this guy be any different?

You refused to trade one captor for another.

The handsome blond man stared at you in shock, seemingly surprised as you were at the sudden twist of fate that had brought you two together.

Though as his shock wore off his lips seemed to curve into a smile and his hand moved to touch your cheek.

You panicked.

You recoiled sharply from his outstretched palm “Oh my god I totally forgot I have to go stock things in the back, so nice to meet you, bye!” you rambled quickly as you raced to escape from behind the desk.

“What?” Paul’s brow furrowed in confusion. He moved to stand in front of the swinging door, your only escape from behind the desk.

You glared at him, “you’re in my way…”

“What?!” he repeated with more frustration than confusion, “but we’re…I mean we-”

“I know what we are,” you told him, “and I don’t care. So can you please move aside so I can do my job.”

Paul’s jaw dropped.

You sighed and pushed passed him.

“Hey!” he called after you.

You ignored him and kept walking, desperate to be anywhere but next to him.

“This isn’t over you know,” he promised you.

You scoffed as you pulled at the door to the back room, “seems like it is.”

You slid in, slamming the door behind you and pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

Despite what you’d said to Paul, you knew you hadn't seen the last of him.

You were determined not to breathe a word to Max about anything that had transpired that night.

He’d never really told you anything about mates, you suspected because he’d never found his own. You couldn't predict how he'd react, and you wouldn’t let him force you into anything else.

Which meant you'd have to figure this out on your own.

As the sun rose and Max went to bed for the day, you scoured the shelves of his home library for anything that could give you more information.

You slunk away to your bedroom with a mountain of books. You secured your black out curtains, preparing to stay up all day researching.

What you found terrified you.

Humans swooned over the idea of soulmates, they spent their lives searching for someone who’d complete them, one person who was perfectly suited for them.

But this wasn’t an original human creation. They’d stolen the idea of soulmates from vampires.

Many scholars thought when a human transformed into a vampire, they lost their soul.

From what you could gather, this was a myth. Instead, when a human became a vampire, their soul wasn’t taken from them, but tethered to another of their kind.

You read this was a facet of vampirism that had developed over time out of a necessity for more vampires. Great.

You’d also read that, as bats had multiple partners, vampires could have more than one mate. You didn’t even want to think about that possibility.

When you’d read the first text from cover to cover, you picked up a new one.

You found that the mates aspect of vampirism was inherently instinctual, which is why Paul had called you his, and why you’d almost done the same. He couldn’t help it.

You read, to your dismay, that your soul was intimately tied to his in a way that could never be severed. Your entire beings belonged to each other.

This was bad.

You continued to the next book, cringing as you read that from this point on every denial of your connection would only hurt you. Without Paul, a part of you would always feel empty.

Now that you knew you were “meant for each other,” every moment without him would hurt just a little bit. You could not exist the same way without him. He was yours, you were his.

Fuck that shit.

You didn’t need anyone to give your life meaning. You belonged to yourself and no one else.

You pushed the stack of books aside in a huff. They tumbled to the ground but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You would fight to be the master of your own fate, whatever it took.

You were apprehensive to return for your shift the next day for fear that you'd be confronted by the persistent blond vampire.

However after two days with no sign of Paul, you began to relax. And after two weeks had passed without a trace, you had pushed the whole ordeal out of your mind entirely.

Instead, you turned your focus to Maria.

The two of you were constantly scheduled together as Max could never find anyone else to work the night shifts. You spent almost every waking minute with the girl that had quickly become very important to you.

And once Max had seen you'd connected with Maria, he felt the urge to supervise you less and less. It wasn't long before you were permitted to work your shifts without his imposing presence.

But work was a term used pretty loosely as you always seemed to do more talking than working. It wasn't like you had tons of customers, who even needed to rent movies at three AM anyway?

Besides, you were all too eager to spend each night hearing every seemingly insignificant detail of Maria's life.

Every good grade she'd gotten at school, every party she attended on the weekends, every fight she had with one of her siblings that always ultimately ended in apologies and hugs, you wanted to know it all. You were content to listen to the sound of her voice ramble on for hours.

She was just as eager to know you, and though you couldn't tell her everything, you could tell her enough.

Maria listened intently, wide eyed and hanging on every word as you related stories from your time in New York city.

Five siblings meant Maria's family didn’t get to travel much. You gasped when she admitted she'd never even ventured from the state of California.

"We'll go together one day," you promised her, "I'll take you everywhere, I know the city like the back of my hand!"

Her laugh rang through the store, prompting your lips to turn up into a bright smile, her joy was contagious. "What a dream that would be," she sighed wistfully, you could almost see the stars in her eyes.

"I mean it," you said seriously, "you and me, together in New York."

Her smile grew, "you and me."

As the work week came to a close, you shoved the last VHS back into place, moving to wipe down the counters as Maria flipped the switch to turn off the neon "OPEN" sign that hung on the front of the store.

You checked your watch as it flashed 6:00AM, sunrise was fast approaching and you were cutting it close.

"Damn you're working late," you realized as you wiped down the counters, "I thought I was by myself tonight."

Maria smiled sheepishly and you barely caught sight of the blush that rose to her cheeks, "you were."

Your eyes widened, "you stayed late for me? you didn't have to do that..."

"I wanted to," she replied as she bit her lip.

You dropped the rag and spray bottle, walking to stand in front of her from across the counter, "why?"

She blushed once more before her eyes fell to the ground, "I don't know, I just..." she looked up, "I like being around you."

As you stared into the eyes of the beautiful woman before you, you were presented with an opportunity. An opportunity to choose for yourself, to take control of your own destiny.

You didn't choose to be cursed with an eternity of seperation from the souls of your family, you didn't choose to be a vampire, you didn't choose Paul and you certainly didn't chose Max. But you could choose Maria.

"Maria," you whispered, leaning in till your noses were almost touching, "can I kiss you?"

She beamed before caressing your cheek with the back of her hand, "I thought you'd never ask."

You leaned in and her soft lips met yours.

Note: I promise the next chapter is going to be focused on all the boys, thanks for being patient I promise it’ll be worth it😌

FYFNO Taglist❤️:

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @bloodywickedvamp @pixielostboy @solobagginses @anna1306 @dwaynedelight @flower-crowned-lady @feardot-com @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @vampirefilmlover @vampirefruitpunch @vxarak @arbesa-mind @lostboys1987girl @dwaynesluscioushair @gothamslostboy @arenpath @people-are-strange-87 @peachpixiesstuff @consuming-karma @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @welcome-to-the-hole @warrior-616 @softchonk @simplyreading96 @fraudfrog @blenna3967 @pookiesnatcher @rynsfandomsfun @walmartfairy69 @jamie-poopoo @sad-ghost-of-garbage @mad-is-sad @christinesdemoness1958 @memphiscity69 @buzzybee-26 @simpingforthe80s @itsyoboysparkel @smut-religiously777 @dragonsrequiem @ilikechocolatemilkh @cocopuffs1450 @sarcastic-sourwolf @drascilla @the-lonely-abyss @jezabella8 @kristel1990

#the lost boys #lost boys fic #lost boys #the lost boys fic #Paul lost boys #maria lost boys #max lost boys #vampire reader #fem reader #fem vampire reader #poly lost boys #poly lost boys x fem reader #vampire mates #vampire #vampires #lost boys angst #tlb #tlb fic #lost boys 1987 #tlb Paul #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #lost boys paul #the lost boys 1987 #80s movies #multi chapter fic #maria x fem reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

can you do Keegan x male reader who is just a tad bit dumb. Like he is terrible at math, dense, silly, easily distracted. OH and gets lost a lot bcs he likes to wander?

I'll admit that I've never watched a play through of Call of Duty: Ghosts (I say watch because I'm not a gamer but have watched the reboot versions of Modern Warfare 1 & 2), but I have read through the Wiki pages of Keegan P. Russ, just for this. That being said, he's probably OOC (but I mean, I write all of them as softies so let's just chalk this up to that).

Another thing of note is that this civilian male reader. Also, I think I made him to be a little on the autism spectrum with the way he doesn't understand certain idioms and phrases.

I hope you enjoy!

**

Keegan loved you, in his own quiet way. He wasn't much of a talker, preferred to let you lead the conversation as you talked on and on about anything and everything. He mostly spoke to ask you something about what you were speaking on, a subtle indication that he was listening.

He loved you in the way he so patiently waited for you to solve a simple math problem, like how much difference a 10% off sale would make if the original price was fifteen dollars. He knew math wasn't your strong suit, but he didn't care. You'd arrive to the answer eventually, he knew that.

He loved you in the way he had to explain certain idioms and phrases to you, uncaring how you didn't even know that being offered to go to someone's place for a cup of coffee in the middle of night was an offer of sex. You didn't understand things sometimes and he understood that. They were intentionally vague, he'd tell you when you got flustered at being corrected about your misassumptions.

He loved you in the way you kept wandering off when walking around anywhere with him, whether it was you two walking in the park or out in a shopping center. Your attention was easily caught and it made you wander over to a plant or animal or piece of merchandise. He'd simply trail after you, smiling as you pointed out to him whatever you were looking at.

"Look, Keegan! A butterfly," you murmured, pointing at a nearby butterfly which was perched onto a flower. Its wings were so breathtaking, you just had to have stopped to look at the beautiful creature.

Keegan looked over your shoulder to the butterfly you were pointing at, chuckling in gentle amusement. "It's beautiful," he said before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind you. "But it's not as beautiful as my boyfriend."

Oh, how he relished the way you laughed and lit up in response. You loved when he called you his boyfriend, which you were. You had thought a military man—a Marine—like him would shy away from being out and proud about having a boyfriend, but he quickly proved you wrong.

His squad, the Ghosts, knew all about you. Keegan very happily told them about you, how your little quirks were so endearing. How you were the home he was fighting to go back to when he was on deployments. Oh they knew so well how much he loved you, how you were the sun and the moon and the stars of his universe.

You were everything to him and while he didn't say it often, he showed his love to you in so many ways.

How his hand reached for yours whenever you two were in a crowd so he didn't lose you if you wandered off. How he gave you the answers to a difficult math problem when you were clearly struggling to answer it. How he tried his best to word his sentences in a way that wasn't so vague so you didn't feel embarrassed about misinterpreting his words. How he drank in every word you said, relishing in the way your voice washed over him like a soothing balm to his soul.

Keegan loved you, though you were eccentric and loud where he was quiet and withdrawn. He never regretted being your boyfriend, not one single bit.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #cod #cod ghosts #keen p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ cod #keegan russ x male reader #keegan p russ x male reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #keegan p russ fanfiction #keegan p russ imagine #keegan russ fanfiction #x male reader #hope this was okay! #my first time writing for keegan #I tried looking up what his personality was like in the game but all it said was that he was quiet but skilled in extreme combat situations #thanks google #I think this is a sign that I should finally watch a playthrough of the Call of Duty: Ghosts campaign #been meaning to for months #:)

[strawhatkia]

sundress season.

INCLUDES ! 1610!miles and hobie brown x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! they see you in a sundress for the first time

WARNINGS ! character and reader are not together...yet!,

WORD COUNT ! 0.6k

A/N ! the way this was suppose to be the whole spider crew plus miguel and i got tired not even half way through....this just gon be a lil tester but this is getting deleted and revamped later !

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST | SPIDER VERSE MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊🌻🖌✧ SPIDER-MILES !

i cannot fathom to you how flustered this boy gets on a regular day when y'all really not doing anything. the boy already really likes how you look in your regular uniform or just casual street clothes so when rio and jeff invite you over for the carne asada/cookout and you popped in a sundress of all things, he kinda doesn't know how to act.

oh, and his parents find it absolutely hilarious. this is really the time where him being jeff's son and aaron's nephew really shines through. he's awkward about it and can't seem to get through any of his sentences.

he really likes the way it fits you and the color compliments you well but he has such a hard time for like a good 30 minutes. eventually, aaron comes to save him and gives him a tip of going to get some drinks for the both of you and take you somewhere private to talk.

not to mention, his whole family thinks you two are too cute for words and takes every chance to mention how much of a good couple you two make. once you come back over to get something to eat, you are bombarded by multiple family members. miles is definitely nervously laughing to get through the embarrassment of all them making the most outlandish comments and gave up after the 4th tia said how lucky he is to have you.

