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riddleriddles · 3 months

Text

ෆ delicate

ෆ matthew riddle x hufflepuff! shy! reader

ෆ summary: the one in which Matthew can’t leave such a beautiful girl crying alone in a dress like that.

ෆ warnings: English translated from google (please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes), alteration of the history of mattheo and tom (tom is not voldemort but an potions teacher like snape).

ෆ notes: i just love shy!reader so much, im sorry if all my one shots are all with shy or hufflepuff reader, IM JUST A GIRL

𖦹

Parties have never really been your favorite way to spend time, loud music and dancing until your feet hurt in the middle of many strangers, not really your tipe of thing.

But a prom was so different, the music was slow, and the dresses, the delicate makeup, even more the winter ball, with the decorations in light shades of blue and white, was a dream.

Especially when you had someone to spend the night, a date, but maybe for lack of popularity, you hadn’t gotten a pair for tonight, your circle of friends was extremely limited, but if you did not have a pair it was not for lack of desire.

Since the prom was announced, you dreamed of being invited by none other than Cedric Digory.

He was tall, kind, sweet, confident, and extremely outgoing, always surrounded by his friends, but you weren’t special for having the attention picked up by Digory, half the girls of your year also dreamed the same thing as you, on being asked to be his date on the romantic night of the winter dance, unfortunately, you and Cedric, although you’ve interacted a few times - just a few little conversations he pulled during class, or little smiles as you passed each other in the hallway - you were very different, he was extremely confident and liked the attention, you did not.

In the little conversations you shared with him, you believed that those glances and those smiles had a greater meaning, maybe you forgot that he was just polite, or you knew but liked to pretend not, because the feeling was good, of being seen, of someone enjoying holding a conversation, and as much as you didn’t talk so much, he liked your words spoken in a low tone of quiet, or you thought he liked it.

the weeks passed and nothing came, not an owl or a letter, not even a flower, so your hopes were lost, as much as you had heard through the corridors that Cedric Digory had no pair and was considering going alone to the winter ball.

…

With only a few minutes left until the beginning of the prom, you were lying on the bed, wet hair tied in a towel with a robe around your body, looking at the ceiling with your hands resting one on top of the other in the region of your chest.

the room smelled like shampoo and the fragrance of the strawberry liquid soap you shared in the bathroom with your roommates.

"Come on, you need to go!" Lizzie, your closest friend, and roommate says excited, you and she used to make plans for a long time about this dance together. "We've been talking about it for so long, just for you to give up because of Cedric?"

She talks to you while tiing her hair delicately in a built-in braid, her yellow dress contrasting with her brown eyes and blonde hair.

"Oh Liz, you don't understand..." you whine "I don't have a pair, you at least go with someone nice."

"If that's the problem, you know I can leave Oliver dancing alone while we dance together." she rolls her eyes playfully and says excitedly, she looks at you through the mirror, you turn your face so that yours looks to meet, you smile softly at her.

"Don't do that." you say and giggles lightly.

You turn your head up again and sigh.

"All right, I’ll go..." You give yourself defeated and hear a lively scream from Liz, sit on the bed with your legs crossed.

She finishes the braid in her hair and finally turns to you looking for approval.

"do i look good?" She asks making an exaggerated pose with her hands on her waist and a smile from ear to ear.

She had a long yellow dress with several details of embroidered white flowers, and her blonde hair was in a single built-in braid with some messy strands giving her a stripped air, a yellow heel on her feet.

You smile at her and answer with a giggle "You look beautiful Liz, I'm sure Oliver will fall in love with you once again!"

Her smile changes to a shy smile and she looks at herself in the mirror again.

"I'm going to ask one of the girls to do my makeup, I hope that when I get back you'll be very ready for us to go!" She says excited and takes her makeup case, it is white with kittens and pink tulips and fits in the palm of her hand.

You suppress a smile with your lips and nod your head agreeing.

As soon as she leaves the dorm you get out of bed and go to the shared vanity, you sit on the wooden chair looking at your reflection in the mirror.

So you did your best to feel beautiful enough to go to the ball, dried your hair, and made a small braid on each side, a white bow holding them together, a light makeup on your face with a little glitter marking your eyes, and some golden accessories.

You get up from the vanity and walk to the full-length mirror that was on the door of the big wardrobe you shared with Lizzie.

The dress was hanging right next to the mirror, she went to her heels it was a shade of pearly white and made all of silk, it was beautiful, and you have been dreaming of it for so long.

You take it by the hanger and gently dress it with you back to the mirror, after fixing your hair and accessories, you turn to the mirror again and the view enchants you, feeling so beautiful, the dress had fallen so well on your body and your makeup, along with the simple hairstyle that made you so delicate.

Soon you hear the door open and turn quickly.

Lizzie gasped with an admired smile on her face and approached you quickly.

"You look won-der-ful!" She holds your hand and makes you do a little spin, a slight blush of shyness arrives on your cheeks while you give a soft giggle.

She releases from your hand and goes to the chair where two purses are hanging, one in a yellow and white tone and the other all white with small details in golden, she takes your lip gloss on top of the vanity and puts it inside the white purse, along with a mascara and a pink lip moisturizer that she puts in the yellow one, Going to you, she extends the white and you take it and put it on your shoulder.

