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struggling-with-drivers · 1 month

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Under the Opulence - Max Verstappen

⋗ Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

⋗ Summary - Your family isn't kind to you, and in fact, they all think Max would be a much better fit for your sister. Max likes to differ.

⋗ Word count - 3.4k words, hurt/comfort

⋗ Masterlist - This has been finished for some time, but I've only gotten around to given it a name Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

The grandeur of your family's foyer, adorned with polished marble and intricate chandeliers, set the stage for Max’s introduction to the world you came from. As you and Max entered, the echoes of your footsteps reverberated through the opulent space, the air charged with excitement and anxiety, but most noticeably on your side, dread.

Gabriella, your sister, emerged from an adjoining room, her presence demanding attention. With her radiant smile and effortless poise, she seemed to glide into the scene like a queen entering her court. She was the star of the family, the golden child who effortlessly commanded attention and adoration. With her striking looks and sharp intellect, she had always been the one to effortlessly charm anyone who crossed her path. Even your past romantic interests had succumbed to her allure, leaving you with the bitter taste of never good enough.

"It's okay, we're sisters," Gabriella would nonchalantly reassure you. "They weren't good enough for you if they wanted me more."

Her eyes, adorned with an air of confidence, locked onto Max, acknowledging his presence with a subtle yet unmistakable hint of curiosity. Bluntly scrutinising Max, she drank him up with her eyes, then she battered her long eyelashes a few times before slotting into the role of the perfect twin sister.

Max, a bit taken aback by the unexpected encounter, met Gabriella's gaze with a polite smile. That was all your sister needed before stepping forward, presenting her hand gracefully, a subtle gesture that belied the underlying power dynamics at play. Max, being the gentleman he was, reciprocated the greeting with a warm shake. However, as the customary exchange lingered for a moment longer than expected, you felt an unspoken tension building.

“Gabriella, but you – my dear – can call me Gabbie.” Her voice sang in the foyer, bouncing so wonderfully off the walls. You wanted nothing more than to leave. Their hands were still intertwined.

Instinctively, you began to withdraw your hand from his left, realising that you were caught in an awkward silence. Gabriella's grip on Max's hand tightened imperceptibly, and you hesitated for a split second, torn between asserting yourself and avoiding a confrontation. Finally, you reluctantly released Max's hand, a subtle concession that felt like surrender.

However, your parents made their grand entrance, drawn by the commotion in the foyer.

Gabriella finally let go of Max. She stepped back, allowing a brief respite from the charged exchange.

Your mother, an elegant woman with an air of sophistication, approached with a warm smile. "Oh, there you all are! We were starting to wonder when you'd make it to the heart of the festivities."

As she spoke, her eyes lingered on Gabriella and Max, a subtle but knowing gleam in her eyes. It was as if she sensed the unspoken currents beneath the surface. Your father, a more reserved figure, stood beside her, observing the scene with a discerning gaze.

"Mom, Dad, this is Max," you introduced, trying to steer the conversation away from the palpable tension that lingered.

With an air of practised nonchalance, Gabriella returned her attention to Max, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Well, Max, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," she purred, her words leaving an ambiguous trail of intentions.

She tried to grasp his hand once again, but instead, he started helping you out of your coat to keep his hands busy.

Max, still wanting to leave a good impression, responded with a friendly smile. "Likewise, Gabriella. Your sister here has spoken highly of you too," he said, casting a glance in your direction, before he extended a polite hand toward your parents, exchanging pleasantries as he tried to steer the conversation towards the two newcomers in the foyer.

Gabriella subtly positioned herself beside him, a silent claim reaffirmed. The atmosphere remained charged, your parents seemingly ignorant of the intricate dynamics playing out before them. The dreadful feeling returned to you as your mom made eye contact with you once more. You averted your eyes.

Gabriella, seizing the opportunity, looped her arm through Max's, as if marking her territory. "Max, let me give you a tour of this magnificent place. There are so many things you haven't seen yet," she exclaimed, her tone holding a mixture of innocence and mischief.

Your heart sank as you watched them disappear into the lavish corridors of your family home.

“Let them go, honey. I’m sure he will be quite interested in our family’s history.” Your mother commented, foregoing the formality of any other type of recognition or greeting to you as she and your dad disappeared after Gabriella and Max.