— ☾⋆⁺₊🎸🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 ✧ HOBIE BROWN !

this is literally the world's boldest man ever, he truly don't give a fuck whose watching. you were actually in the middle of a block party when you were called to debrief about a mission. not to be bothered to put on your suit (especially since peter b. walks around in a pink robe of all things), you step through the portal in your sundress and sandals.

certainly not the first time hq has seen you out of uniform but the sundress has you grabbing compliments left and right from all the spider people present (even miguel, which was surprising). it would be hobie to see you last though. he was originally talking to pav who was rambling on about his recent date with gayatri again when he catches a glimpse of you pass by to go into the meeting room with miguel and jessica.

now in my eyes, hobie immediately tunes out of pav's conversation at once to focus all of his attention on you and makes the split decision to follow you in there. it's not like jessica will care enough to kick him out and he does not care what miguel has to say. quite frankly, the man only sees you at the moment and that doesn't even catch up to him until he's right in front of you.

then in the thickest accent possible, he flirts endlessly throughout the entire meeting. the man has no sense of personal space around his friends and it's only ten times worse with you. hanging off your shoulders, wrapping his long arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder while hugging from behind. you do your best to acknowledge, because ignoring him will not work and only make it worse, but to also get through the meeting.

it's easy to chalk it up as hobie being a physical person but there's only so much to explain the way he feels up on the material of the dress, making comments that make you feel like you're blushing and distract from whatever miguel was saying before he gave up and just told you to come in later. without hobie.

leaving the meeting was easier than staying in it but now you gotta deal with a very cocky spiderman that is doing his absolute best to talk you into coming back to his dimension. (pav is watching from a distance with a bag of popcorn, squealing over how many of his friends are having romance novel moments)

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

wanna read more ??

check back later !

taglist: @mypimpademia @cosmiles @megurulvr @dreampurpledreams

#— kia writes ! #— luvr season ! #black reader #x black reader #x black!reader #black!reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv x black!reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #across the spiderverse #spiderpunk atsv #hobie brown #spider punk #hobart brown #miles x black reader #miles x black!reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie x reader #hobie x black!reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie x black reader

[flightlessangelwings]

Kinktober Day 25- Sex Pollen

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 2.8k

Warnings-smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, mutual pining, friends to lovers, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare, fluff, feelings

Notes- This is my longest kinktober by far but it’s also one of my personal favorites! I originally looked for a soft prompt for him, but then I saw sex pollen and said YES! A little more unexpected! Enjoy! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​​. Reblogs highly appreciated!

~

Peter let out a deep breath as he collapsed into his little apartment through the window. His Spiderman suit stuck to his skin as he sweated more than usual, and he quickly peeled it off with a huff. It should have been a simple “run out and catch the bad guy” evening, but said bad guy had something up his sleeve. While in the heat of battle, Peter got stuck with something and suddenly felt loopy and disoriented. The enemy cackled and took the opportunity to flee. While he normally could have gone after him, the way his mind swam and blood raced made him turn around and go back home.

“What the hell?” Peter whispered to himself as the room spun around him. It was unusual for anything to affect him like this, and it made him worry; something was off. His skin burned and his blood boiled… and his cock was rock hard. “Maybe a cold shower,” he muttered to himself as he stumbled into the bathroom.

The moment the cool water hit his skin, Peter exhaled deeply. Before getting in, he made sure to save the needle that stuck his skin so he could examine it later, but suddenly, that was the last thing on his mind. Just as Peter got himself to relax, he heard his apartment door unlock and open and your voice echoed through the small space.

“Peter?” you called out, “You here?” you dropped the key he gave you and made your way into his tiny bedroom, “Still in the shower, Pete? Did you forget again?”

Peter called your name as he nearly tripped getting out of the shower. As he listened to you, his cock stiffened more and he felt like it was guiding his movements. Before he knew it, Peter stood in the doorway of his bathroom, dripping wet, naked and rock hard as his gaze burned into you. He breathed heavily as he stared at the way your mouth dropped open and you spun around in embarrassment.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean…” you shielded your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest, “It’s game night,” your voice sounded meek, “I’ll wait on the couch til you’re ready.”

“Wait,” Peter darted across the room in a blink and grabbed onto your wrist, “I need you,” his tone was low as he cock twitched and his skin felt like it was on fire. He had no idea what came over him, but he guessed it had something to do with whatever he was hit with.

“Pete…” you gasped as you turned around and met his gaze, “Are you ok?” you asked as you noticed how red and hot his skin was. His jaw was clenched tighter than you had ever seen and there was a look in his eyes that was never there before. You had no idea what, but you knew instantly something was off. 

Peter groaned your name as he yanked you forward and crashed your lips together in a heated kiss. You squealed against his lips, but you quickly relaxed into his touch. He was your best friend, but you couldn’t deny your growing feeling for him over the years. You never said anything though, too afraid of destroying your friendship to take that risk, so you pined from afar.

He let out a low, guttural sound that made your pussy throb as he pulled you flush against his naked body and guided you over to his bed. With what looked like no effort at all, Peter spun you around and pushed you onto the mattress. You looked up at him with wide eyes as you took in the sight of him naked… and hard, before you. 

But Peter didn’t stand still for long, and he crawled on top of you with a groan of your name and took your lips with his again. There was a darkness in his eyes that would have frightened you if it were anyone else. But this was Peter… your Peter, and you trusted him not to hurt you even if you knew something was going on with him.

You moaned into his mouth as you lifted your arms and let him tug off your shirt. He broke away from the kiss for a moment just to lift it off in one swift motion, and as he did, you got a better look at his face. You gasped when you saw the feral look in his eyes, almost as if it wasn’t him behind them. And his face looked red, as if he spent too long in the sun.

“Pete…?” you whispered his name as you cupped his face. You wanted this for so long, but you also wanted to make sure he was ok.

Something about the tone of your voice made something snap within him. Peter shook his head and suddenly your soft, sweet Peter was back. His mouth dropped open in surprise as he realized he was naked… and on top of you, currently shirtless. He exclaimed your name but immediately followed it with a whimper.

“Push me away,” his voice was strained as his arms trembled on either side of you, as if he was physically holding himself back.

“What’s wrong, Peter? You can talk to me. Let me help you.”

“I can’t explain now,” he told you as he dropped his eyes down, “I got hit with something,” he took a breath, “And right now all I can think about is fucking you senseless.” Truthfully, Peter felt like he would explode if he didn’t fuck you then and there, but he always thoght of others first, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if you got hurt because of him. 

All the breath felt like it was punched out of your gut. Emotions ran high as you processed the little bit he told you. You knew there was more to the story, but the urgency of the situation took precedence. 

“So please,” he begged as he clenched his hands into fists. His hair fell onto his forehead and stuck there from the sweat, “Push me away… I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Tears filled the corners of your eyes and you reached up and cupped his face, “I’m not going anywhere,” your voice was soft yet firm.

“But…”

“Let me help you… Whatever this is, let me help you, Pete,” you sighed, “I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.” Besides… I want this.

Peter stilled as his eyes shot back up to meet yours. He thought he would find doubt in your face, but you held steady. Even not knowing anything about his situation, you were ready to do anything to help him… much like he would have done had this been the other way around. His cock strained between your bodies and suddenly that rush of extreme need pulsed through him again.

“Ok,” his tone was low, “But promise me…” he strained to speak through heavy breaths, “If you need to… Push me away… Lock me in here, knock me out, anything. Just make sure I never hurt you.” 

“Alright,” you breathed.

With that, the darker Peter took over and he captured your lips with his once more. This time, the kiss was harsh, rough, deep, as if he dried to devour you through your mouth. You moaned softly as you felt his entire body weight over yours… and you were surprised how much of a comfort it was. 

Peter growled into you as he reached down and clawed at your pants, eager to get them off of you. You lifted your hips for him so he could tug them down, breaking away from the kiss in the process. In just two hard tugs, Peter yanked them off along with your panties, leaving you just as bare as he was. A rush of embarrassment ran though you as you felt your own skin warm as well.

And the way Peter’s darkened eyes soaked you in only made the nerves fire up more. 

“Fuck,” he whispered through gritted teeth as he covered his body with yours again.

Peter’s tongue dove into your mouth as he rocked his hips against yours. You moaned as you felt how hard he was against you, and the way he ravaged you went right to your cunt. Just as you were about to wrap your arms and legs around him, Peter shifted positions and kneeled himself between your open legs.

He groaned as he poked the tip of his cock against your entrance, and just that sensation made you cry out in pleasure. Neither of you recognized the noise he let out as he thrust himself into you more harshly than he normally would have. You screamed out as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and dug into his skin as he filled you. Without much preparation, you felt a tinge of pain, but mostly you felt pleasure. It was pleasure because it was Peter… the man you trusted more than anyone and the man you wanted for so long.

Peter didn’t give you much time to adjust and within moments he thrust himself in and out of you. You cried out as you clung to him and let him fuck you. The bed creaked as he rocked his hips against yours in a fast, harsh pace. Vaguely, you wondered if whatever happened to him made him like this, but at the same time you couldn’t complain. It was rough and hard, yet it was amazing.

“Fuck…” Peter growled as he thrust into you faster, desperately chasing his climax.

After only a few minutes, Peter groaned and came hard inside you. You whimpered as you felt him spill into you and a shiver ran up your spine. Sweat lined your brow as you dropped your head back onto the mattress as he slowed his pace. 

You let out a heavy sigh as you caressed his shoulders and thought he was finished, but you were wrong. Peter let out a noise of frustration and buried his face in the crook of your neck as you realized he still felt hard inside you. In fact, it almost felt like he was even harder than he started. 

Peter bucked his hips against yours in an experimental thrust, and when you let out a moan, he was encouraged to keep going. He propped himself back up on his hands and pounded into you once more. You cried out as the harsh and heavy pace made your mind swim in pleasure. All you could do was cling to him as he thrust into you, and you loved it.

With your name on his lips and his darkened eyes trained on your face, Peter came again. His mouth dropped open as a higher moan escaped as he filled you even more. You whined as you dug your nails into his skin while he slowed his pace once more. But this time, even though he was still hard, Peter seemed more like himself.

You flashed a brief smile up at him, “Maybe one more will do it,” you whispered, “Keep going… I’m ok.”

The low grunt Peter let out made you clench around him and without another word, he thrust into you again. This time, however, Peter lowered himself onto you and wrapped his arms around you. He held you close as he pounded into you again, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him right back.

“Shit… Sweetheart…” he moaned against your skin, “You’re amazing… You’re fucking amazing…”

“Peter…”

As you moaned loudly, Peter was spurred on even more and he picked up his pace. Skin slapped against skin as he rocked into you over and over again in an erratic and needy rhythm. You could tell he was chasing his high again, and you felt your own start to creep up. With the way he covered you and hit spots so deep inside you, you didn’t think you could last much longer yourself. And the way his hip bone hit your clit when he was fully inside you only made you scream louder.

“Fuck… Peter…”

“Baby…” was all he could say before his third climax took over him. Peter thrust into you hard and fast as he fell apart overtop of you. His strongest orgasm yet, Peter felt his seed spill out of you as he pumped even more inside. His body trembled as he fought to keep his rhythm; he felt you clench around his cock and he wanted you to cum too.

Peter soon got what he silently wished for and with just a few more thrusts you too came apart. You clawed at his back as your legs shook and you arched your back as you came around his cock. Peter gasped as he watched you ride out your high, and just the sight of you made him cum again.

Exhausted, Peter collapsed down on top of you with a huff. But, he was finally free of whatever venom pulsed through his veins, thanks to your help. He didn’t relax long, and suddenly his mind caught up to him and he pushed himself up to check on you.

“Hey,” Peter murmured your name, “Are you ok? Look at me.”

You didn’t even realize you closed your eyes, and when you opened them you saw your Peter’s face right in front of you, his brows furrowed in concern. The soreness and tiredness didn't even matter to you when he looked at you like that, and it made your heart skip a beat, “I’m fine,” you replied softly, “A little sore,” you laughed, “But ok.”

“I’m sorry,” he cupped your face, “Let me take care of you. Hang on.”

Before you could protest and ask him to just lay with you, Peter shot out of bed and grabbed a towel. He took such tender care in cleaning you up, first wiped your forehead before he dipped the towel between your legs and cleaned up the mess he made. Peter swallowed hard as he saw all of his cum dripping from your pussy and a fresh wave of heat ran through him.

“Pete? You ok?” you asked when you noticed the look on his face.

He looked up at you and smiled, “I’m good now,” he tossed the towel onto the floor and crawled back up to you, “Thanks to you,” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he caressed you, “Anything for you, Pete,” you breathed as you looked into his eyes, “Although this was definitely not the way I imagined us fucking for the first time,” you joked to lighten the mood.

He raised his eyebrows, “So you’ve thought about it,” he smirked.

Suddenly, you felt nervous again, “Yeah…” you confessed shyly as you dropped your gaze down.

He reached out and cupped your chin to make you meet his eyes again, “I have too,” his voice was hushed and gentle.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, unsure what to say next. You had thousands of thoughts and questions on your mind, but you had no idea where to start, “So, what happens now?” you decided to start with that question.

Peter let out a defeated sigh, “I guess I have some explaining to do,” he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, “I’m Spiderman, I got hit with something that made me incredibly horny, I promise to make this up to you, I promise to protect you, and I’ve been in love with you for years,” his confessions spilled one after the other, “I’m gonna spend hours eating you out if you’ll let me.”

“Uhh,” your mind short circuited from all the information you now had to process, “Wow,” you sighed as you pulled back enough to look into Peter’s eyes, “That was… unexpected,” you were still as you ran through everything in your head, and Peter stayed quiet and let you work through it all, “I mean, fuck you’re Spiderman!” you let out a short laugh, “But more importantly,” you paused, “I've been in love with you for a long time too.”

Peter laughed through the tears that formed in his eyes and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. This was slow, with no need to rush anymore. You leaned into the kiss and felt all the unspoken passions there, and you knew he felt yours as well.

“And I’m gonna take you up on your offer,” you smirked, “But I’ll need a raincheck… I’m too sore right now.”

The laugh Peter let out warmed your heart and he held you close as he settled you both down onto the bed, “Offer stands for whenever you need it… No expiration date.”

“How generous of you,” you giggled as you rested in his arms, “I’m glad I was here to help you though, Pete.”