"Let's go... the girls told me that Oliver is already waiting for me downstairs!" She says excited, ready to leave the dorm.

…

The great hall was splendid, in a whole shade of dark blue, the false sky with small and bright stars, the music was lively but still calm, couples were dancing in the center and some other people and groups of friends on the decorated tables.

You entered right behind Oliver and Lizzie, enjoying the place.

You sat at a table together where you shared a small talk to pass the time, as far as you could no longer ignore the passionate looks that Olive sent to her best friend and decided to leave them alone for a few minutes.

"I'm going to get something to drink, I'll be right back..." you asked excuse me getting up from the table with a gentle smile on her lips, Liz reciprocated shyly before giving all her attention to the brunette next to her.

Following up to a large table that was full of appetizers and different types of drinks, you took a red plastic cup and filled it with strawberry punch, from afar you could see Lizzie and olive sharing laughter, so you decided it was better to stay there for a while.

you got distracted looking down at your fingers while playing with the golden rings there, so distracted that you didn’t hear or notice when a tall brown boy came up to your side.

"Hey! you here!" Cedric said excitedly coming to your side with a little tap on your shoulder.

your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden presence of the boy, you turned to him with a small glance at his hand on your shoulder, visibly shy.

your heart began to beat faster in your chest and suddenly your throat was dry and your head could not find words to answer the boy with such beautiful eyes.

"Cedric... hi" you were louder than usual on account of the music playing, a small smile on your lips.

"You look good." he says in a charming tone approaching you, he passes by your side as he approaches the table behind you.

your cheeks are flushed with the comment and you don't know how to answer so you just chuckle shyly and admire him as he looks at the table.

"Thank you." you wanted to say that he looked good too but the words don’t seem to want to leave your mouth.

He serves himself in a red plastic cup just like yours, you watch him as he takes a gray canteen out of his suit pocket and baptizes the drink in the cup, you look at him and he seems not to notice, you look away at the couples dancing in the center of the Great hall.

He leans against your side, an arm leaning on the table behind your back without touching you, you suppress your lips, nervous with his proximity, playing with your rings again you swear you can feel your heart almost jumping from your chest.

He lifts the canteen as if offering you some of the whiskey he kept in his suit.

"Do you drink?" he asks with a gentle smile as if asking a casual question.

you look around nervous to see if any teacher is looking at you, which fortunately is not.

"No, but thank you." you gently refuse with a shy smile, he nods and hides the canteen on his suit again.

Now it’s his turn to watch the couples dancing in the center of the prom, a huge jealousy hitting his chest as he sees Cho Chang dancing in the arms of another boy.

You don’t follow his gaze, still playing your rings, the silence starts to bother you when he suddenly catches your hand, you look at him surprised, kinda bothered by the sudden touch.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks with an almost nervous smile.

suddenly you were speechless again, he wanted to dance? with you?

you nodded looking a little bit more lively, a big smile popping up on your lips.

was playing a song you didn’t know as Cedric took you to the center of the Great Hall, his hand resting on your waist.

you danced in a funny sync, but for you, everything seemed perfect. At least until you realize that Cedric wasn’t even paying attention to you.

you exclaimed softly in pain as he stepped on a finger as you danced, stopping for a few seconds.

He suddenly takes his eyes off something he was staring at behind you and looks at you surprised, then gives a little look at your foot, realizing his mistake.

"Oh, sorry, really sorry, I swear I’m not that bad normally" he apologizes with a nervous expression.

You can only nod your head and agree with a fake smile realizing that he doesn’t even care to look at you while apologizing, you follow his gaze and find none other than Cho Chang dancing and laughing with some other Corvinal boy.

You look away before he notices, and look down at your feet, gathering the courage to give an excuse to leave, he seems to notice.

"hey... you all right?" he asks with a gentle little smile and pretending to be worried.

So you look up at him, and you realize that he wasn’t trying to hurt you, of course, it was a little rude to treat you as a second choice, but it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t have feelings for you.

You sigh quietly “im sorry, cedric, i gotta go”

You don’t wait for an answer and get rid of his arms without looking at him because you know if he asks looking in your eyes you would stay.

Passing the couples dancing together you run a firm step out of the Great Hall, hoping to be alone for a while.

The thought of coming to the prom alone was beginning to look pathetic in your head, you should have stayed in your dorm.

you pass through the corridor of the stairs and follow to the courtyard, a bubble of anguish forming in your throat, along with the burning in the tip of your nose, indicating the will to cry.

You always used to cry for silly things, as simple as they were, like the end of a romantic book, or a sad movie, sometimes happiness, sometimes anger.

Now you felt pathetic, for not having a pair and having been made second choice, a mixture of sadness and upset formed the tears in the corner of your eyes.

You leaned on the stone wall, your hands covering your eyes to prevent more tears from falling.

the sound of you back on the stone wall catches Matthew attention, he looks back and would not have noticed that you were crying if not for the hand in your eyes, you sobbed silently.