Leaving you on your own in the opulent foyer, you wished to leave once more.

Determined to regain some semblance of composure, you wandered into the adjacent parlour, a room adorned with plush furniture and rich tapestries. The soft glow of antique lamps cast a warm ambience, but even the comforting setting couldn't dispel the growing unease. You settled into a chair, the plush upholstery offering little solace for the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. The room seemed to close in on you as you anxiously waited for Max and Gabriella to return. The dreadful feeling intensified with every passing moment, and your mind raced with unsettling thoughts.

Finally, the door swung open, and they entered the parlour. Gabriella's laughter echoed through the room. Max wore a polite smile, seemingly having enjoyed the tour, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriella was orchestrating an elaborate performance.

"This place is quite… something," Max said, casting a glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance or acknowledgement. You tried to smile at him. Gabriella, however, continued to dominate the spotlight.

"We have quite the family history," she replied with a sly smile, her eyes flickering between Max and you. "It's a shame you won't be able to hear all the juicy details."

You forced another smile in response, but the unease gnawed at you. As they settled into the room, Gabriella strategically took the seat next to Max, her gestures and expressions aimed at enchanting him right before your eyes.

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, a dance of words that excluded you from its rhythm. You felt like a mere observer in your own home, watching as Gabriella captivated Max with tales of the family's past, her laughter ringing like an enchanting melody.

Your attempts to engage in the conversation were met with fleeting glances as if your presence were an afterthought. Gabriella was ever so quick to recapture Max’s attention, despite your valiant efforts to seek a way into the discussion.

Desperate for a reprieve, you finally excused yourself under the pretence of attending to something in the kitchen. As you escaped the room, the weight of the evening bore down on you, and you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this family gathering had become a stage for a performance in which you had no choice but to play a reluctant supporting role.

In the kitchen, you busied yourself with trivial tasks, the rhythmic clinking of dishes providing a brief respite from the orchestrated drama in the parlour. The tension that had followed you from the foyer to the parlour lingered like an unwelcome guest, and you desperately sought a moment of solitude to collect your thoughts.

As you absentmindedly stacked plates from the dishwasher, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing expression. It was as if she could sense the turbulence beneath the composed facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?" she inquired, her tone carrying a hint of concern.

You forced a smile, attempting to deflect the obvious discomfort. "I'm fine, just needed a moment away from the chatter in there."

Your mother's eyes softened, but there was a glint of curiosity. "Well, I must say, Gabriella and Max make quite the pair. They look so good together, don't you think?"

The question hung in the air, a subtle prod at the heart of the matter. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you processed the implications of your mother's words. It was a commentary that cut through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, Mom, they're just chatting. It doesn't mean anything," you responded, attempting to downplay the situation.

Your mother, however, seemed undeterred. "I don't know, dear. They do seem to have a certain chemistry, don't you think? They'd make a handsome couple."

The weight of her words settled on you like an anvil, and you struggled to find a suitable response. The kitchen, for a brief moment, had been a sanctuary, but now felt like a confessional where you were forced to confront the complexities of your feelings.

"I...I don't know, Mom. It's just an introduction," you stammered, your attempts to maintain composure faltering.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then she sighed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You know, sometimes we find unexpected connections in the most peculiar places. And if they happen to find something special tonight, well, we should be happy for them, shouldn't we?"

You felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.

“It’s such a shame his looks just aren’t quite there, but he certainly has other features to make up for it. Wouldn’t you say so as well? Yes, a shame, but Gabriella has always been so kind-hearted. I’m sure she doesn’t mind either.” Your mother continued, before finally smiling at you.

Her message was loud and clear, as she had expressed her approval of Max as a suitable match for Gabriella.

Your mother wanted you to break up with Max and hand him over.

It was as though Max was a commodity to be exchanged, a possession for your sister to play with until she grew tired and moved on. It made you feel sick to the stomach.

“Dinner is all ready, your father just put down the roast on the table.”

You followed your mother into the dining room, the scent of the roast filling the air. The grand table, adorned with fine china and polished silverware, became the stage for the next act in this familial drama.