“Me too,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t want it to have been anyone else,” he was about to say something else when you let out a soft snore in his arms. Peter kissed the top of your head and whispered, “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you now.”

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #andrew garfield! peter parker #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garflield!spiderman x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

[tropes-and-tales]

I am really loving all the prompts you’re reblogging!

Could I request from the rivals/enemies prompts number 2, cursing the other but secretly being worried about them with either Vigilante or Ray Merrimen?

Have a great weekend!

The original plan was apparently to use Peacemaker to assassinate the alien life-forms known as Butterflies, but when Vigilante shows up—and never leaves—Murn assigns you as his handler.

Vigilante hates having a handler.

“I’m not a baby, dude,” he scoffs at you.  He’s embarrassed by how you don’t trust him, how you stick close to him.  “I don’t need you to hover over me.”

“I’m not your dude,” you retort.  “And I absolutely do have to hover over you, or else you might kill a jaywalker.”

“Jaywalking is against the law.”

“It is,” you concede.  “But it’s not punishable by death, Adrian.”

He grumbles behind his mask.  “Debatable,” he replies under his breath, but you catch it and roll your eyes.  “And don’t call me Adrian in public.  People can’t know my super-secret identity.”

He sees you glance around.  The two of you are in the thick forest behind the rural estate of a suspected Butterfly.  He sees you roll your eyes again before you say, “yeah, I’d hate for a squirrel to find out the busboy from Fennel Fields is an unmitigated psycho.”

“Dude, what—” he starts to reply, confused, but you shush him and point towards the house the two of you are watching.  He turns in time to see a group of people walking single file into the house.

“Butterflies,” you both say at the same time.

-----

You lay out the plan, which is—by Adrian’s estimation—complete bullshit.

Which is why he totally ignores the plan and does his own thing:  instead of cutting the communication to the house and then incapacitating the Butterflies with flash grenades, Vigilante….just blows the shit up.  He breaks cover and sprints away from you, armed with the explosives he smuggled into the trunk of your car before the two of you drove here.

“Adrian, don’t!” you yell, and you try to chase after him but you’re slower than him.  You haven’t dedicated your life to chiseling your body into an instrument of vengeance like he has, so he outpaces you easily.  

Vigilante’s improvised plan is a success.  Mostly.  He takes out the Butterflies and manages to save a hard drive that may have vital information on it.

He kinda blows himself up, though.  When he tosses the final two explosives behind him to finish off the job, one bounces weird.  It bounces back towards him, and when he tries to kick it back, the force of the first explosion sets it off.

What a badass way to die, he thinks as he sails through the air, partially on fire and in pain everywhere.  

Then the world turns black.

-----

He wakes up in the passenger’s seat of your car.  He aches everywhere.  His ears are ringing.  Everything is blurry until he gropes at the hidden pocket in his suit and pulls out his glasses—slightly bent—and sets them on his face with a hiss of pain.

He turns his head and looks over at where you sit in the driver’s seat.  You’re hunched over the wheel, knuckles white as you speed back to Evergreen.  

“Stupid,” you spit out, and if Adrian was just a touch more socially aware, he’d realize that your voice is shaky from fear—not anger.

“Stupid,” you repeat.  “You’re so fucking stupid.  Stupid and erratic and…and impulsive.  You blew yourself up!  You could have died!  What in the fuck were you thinking, Adrian?”

He can’t articulate what he was thinking beyond Peacemaker’s mantra.  “There’s no wrong time to rock,” he replies.

You bunch one hand into a fist and punch the steering wheel.  The sudden violence startles him:  you are often irritated with him, but this is something more. 

“What the fuck does that mean?  No wrong time to rock?  Is that what that was, rocking?  Are we fighting a fucking alien invasion or are we at a fucking Whitesnake concert?”

“Whoa, dude, calm down.”  He holds up his hands like he’s trying to calm a rabid dog.  “Everything’s cool.”

“It’s not,” you snap, but you’re not yelling, at least.  “It’s very much not cool.”

-----

You don’t take him to the shitty headquarters in Evergreen, and you don’t take him to his place.  You take him to your place, and he’s not the best at reading other people, but he wisely holds his tongue.  The first half of the drive back, you yelled at him, your face contorted like a scary Dracula.  

The second half of the drive, you were deadly silent, and that was somehow worse.

Now he’s limping into your little house, biting back a groan with each step as he follows you inside.

“Sit down,” you tell him.  Your voice is soft again, tired.  You gesture to a kitchen chair.  “I’ll get the first aid kit.  Get you patched up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” he starts, and he feels weird:  guilty and ashamed.  You look exhausted all of a sudden.  Dark hollows under your eyes, lower lip gnawed nearly bloody.  

“I do,” you interrupt, just as soft.  “You’re my responsibility.”

You disappear for a long moment, and when you return with the first aid kit, Adrian thinks your eyes look red.  Like you’ve been crying.  Which makes no sense, because you hate him and anyways, you’re the toughest girl he knows.  He doesn’t think you’ve ever cried before.

You get him a glass of water, hand it to him.  You open your first aid kit—far more elaborate than the usual household’s—and shake out a few different pills.  Antibiotics.  Pain pills.  You hand them to him too, urge him to take them.

Then you set to work on him.  You ease him out of his suit, out of his underclothes until he’s sitting in your kitchen in just his boxers.  Then you’re stitching him up, daubing at his injuries with antibiotic ointment.  Each new burn, each new cut makes you suck in a mouthful of air through your teeth, hissing with sympathy at the pain.

Adrian hurts all over, but a strange feeling creeps over him as you tend to his wounds.  Each pass of the antiseptic-soaked cotton over his skin, each prickle of the needle stitching him.  Each gentle press of your fingers as you feel along his body for broken bones or internal injuries….he is hurt, but your touch makes him feel weird.  Loose and relaxed.  Warm.

It must be the drugs, he thinks, but then a voice in the back of his head chides him, says you know it’s not the pain pills.  You know it’s her.

He sighs, and he leans forward in the chair to press his forehead against your side.  You freeze at the touch, then you move after a moment.  You lay a gentle hand on the crown of his head, and you sigh too.

He wants to say he’s sorry.  He wants to say that deep down, he just a scared boy playing at this cape shit.  He wants to say that he was often lonely before Peacemaker was released from prison, and that he’s terrified Project Butterfly will end and he’ll be left alone again.  He wants to say that he doesn’t need a handler but that he likes having you around, likes to pretend that it’s your choice and not your job.

He doesn’t say anything.  Adrian isn’t good with words or feelings, and he never seems to say the right thing.  He just sighs again and turns his face into the softness of your belly.

And maybe you want to say things too:  that you don’t hate him, that your frustration is borne from a burgeoning affection for him.  That you worry yourself sick that you’ll fail him and lose him.  That you’ve lost people you love before and how that loss has made you a closed-off person.

But you don’t say anything either.  You aren’t great with words or feelings either, and you usually choose silence instead of chancing people seeing your heart.  

So you just sigh again too, and you keep your hand on the top of his head, but you wind your other arm around his shoulders and just hold him.

#ask game #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase imagine #peacemaker #tropes and tales

[karuuhnia]

I've been a Pokémon fan since the very beginning and recently a friend asked me who my favourite character was. I couldn't answer with just one character. So instead I gave her my top 3 favourites from each generation - and then turned it into this. lol

A little bit more info under the cut if you're interested.

_______

Please do not alter, repost/reupload or redistribute my artwork anywhere! (Reblogging is perfectly fine, of course.)

Gen 1:

Blue: The original rival, you loved to hate him. :D

Erika: I loved her design as a kid, even though I had no idea what a kimono was back then lol

Bill: No idea tbh lol. I like his hair and that he's a nerd, I guess? Honestly, Gen 1 did not have that many memorable and fleshed out characters, so I kinda struggled here.

Gen 2:

Lance: Honestly, he was my fave in Gen 1 already. I love his strength, his design, his virtuousness, his bravery, his code of honour, his everything. To me he's like a knight in shiny armour from old fairytales. lol I could spend a whole day describing all the things I love about him, but I don't wanna bore you.

Eusine: Probably a weird pick for many because he is kinda obnoxious in the game lol I've always had a soft spot for him though and I really wanted him to get Suicune in the end, after he'd changed.

Morty: I love his design and colours and that he's Eusine's bff and voice of reason.

Gen 3:

Steven: He is classy, wears a really awesome suit, has very cool Pokémon and is still a huge nerd. I love it!

Archie: (I see you, @chipsncookies) Big hunk with a big smile and a cool outfit. Beard. Not a bad guy, actually. Learns that he was wrong and does everything to make things right again. Frienemies with Maxie.

Maxie: Scrawny beanpole with a silly (but very cozy looking) outfit. Secretly a dork. Not a bad guy either. Learns from his mistakes and wants to make them right again. Frienemies with Archie.

Gen 4:

Riley: I was a huge fan of Sir Aaron in the movie and Riley is just as awesome. I love his hat too. His personality is also similar to Lance's, so that's a huge plus.

Cynthia: I really, really like her. She is so cool and strong and her theme is amazing. Just like Charizard she's become too popular and that gets a bit tiresome sometimes.

Looker: Okay, I admit, it took me a while to get used to Looker. But now I like his quirky, funny Inspector Gadget shenanigans. What changed my mind was the aftergame of XY. ;__;

Gen 5:

Ingo & Emmet: I couldn't do it. I couldn't choose who of them I like more. So they share the first place.They're a duo anyway. And absolutely inseparable. R-Right?

Elesa: I like her mainly because of the fanon that she's bffs with the subway twins. But she's also not the bitchy supermodel that I first thought she was. She's actually kind and supportive.

Alder: Funny grandpa with awful hair, but a big heart and a great theme song.

Gen 6:

Lysandre: His design always gave me Ganondorf-vibes. That's pretty much it. His goal is stupid.

Emma: Her storyline in the post-game was by far the best thing in XY. And her theme is so beautiful!

Sycamore: I still wish he had actually turned out to be evil. I still like him.

Gen 7:

Kukui: What is not to love about him? He's a hunk, he loves his wife, he takes in Lillie, he punches Pokémon with his bare hands.

Lillie: Sweet little girl who deserves all the love from her friends and her adoptive parents instead of all the shit her psycho bio mother put her through.

Burnet: She's sweet and smart and kind and I wish she had a much bigger role in the game. Her anime part was great though <3

Gen 8:

Piers, Sonia and Raihan: Honestly... These are pretty much the only characters that I remember lol Gen 8 was very underwhelming for me.

Gen 9:

Arven: Just a poor neglected boy who wants to save his sick dog. In contrast to his shitty parents he's got a big heart, is caring, nurturing and supportive.

Clavell: The twist about this character was that there was no twist. He is just a very kind grandpa who genuinely cares for the well-being of his students. I also LOVE his battle theme.

Hassel: This game really is full of wholesome boomers. Hassel's got a huge heart for art and his students and Pokémon. He's also not afraid of showing his emotions.

#pokemon #pokemon blue #pokemon erika #pokemon bill #pokemon lance #pokemon eusine #pokemon morty #pokemon steven #pokemon archie #pokemon maxie #pokemon riley #pokemon cynthia #pokemon looker #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #pokemon elesa #pokemon alder #pokemon lysandre #pokemon emma #pokemon sycamore #pokemon kukui #pokemon lillie #pokemon burnet #pokemon piers #pokemon sonia #pokemon raihan #pokemon arven #pokemon clavell #pokemon hassel #karuuhnia draws

[babyhatesreality]

Steve seems to be strict but loving and gentle at the same time.

How would he handle a situation where she hurts herself on accident and he told her many times before that she is not allowed to do it.

But she did it anyway (not because she was on a bratty time just curious in her little space and didn’t think of any consequences that may hurt her in anyway) 🥺

Hello Nonnie! Thank you for your fantastic ask! This one took me a minute, but I hope this works for you. Hugs to you, and big thanks <3

X Marks the Spot

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader (featuring Steve)

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, nicknames, reader is named but name scarcely used, hand swat, reader is overly dramatic (from one of my stories? What??), stern Bucky, reader gets hurt (minor), tears, stern Steve, scolding, time out, threat of spanking, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

"It's so SHINY," you said in hushed wonder, reaching out again. The gigantic golden key sparkled in the late afternoon light as it sat on the coffee table. 

Steve's gentle hand intercepted yours for the fourth time in as many minutes. "I said no touching, Baby," he said gently, bouncing you a bit on his lap to try to distract you. "I need you to listen. I've already told you this four times. Don’t touch the key."

"But Papa....it's...so SHINY," you moaned, completely obsessed with the forbidden object and your inability to touch it. 

Steve shook his head, smiling. His grip stayed firm on your waist as he looked up at Bucky. "I think we're going to need to stop reading The Hobbit to her at bedtime," he joked. Bucky grinned back.

"Yeah, she's starting to sound too much like Gollum," he agreed, before ruffling your hair. “She’s one step away from drooling.” You batted Bucky’s hand away, as the movement was distracting you from staring at the light dancing off the key's golden surface.