He lets the cigarette smoke out of his mouth still holding it between his lips if he mentally asks if he should ask you what was happening or should sneak out while you hadn’t noticed his presence.

He analyzes your whole body, from the white Maryjane on your feet to the jewelry you wore on your neck, before sighing softly and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, his night was so boring that he needed a distraction.

Matthew also did not have a prom date, but not for lack of choice, nor would he come to this dance considered ridiculous in his vision, refused one or two dates saying that he would not attend, unfortunately, Lorenzo, one of his best friends, convinced him to stay at least a few minutes before disappearing with his escort, Matthew tired of being alone decided to go out to smoke without being caught by some of the teachers, he planned to finish and climb back to his dorm.

His plans were ruined.

You feel the smell of cigarettes and the presence next to you and take your hand out of your eyes to look at Matthew next to you, your cheeks red by crying, and now the shame of being caught crying, matching with the tip of your nose also reddish and your eyes glowing with tears.

He looks at you and then realizes why your dress is white, was to match your angelic appearance, he notes mentally to thank Lorenzo later for forcing him to come.

"hi." he whispers with a neutral expression, not so serious but also not smiling.

"Hi?" you whisper, yet come out as a question.

You wipe the corner of your eyes, looking elsewhere than him, still ashamed of being caught crying over something so silly.

"Why aren’t you at the prom?" he asks as if you’re not crying, without asking your name as if you already know each other.

Uncertain of what to say, because you did not want to open up to a stranger, especially when the unknown was the son of the frightening professor of potions, Tom Riddle.

"I... found it boring." you whisper shyly, your hands playing with the heart pendant of your necklace.

"so boring that it made you want to cry? what a coincidence, me too, I just wiped my tears." he says with a serious tone but visibly joking.

You let out a giggle realizing that he took your lie, forgetting what had just happened.

"All right, it’s just a silly motive."

"Will you tell me you don’t have someone to dance with?" he asks with a giggle as if he’s joking.

"I haven’t." Your smile falls and you look at your own feet.

He tilts his head to look at your face, not believing that someone so beautiful and dressed so well is crying for not having someone to dance with.

"you’re lying."

"I’m not." you whisper uncertainly and he giggles out of disbelief.

After a few seconds in silence, he puts the cigarette in his mouth again, and from a puff, you watch as he releases the smoke between his lips and takes the cigarette out of his mouth again.

The cold began to bother you, your hands rose and your arms crossed above your chest in search of heat, he notices and comes a little closer, not so much not to scare you.

"Was it someone who made you cry?" he asks quietly, alternating between looking at you and the cigarette on his fingers.

"yes."

"your boyfriend?"

"No." you reply, feeling foolish again, for crying over a boy who isn’t even your boyfriend. "It’s silly."

He stares at you as he leans his head against a stone wall, your eyes still sparkling from tears as you look at your shoe, he notes that the tears lightly blurred your mascara.

He lifts his fingers to the tip of your eyes and passes his thumb over the stain carefully, you look at him uncertain with the proximity, your cheeks turning pink again, and he smiles noticing you blushing with the touch.

"was stained" he clarifies

"with mascara?" he nods agreeing, the cold starting to bother him too.

"Don’t you want to come in? It’s getting cold in here, and you’re out of coat." He whispers, putting his cigarette out on the wall behind him, before throwing it on the floor, wet from the rain earlier.

"I think I’ll go back to my dorm." you whisper letting your hands slip to the side of your body.

"Oh no you can’t leave," he says quickly, thinking of some reason to make you stay, not knowing that you didn’t need much because you hadn’t yet learned to say no, as much as it was someone unknown.

"I can’t?" you ask confused

"No... because... I wanted you to dance with me." he says at once without thinking, dancing? he didn’t dance, what had gone through his head?

His voice comes out neutral but he curses himself mentally, he did not want you to leave but he also did not want to dance.

"Do you want to dance with me?" you blush and suppress a smirk, he sighs without knowing how to answer.

"Yes." No, he doesn’t.

you smile with the words that come out of his lips.

Ok, maybe he wants, just a little.

"Okay." you smile shyly, looking at him slightly flushed, he looks between your glossy lips and your eyes shining.

He accompanies you to the Great hall again, making silly comments to keep you distracted, you thank him mentally.

"I don’t have a pair either, nor is it that bad right?" he says as you arrive.

"not much" you respond softly

a song ends when you arrive, and one of your favorite songs starts playing.

You take a deep breath and your smile increases, you start to think that the universe was trying to make you sad just to make you happy again.

Matthew has his hand on your waist while guiding you to the center of the Great Hall, which did not have as many couples as before, Fade Into You played in the background while the lights changed to a dark blue tone.

Your chests were glued and you were smaller than him, he can smell the floral smell of your shampoo, and then he takes a deep breath discreetly to feel it better.

You look up at him shyly, not knowing what to say to end the silence.

I wanna hold the hand Inside you

you whisper something quietly to him

I wanna take the breath thats true

"Sorry, I didn’t catch that" he whispers so just you can hear and bends down a little to hear you better, your bodies still dancing in sync truly perfect.