As you took your seat, Max seated next to you, your parents strategically positioned Gabriella opposite Max. The tension in the room was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that every word and gesture would be scrutinised.

"So, Max," your mother began, her eyes flickering between Max and Gabriella, "how did you find our home? Quite exquisite, isn't it?"

Max, thankfully pr-trained, nodded appreciatively. "It's a stunning place with so much history."

Gabriella's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and you braced yourself for what would come next. Your mother, however, wasn't finished.

"And speaking of history," she continued, casting a pointed look at Gabriella, "our family has quite a rich one. Gabriella, why don't you share some of the highlights? Max might find it fascinating."

“It’s alright, I think I heard enough earlier,” Max told your mom, “I would much rather hear childhood stories about her.” He turned his head, making himself able to look into your eyes, and you felt the dread spread. Despite the way he looked at you, it did nothing to calm you down, knowing your parents would not deliver what Max was expecting to be told about.

Max's genuine interest in hearing about your childhood seemed to momentarily disrupt the carefully choreographed performance. Your mother, however, skilfully manoeuvred to maintain the narrative she had meticulously constructed.

"Oh, Max, you're sweet," your mother said, offering a polite smile, "but Gabriella's achievements are the true highlights. She's always been the shining star of our family."

Your sister, seizing the opportunity, began to regale Max with tales of her academic triumphs, artistic pursuits, and social accomplishments. As she spoke, you felt the distance between you and Max widen, a chasm fuelled by your parents' insistence on casting Gabriella as the focal point of the conversation.

Max, sensing the discomfort, tried to redirect the conversation toward a more inclusive narrative. "I'm sure there are some other stories you could tell, perhaps some that aren’t about Gabriell-?"

“Please Max, do call me Gabby.” Gabriella interrupted Max.

Your mother exchanged a knowing glance with your father before responding, "Oh, there are plenty of stories, but I think Gabriella's achievements are what make our family truly special. Don't you agree, Max?"

Max hesitated for a moment, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. However, not wanting to create a scene, he nodded uncomfortably, "Yes, I guess Gabriella is quite accomplished."

Gabriella shot you a coy smile, her triumph was evident in the subtle control she exerted over the narrative. As the conversation continued to revolve around her, Max's attempts to steer it in a different direction seemed to hit an invisible wall.

Your parents, seemingly oblivious to Max's growing discomfort, continued to extol Gabriella's virtues. The room buzzed with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of praise, all while you sat there, a silent observer of your own family dinner.

As dessert was served, Max couldn't hide the subtle tenseness in his shoulders. He glanced at you, a mix of empathy and frustration in his eyes. Despite the challenging circumstances, you appreciated his efforts to bridge the gap.

When Max tried to ask about your childhood again, your mother skilfully redirected the conversation. "Oh, Max, we can talk about that another time. Let's focus on the present moment and enjoy the evening."

Your sister, seizing every opportunity to keep the spotlight, interjected, "You know, Max, I've always been curious about your interests and aspirations. Tell us more about yourself."

The shift in attention to Max was noticeable, but it wasn't the genuine interest he had hoped for. Instead, it felt like another tactic to steer the conversation away from you. Max, his patience waning, briefly shared short anecdotes about his work, nothing he hadn’t already told to the media. However, his eyes kept returning to you, his fingers intertwined with you. As though you were oblivious to the way your sister's feet – under the table – were trying to urge Max to look at her.

The night wore on, and Max's frustration continued to build, a silent storm brewing within him. The genuine smile he had worn upon arrival had now transformed into a tight-lipped expression, betraying his growing discontent.

Your dad had taken it upon himself to serve a glass of whiskey to him and Max, while your mother brought forth an array of finger foods and other light and savoury snacks. Your family settled around the nice fireplace in the big sitting room, it’s even more extravagant and opulent than the smaller parlour room you had tried to take refuge in earlier in the day.

When your sister, seemingly oblivious to the tension, leaned closer to Max, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "You know, Max, we're so thrilled to have you here. It's not often we get such distinguished company."

Max, no longer willing to play along, shifted uncomfortably on the beige couch. "Thank you for having me. It's been... quite an experience," he replied, his tone carrying a subtle edge.

Your father, still under the illusion that the evening had gone splendidly, raised his glass. "A toast! To family and new beginnings."