This morning, the original six Avengers had been given Keys to the City in a huge and pompous outdoor ceremony. You'd been so well behaved, proudly sitting up straight in the uncomfortable white wooden chairs. You had been dressed in your currently favorite blue dress and held Bucky's hand all through the ceremony, Bucky himself in full uniform. Bucky, Pepper, and Jane had all been on unofficial Little duty, making sure you all sat still on the front row and been on your best behavior while you watched your caregivers receiving their accolades. You tried your hardest not to fidget even though the one guy in the ugly suit just kept talking and talking. You were rewarded for your good behavior with a peppermint candy from Daddy. When Papa appeared on the stage, you waved to him, just a little, and he winked back at you. It was the best. And then, the Key came out. 

The second you got a look at that key, everything else faded away for you. It was huge, it was so pretty, and it was calling to you to worship it with all the obsession of a Little. You reached out again, dying to touch the beautiful object. 

Instead of moving your hand this time, Steve gave it a swat instead. It wasn’t terribly hard, but it got your attention. You pouted but Papa wasn’t having it. 

“I told you five times, Baby,” Steve said sternly. “You deserved that and you know it.”

“Definitely time to move this thing out of sight,” Bucky said, picking up the key. They didn’t necessarily have a problem with you touching the key- it was the aftermath that would be the issue. Once you touched it, you were going to want to play with it, and it definitely wasn’t something to be played with. “How about our office?”

“Noooooo!!” you wailed dramatically, squirming to get out of Steve’s grasp. Their office was off limits to you unless they were in there and had said that you could come in. In your little mind, this was the same as the key being shipped to the other side of the world. You wriggled, desperate to get off Papa’s lap. He didn’t let go, which only made you try harder. Bucky sighed patiently and kneeled down to your level.

“Listen up Trouble,” he said sternly, making you stop your squirming instantly. You knew better than to challenge that tone of voice. “This key is not a toy. You are not allowed to play with it. You are not allowed to touch it. Do you understand?” he said, looking you dead in the eye. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you said miserably, deflating. He smiled at you, then leaned forward and kissed your forehead. 

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said, back to his joking self as he stood up. “I’m sure your instinct to survive will kick in shortly.” And with that, he took the beautiful key out of your line of sight. You twisted on Papa’s lap, watching it for as long as you could, sighing heavily when he walked into their office. 

“It’s okay, honey bee,” Steve said, suppressing his grin at your sighs as he cuddled you into his chest. “It will all be okay.”

“But how’s come I can’t touch it?” you said sadly. “I just want to touch it a little, Papa!”

“Because, Baby, it’s not something for little girls to touch.”

“Why?”

Steve bounced you against just a bit, before craning his head to look you full in the face. “Well, love, because it’s a treasure.”

“Like a hobbit treasure?”

“Kind of like a hobbit treasure, yes. It’s something very special and very important.”

“Yeah! Is really ‘portant cause it opens the whole city.”

“...What?”

“Daddy said is a key to the city. How does it open all the doors if it’s so big? Does the doors get bigger?”

Steve laughed and cuddled you closer again. He loved your curiosity and explanations for everything. “It’s a symbolic thing, peanut. It doesn’t actually open all the doors to the city.”

“Oh. Dat’s no fun. Can I touch it now?”

“Still no. It’s very heavy and it’s not a toy. It’s something that we treasure.”

*******************************************************************************

The next day, you had the best idea you had ever had in your entire life. This idea blew every other fantasy world you had created out of the water. You were going to be a dragon and guard Papa’s treasure. 

You wanted to make it a surprise, so when he and Bucky had both come separately to check on you while you were in your playroom, you had shrieked and thrown yourself over your little table scattered with crayons and markers to hide your secrets. You were coloring one of your paper costume masks to look like a dragon and then you were going to use your dress-up rainbow butterfly wings to complete the look. You didn’t want them getting any hints before the big reveal. 

You spent some time gathering the rest of your treasures- everything from your full box of costume play jewelry to the compass in Papa’s bedside drawer to your favorite red shirt that smelled like Daddy, to the rest of your Halloween candy that you’d been carefully hoarding and your most favoritest pictures of you and your daddies. Your room was a colossal mess, but it was worth it. There was only one thing left to get. You put Jellybean at the base of your treasure mountain with strict instructions to guard it all till you were back. You donned your butterfly wings and your mask and you were off. 

You tiptoed very carefully towards their office. You knew you weren’t supposed to be in there, but this was a surprise and you were doing a good thing,so that automatically made it okay, right? Papa was folding laundry in the bedroom, and Daddy had just gotten back from the big Avengers gym and was in the shower. You were in the clear. 

You carefully turned the knob to their office and slipped in. And there it was- in all its shiny golden glory, on the highest shelf, much too tall for you. You set your face determinedly. Nothing was gonna keep this dragon away from the treasure. 

You climbed right up those shelves like you’d seen Peter do when he was wearing his Spidey suit. You reached up over your head and finally...FINALLY...got your hands on that beautiful key. 

Suddenly, your right foot slipped sideways and you lost your balance. You tumbled through the air, and the next thing you knew you were on your back on the floor. You didn’t even have a moment to figure out what had happened before the large metal key decided to follow you down, landing squarely on the top of your foot. And it HURT. Really bad. 

The second he heard your wail, Steve bolted across the apartment, terror gripping his heart. He raced towards your cries, running into the office, and dropped to his knees beside you. "You’re gonna be okay, baby, it’s okay,” he said in a rush, trying to keep his voice calm so as not to frighten you further. He looked around himself quickly, trying to figure out what had happened, when he saw the key laying by your foot. It took him two seconds to put the puzzle pieces together.  “Did you fall backwards?” he asked frantically as Bucky raced into the room, still dripping wet from the shower. When you gave a sobbing ‘yes’, he gently began feeling the different parts of you that might have been affected. He let you sit up after a moment, and reached for your foot. “Did the key fall on your foot?” he asked, trying to carefully move it. You cried even harder, even with his gentle touch, and before you knew it, you were in Uncle Tony’s lab getting your foot X-Rayed by Uncle Bruce, who was working in there at the time. 

“It’s not broken,” Bruce finally declared. Both Steve and Bucky let out a sigh of relief. “Just probably going to be pretty sore and have a nasty bruise for a while. She should stay off it for a day or two. Keep it elevated and iced.” He gave you some liquid Tylenol, which made you wrinkle your nose at the taste but at least your forgot about your sore foot for a moment. Uncle Bruce gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek and said he liked your dragon mask before giving Papa and Daddy the okay to take you home. 

Papa kept you cuddled into his chest as the three of you rode the elevator back to your floor. You were starting to get a little nervous. They had told you not to touch the key and then you’d gotten hurt doing exactly that. Doing dangerous stuff got you in BIG trouble, and you knew it. 

Once you got home, Papa took you straight to the couch and sat you down on the corner of it, so you could stretch your foot out as Daddy went into the kitchen to make an ice pack. Papa leaned down to look at you, his hands on his knees. You shrank down in your guilt and nerves. 

“You are in time out here on this couch for the next five minutes, young lady,” Papa said firmly. “I expect you to act like you do when you’re in time out in the corner. Same rules apply. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Papa,” you whispered, bowing your head in shame. Papa stood up and walked away, as Daddy came in and sat by your foot, silently set the ice pack on the blooming bruise. 

“That okay?” he asked. When you nodded, he stood up. “Good. Time out starts now.” As he walked away, you picked a bit at the edge of your shirt, then looked back at the ice pack. The pain was starting to fade a bit, but that made it even worse because now you were REALLY feeling guilty. But you were a good girl and didn’t fidget. You thought about what you did like you were supposed to. 

A few minutes later, you overheard whispers from the kitchen area, but you knew better than to turn to look while you were still in time out. You heard Papa say “I got this”, before he walked into the living room. He sat down right where Daddy had been, and gently squeezed the toes of your not-hurt foot. 

“Alright, Katie-Cat, time out is over,” he said gently. “Tell me why you were in time out.”

“Cause I touched the key and I wasn’t a’sposed to,” you replied, looking at your hands twisting together in your lap.

“That’s right. You were also in Daddy and Papa’s office. Are you allowed to go in there without permission?”

“No, Papa.”

“No, you are not. And you went in there to play with the key that you knew you weren’t allowed to, didn’t you?”

“Um...yes but no.”

“ ‘Yes...but no’? What do you mean?”

“I didn’t wanna play with the key, ‘cause you said I can’t play with the key, so i wasn’t gonna PLAY with it.”

“If you weren’t going to play with it, what were you doing in there trying to get it down?”

You finally looked up at him, pointing miserably to the mask that was still on top of your head. “Imma dragon, Papa. Was gonna GUARD the key ‘cause you said it was a treasure and I wanted it to be safe ‘cause you liked it.”

Steve’s stern gaze softened a bit at your explanation. “Ah, I see,” he said gently, a hint of smirk crossing his face. “But that means you also would have gotten to touch the key, doesn’t it?” You sucked your lips into your mouth, stalling for as long as you could. “Katie,” he said in THAT tone. You sighed heavily. 

“Um...yeah, I guess.”

“No, there’s no ‘I guess’ about it. It was very sweet of you to want to protect the key but you knew that your plans involved you doing something you weren’t supposed to. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Papa,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. 

“Now, I think you definitely got a good taste of why I told you not to touch it. Your foot hurts pretty bad, right?” You nodded miserably. “When you don’t listen to me or Daddy, you can get hurt. That’s when the dangerous stuff happens. And you know exactly what happens when you put yourself in danger.” You nodded, just knowing you were in for it now. “Well, I’m not going to spank you this time.” Your head shot up, your eyes wide in disbelief. Papa smiled gently at you. He reached out a hand to stroke your cheek. “Your bottom is probably going to be pretty sore already from that fall you took,” he teased you for a moment, before gently taking your chin in his thumb and forefinger. “But if you ever try something like that again, you’re going over my knee, little girl. You know we don’t tolerate you putting yourself in danger. Understood?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded vigorously. “Yes, Papa, I understand.”

“Good girl. Now, your punishment for the rest of the day is to stay on this couch. You heard Uncle Bruce- no running around for the next two days. And you may read or color, but no TV.” You wanted to slump down and pout, but considering you were getting off super light from putting yourself in danger, you weren’t about to push your luck. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?”

“I sowwy, Papa, didn’t mean to be....ALL bad.” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at your reluctant but honest answer. “I won’t be a dwagon again, I pwomise.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame, because you’re a pretty cute dragon,” he said, leaning into you and grinning. You giggled a bit. “Was this what you were working on in your playroom earlier?”

You nodded joyfully, glad that you were off the punishment talk. “Yeah! I made a dragon mask to go with my dragon wings this morning! D’you like ‘em?”

“I do! I think you did a great job on your look,” Papa said, moving so he was sitting next to you on the couch. He put his arm around you and cuddled you into his side. “And I bet that in a couple days when your foot heals up, we can make a safe dragon treasure for you to guard so you can play dragons all you want. Sound good?”

“You can play dragons too with me! I already made a treasure pile, Papa! You can go see it in my room if you wanna!”

Steve turned at hearing Bucky’s footsteps coming towards you two, having just come from exploring your room. He didn’t make eye contact as he walked past, looking exhausted. 

“I wouldn’t look in there if I were you,” Bucky groaned to his husband. 

“Is it really that bad?”

“Let’s put it this way. You remember that time in Poland when we infiltrated the base looking for the lab documents?”

“THAT bad?”

“Worse.”

#daddy stucky #daddy!Stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader #Daddy Steve #daddy!steve #daddy steve x little reader #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!bucky

[daddyy333]

Overworked | CW!Bucky Barnes x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 2.5k

warnings: reader isn’t really taking care of themselves properly, exhausted reader, fighting, reader is stabbed, mentions of blood, reader almost dies, reader has surgery, ?

summary: You haven’t been able to catch a break for weeks, and know all the stress has caught up to you and one mistake almost got you killed, putting the man who harbored a massive secret love for you through absolute hell.

doesn’t feel like my best work to be quite honest I’ve just been so busy these last couple weeks so I’m trying to do what I can

You groaned, slamming yourself against a wall to miss the bullet being shot at you. This was the third mission you’d done this week and you were exhausted. Your hearing was slightly muffled in your right ear and you can’t see that clearly, probably from being hit with the handle of a gun twice.

You kept being put on missions so frequently these last couple weeks because of your skill, and you didn’t think you could say no so you had no choice but to do your job. It was killing you though. You were tired, you were hungry, and you were in so much pain.

You yelped as the asshole hydra agent tried to grab you, to be fair you were standing there with your eyes closed completely out in the open like a dumbass but you couldn’t help it. You whimpered and kicked your leg back, making his knee buckle as you turned around and twisted his arm before slamming him against the wall, assuming that knocked him out,

You gasped as you felt his knife enter your stomach, the pain making it hard to even think. That’s what you get for assuming. “God damn it! Seriously??” You said, punching him in the face. Why did he have to do that?

You grabbed the knife and pulled it out, stabbing him in the dick. You groaned as you kept moving, taking down 5 more agents before it was finally clear. You winced, leaning against the wall as you panted harshly. You sniffled, gulping as you reached down to rip part of a man’s pants off and try to stop the bleeding with it.

You covered it up with your vest so no one would be concerned before you rigged the place with bombs and blew it up. You got back on the small ship they sent you on and headed home, finally.

You talked to Steve and Nat for a bit and spoke with Fury briefly before you finally got to go up to your shared floor with Bucky and relax. Bucky was still awake, sitting on the couch with a look of worry on his face.