I look to you and i see nothing

you stand on tiptoe, your hand on his shoulder as you say in his ear "Thank you" It is still low but he could hear why you said it in his ear this time.

i look to you to see the truth

He had no idea what you were thanking him for, and neither did you.

You live your life, you go in shadows

"oh no, I should thank you." He whispers back to you, he talks louder, and he doesn’t have to say it in your ear, but he does it anyway.

You’ll come apart and you'll go blind

you shiver with his hoarse voice in your ear as he smiles at your reaction, realizing that maybe he likes to see you blush, even if the blue light is in the way.

Some kind of night into your darkness

he leaves a kiss on your neck next to your ear before he looks up again, his action making your heart race, you had never received this much attention from some boy.

Colors your eyes with what is not there

you smile shyly and he reciprocates before looking up around, you lower your head, and lean on his shoulder, while your bodies dance slowly, his hand that was previously intertwined with yours loose and goes down to your waist, his hand that was once intertwined with yours loose and descends to your waist, his arms hold you there, on his chest, your own hands follow his movements and climb to his neck, the silence began to get comfortable.

Fade into you

Stranger, you never knew

Fade into you

#mattheo riddle #slytherpuff #slytherin x hufflepuff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #harry potter #matthew riddle

2K notes · View notes

whatsnewalycat · 2 months

Text

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next.

Channel 11: Nothing.

Channel 12: Zilch.

Channel 13: Nada.

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing.

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over.

Got enough for the kids? Over.

And leftovers. Over.

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out.

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in.

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription.

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages.

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board.

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.”

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew.

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.”

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed.

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date.

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight.

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button.

“Radio check.”

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side.

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks.

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.”

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.”

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.”

“Cloudy. Over.”

Fuck.

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues.

“Anything new with you? Over.”

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation.

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.”

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings.

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business.

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs.

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl.

Your heart skips a beat.

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation.

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert.

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk.

Indecision churns in your belly.

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say.

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow.

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over.

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown.

The lights are on.

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room.

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?”

“N-nowhere.”

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?”

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod.

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

“Try again.”

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?”

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?”

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog.

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage.

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble.

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.”

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?”

You respond by rolling your eyes.

“Answer the question.”

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.”

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.”

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek.

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud.

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky.

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile.

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you.

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps.

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question.

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?”

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin.

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong.

You also understand that you like it.

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same.

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you.

“Wrong answer.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?”

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain.

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.”

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.”

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?”

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities.

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.”

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.”

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.”

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm.

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room.

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?”

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?”

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless.

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do.

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together.

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack.

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?”

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire.

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good.

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake.

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.”

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you.

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed.

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense.

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach.

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs.

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth.

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again.

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe.

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do.

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly.

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his.

For years and years, you ached for more.

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t.

But this is something.

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel.

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?”

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?”

“Not tonight.”

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?”

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter.

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?”

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure.

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.”

“He pulled out,” you shrug.

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.”

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt.

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?”

You shake your head.

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor.

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole.

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there.

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock.

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further.

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him.

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?”

It stings a little, if you��re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper.

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.”

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes.

“What’s that?”

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns.

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?”

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?”

In response, you glare at him.

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately.

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?”

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe.

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.”

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body.

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?”

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away.

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.”

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?”

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?”

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch.

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again.

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you.

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed.

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.”

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt.

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say.

“This stays between us, understand?”

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

“Good girl.”

[ NEXT PART ]

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mondaymelon · 7 months

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— 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮! ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ lyney, freminet, wriothesley, neuvillette x gn!reader:

໒꒱ || cw: fluff <3 maybe a lil ooc since i havent done the fontaine quests yet, wrio is whipped !!

⤷ giving your fontaine boyfriend flowers ♡

“Oh? For me?”

LYNEY’s expression is one of delight as he holds the bouquet of roses you’ve gifted him, smiling gratefully. The shining excitement in his vibrant eyes, however, doesn’t quite translate into how ecstatic he really is… because usually, he’s not used to being on the receiving end of affection, since the charmingly flirty magician is constantly the one to make you glow red.

“They reminded me of you…” You laugh sheepishly, watching his grin only grow.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, love.” He moves the flowers to one hand as the other finds its way resting on the small of your back, giving you something to lean on as he moves forward and gives you a quick peck on your cheek, light and fleeting. “So I’ll show you my thanks, hm?” His voice is low as he stares at you, something earnest in his gaze as his violet irises twinkle. You nod, slowly, unsure of what he implies, but you know him well enough to not be startled as he swiftly moves forward and meets his lips to yours. You can feel his warmth… is it because he’s a pyro user? It’s hard to think about anything, especially when you’re pressed up against him like this, mind blank as his mouth moves against yours.

He speaks as he pulls away with a slight smile, and your hand instinctively latches onto the hem of his coat. “Not enough for you?” You can hear the smirk in his tone. “C’mon now, we can’t be too greedy, love~”

“What? No, I just-!” You hastily release your grasp on his clothes, face growing hot. “Lyney, you know I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know, I know, it’s just so fun to tease you, y’know?” He lets out a laugh at your pouting expression. “I can’t help it, really.”