Max's frustration reached its peak as his eyes locked on your dad’s raised glass. Max abruptly stood up, the sound of him slamming his glass down echoing in the sudden silence. The tension in the room was palpable as he looked directly at your parents.

"I appreciate your hospitality, but I can't ignore the blatant disregard for your own daughter," he said, his voice measured but firm. "I came here hoping to learn more about her, but it seems the spotlight is reserved for someone else."

Gabriella's eyes widened in feigned innocence, a practised mask that Max wasn't buying. Your parents exchanged uneasy glances, finally sensing the budding cracks in their carefully constructed facade.

"I won't be a part of a charade that dismisses her existence," Max continued, his frustration now laid bare. "If you can't appreciate the amazing person she is, then I want no part in this. Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, Max pulled you from the couch. As you both retreated from the sitting room, leaving behind the echoes of tension and shattered illusions, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow.

Max led you through the ornate hallways of your family home, the grandeur of the surroundings now feeling suffocating. The air outside was cool and crisp as you stepped onto the front porch, the distant sounds of the night providing a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere within.

He turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to be like this."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his genuine intentions. "It's not your fault. Thank you for trying."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Your family... it's not what I expected."

You nodded, feeling a lump forming in your throat. "It's never been easy."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but you deserve better than this," Max said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

As Max navigated the darkened streets, a palpable tension and heavy silence filled the car ride home between you and him. The glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his determined expression, the lines of worry etched into his brow.

You sat beside him, lost in your thoughts, the events of the evening replaying in your mind like a broken record. The weight of the strained interactions with your family weighed heavily on your shoulders, a burden you couldn't shake.

Max glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, breaking the silence that had enveloped the car.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "I don't know, Max. Tonight was… a lot. I’m sorry for Gabriella."

“They shouldn’t have said any of that.” Max ignored your comment, “that’s not- even I know that’s now how you treat family.”

“I’m sorry for Gabriella.” You tried to tell him once again, instead finding his hand reaching out to tangle it into yours.

As Max's hand intertwined with yours, a comforting warmth spread through your fingertips, grounding you in the present moment. His touch was a lifeline, offering solace amidst the turmoil that had consumed your family gathering. You squeezed his hand gently, appreciating the silent support he offered.

Max pulled the car over, letting him turn to you and gaze into your eyes.

"I know you're sorry, love," Max whispered, his voice laced with understanding. "But you can't take responsibility for someone else's idiotic words. Gabriella's actions were uncalled for, and it's not your parents should have stopped it, not… Encouraged it."

His words resonated deep within you, reminding you that you were not solely accountable for the strained relationship with your parents. The weight on your shoulders began to lighten as if Max's presence alone could alleviate the burden.

You turned to him, finally meeting his concerned gaze. "Thank you, Max. Your support means the world to me."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, alright?"

A surge of gratitude washed over you, grateful for the unwavering love and understanding Max consistently provided. You squeezed his hand once more, as he pulled out of the ditch.

The car continued to glide through the darkened streets, but the heavy silence had transformed into a comforting embrace of shared vulnerability.

As the glow of streetlights continued to cast fleeting shadows, you realised that it was in the darkest moments that the strength of your relationship with Max shone the brightest. And with his hand clasped firmly in yours, you knew that together, you could weather any storm or awful family dinner.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, sorry that it took so long to post this one

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ladyrijus · 11 months

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Skyward Sword Zelda is such a tragic figure in my opinion. Just put yourself in her shoes and imagine this.

It's the best day of your life. Your dearest friend, dork that he is, has finally become a knight. It's what every kid on Skyloft works towards and he finally did it. You're so proud of him. When you fly together, you muster up the courage to tell him you love him.

You never get the chance.

Instead you're whisked away into a world you believed was left behind, and saved by a woman who declares that she is your guardian, chosen by you. You have never met her before. You didn't even know there were people like you who lived down here, in the Surface.

"You must purify yourself if you are to transcend time and hold the seal," the mysterious woman with the painted tear remarks as she shepherds you through strange destinations unlike anything your books have ever taught you, "it was your will." No matter how many times she tells you this, in every iteration the language could allow, it doesn't make sense. Why would a goddess need to turn human? What could you do, that she could not?