You didn’t see him, though, because it was almost completely dark except for the lamp in the living room but you were struggling to see in general. You whimpered as you sat down, groaning softly.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice shaky and you gasped, standing up and throwing the remote at him. “Shit! Bucky, what the fuck?” You said, sitting back down and letting out shaky breaths.

You sighed heavily, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “What happened?” He asked and you cleared your throat. “That sorry excuse for backup was knocked out in a minute so I had to do the entire mission with no help” you said, realizing that you must’ve bled through your “tourniquet” because he was looking at it.

You took a deep breath and stood up, mumbling something about getting sleep. You breathed shakily as you made your way to your room. You were sweating like crazy, and your heart was thumping in your ears.

You worked your suit off with shaky hands, realizing the tourniquet fell loose. You whimpered and grabbed a towel off the rack pressing to your wound as you took off the tourniquet. You nearly screamed in pain, biting your hand to stop yourself.

You felt dizzy, so you had to trade your hand for your bottom lip if you wanted to keep standing. A tear rolled down your face as stars filled your vision. You blinked a few times as you tried to stay awake, breathing becoming harder.

Everything was going black and you groaned. “God da- mmh” you said before you passed out, falling to the ground.

Bucky was already in the hallway where your bedroom was, paranoid that something was wrong. Your breathing was irregular the entire time and he could hear your erratic heartbeat, not to mention you looked as pale as a ghost and you were sweating buckets.

As soon as he heard that thump he ran inside your bedroom, knocking on the bathroom door furiously. “Y/n! Y/n? Are you alright?” He asked and he got no answer.

He opened the door and was stopped by your foot. “Christ, why didn’t you say something damn it” he mumbled, moving your legs so he could get in. He moved the towel and his eyes widened, he didn’t understand how you were walking and managed to keep talking earlier with a wound like that.

He wrapped the towel around your waist, tying it to try and slow the bleeding before he picked you up and ran to the elevator, willing it to go faster than the speed of light to get to the medical floor.

He’d never admit it but he was totally in love with you. You’ve supported him through everything since he escaped Hydra. You’ve taught him everything that’s new in the modern world and never once made him feel stupid or less than for not knowing. You even moved into the second bedroom on his floor without hesitation and would stay with him when he had nightmares or couldn’t sleep.

You were soft and gentle with him, something he hadn’t experienced in decades. He adored you, and it hurt to see you so weak and so close to death. He would never let himself love you, but that doesn’t mean he can survive without you.

As soon as the doctors started taking care of you and he couldn’t do anything else for you, he felt tears fill his eyes. His throat felt tight and it hurt as well. He didn’t understand what was happening, he doesn’t cry. He’s never been allowed to.

He ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He fell back against it, a whimper escaping his lips. He groaned, the tears falling down his cheeks before he could stop them. He’d seen you overwork yourself these last few weeks, he’d seen how exhausted you were and how you just needed a break. He knew he should’ve stopped you and he should’ve taken care of you like any good person would but his dumbass was too stupid to do what he should’ve done weeks ago.

It took him almost an hour to calm down, he just couldn’t get that image of you on the bathroom floor out of his head. It scared the shit out of him and he knew you already killed the person who did it but he wanted to do it himself. He was so angry and so scared all at the same time.

He asked the nurse what was going on and they had to send you to a hospital because it required surgery. Surgery.

He went back up to your floor, breaths shaky as he saw the blood on the floor and the little bit that got on the couch and he scoffed. He sat down on the couch, letting his head fall back and staring at the ceiling as he tried to get that image of you out of his head.

This was his worst fear, truly. He worried every time you went out on a mission if you were going to come back to him. It never even crossed his mind that he could be the one to find you dying or dead.

He was checking his phone every 5 seconds, begging to get a call from someone telling him you were okay. He felt nauseous thinking about what life would even be like without you.

He let out a shaky breath and stood up, going to your room. His shaky hands cleaned your blood off the bathroom floor, picking up your room for when you got back.

He then showered himself, as there was blood on his arm and on stomach from it leaking through his shirt. He was exhausted by the time he got out so he tried to sleep and instead spent 3 hours watching the alarm clock, willing it to be time for his morning workout.

He couldn’t take it anymore and got up around 4am and headed down to the gym to train. It took him entirely too long to get through his regular workout with him running to check his phone after every set and nearly tripping over his own feet if there was a notification of any kind.

He made himself breakfast, only being able to stomach half of it. He still felt nauseous and it had been hours, he knew the feeling wouldn’t go away until you were back on this floor of the tower, preferably in his arms, safe and sound.

He busied himself with cleaning the house top to bottom. He did all of the laundry, including yours. He didn’t realize so many hours had passed when he passed by the clock in the living room, his heart dropping when he realized he’d been cleaning non stop for 4 hours.

He ran to the couch, quickly feeling through every cushion to find his phone. He groaned when he finally grabbed it and saw no texts saying you were safe or calls from anyone either. He laid down for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

The exhaustion was taking over and he couldn’t help it as he dozed off. Not that he knew it, but he needed the rest. He needed it so bad that even 7 messages and 5 calls couldn't wake him up.

He heard the door slam and instantly shot up, looking around. He cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes and standing up. He yawned as he turned off the T.V, his jaw dropping and eyes widening as he saw you coming into the living room, leaning against Steve mostly as you stumbled into the apartment.

He nearly tripped and ate the floor with how fast his body flung itself to get to you, squeezing you into a hug. You hissed, squeezing his waist. “Bucky- ow!” You said and he instantly backed up which almost made you fall forward.

“I- I’m sorry, I just- I was really worried about you” he said and hugged you again. He couldn’t help it. At least he was gentle this time. “Bucky, I’m fi-” you said before he interrupted you.

“Don’t you dare. I’m the one who found you on that bathroom floor, you certainly weren’t fine” he said and you sighed. You were still so exhausted, but the safety you felt in Bucky’s arms made it better.

Bucky looked over at Steve, who was smirking. “I’m just gonna leave your stuff here. Take it easy, alright?” He said and you hummed. Bucky held onto you for a few more moments before he pulled back. He sighed and brushed your hair out of your face as he asked “can you walk?”

“Yea. I just have a small limp, apparently I sprained my ankle at some point but it’s fine” you said and sighed, disappointment evident in his face. He helped you to your bedroom, sitting you down and quickly checking your stitches.

“You shouldn’t have been out on that mission,” he muttered as he stood up, grabbing your phone for you so you could check it. You took a deep breath, run your hand through your hair before you said “I have a duty to fulfill, I can just say no”

“There’s an entire group of other people who could’ve done it right upstairs” he said, arms folded as he leaned against your dresser. He shook his head and said “I should’ve stopped you,”

“Bucky, what- why do you care so much?!” You said and he groaned. He ran his hand over his face, trying not to snap at you. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I care about you and I have feelings? I’m not blind, y/n, I see the exhaustion in your eyes. You’ve gotten more injuries these past few weeks than you have in years, I checked your file. You’re overworked and it’s going to get you killed. You got really damn lucky this time, who knows how it’ll go next time?” He said, voice shaky and chest heaving.

“God, you sound like you’re in love with me or something-” “maybe I am!” He yelled, throwing his arms up dramatically. Your breath hitched, your head shooting up to look at him.

He closed his eyes with a heavy and regretful sigh, his shoulders dropping. “What did you say?” You asked, your voice shaky. He licked his lips, a nervous habit he had. “I…I am. I have…feelings for you” he said quietly.

You could tell he obviously didn’t mean to say that and wasn’t ready in the slightest to admit this. You stood up with a soft grunt and he looked up, about to make you sit down again but you were already walking towards him.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in close. His heartbeat was fast and his breaths were shaky and uneven. He placed his hands on your waist carefully, not expecting you to hug him at all.

You didn’t care that he wasn’t hugging you back, you needed this from him. He trusted you. He trusted you and he loved you and he just opened up to you and told you something huge. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“F-…For what?” He asked and you sighed. You took a deep breath and said “for trusting me” He chuckled nervously and wrapped his arms around you, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

You could tell he was still really tense, and you wondered if he was uncomfortable. “What’s wrong, Buck?” You asked, looking up at him. He looked down at you and said “it’s just…do you feel the same?”

“Absolutely. I’m sorry- I-I thought I already told you” you said and giggled, of course you were that stupid. He blushed slightly, a small smile creeping onto his face. You’d seen so many emotions from the otherwise stoic Bucky you knew and it made your heart flutter.

He pulled you into his chest again, the tension slowly leaving his body. He closed his eyes, taking in this moment. He felt a warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt in decades, he felt like he was home.

You were ready to spend the rest of your days loving and taking care of Bucky. You’d never felt for anyone else the way you did for Bucky. You knew you’d always love him no matter what happened. You’d always love the subtle ways he shows how he cares for his friends, the way he remembers even the tiniest things about you, the way he tries to pretend he isn’t bursting with joy inside even with rosy pink cheeks.

He pulled away carefully and that smile was still there, you felt like you had butterflies all over. “I love you, Buck” you said softly. He had a new life in his eyes as he said “I- I love you too”

He never thought he’d actually admit his feelings to you, and it’s the scariest thing he’s ever done but he felt so relieved at the same time. You were it for him. Even if he lost everything tomorrow and everyone turned on him, as long as he had you it was all he needed.

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #civil war #marvel civil war #cw!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader

[bijoumikhawal]

hello! i hope it's alright to ask you this but i was wondering if you have any recommendations for books to read or media in general about the history of judaism and jewish communities in egypt, particularly in ottoman and modern egypt?

have a nice day!

it's fine to ask me this! Unfortunately I have to preface this with a disclaimer that a lot of books on Egyptian Jewish history have a Zionist bias. There are antizionist Egyptian Jews, and at the very least ones who have enough national pride that AFAIK they do not publicly hold Zionist beliefs, like those who spoke in the documentary the Jews of Egypt (avaliable on YouTube for free with English subtitles). Others have an anti Egyptian bias- there is a geopolitical tension with Egypt from Antiquity that unfortunately some Jewish people have carried through history even when it was completely irrelevant, so in trying to research interactions between "ancient" Egyptian Jews and Native Egyptians (from the Ptolemaic era into the proto-Coptic and fully Coptic eras) I've unfortunately come across stuff that for me, as an Egyptian, reads like anti miscegenationist ideology, and it is difficult to tell whether this is a view of history being pushed on the past or not. The phrase "Erev Rav" (meaning mixed multitude), which in part refers to Egyptians who left Egypt with Moses and converted to Judaism, is even used as an insult by some.

Since I mentioned that documentary, I'll start by going over more modern sources. Mapping Jewish San Francisco has a playlist of videos of interviews with Egyptian Jews, including both Karaites and Rabbinic Jews iirc (I reblogged some of these awhile ago in my "actually Egyptian tag" tag). This book, the Dispersion of Egyptian Jewry, is avaliable for free online, it promises to be a more indepth look at Egyptian Jews in the lead up to modern explusion. I have only read a few sections of it, so I cannot give a full judgment on it. There's this video I watched about preserving Karaite historical sites in Egypt that I remember being interesting. "On the Mediterranian and the Nile edited by Harvey E. Goldman and Matthis Lehmann" is a collection of memiors iirc, as is "the Man in the Sharkskin Suit" (which I've started but not completed), both moreso from a Rabbinic perspective. Karaites also have a few websites discussing themselves in their terms, such as this one.

For the pre-modern but post-Islamic era, the Cairo Geniza is a great resource but in my opinion as a hobby researcher, hard to navigate. It is a large cache of documents from a Cairo synagogue mostly from around the Fatimid era. A significant portion of it is digitized and they occasionally crowd source translation help on their Twitter, and a lot of books and papers use it as a primary source. "The Jews in Medieval Egypt, edited by: Miriam Frenkel" is one in my to read pile. "Benjamin H. Hary - Multiglossia in Judeio-Arabic. With an Edition, Translation, and Grammatical Study of the Cairene Purim Scroll" is a paper I've read discussing the Jewish record of the events commemorated by the Cairo Purim, I got it off either Anna's Archive or libgen. "Mamluks of Jewish Origin in the Mamluk Sultanate by Koby Yosef" is a paper in my to read pile. "Jewish pietism of the Sufi type A particular trend of mysticisme in Medieval Egypt by Mireille Loubet" and "Paul B Fenton- Judaism and Sufism" both discuss the medieval Egyptian Jewish pietist movement.

For "ancient" Egyptian Jews, I find the first chapter of "The Story of the Jews: Finding the Words 1000 BC-1492 AD” by Simon Schama, which covers Elephantine, very interesting (it also flies in the face of claims that Jews did not marry Native Egyptians, though it is from centuries before the era researchers often cover). If you'd like to read don't click this link to a Google doc, that would be VERY naughty. There's very little on the Therapeutae, but for the paper theorizing they may have been influenced by Buddhism (possibly making them an example of Judeo-Buddhist syncretism) look here (their Wikipedia page also has some sources that could be interesting but are not specifically about them). "Taylor, Joan E. - Jewish women philosophers of first-century Alexandria: Philo’s Therapeutae reconsidered" is also a to read.

I haven't found much on the temple of Onias/Tell el Yahudia/Leontopolis in depth, but I have the paper "Meron M. Piotrkowski - Priests in Exile: The History of the Temple of Onias and Its Community in the Hellenistic Period" in my to be read pile (which I got off Anna's Archive). I also have some supplemental info from a lecture I attended that I'm willing to privately share.