There’s no winning against this man. “Hah… alright, alright…” You glance up in surprise as Lyney gently moves you out of his arms and starts to stand up.

“Aw, don’t look so sad, I just have something for you too! Surely one kiss or two isn’t enough to repay the gift you’ve given me?” He smiles as he reaches for his signature hat, which dangles on the coat rack. You watch in awe. How come his every movement is still so graceful?

“Lyney, I don’t need repaym-” You’re cut off as the man flourishes his arms - You blink, and all of a sudden there’s a bouquet of his own in his hands, splendid yellow roses, fully in bloom. “Wh-”

“Tada!” He bows, looking pleased with himself as he stares at the flowers in your arms, then up at you. “Now we match~” He holds up his own bouquet with a beam.

“W-When did you-”

“Magic.”

“So you can create just about everything with magic, huh…” You stare at the roses in silent wonder.

“Ah ah, not everything!” Lyney bounces on his feet, watching the look of curiosity on your face with an air of amusement. One of his sparkling eyes closes in a wink.

“No magic could ever conjure up something as limitless as my love for you!” ♡

“H-Huh? Flowers? For… me?”

FREMINET’s eyes are wide as he hesitantly holds the flowers in his hands, looking rather anxious. “But… why?” The poor male glances from the roses in his hands back to your face nervously, studying your features. “Y-You should’ve told me so that I would’ve had flowers for you too…!”

“There’s no need for you to give me a gift, Min. I just got you a bouquet because I felt like it, no reason.” You beam at him as his face only grows redder. “There’s really no need to get embarrassed!”

“Ah… but I feel bad…” He shakes his head, lightly colored hair swaying with his movements. You can hear him mumble under his breath, quietly to himself: “...omorrow…ing…”

“What was that?” You blink at him, confused. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“N-Nothing! Uhm… do you want to go somewhere today? You’ve put me in a good mood, so…” He smiles softly, and the air around him seems to glow with the sheer brilliance of it. You match his smile with one of your own, watching as he takes the flowers out of the bouquet and arranges them into an intricately decorated vase, half-filled with water. Gazing at him is like observing a masterpiece at work, although you know far too well that the male’s job certainly has nothing to with that of a florist, yet the movement of his skillful hands captures your attention anyhow.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been looking at me for quite a while… is there something on my face?” Upon noticing how your eyes are fixated on him, he flinches, ears flaring red.

“No, you just look pretty today. You look pretty every day, Min.” It’s hard to restrain your laughter as you watch Freminet bury his face in his hands, his red ears visible from behind his hair.

“Don’t tease me…!”

“But it’s true.”

“D-Do you want to go to town or not…?” He shifts a finger, hesitantly peeking an eye out between them. “We can go get something to eat… I’ll pay, but you’ll have to order…” His usual habits were the same as always, how he’d stutter over his words when faced with anyone except his siblings… and of course, you.

“That sounds great, Min. Come on, let’s go!”

The next morning, a soft knock jolts you awake, three light raps hitting the wood before the sound of footsteps quickly retreated away. You manage to crawl out of bed and open the door, only to be startled as a large bouquet - larger than the one you had gifted him - sat on your doorstep, mixed with Fontaine classics and even Romaritime flowers… had he dived underwater to pick these for you? Every petal was perfect, and the flowers were all fully in bloom, despite being out of water. What kind of magic was this?

A cream-colored card catches your attention, leaning against the bouquet. On it are finely crafted words, written in Freminet’s familiar small script:

“Thank you, love.” ♡

“Hm? What’s the occasion?”

WRIOTHESLEY’s usual professionalism fades as his chest tightens with a giddy sensation. He had been having a rather tedious afternoon in the Fortress of Meropide - time passed all too slowly whenever you weren’t present - but now that you were here, he knew his minutes with you were already slipping away like sand through his fingers, no matter how tightly or carefully he cupped the grains in his hands. You were a free soul, a rather unfitting lover for his occupation, coming and going like the wind. And while your presence may be as fleeting as the gale, at least the breeze you brought would leave in him a warm sensation. “I wasn’t aware you’d be visiting today.”

“I figured I might as well surprise you! Besides, you always come home with a scowl on your face, so I was just making sure you weren’t having a hard time here,” you smile at him, an expression that causes his heart to stutter. It takes him all he’s got in him to at least somewhat maintain his professional expression, knowing full well that if anyone else saw him at the moment, they would certainly be in for a shock. Your words are entertaining. Him? Having a hard time? That had long dissipated the moment you stepped foot into the building.

“Were you worried about me? I’m okay, so don’t concern yourself over such trivial matters.” Wriothesley lightly shakes his head. For someone as beautifully naive as you to exist in this world, he knew full well that your future would not be free of adversaries. He supposed that wasn’t exactly a problem, though. The male had already promised himself that he’d dispose of them all when you weren’t looking.

Your face scrunches up like you’ve eaten something bad. “Trivial?” you echo, your tone expressing your annoyance. “Wrio, how could you say that? Of course I should be worried about you, silly! What kind of lover would I be if I didn’t?”