Where does divinity and humanity diverge?

Connection.

A goddess is revered by her people who pray, in spite of her silence, for her benevolence and guidance. She is their unwavering stone, a higher power to rely on. But a girl? A girl is loved. She is someone tangible, a figure who people will see, and know, and care about, and fight for.

And that's when it clicks. Your friend isn't really your friend at all, but a hero, a pawn, who was intended to be used against an enemy of yours you no longer recognize.

You're using him. You've been using him all this time. It's sickening.

With each prayer, with each goddess damned spring you rush to, you are faced with your own marbled reflection, a testament to the fact your humanity is only a pretense, carefully timed to ensnare your friend into a hero's fate.

He doesn't seem to understand that though. He keeps running after you like the fool he is, hoping to save Zelda, his precious Zelda, that you no longer are. The smile you wear becomes harder to hold. You were Hylia first, and that is all you will ever be.

You play into the charade anyways. After all, Zelda was the reason why he went through his trials. To tell him now that she was gone would mean to destroy everything you had worked for. So you tell him everything he wants to hear: that you're your father's daughter, that you're his friend, that you're his Zelda.

And when you close your eyes, smiling from within the amber and ignoring the dull thuds of his fist against its surface, you wonder if you look anything like the statue you and your love had stood upon on the best day of your life.

"Maybe all of this is a dream," you wonder while drifting in between millennia. Time passes like the waterfalls in Skyloft, rapid, yet everlasting. Maybe you'd wake up in your bed in the Academy again. Your love would have been sleeping in (again) and everything would be how it used to be. You could be Zelda once more. And most importantly, Hylia would be nothing beyond a giant statue for you to ignore for the rest of your days.

... There's something to be said about how you fall again once you wake up.

"What kind of goddess am I," you think crudely, "to sever my own wings?"

But this time, your love is there to catch you. And he does. In that moment you pray, in your own name, he doesn't let you go.

#i was in my feels tonight what can i say #skyward sword #legend of zelda #zelink #egregious lack of groose and for that i apologize #loz #tloz #the legend of zelda #zelda #link #hylia #impa

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envy-of-the-apple · 3 months

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The Loneliest

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Synopsis: For the longest time, you always thought you could only see them. And then you met that priest

(Warnings: dark content, manipulation, implied non-con, geto commits elder abuse)

You're not sure what they're called, but you know they aren't good.

Demons, you settled on calling them. They were ugly, disfigured, often garbed in dark, dull colors. Nothing about them was benevolent. You'd often see them sitting on people's shoulders, practically sucking their souls dry. The small ones were easy to ward off. Usually, they'd go away on their own after a few days. A weekend of relaxation was usually all people needed to get rid of them.

From what you knew, no one else could see them. In your younger days, it'd been isolating, terrifying. Now, you are a bit grateful none of your peers could see what you could. How they'd react, you couldn't tell.

You barely even blink when your neighbor asks if you could give her a ride to the temple, ignoring the thing that rests on her shoulders. It's bigger than what you've normally seen, with wings and human teeth. She's an older woman, with kind smiles, rambling about how she heard that the nearby temple was offering body exorcisms, how much her back hurt. You don't mention that the monks and priests or any religious figures are all fakes who lie for money. You've never met a single priest who could see what you see.

You say nothing because it wouldn't sway her either way. Besides, it was free.

The temple was swathed in money, just as you expected it to be. Grand pillars, clean tile floors. Money wasted on gold staircases and shiny vases. On a whim, you followed your neighbor in anyway, passing by the temples' followers. The one thing that you did note, was the significant lack of demons in the area.

You expected the Buddhist priest to be old, an ancient being that pretended to be wise. To your surprise, you were led to a man who might have been the same age as you, if not a bit younger. He was dressed in a monk's robe, he sat on the floor, resting his chin on his arm. A closed-lipped smile was spread across his face, dripping in faux-sweetness.

You obediently stayed silent while your neighbor prattled on about her incident. He nodded along, but it was clear he didn't really care about what she was saying. You knew what he would do. He'd coo at her misery, give her beads that would do nothing, and send her on her way. A harmless waste of time, really. The demon won't stay forever.