I also have a document compiling links about the Exodus of Jews from Egypt in the modern era, but I'm cautious about sharing it now because I made it in high school and I've realized it needs better fact checking, because it had some misinfo in it from Zionist publications (specifically about the names of Nazis who fled to Egypt- that did happen, but a bunch of names I saw reported had no evidence of that being the case, and one name was the name of a murdered resistance fighter???)

#cipher talk #I find Leontopolis fascinating because after the first time a bunch of Egyptian Jews built a temple in Egypt a second guy did it #And allegedly had a not terrible scriptural justification! And the temple lasted for THREE EXTRA YEARS after Jerusalem was sacked! #Never let anyone tell you there was only one temple #There's also other stuff but this is what I immediately had #Some books I have I'm pretty sure just aren't good to start with lmao they're about very specific stuff #Modern Middle Eastern Jewish Thought: Writings on Identity politics and culture is interesting and includes Egyptian Jews #But it's definitely got a zionist bias. It's mostly essays #I'd definitely recommend reading up on Joseph Cattaui and Murād Farag because they were simply so influential #Even though Farag was a dumbass that wrote the first Arabic defense of Zionism #Ya‘qub Sannu‘ is also fascinating- he spent a lot of his time defending Muslims to European audiences so some people assumed he reverted #He didn't he just took a hard stance on it. Also he got exiled for criticizing the Khedivate #All 3 are in MMEJT iirc

[messrmoonyy]

Touch me gently

Tess Servopoulos x Joel’s daughter!reader

Prompt ( summarised ) - Joel’s daughter reader who is in love with/ secretly dating Tess. Reader is a virgin and it’s their first Time, possibly AU. Also paired with a similar request from devnmon: ‘ okay so hear me out: mom’s best friend!tess taking your virginity uhm… 🧎‍♀️’

A/N- first off. To clarify. Readers age is not exactly specified but they are 20+. Original promoter asked for reader to be 18 and that felt too icky for me. But yk. It’s self insert. Do what you will, but it is mentioned that reader is an adult and somewhere in their 20s. Anyways. I was actually happy to have this change for some gentle smut. You guys just wanna get fuckin body slammed by her, let her be soft! 😭💀 I twisted the prompt around quite a bit honestly. But. Here we are. This is a no outbreak au. Only proof read once.

Warnings- 18+ || implied age gap, Virgin/inexperienced reader, and the awkwardness that comes with it, smut: oral ( r receiving), fingering ( t and r receiving ) /mutual masterbation

Word count- 6.8k

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated/ encouraged <3

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You’d never really thought you’d be one for keeping secrets. Especially from Joel. As far as father-daughter bonds went, you liked to think yours was pretty damn strong. Your mother had left you before your baby brain could even attempt to form memories, so all you’d ever known was Joel. And you were quite content with that. You were incredibly close.

So there was never a reason to keep secrets. Not until she turned up.

Tess.

Tess had shown up one random Wednesday in the middle of June. You’d looked an absolute sight. The sweltering Texas summer was settling in and you were sat in front of an electric fan, Joel’s old shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts your choice of attire, hair scraped off your face as much as possible. Very much not expecting company any time soon and just trying to remember a time when you were cool, and not melting your face off.

And then Joel had come home, early rather than late for once, with her in tow.

You’d actually been a little shell shocked. Even now though you still weren’t entirely certain if it was because she was looking at you whilst you looked like some feral dog that had just been plucked from a pet shelter, or because you were quite certain you fell in love on sight. Maybe it was both.

It was probably both.

She looked a little out of place in your cosy, sickeningly Texan home. In her neat pant suit. All tailored lines and somehow not even breaking a sweat. You didn’t think you or Joel had ever owned anything that… crisp. You had come to learn over the time of knowing her that that was purely a work look, and she was just as rugged and down to earth as you and Joel were. But still. In the moment… she was like a shiny new Penny. And you were a magpie with its eyes locked on the glimmering thing from a distance.

“ this is my daughter, who I told you about. Kiddo come say hi. This is Tess “ you were pretty sure it’d taken you a little longer than socially acceptable to move, very much staring. Jaw slightly agape “ hello? Anyone home? “ you’d scrambled to your feet and made some attempt to look a little more presentable.

He’d explained how she had moved in across the street, and he had offered to price up some work for her. You could barely string a sentence together to properly introduce yourself. You’d never seen anyone like her. All sharp features that almost bordered on being harsh, but her eyes were soft. Warm. And they were looking right back at you.

Joel and her had become friends pretty quickly. In fact you’d teased him at first for having a crush on her, even if it did sound a little bitter from time to time. Because you had a crush on her. A really fucking big one. And wouldn’t that just be a kick in the teeth if your dad started dating her? You’d be like something out of one of those crappy books youd read. Falling in love with your… would she be your stepmom? You did not want to be thinking about that.

At all.

But thankfully it turns out that even if Joel did have a little something for her, it was well and truly pointless.

“ She’s not exactly into.. my type “ he’d said when you’d subtly tried to bring it up as you sat ready for a movie night one time.

“ contractors? “

“ yeah. She’s got this god damned grudge against contractors “ he’d said with a mock look of seriousness before laughing and swatting your arm playfully “ no. She ain’t into guys. That’s why she’s moved here, divorced her wife. Last year. Wants a new start and all that- are you gonna make that popcorn or not? “

And that had really set things in motion.

It was like you’d been permanently stood at a red light since she’d arrived, engine revving and ready to speed forward and see if you were delusional about the way she always looked at you or not. And now? Now it was flashing green, telling you to go.

You’d made every excuse possible to go across the street to her house, tailing after Joel when he started work, eventually popping around on your own accord with cookies or the offer to share some takeout together because Joel was working late.

You couldn’t remember the exact moment it had finally pushed past slightly awkward flirting, some random night 6 months down the line when you’d ended up showing her around your room after she’d turned up at the front door. You were a little tipsy and you regretted ever picking up a glass to this day. Because it had made your brain foggy so that you couldn’t quite remember the exact moment she’d kissed you. Or had you kissed her? Either way it didn’t matter. You’d kissed.

She’d broken it off suddenly, rambling apologies and an excuse to get out of the house- much to your confusion. Then you hadn’t seen her for over a week. Avoiding you completely until you grew bored of it and knocked on her door relentlessly until she’d answered you. Maybe you’d looked a little insane. But what else were you supposed to do?

She’d eventually invited you in and after a mildly awkward discussion- and another kiss- you’d finally come to the agreement that you were both idiots.

That had all been 8 months ago. And now you were sneaking around like a pair of lovesick teenagers.

It felt odd keeping it from your dad. He’d known about every awkward part of your slightly lack lustre love life. From the awkward kiss of your then boyfriend at prom, to the first time you’d kissed a girl, to the hideous break up with said girl on your 21st birthday of all days.

He accepted and listened and understood it all, being the mother you’d never known and the father you had all in one. But something told you he wouldn’t quite understand this one.

She wasn’t all the different in age than he was. Somewhere in her early 40s? He wouldn’t understand it. Not at all. He’d go all ‘protective dad’ mode you knew it. You were grown ass adult yet he still looked at you like you were 13. In his eyes you probably always would be.

You wanted to tell him, you really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t risk the highly likely chance that he wouldn’t get it, make it even harder to spend time with her. It could ruin everything. Not just with you and Tess, but with you and him.

You couldn’t put that at risk.

So sneaking around had become the norm for you both. Sometimes you could get away without even needing to make an excuse, when she’d come over to see Joel for one of their beer and card nights with Tommy and she’d excuse herself for a moment and seek you out. Or when Joel was out at work and you go across the road to visit.

It wasn’t ideal. But it was working for the most part. So you weren’t going to mess with the flow.

Even if it didn’t always work out exactly as you wanted. Like the present night. Joel had been lacking in work for most of the week and you’d barely had chance to see Tess, so when he’d finally gotten some work and said he’d be home late you’d jumped at the chance. You’d made some story up about your friend breaking up with her boyfriend, needing you to go over and see her. That you’d probably stay the night.

In reality you’d simply crossed the street when you’d finished work and had been there all evening. She’d clearly missed you as much as you had missed her, she’d barely let go of you since you’d arrived.

You couldn’t actually recall how long you’d been in the current situation, sat in her lap half undressed, lips swollen from how much she had kissed you. Things were progressing a little more than they normally did. Your sundress had been pushed from your upper half, hanging around your waist, and you didn’t even know where you’d thrown her tshirt.

You’d never gone further than that. With her or anyone. You usually made some excuse to stop before she could strip you out of anything else. Any excuse of Joel being home soon, of needing to get home to bed. Anything.

Its not that you didn’t want to. God did you want to. You thought about it constantly. How many times had it been that you’d woken up with your underwear ruined, or found your mind drifting off when it was quiet at work, daydreaming about her with every silent moment you got.

You were just… scared. Because she was older. She knew more. She’d been married for fucks sake, she obviously knew what she was doing. What if you were bad at it? What if she broke up with you the day after because she couldn’t believe how awful you were? It all boiled down to the same situation as it did with Joel. You didn’t want to put what you had in the present at risk.

You’d grown too attached. Too used to having her around. To being with her. You couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. No matter how badly you wanted it.

She wanted it too. You could tell. Simply from the way one of her hands was fiddling loosely with the back of your bra and the other squeezing softly at the flesh of your ass. She never did anything without asking you first. Would never push you. And you wondered if you finally had the courage to go after what you wanted. You’d already been braver than you thought and something was yelling at you in your head, telling you to stop being so stupid. To go after what you wanted.

But another part was telling you no. Some deep rooted anxiety that it could ruin everything threatening to overwhelm you.

“ are you okay? “ she asked suddenly, pulling you out of your head and lifting her face from where she’d been working at your neck. She’d become quite the expert at leaving trails of love bites just out of the sight of Joel. Always placing them where your shirt would hide them from view. But still in a place you could see them, could trail your fingers over the blossoms of bruises in the mirror and remember how her lips felt.

“ sorry- yeah I just- “ you sighed, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment on your face “ sorry “ Tess frowned and reached up, brushing her fingers across your cheek and tucking some stray hairs behind your ear.

“ want me to stop? You look tired “ you shook your head and ran a hand over your face “ what’re you thinking about? Come on. Tell me “ You debated telling her. Fear of embarrassment looming over your head making it harder to voice your thoughts “ if it’s too much- “

“ no. No. It’s not I just. Look can I tell you something? But you can’t laugh “ she raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“ you can tell me anything. You know that “ you avoided her eyes, tracing your fingers lightly over her collarbones instead and across the faint white mark of a scar. One day you’d ask her how she’d got it.

“ I know you want- want us- well. You know… and I want to as well it’s just. I’ve never like- god this is so embarrassing “ you groaned hiding your face in your hands.

“ ohh “ Tess said softly, clearly all her confusion suddenly vanishing like a mist clearing “ never? “

“ don’t laugh ��� you groaned, dropping your face onto her shoulder making her chuckle. She cradled your head with her hand and ran the other lightly up and down your spine, instantly relaxing you.

“ I’m not laughing baby. It’s not a bad thing. Look we don’t have to if you don’t- “

“ no “ you said a little too quickly, lifting your head again. I want to. Just… slow. Yeah? “ her eyes ran over your face for a few moments, clearly looking to see if you were completely certain. So you leaned forward and kissed her, telling her without having to actually say it out loud.

“ only if you’re sure “ she said quietly against your lips, brushing hers against yours.

“ I’m sure “ you whispered.

She gave another small nod and dropped her head again, her lips back on your neck but gentler. Soft, wet, open mouthed kisses across your neck and your chest . Pushing at your bra strap as she went, following the path across your shoulder with her lips. You felt all the anxiety melting away, your bones turning to mush.

Her hands were everywhere, soft and gentle in their exploration as they slid up your back, holding you close against her as she worked at easing you into a completely relaxed state.

You realised that as much as your fear had been prominent only a few moments ago, it was almost nonexistent now. There was still that heavy, anxious weight lingering in your chest. But only barely. Enough that you could ignore it and focus on the stronger emotions, the desire. The lust. The way it felt to know that you were desired. That she lusted for you. That she loved you.

“ can I take this off? “ she asked softly, her hands trailing lightly over the lace material of your bra. She squeezed softly and you were desperate to know what her fingers would feel like without the material in the way.

“ yes “ she removed your dress completely first, pulling it over your head from the spot it had been looked in around your waist. Then her fingers were nimble as she reached around and unhooked the clasp, sliding your bra from your shoulders and dropping it down beside her. Your eyes fell closed again, feeling so incredibly exposed. Vulnerable. But also… safe. Knowing that there wasn’t a single other soul on earth you’d be comfortable sitting there like that with.

“ so beautiful “ Tess whispered, her warm hands cupping your tits in her hands and pressing a kiss to your jaw. It felt strange to feel her hands on you in a place they had never been, squeezing and caressing. Nipples pebbling beneath her fingers as she whispered sweet things in your ear, not really even taking in what she was saying but relaxing at the low hum of her voice.

You felt a little strange being so undressed when she wasn’t. So before your anxiety could overwhelm you, you gingerly reached out for her. Pawing awkwardly at her own bra in some silent request to get her to take it off too.

She got the hint and you felt her smile against your skin, reaching behind her to remove it and adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“ that better? “ she asked and you nodded, reaching out with cautious hands, touching softly. She let you explore, let you touch her, watched you as you looked in awe at the way her nipples hardened under your fingertips. She sat there far more confidently than you were, you silently hoped you’d be that confident in front of her one day.