Ah, there you go again. Every time you refer to yourself by that title, he swears he can feel his heart skip a beat, the only evidence of his flusteredness is the burning of red dusting his ears. He had been refraining from holding you until he had gotten back home, but, naturally, you had broken his final sense of reason. You blink, and there he is, pressed up against you with both of his arms wrapped around your waist, your back leaning against his chest. He’s warm, startingly so despite him being the bearer of a Cryo vision, and you can hear the rapid thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re cold,” he remarks offhandedly, pressing a kiss into your nape, then another.

“You’re warm,” you respond, smiling, only to hear the drumming of his heart quicken.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Wriothesley’s face is flushed, just the tiniest bit, and once you blink, you could’ve sworn that it was never there.

“Do I?” You grin up at him cheekily. “Why don’t you care to elaborate?”

“Fuck, darling… you can’t keep doing this to me. I don’t think my heart will be able to take much more of this.” ♡

“They’re beautiful.”

NEUVILLETTE's fingers graze a petal and trace its outermost edge, studying the bouquet with a smile. The blooming assortment lays perfectly balanced in his hands as he cradles them gently. “Thank you, dearest.” His smile is serene, like an untouched expanse of water. Smooth, and glimmering, and when you lean over to peer into it, you can see your clear reflection staring up at you. His eyes mirrored it, pure and unsullied. His beauty stuns you for a moment. He had always been a man with an air of elegance, his magnificence simply inhumane, and it was likely a stroke of luck that Neuvillette had ever taken you as his partner.

Of course, those were merely your thoughts on the matter. His did not match your sentiment, not even in the slightest. For in his mind, he was the one who didn’t deserve you. No, it would be simply unreasonable to compare him to something as perfect as water. You were the only one in his eyes who deserved such a title. And he was the Romaritime flower, only able to thrive in your presence.

“You like them?” He loathes the surprise in your voice. Indubitably, he did. There was no other option. It was something that you had gifted him, and that enough made its value clear.

“Certainly,” his eyes are warm. “I will treasure everything and anything you bestow upon me.”

“Vil, there’s no need to go that far…” you laugh sheepishly, only for the sound to slowly cease as you realize he isn’t jesting. “...Why?”

His soft laughter fills the silence. “I love you. Have I not made that apparent?”

“Yes, but there’s certainly no need for-”

“Shh.” This interaction has made something painfully clear for the man. Perhaps he hasn’t been showing you enough affection? He is a busy man, but he always heads home, heads to you whenever he has a second to breathe. Yes, only in your arms would he finally feel content. Only with your fingers carding through his hair, whispering his name with a smile and closed eyes, only then. You knew how much he yearned for you, right?

If not… well, that could be changed.

“You’ve given me such a precious gift, so I should show my thanks out of courtesy.” Wrapping his arms around your smaller frame and leaning your head against his chest, to hide the slightest flush on his cheeks. “Ah, but it should be a fair trade.” You tilt your head at his words, confused.

“Only one kiss won’t be justified, hm?” ♡

(a/n) help why do i actually like wriothesley's part this isn't supposed to happen ?! anyways yeah it was about time i wrote for fontaine men

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 9 months

Note

can you maybe write something about jj always wanting to eat his girl out if that's okay:D

oh so close

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!reader

warnings: implied oral, pet names, talks of sex

summary: jj begs to return the favor to his favorite girl.

authors note: thank you for the request, hun! enjoy :))

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“please, please, please?” jj begged with his head laying on your stomach.

you chuckled to yourself. “no,” you replied.

“why?” he whined.

“maybe cause you just did it this morning? i need a break too,” you said, stifling a laugh.

he pouted and groaned. “you’ve had like 7 hours between then. you’ll be fine, baby.”

“i’m still sensitive, jj,” you reminded him.

he glared up at you. “even better,” he stated. “please, pretty girl? you know i’ll make you feel good.”

“i know you will,” you replied. “but you already did this morning.”

“you can go twice in one day, i know you can. you’ve done it before,” he said with a sweet smile.

you hated how soft and pretty he looked like this. you hated how you couldn’t help but say yes when he was looking at you like this, all pouty with glossy eyes.

“fine.”

the smile that took over his lips was huge as he urgently began to move down to lay between your legs. “trust me, sweetheart. i’ll make it so much better than this morning.”

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#gracies asks and requests 💌#jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x you #obx #jj obx #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #obx jj maybank #jj maybank x reader

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highvern · 3 months

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When I Kissed the Teacher: Teaser

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, humor

Summary: Mr. Kim has a crush, to his students that much is clear. It's also clear that you like him too. What happens when a group of meddlesome ten year olds decide to play cupid for their two favorite teachers?

Warnings: science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, (others tbd)

Length: TBD

Note: needed to get this out bc I've been giggling and twirling my hair while writing this and want you all to suffer with me. we'll all be in love with elementary teacher mingyu after this. Leave a comment or send an ask to be added to the tag list!

Read the Full Fic February 10th!

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you will be blocked!

Turning from the white board, Mingyu faces the room fulll of weary children. Mondays are hard. Early mornings are hard. Learning the difference between reptiles and mammals first thing on Monday morning is downright torture. But its nothing a little bribery (read: candy) can't fix.