There's a twitch of his fingers. The demon leering over her body is suddenly sucked away from her, into his outstretched hand. The only evidence it leaves behind is a single marble.

"Better?" he asks, with no change of tone. That same emotionless lilt.

Your neighbor gushes, rolling her shoulders, saying that she's never felt this way in years. You can only watch the priest with widened eyes as your neighbor is led away by a woman with a tablet in her hand. The ball rolls along his fingers, like he too admires it.

"How-how did you do that?" You finally ask.

For the first time since you entered that room, his eyes meet yours. Brown, almost black. He tilts his head, wordlessly asking you to repeat yourself.

"The demon," you press, "how did you get rid of the demon?"

The smile slips, and he sits up ever so slowly. For a moment, you think you've done something incredibly wrong as he stands to his full height. The priest easily towers over you, you're dwarfed by his unfathomable height. He stops when he's a few feet away, assessing you.

"You can see them," it's a statement, not a question, "the curses."

"Is that what they're called?" You eagerly ask, "Curses?"

The smile is more real now, less manufactured.

"You have a rare gift," he says, "truly one of a kind."

Back then, you don't digest the supremacy of his words. You don't decipher the hidden meaning, the code, the disgust for the others. You were so happy to have finally met someone who can see them, like you could. Something like relief fills your heart, another justification that you weren't crazy. You weren't just seeing things.

His smile grows.

"I hope you continue to come back. I have many answers for you."

Over the coming weeks, you learn about jujutsu. You learn about cursed energy. You learned about sorcerers. You learn about a world you've never heard of before. A world you've always dreamed of. For the longest time, you always assumed you were the only one, that you were cursed.

Now, you know you aren't. Not anymore.

You aren't a jujutsu sorcerer, but you didn't mind. Master Geto (Suguru, he insisted you call him) was patient with you. Understanding. He'd sit with you for hours, even when he didn't have to, answering every question you could have for him.

Out of guilt, you volunteered to find people who have been cursed to help with his cause. Sometimes, you'd have to spruce up Suguru's power, add a bit more science and structure to what he really does. It never backfired on you, so far. Just as he advertised, Suguru was able to collect every single curse you bestowed on him. Each person you brought in would leave refreshed and satisfied.

As you came to spend time with the priest, you learned how wrong you were about him. When you first met, you thought he was a liar, a sham. Now, you know he's everything but. He's patient and caring towards everyone who follows him. He's so young, college-age, and yet he had even adopted two twins from a horrible house situation, taking them in as his own flesh and blood.

On top of all his responsibilities, he still managed to make time for you. You can't imagine it's easy for him. Despite his clear passion, there's a glimmer of exhaustion in his eyes. Why does he spend so much time with you?

You ask him that one day as the two of you walk through the gardens. He doesn't reply for a while, stopping to stare at a blooming bush of roses.

"You remind me of someone," he says suddenly.

You look up at him then, watching his face. A tinge of nostalgia rests across his eyes. You wonder what he's thinking of. School, homework and classes? The endless lectures, the smiles of friends. Maybe he's thinking of even older. Playgrounds and swing sets that squeak. Simpler times where he wasn't something that he is now.

"I do?" you prod, tilting your head. He reaches out, brushing his hands against the petals, careful to avoid the thorns.

He hums, "He is the strongest. More powerful than I could ever hope to be. He stood alone at the summit."

He plucks the rose. The bush gives with a snap. It's a pretty color. A deep red. Almost as dark as blood =.

"It's why I always felt he was lonely," he continues, "No one else could ever understand him. It's lonely to be the only one, yes?"

It was, you realize. It felt so lonely to see things no one else could see. No one else could relate to it, not even your parents. Your friends. You were alone for nearly decades. And then, you weren't anymore.

"Your friend," you murmur, "where is he now?"

Suguru peels off the last of the thorns, leaving the flower glossy and bare.

"We didn't believe in the same things, towards the end. People change. I did, so did he," he pauses, "Sometimes, I wonder what I could have done differently that day. Perhaps we could have stayed together, if I had just changed his mind."

You think about his friend. What their relationship was like. What it would be like to lose the only one who could ever understand you. Now that you had it, you could never imagine to lose it.