You were surprised at the way touching her so intimately made you feel. How it made you squirm lightly where you were sat in her lap. She seemed to notice, smiling and sliding her hands around your back to pull you in closer, her lips back on your skin.

Her chest pressing against yours and her lips caressing every inch they could reach, made your own lips part in a blissful sigh. Her skin so soft against yours, burning hot and prickling with desire in every place that your bodies connected. It felt… romantic though too. She wasn’t speaking yet you knew how much she loved you, how deeply she was attempting to show it.

It almost confused you how you could mingle such deep affection with the ever growing presence of you lust for her.

You could hardly sit still, your cunt begging to be touched. The fabric of your underwear offering not even the lightest amount of friction.

And she’d barely done anything to you. You wondered if you should be embarrassed. Or if she’d like it.

She seemed to pick up on your restlessness and she looked up at you again.

“ baby, lie down for me? Let me help you? “ she asked, cupping your face in her hands and peppering kisses across your cheeks. You let her lay you down, hands never leaving you for even a second. Kissing you as you sank into the soft pillows of her bed, the smell of her shampoo and her perfume that lingered in her sheets filling your senses.

She ran her hands across your hips and squeezed softly at your thighs, silently appreciating every part of your body that she could get to. Even though the Summer heat of the day had dissipated now that night had fallen, the room still felt stiflingly hot. Your skin burning in every place that she touched you. Or maybe you were imaging it. You couldn’t tell.

She sat back, taking a moment to look down at you, her eyes trailing slowly along your body. You found you didn’t feel even remotely self conscious now, the things you didn’t like about yourself and usually poured over in the mirror no longer bothered you. Not when she was looking at you like that. Not when she was gazing down at you like you were a piece of art. Looking at you as if you were the moon and the stars combined.

“ so perfect. Look at you “ she said it almost blissfully, like she couldn’t quite believe you were right there in front of her “ you’re so beautiful, did i tell you that? “ you smiled as she leant back over you brushing her lips over yours lightly.

“ you’ve mentioned it once or twice “

“ well do you believe me? “ your silence was her answer “ then I’ll tell you until you do “ your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as she kissed you again. You’d never tire of kissing her. Never tire of the feeling of her nose bumping yours, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip, the taste of her. You’d kiss her until you were dizzy, desperate for air “ or I can show you? Do you want me to? “

You didn’t need to think about it, simply whispered a yes and felt your heart beat faster in your chest.

She trailed her lips down your chest, between the valley of your breasts stopping for a moment to smother them in kisses too. Her tongue hot and wet as she licked at your nipple before entrapping it between her lips. It sent sparks straight to your already throbbing clit, making you wonder if they’d always been that sensitive. Or if she was just working magic.

“ feels good? “The cool air from her breath against your wet skin sent goosebumps prickling across your chest and she smiled giving the same attention to the other.

“ mhm. Yeah “

She soon continued downwards and across the soft skin of your belly, making you shiver as she reached your underwear, her lips pressing softly just above the cotton material keeping your cunt covered from view. Your heart was pounding in your chest, head racing with ridiculous thoughts of if what you had to offer her was good enough. Pretty enough. Would it look right? Weird? Would she think about how much better her wife’s was?

“ stop panicking “ she said, suddenly moving back up above you “ baby “ she cupped your face in her hand, brushing her thumb across your cheekbone “ we don’t have to do this. I can stop “

“ no. No. I want to. Just nervous “ she gave you a warm smile and nodded before pressing a kiss to your forehead

“ I know. But it’s just me. I’m not gonna hurt you “

“ I know “ she scanned your face with her eyes, reading you in a way you wished you could do to her. Maybe you would with time.

“ just tell me. If you need me to stop. Okay? “

“ yes “ she kissed you again, not moving back down until she felt your tension melting away again. And when she did move back down your body, planting herself between your legs, your bones were mush again. She ran her hands softly along your thighs, goosebumps following in their wake.

“ can see how wet you are “ she said with a smile, your face burning as she brushed her fingers over the soaked cotton. Had you really soaked your panties through? Your face was on fire, but you shivered at the barely there feel of her fingers ghosting over your soaked cunt “ can I take these off baby? “

You nodded embarrassingly quickly but she didn’t say anything, simply hooked her fingers into the material and carefully pulled them down your legs, dropping them onto the floor. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see her reaction as she placed her hands back onto your thighs again.

“ don’t hide from me. Let me see you “ it took you a moment and the gentle coaxing of her fingers on the squishy flesh of your thighs, but she managed to make you move. She pushed your legs apart, another shiver slivering up your spine as the air in the room hit your wetness. She took a sharp intake of breath and you mentally prepared yourself for some Excuse for her to stop. But of course it never came “ Jesus you’re so fuckin wet”

She sounded almost amazed. That it was shocking that you could ever possibly be so aroused by her. Which made you wonder if she was having thoughts just as ridiculous as your own. You still couldn’t open your eyes, so you gasped when your felt her press a soft kiss to the inside of the thigh, lips drawing closer and closer inwards.

“ this okay? “

“ yeah “ it came out as barely a whisper, too focussed on the feel of her lips working at the soft untouched skin of your thighs. Then the cool sensation of her breath fanning over your cunt, your clit throbbing in a way that it never had before. Silently begging for something you couldn’t ask her for. Simply because you didn’t know.

You felt so exposed. Laying there completely bare for her, her face so close to you in the most intimate place possible. So close you could feel her soft breathing on your skin.

Her fingers were on you then, gently parting you like the petals of a rose.

“ so. Fuckin beautiful like this “ Tess whispered, making you squirm a little under her gaze “ prettiest pussy ever “

“ Tess “ you whined her name in embarrassment and she chuckled lightly, pressing another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“ remember to tell me to stop if it’s too much “ you whispered a yes and gasped as you felt her tongue lick a slow and gentle line from your dripping entrance up to your clit. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Unlike anything you could ever possibly have imagined.

You were pretty good at staying silent usually. You’d practically trained yourself to not make a sound incase Joel heard you. So the soft moan that escaped your throat took you by surprise , embarrassment flooding your face and making you try to close your legs. But she held you carefully in place

“ don’t be embarrassed. It’s just us here. You don’t need to be quiet. It’s okay baby. I want to hear you, so I know you’re doing okay. Yeah? “ she moved back in, her actions so small and gentle, circling your clit with her tongue in a way that drew a string of soft sounds out of you. You let your eyes flutter open, looking down at her desperate to see what she looked like.

You found her eyes already watching you, focussed firmly on your face as she set your entire body trembling with her actions. Your entire body tingled from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, mesmerised by the sight of her face buried between your legs.

You’d had dreams about it, had seen it behind closed eyes as you silently touched yourself in the shower or in bed at night. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the real thing. Nothing could’ve made you feel as good as she was. Her tongue touching places that no one else ever had, lips suckling at your clit in a way that made you see stars.

“ you taste so good “ she said, detaching herself from you for a moment and soothing a hand over your trembling legs “ you’re doing so well baby. Want me to keep going? “

“ yes. Yes. Please. Please more “ she smiled and immediately went back to her previous actions, drawing another high pitched moan from your throat. Your head fell back again, the blinding hot pleasure she was giving you far too overwhelming to focus on looking at her anymore. She stayed slow. Soft. Gentle. Easing you closer and closer to the edge, tightening the knot deep in your belly.

You wondered how you had ever lasted this long in life without feeling like that. Though you doubted anyone else in the world could do it like her. Surely not a single other person on earth could make you feel the way she was, you were ruined for life. No one would ever compare, no one could ever make you feel better than that you were sure of it.

“ Tess “ you whimpered her name, not even sure what you were asking her for.

“ you okay? Talk to me baby? “

“ yeah I just… yeah “ she soothed her hand up your body and gently grasped your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze “ please don’t stop “

“ I’ve got you baby. I got you “ she kept a hold of your hand and went back to her previous actions, lapping at your seemingly never ending arousal dripping from your entrance. You could hardly stay still, squirming in the sheets and feeling her fingers press lightly into your thigh to keep you in place. You squeezed her hand tightly, brain going foggy as she sucked a little harder.

You finally felt something that was familiar to you after a few more moments, the pressure and tightening.

You’d never been able to make yourself come that fast and you weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or not. Especially when you involuntarily lifted your hips from the bed, some silent request for her not to stop. She squeezed your thigh lightly, acknowledging your needs without needing to speak.

“ I think I’m gonna- “

“ I know. It’s okay. Go ahead, show me how beautiful you look when you come for me “ a few more gentle flicks of her tongue was all it took, sounds you’d never heard yourself make falling past your lips as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You’d never come so hard before, shaking and twisting your hands into the bed sheets as she worked you through every single second. It seemed to last forever, a deep burning in your veins making your entire body feel blistering hot but still making you shiver.

You were trembling as you finally relaxed, body going slack against the sheets as she soothed her hands over your legs. She was whispering something but your ears were ringing too loudly to hear her properly, a stupid dopey smile spreading its way across your face.

She reappeared at your side, propping herself on her elbow beside you and trailing her fingers in patterns across your stomach.

“ how you doing baby? “

“ so good “ you sighed, a small laugh bubbling past your lips “ so fuckin good “

“ you did so well. Proud of you “ you reached up for her face, pulling her down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on her lips and it shouldn’t have made you feel the way it did. Desire swirling in your veins again and making you squeeze your legs together.

It made you want to taste her. To make her feel the way she had made you feel. But you didn’t think you’d be particularly good at that. Not yet. But there were other ways. Other ways you had at least an inkling on how to do, practicing on yourself for so long had to be some use to her.

“ Tess “ you practically moaned against her lips, the thought of touching her making you almost dizzy with lust “ would you… can you show me. Like how to- I wanna make you feel good too… you know… make you feel good. Maybe? Please? “ she smiled almost sympathetically at your embarrassed attempt to ask her for guidance. She brushed your hair away from your face and nudged her fingers under your chin

“ you don’t have to. I won’t make you. It’s your first time and that was a lot- “

“ but I want to. Please. You just need to show me cause- please Tess “ she seemed to deliberate it for a moment, her eyes scanning over your face before giving a small nod. She was a sucker for you. It never took her much to give in to whatever you wanted.

“ alright. But. Maybe somethin a little easier to start, yeah? “ you nodded, thankful that you didn’t have to actually tell her you were terrified of repeating what she’d just done to you.

You wondered if she was wet. If she was as wet as you. What would she feel like, what would she taste like on your fingers. How would she sound when she came. Could you even make her finish?

“ do you ever touch yourself? “ your cheeks flushed as she cut off your panicked thoughts. You nodded “ it’s just the same “ she took your hand in hers and gently guided you down between her legs, shifting slightly so you could see her more. You moved to get a better view, no shame in wanting to see her better.

She guided your hand down to touch her, your lips parting in awe as you realised she was wet. Maybe even as wet as you had been.

Yet you hadn’t touched her. You hadn’t done anything really. She was simply that wet from giving you pleasure. From looking at you. Touching you. Tasting you. It sent another moan slipping past your lips.

You felt her breath stutter, falling against your cheek, as you brushed your fingers over her clit.

“ how do I… how do I know if you like it. Help me? “ you whispered, eyes still glued on where you were curiously touching her.

You startled slightly as her fingers brushed over your still sensitive clit, pushing through your folds and moving down to circle your dripping hole.

“ tell me to stop if you need me to but just, copy me. Okay? “ she started rubbing slow circles onto your clit , your own hand halting for a moment as you got your bearings again before copying.

“ like that? “ you were slightly breathless, the feeling of your sensitive clit being touched again stealing all the air from your lungs “ Tess? “

“ like that. Like that “ you wondered if she was as tightly strung as you were. You wondered if she had been thinking about this night for months like you had. Had she lay in bed at night, hand toying with her cunt and thinking about you? Had she desperately gotten off to the thought of tasting you or having you taste her? You wanted to know what she looked like when she came. Wanted to see her face relax with bliss, hear the sounds she would make.

“ fuck that’s so good “ you whined, trying to focus as best you could on moving your fingers and not getting distracted by the masterful way she was touching you.

“ wanna try something a little more? “ curiosity won out and you nodded. A slightly pathetic whimper of a sound bubbled past your lips as she moved her fingers down, circling your entrance slowly “ I think you can take two, yeah? “ she slowly pushed past the resistance at your entrance, your mind blanking at the odd feeling. It felt so different to when you did it yourself. Maybe her fingers longer or bigger. You didn’t know. But she seemed to be reaching places you hadn’t even known were there.

“ f-fuck “ you breathed out, trying to refocus yourself on the task at hand. Trying to remember you were supposed to be making her feel good now. But you faltered again as she curled her fingers, hitting some devastating part of you that had your eyes falling closed “ Tess”

“ you okay? I can stop “

“ no. Fuck. No just. You’re distracting me “ you said with a soft laugh, pressing your face into her neck with a smile.

“ you asked me to show you “ you could hear the smile in her voice and she pressed a kiss to your head “ you can try now. I’ll let you “ you looked down at where your own hand still hadn’t really moved and you did as she had. Cautious, soft hands, your fingertips running over every part of her, tracing along the slick folds and ridges of her cunt. Marvelling in how different it felt to feel her under your fingers instead of yourself.