"Alright class, today we're learning about animals! Who remembers what a mammal is?"

Mingyu barely finishes his sentence before a sharp knock interrupts.

“Mr. Kim.” You seethe from the doorway.

Mingyu turns around immediately, eyes wide in fear at your tone. “Yes?”

“Can I speak with you? In the hallway.”

The class of ten year olds “ooooh” as their teacher trails after you like a kicked puppy. If they weren't awake before they sure are now. He shoots a silencing look back before dipping out the door where you wait, foot tapping impatiently.

“Would you like to explain where all my printer paper went?”

Mingyu tries to play dumb. “I don’t know?”

“Oh really?" You blink. "Because I found the box in the workroom and guess what was on the printer? More of your worksheets for your class!”

“How do you know they were for my class?”

You don’t answer, in favor of shoving the animal themed coloring sheets into his chest harshly.

“Listen, anyone could have…” He trails off under your withering glare.

“If you need paper, ask!”

Mingyu burns under the reprimand. “Oh, like you asked to use my paints last month?”

“That was an accident!" You argue, eyes wide. "And I replaced them.”

“Alright, then I’ll replace the paper I took.”

“Fine.”

With a curt nod, you turn to leave; unaware of the blushing cheeks and heart eyes following your retreating form. But the gaggle of elementary students waiting for Mingyu's return see them clear as day; their fits of shrill giggles and whispers falling on deaf ears as he shakes off the stars clouding his mind.

Mr. Kim, their goofy science teacher, has a crush. And like children are wont to do, they hatch a scheme to help him out.

#svthub #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu #seventeen #svt fluff #seventeen fanfic #🫡 highvern #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines

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pandoraslxna · 4 months

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❄️ Kinkmas — 11. Breeding ❄️

Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

⋆｡° ✮ Minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinkmas Masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: smut, knotting, breeding kink, mating cycles / in heat, rough sex, creampie

⋆｡° ✮ Translations: tìyawn = love

It wasn’t fair that Neteyam could still be so calm and collected, when you were reduced to a writhing mess beneath him.

But by eywa, it just felt too good to stay calm and collected.

Neteyam was long and hot and thick, and knowing him, every thrust of his cock was aimed precisely to spend the maximum amount of time sliding against your g-spot. Not that you were complaining. From the beginning he had set an unexpectedly fast, unrelenting pace, fueled by one specific thought.

"I’m gonna put a baby in you, tìyawn", was whispered into your ear, rutting into from behind until your arms and legs were shaking in their effort to hold you up. "I‘m gonna pump you so full of my cum, make you swell all nice and round with my child so everyone knows you belong to me. And you‘ll look so pretty like this."

You’re a shuddering wreck, taking the brutal pounding of your mate’s cock while your moans grew louder than your lungs should be able to muster.

"Nete– I‘m– oh eywa, it’s too much", you mewled helplessly. "M‘gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna c-come again!"

"Yeah? Come for me then", Neteyam said breathlessly, punctuating his point with a purposefully hard thrust of his hips. "Come for me and I will knot you, I will breed you just like my cock hungry little mate deserves."

Your pussy was so very sore, fucked more than raw, ripe red and ridiculously tender, but you didn’t care. You weakly pressed back against him, clenching hard around Neteyams throbbing cock as you came for what felt like the hundredths time that night.

"There’s my good girl", he praised lowly into your ear, nibbling at the sensitive lobe before he whispered, "Look at you, so pretty when you come. I think you deserve my knot now, don’t you agree? Want me to knot you, tìyawn?"

Neteyams hips only increased their pace, taking you harder, hands holding you tighter, tail coiling around your ankle to spread your legs impossibly wider. You were so full already, it was hard to imagine there’s any more room for his knot, but you want it so bad it physically hurts to not have him buried even deeper inside you.

"Neteyam", you wailed, "Neteyam, please! Pl-ease knot me! I need you, just please…"

"Keep moaning my name and I’ll give you just want you want, pretty thing", he groans his response and it doesn’t take you even a second to follow his command. His name falls from your spit slicked lips in incoherent brabbles and moans, greedily pleading for more until you finally feel it– hot and sticky, pouring inside you like molten wax, and you take every last drop of seed you’re given. If you could drink another load to help the process, you would.

Neteyam has always come so much during his ruts that you imagined you could probably bathe in it, but now that his seed has a purpose, it’s a torrential flood that threatens to pervade every centimeter of your body, and you could feel it drench your insides and pour down your thighs.

The feeling of being filled to the brim like this is like a cooling salve to the burning of your insides, the cure to your heat, but his knot is what you really need. But it’s also what threatens to turn your vision black.

"C-Can’t, I can’t! It’s too big", you whimper, fighting to hold still as his knot pushed past your entrance, but couldn’t help squirming as it grew past the point of exquisite and crossed over to too much.

It didn’t hurt per say, but there was a dull ache that you knew you would be feeling for days. You couldn’t believe that Neteyam was still coming, couldn’t imagine what that felt like to him, how overwhelming it must be, yet he seems so calm as he whispers soothing words into your ear.