"Either way, I don't regret my decision."

He turns to you with a sigh, reaching out to your hair. You stay still as he tucks the flower behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin.

"A change had to be made for humanity. Sacrifices must be made. I don't care if the people I cherish think differently."

The petals tickle your skin.

"I'm glad you don't regret your decision," you tell him softly, "because I'm really glad I met you, Suguru."

He gazes down at you, his face the softest you've ever seen him be. His hand lingers by your neck a lot longer than it should. Still awed by him, you choose not to say anything about it.

"And I, you."

Everything was going perfectly. Until you ruined it.

It was your fault. Your error. There's a set time that Suguru allows you to visit. You always arrive a few minutes later, because you only volunteer at the temple. You still have a job. You too have responsibilities.

But today you arrived early. A fluke. You didn't intend on it, but you didn't think anything of it, Suguru always made time for you. And you didn't mind waiting a few minutes if he couldn't.

The box of sweets jostled in your hold as you tucked it under your arm. By now, you recognize most of Suguru's followers, as well as the fellow monks. They greet you with too-wide smiles on their faces, the same as always. You've grown to not mind them. You pass them by with very little trouble, already knowing where you were headed. Suguru's client room was just around the corner. And you always enjoyed watching him work.

In hindsight, you wish his followers would have stopped you, distracted you from your determination, it isn't like they didn't already know. You would have listened. Meeting Suguru was not a necessity. They could have lied for him. You could have kept the tentative friendship for just a bit longer.

He was already with someone. Eager, and careful not to disturb, you stood just behind a pillar. You don't notice how wrong the scene looks, until you see her. He was with a woman, a bit older. There's a tiny curse on her lower back, latched onto her clothing. It won't matter, Suguru will easily get rid of it. She reminds you of your neighbor in so many ways. They were the same age too. It's why you are confused as to why she's practically kneeling on the ground, her head pressed against the floor, like she's begging. For a woman her age, that position could be a hindrance to her body.

Still, she doesn't get up. You suddenly get this strange feeling that Suguru forced her to do this.

It's ridiculous because Suguru is kind. He's kind and patient and-

"How many donations have you made to the temple these past few months?"

You wouldn't have even thought it was his voice, had it not come from his mouth. He sounded so cold, mocking, cruel.

The woman seemed to tremble even more. She pressed herself harder against the ground, as if pleading to God himself. Maybe to her, Suguru was God.

"Please," her frail voice begs, "have mercy-"

"Manami?" Suguru turns to his trusted assistant. You yourself have spoken few words to Manami, but whenever you caught her looking there was the slightest hint of pity in her eyes.

Maybe this was why.

She sighs, just as clinical as her boss, as if the poor woman's begging meant nothing to her, as did he.

"It's been a 70 percent decrease, compared to the beginning of the year."

Suguru turned back to the woman. She was going to injure herself-why isn't Suguru telling her to get up, why isn't he doing anything?

"You haven't made much of a contribution to the temple," he sighs like this is more of an inconvenience than anything else, "I have no use for an insignificant cursed spirit. I'm afraid I can't help you."

She all but burst into tears, her sobs soaking the floor. You feel the numb sense of horror, misery and pain as her cries bleed into your ears.

"Please-please Master Geto. I-I don't know how much of this I can take."

Suguru regards her for a moment.

"I think I might have a way to solve your problem, then."

Slowly, she lifts her head up. You swallow at her face. Tired eyes, an exhausted look.

"You-you do, Master?"

His answer comes in the form of a snap of his fingers.

It's the biggest curse you've ever seen, larger than a car. She doesn't even put up a fight, screaming and screaming and screaming. When her pitch changes, turning into something more out of horror than pain, you realize that she can see it too.

It's a quick progression. It barely lasts a minute. The sounds of sucking and eating are so loud that it covers the sounds of the sweets dropping on the floor. They were supposed to be a gift for Suguru. You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to reward him for his kindness and patience.

Master Geto only looks in mild disgust at the bloodbath.

"They always die so messily," he sighs, looking at his blood-stained hands as Manami obediently hands him a towel, "Insects, that's all they are."

For the first time, since you've met him, Suguru gives a genuine smile.