She let you be curious, let your hands wander and explore. Let you be silently vulnerable and inexperienced with no judgment at all. She made small noises into your hair, small quick intakes of breath when you brushed over her clit, a gentle hum of a sound when you swirled your finger softly around her entrance. Gathering her arousal on the pads of your fingers and feeling her muscles contract beneath them.

You wanted to taste her too. In the same way she had done to you. But you didn’t quite feel brave enough for that yet. So you copied what she had just done to you, gently pushing your fingers into the welcoming warmth of her cunt.

“ you’re so soft “ you murmured more to yourself than her, awestruck at the feeling of her velvety soft walls fluttering around the intrusion of your fingers. She sighed blissfully, sucking you in until you couldn’t go any further.

“ that’s it baby “ her fingers shifted inside of you again, reminding you she was still there. You’d gotten so caught up in her you’d almost forgot.

“ u-upwards? “ you asked as she curled her fingers inside of you, making your breath stutter

“ mhm that’s right “ you did as she did, curling your fingers until she let out a soft moan, her face still pressed against your hair “ you got it “ you copied the rhythm she did, the feeling of her wet warmth clenching around your fingers paired with the way your own cunt fluttered and contracted around hers… it was almost too overwhelming.

The entire thing felt so unbelievably erotic yet so beautifully intimate. Your face still nuzzled into her neck, peaking slightly at the way your fingers disappeared inside of her. Her face pressed into your hair, stuttered breaths and soft moans. The sensuality of being wrapped up and pressed against her, working at each other in a steady rhythmic pace. The almost pornographic wet, sopping sounds coming from the both of you. Unsure exactly which of you it was.

You’d never felt so vulnerable yet so safe. So loved. So cherished. Like you two where the only people alive, simply intent on making the other feel good, drawing each other closer and closer to the edge.

Her hand shifted a little, her thumb pressing lightly against your clit in a way that made you gasp. You didn’t quite have the same precision as she did, your hand at an awkward angle and you felt her smile against you.

“ keep up what you were doing. Feels so good, you’re doing so fuckin well. Keep going baby “ you did as she asked, holding onto her arm as you felt her abusing a deliciously perfect spot inside of you.

“ god don’t stop “ you whined, pressing your face further into her neck. Not sure how you were supposed to handle all the new feelings she was evoking in you.

You came first, which you had expected. Trapping her hand between your legs and clenching your eyes shut as you came over her fingers, moaning and whimpering as she made sure to draw it out for as long as possible.

“ that’s it baby. Fuck you look so pretty when you come for me, let me hear you. That’s it “ she coaxed you through every single second, whispering an abundance of praise and love into your ear as you came down.

You winced lightly when she withdrew her fingers, suddenly feeling empty at the loss of her inside of you.

“ holy shit “ you breathed out as you caught your breath “ I don’t think I can do that to you “ you said with a small laugh, remembering you still needed to get her off “ I wanna make you feel that good. Tell me more. Help me? “

You were entranced as you watched her start circling her own clit with her fingers that were still coated in you, the two of you mingling together in a way that made your face flush so violently red you went light headed. You continued curling your fingers in the same way she had, even chancing scissoring them open like she had done to you. You practically beamed when you made her moan, knowing you were the one causing those sounds.

“ that’s it baby, keep doing that. Just like that for me okay? “ you nodded, dumbfounded and unable to speak as you watched her touch herself, your fingers still moving inside of her and hitting the spot that made her moan in a way that went straight to your over sensitive cunt.

“ am I doing it right? “

“ mhm. You’re doing so well. So well baby. Almost there “

The feeling of her coming on your fingers was something otherworldly. The sounds she made, the way her warm walls clamped around you to keep you where she wanted you. It drew another moan from your own mouth. You kept up your actions until she gently pushed at your hand, a small laugh leaving her throat

“ too much baby. You can stop “ you withdrew your fingers, awestruck at the sticky residue she’d left on your fingers, the blissful and content look on her face.

She pulled you close against her, shuffling down so that you could lay your head on her chest and press soft kisses to your forehead.

You were both quiet, basking in the afterglow, content to just be together. Your slick skin slipping against each other as you shuffled to get impossibly closer to her. You could hear her heart beating steadily in her chest, her fingers trailing up and down your side lightly. The room was sticky and hot, sex filling the air. But you felt perfectly comfortable, safe.

And if your worst fears were to come true and she decided you were horrendous at getting her off. Then you’d be quite happy that that had been the first and the last. You’d never felt more at peace.

“ how are you feeling? “ she asked after a few minutes, when sleep was starting to seep into your bones “ you did so well. Sure you’ve never done it before? “ you giggled and shook your head

“ never. I promise “

“ and how do you feel now that you have?”

“ perfect “ you whispered not even embarrassed at how cheesy it sounded, not needing a second to even think about your answer “ and tired. So fuckin tired “ she smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“ shower first. Then you can sleep. Trust me. You’ll regret it in the morning if you don’t “ she chuckled and patted your arm lightly to make you sit up. You watched her walk around the bed, stretching her arms up above her head and groaning slightly as she stretched out her aching muscles. It felt… domestic. The way she was so unbelievably comfortable around you, showering together, sharing the bed afterwards. It made your heart pang.

You watched her as she walked around to your side of the bed with no shame, very much ogling her without a care. Even when she caught you “ enjoying the view? “

You were. You absolutely were. And you hoped you’d get to enjoy it for quite a while longer.

#sorry I’m late #pls don’t be salty #tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfic #Joel miller #smut #fluff #x you #Anna torv #Joel’s daughter!reader #lesbian #tlou hbo #Tess tlou

[kairiscorner]

HEY RIRIIIIII HI PUKI BEARRRR I HOPE UR DOING WELL TODAY 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

ANYWAYSSS

i been rewatching adventure time because like the new fiona and cake spin off show is making me AUAUAU and marshal lees new redesign is so AAAAAAAA

BUT ONTO MY POINT

HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER BUT ITS LIKE A SONG FIC (OR INSPIRED IDRC) BY THE SONG GOOD LITTLE GIRL SONG IN ADVENTURE TIME

BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE THAT SONGS SO HIM?? AND IF LIKE U WROTE THIS ID GO ACTUALLY FERAL

TYYYYY ILY RIIII (*^◯^*)

-🪴

HI LOVELYYYYY OH MY GOD, YES?????? i was an adventure time kid ever since i was like ... 5-7? THIS SHIT WAS MY JAM AS A KID, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY ABOUT THE NEW SHOW, I HAVEN'T WATCHED IT YET THOUGH BUT I PLAN TO ... that scene in the original show really is so hobie x reader core omg, I LOVE ITTTT also i'm sorry but the 'puki' got me cackling – (imma explain in the comments if y'all want)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he's such a bad little boy. – hobie brown x fem!reader

"good little girl... always picking a fight with me."

he was pretty much the most annoying asshole you've ever met–he never took anything about you seriously, pestered you a lot for your height, your grumpy face, your sour mood, your little huffs and puffs in response to his provocation... it was all too cute to him when you'd pick fights with him and be all angry and aggressive as usual. he loved the little banter you two shared, the sleepless nights you two would spend together just running your mouths off at each to sleep–and being pampered yet teased by him all the same. he was the best, worst friend you ever had in the history of ever... and you didn't want to lose him, no matter how annoying he was.

"you know that i'm bad... but you're spending the night with me."

"back so soon?" you ask him as he climbs into your window with his spider suit still on, only taking the mask off once you let him in your room and slumps in your bean bag, smirking all the while. "your room's pretty comfy, like how... good little girls keep their rooms as." he teased, making you pout and puff your cheeks up. "is that supposed to mean something, hobart?" you asked with extra emphasis on his name, making him smirk and shrug. "hey, now, it's up for interpretation." he said with a chuckle, making you groan loudly. "well, at least let me play your guitar. maybe... smash a few simpletons' heads in with this." you murmured as hobie gently took your hands in his, correcting your finger positions on his electric guitar.

"what do you want from my world? you're a good little girl..." he asks you, with slight rhetoric, knowing you were never one to disobey the rules and let alone wish to play loud, 'obstructive' music that would bother the neighbors. you sighed and followed hobie's lead, strumming and playing the right chords he taught you.

"bad little boy... that's what you're acting like."

"can't i choose to have fun, hobart?" you asked him with sarcasm in your tone, making him laugh. "of course, you can have everything you want–that's what good little girls like you deserve, right?" he said as he gently let go of your hands and let you figure out how to play a melody you came up with on the spot on your own. "it's just that... i never thought you'd be rebellious. never did, never will." he joked as you gave him a flat, fake laugh, knowing full well he was serious about what he said. "like, i can be the intimidating-like, 'rebellious' bloke or whatever for the two of us, at least outwardly. i'll take the trouble for you, that's enough, innit?"

"i really don't buy... that you're that kind of guy."

"nah. besides... that kind of hobie everyone else sees isn't the hobie i know." you said as you tuned his electric guitar. he raised an eyebrow at you in intrigue. "go on, dear." "well... you may be a little brash, loud, and you love telling assholes in authority to kiss your ass... but you aren't a total blockhead. you have a heart, you care, and you... you aren't as mean and scary as everyone thinks you are."

"and if you are... why do you want to hang out with me?" you asked him in a partly rhetorical way of your own this time–making hobie pause for a minute to look at you, and soon, burst into a sweet smile on his face. he gently pecked your cheek and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him with a satisfied sigh. "i just love to be around my good little girl... can't that be enough?" "then you're lucky i like being around my bad little boy..." you said with a sly smirk as hobie grinned and kissed your lips gently.

you truly were his bad little goody two shoes, and he loved you dearly for it.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @arachnoia @popeheywardssecretgf @euphovlq @rohansdisciple @conitagray

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown fanfiction #spider punk #spider punk x reader #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv fluff #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction

[bluejayyz]

Doodle World Awesome Squad from my Mind Palace 👾👾

Design Explanation Paragraphing under the cut !!!! Where I really talk about the how and why of it all ^<^

So excited to post this !! I do hope ye all like it, I was super excited seeing people like/reblog my last post as I've felt a little awkward posting Doodle World art just due to not knowing anyone else who played the game eeeekk.. BUT these are my 'headcannons', I guess you could call them; for the main Doodle World group !!!

> Suzie : The shortest of the group at 5'2"!! Due to the body type used for her in-game, I have always pictured her as being on the bigger side!! Her hair is like a Jellyfish cut, if you guys are familiar with that. Or.. well that's how I interpret what is happening. And I think she looks totally cutieful <3 I draw her with blue eyes for reasons unknown to myself, I have just always given her blue. Her pants are worn/faded at the knees and slightly frayed at the end. Her footwear is closer to boots than runners!! She is in-game, shown to be closer with the player, and that stays to be true in my version of them also.. I think they would have matching friendship bracelets...

> Quincy : Second tallest at 5'7.5" [didn't originally care about the .5, until it was a way to one up the player]. Got rid of those awful glasses he wears... please take them off Quincy.. gave him regular white frames specs instead!! He is a little blind. Also grey-ish eyes?? Again no reasoning. Is on the slimmer side in my mind, not much muscle, because I believe he was a sheltered, rich kid who didn't have to do much- until this adventure, of course. His outfit also doesn't make much sense for travel because well.. I don't think he really expected all this running around we have been doing. His shoes are bright white, and his jeans look brand new. His shirt is pressed !!! ..He has grown on me a lot I can't lie, I never disliked him, though.

> TJ : Tallest of the group!! 6'0"!! He has always just felt tall to me.. maybe that is crazy. He has wider shoulders that sort of replicate his in-game model, as opposed to Quincy, I do believe TJ has worked out/exercised at times :P His outfit is more relaxed, I debated with sweatpants for a while, I do think baggy jeans suit but either or make sense to me. The knees of his jeans are slightly worn, his hoodie is definitely bigg and comfy, and his shoes are definitely made for maximum comfort and running around. Hair change going off model simply because I like this style a lot more, and I think it suits him really well, and then brown eyes !! He also has thicker eyebrows than Suzie and Quincy, no major reason I just think thick eyebrows rock !!!1

And finally, not really necessary;

The Player! Or in this case

> Jay : Standing at 5'7" to replicate myself, Jay is a mix of me and my roblox avatar in looks. She has broader shoulders, which are very much hidden under the baggy hoodie. She also has thicker eyebrows, matching TJ. His outfit is similar to Quincy's on the pure coincide of that is what my avatar was wearing when I first joined Doodle World and finding it funny, I've kept the matching rival outfits since. Despite the similarity to Quincy's clothes, Jay's are very much perfect for this adventure (the main reason being the jumper shirt combo is fake!! It is one item of clothing... he has been lying to you). The jeans are baggy, worn, faded, and fraying in places- but the extra pockets really do come in handy at times. Also a glasses wearer!! As I'm very much far from 20/20 vision.. and of course; train track braces !!! Let's goo !!!!

Well, that has been an absolute ramble session !! I hope that made sense if you did read all that. I mainly just wanted to explain how I see the characters and my reasonings, if any.. behind why. Especially if I want to post more artwork of them all :D!!!

#art #bluejayyz art #doodleworld #doodle world #doodleworld fanart #doodleworld art #doodle world roblox #doodleworld quincy #doodleworld suzie #doodleworld TJ #my headcannons #eeeekk so much funn