"Shhh, you can take it, I know you can. Just relax for me, yes? You’re doing so good, tìyawn."

Neteyam’s knot then expanded itself so huge inside you, that you’re not sure how it’ll ever leave. Right now it felt as if you’ll be plugged with his cock until the end of time. You know, logically, that it’s for a specific purpose, that you wanted this, needed it, and that it’ll go down after a while, but at the moment, you really can’t imagine anything else. Your body has already been molded to the shape of his cock, his knot, and for a moment it hurts to think you‘ll be separated from your mate again at some point.

Your body is still trembling, still wracked with the remnants of pleasure, but Neteyam is draped so thoroughly over you, like a warm blanket, it makes you never want to leave this position again. Neteyam kisses the tip of your ear and nuzzles into your black curls, sighing happily, "My mate, you feel so good around me... I can’t wait to see you pregnant with my child, truly. But I wouldn’t mind if it didn’t take just yet, if that means I can have you like this over and over again."

He‘s now back to kissing every part of you that he can reach from his current position: your neck, ears, hair, cheek, shoulder, sometimes nipping and sometimes licking, and you squirm under the raining love, giddy in delight. "You’re insufferable", you giggle. "But even if it does take, what’s stopping us from having another, hm?"

At this, Neteyams ears perk up and his tail stands up straight in excitement.

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

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Hi, I wanted to request something platonic with Percy, with him meeting his older half-sister after he finds out he's the son of Poseidon.

Sorry for my English, I'm using the translator to write, and sorry if you don't understand my request

Pictures On The Wall

Percy jackson x older!sister (platonic)

-£ this was the first thing that came to mind and it’s such a cute idea! thank you.

-£ words: 700

-£ warnings: short, nervous percy, cool reader, sassy and kinda grunge reader, siblings bonding, fluff.

the wall across from his bed was covered with many things. pictures of people he didn’t know along with a bed half made and clothes piled up. “that’s y/n’s” a name he never heard but yet was family. his half sister was somewhere on a quest and didn’t know that he was snooping round her things.

he looked at the pictures all the time, liking the smile you had. he knew that smile, a distinct memory in his mind but you wore it with pride. you looked so cool and by all the stories he heard you were one of the most awesome person at camp.

every cabin knew you, it was like he needed to fill some sort of shoe now that you walked in but he didn’t know the first thing.

“percy,” grover peaked into the cabin and looked around for his best friend, when he found him he looked nervous. “I think you should come.” percy jumped up at the sound of his voice that sounded like something horrible had happened.

percy walked along his friend while his heart raced, “what happened?” had another monster attacked the camp, what could have happened that he had to come.

“she’s back.” Grover muttered while sighing, “And we thought you should meet her.” oh,- oh gods. you were back so soon? he didn’t have a clue on what he would say or do. would you like him, would you hate him and somehow kick him out of the cabin? he’s never had a sibling before.

“she’s getting patched up and I’ll warn you,” Grover patted his shoulder with a kind smile, “she’s unpredictable at times.” Yeah, that makes me feel much better Percy thought.

as soon as the walked into the infirmary all they could hear was yelling and arguing making the young boys look at each other. they walked to the door and saw the girl on the bed glare at the other around her age.

he knew you. the picture he looked at every day you seemed to be exactly like that, but you didn’t look happy like all of them. the shirt you wore had rips in it and a bloody bandage wrapped around your arm. the redhead girl in front of you held a spoon up to your mouth but you kept fighter her off.

“I’m fine! It’s just a few scratches, I’m not a child!” it was ironic that you looked like a bratty child that wanted to stomp their feet. your lips pouted slightly. percy didn’t know what to think at the scene.

“take it. you’re just keeping yourself from leaving, so do it so I can leave!” the other girl seemed to knock some sense into you as you huffed and took the spoon in your mouth. if looks could kill then she would be on the ground by now, you looked so angry.

humming the redhead walked out of the door and looked at the boys before rolling her eyes and kept going down the hallway. you didn’t seemed to notice them as you started to take off the dirty bandages.

Grover was the first to speak, “excuse me,” you looked at him quickly but your eyes were now soft and no longer sharp. “Grover, come in!” you invited him over but your eyes soon fell on the boy next to him. and immediately the connection between the two of you went off in your head.

“you must be percy?”

he shifted closer and awkwardly not knowing want to do, “yeah. how do you know?”

“I received letters telling me of the idiot brother I seemed to have,” you chuckle and throw the dirty cloths in your hands on the bed. The cut was gone but dry blood still stayed on your skin, “you have dads eyes.” You pointed to your own.

“really?” he asked quietly as you hopped on the floor and stretched. “Oh yeah, less disappointment in them but I’ll give it time.”

you yawned and picked up the black jacket and your backpack, “I’m starving,” you stood between the two of them and then swung your arms around the two of them.

“Now, tell me what you did to Clarisse!” You smirk at the brother you just met, “my favorite sibling already.”

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #platonic percy jackson #platonic percy jackson x reader #platonic x reader #fluff #brother!percy jackson

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buckys-lover · 10 months

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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 //

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