It looks wrong. Too wide. Too many teeth. His lips curved into something thin and horrific.

Something evil.

It takes a week of your disappearance for Suguru to inquire why you haven't visited the temple.

You leave the messages unopened. When he tries calling, you turn your phone off. For seven days, you stay away from the temple, away from sorcerers, and away from Suguru.

A part of you still can't believe it. A part of you is convinced that what you saw has to be fake. Because, if it was real. If he had truly killed that woman, if he could control curses to do his bidding, then that meant for weeks-for weeks he was manipulating you. Lying to you.

There was no if. That's exactly what he was doing.

You sat on the couch, watching the TV in mild interest. Usually, at this time, you'd be at the temple, learning about the jujutsu world. Earlier, the lessons would fill you with a sense of awe.

Now, you can't even think about jujutsu without thinking of Suguru next.

Suguru mentioned he had a friend. A friend that was stronger than him, right? Could-could you find him? Could you tell him what Suguru has been doing-

"It's not very polite to ignore a person."

You jump, wide eyes catching his figure right at the doorway. You get up to your feet, watching as Suguru casually steps into your home. Your safety.

"How-how did you...?" You can barely get the words out.

He understands you anyway, and out of your peripheral vision, you see a cursed spirit waddle up behind him. It coughs something out of it's throat. The remains of your door knob land by your feet.

In any other situation, you would have been angry at Suguru's disregard for your property. Now, damage to your personal property was the last thing on your mind.

He wasn't wearing his monk garb (A mere costume, you now realize). He had dressed in a shirt and casual pants. Out of his usual garments, he almost looks normal. Human. The exact type of person he'd spit on.

"You haven't visited me lately," he starts, always one to get to the point.

You shift on your feet, "I've been busy....with work. I haven't had time."

"Really?" He tilts his head, assessing you, a hint of a smirk crosses his face like he knows you're lying. No, he does know you're lying.

When you don't reply, when you fix your gaze on the floor, willing to God or demon or curse that he would just go away, Suguru sighs. His smile dips into a frown. The curse disappears. You feel like the room is a bit less suffocating.

"I...apologize for what you saw," he finally says, "You shouldn't have seen it so early. I should have been more careful."

You blink. For the first time in this conversation, you find your words.

"Do...do you think that's what this is about?" He gives a blank look. "Suguru...you killed her."

You expected some type of reaction. Aggressiveness, anger, defenses, excuses. You got none of that. Instead, Suguru merely hummed in acknowledgment of casual admittance.

"I said it before, haven't I? Sacrifices must be made to change humanity."

"That's-that's not sacrifice," it was like you were talking to a wall, repeating your point over and over again until you bashed your skull in, "that's-that's slaughter."

"You said you were glad with my-"

"You're killing innocent fucking people!-"

"They're not people."

You froze at his tone. Throughout your friendship with Suguru, you've seen him express a variety of emotions. Joy, exasperation, irritation. Never have you seen Suguru angry before.

Never, until now.

He stands up straighter, his hands twitch by his sides as if they're barely keeping themselves in check. His face has gone blank, like he's lost all motivation to fake his emotions now. There's no point to it, not when you know who he truly is.

"They aren't even the same species as us," his words are quiet but you can hear the hatred and that scares you the most, "They are at the bottom of the food chain. Mere insects, parasites, that only create problems. They're not like you or me."

His smile comes back. Just as horrible as when you last saw it.

"They're worthless."

He's no priest, you steadily realize. He's no saint, no hero.

"Get out."

You wish you could have made your words sound harsher, but it was barely a whisper. You couldn't even hear yourself, much less hear the venom.

He sighs, his anger fades, the disappointment stays.

"I understand." He nods, his voice too condescending to not be noticed. "To be perfectly honest, I expected this. You've spent your entire life with those insects, obsessing over their needs when you didn't have to. It's only natural to have an affinity for them. I did too. It's why I know, you'll feel differently in the future."

"Fuck you," you hiss, "fuck you and your fucked up cult. You're a monster, you're a-"

He doesn't let you finish. One minute, he's across the room. The next, you feel his hand slap across your mouth as you fall back into the sofa. Your panic is immediate as he fully covers you with his body, pressing you into the cushions.

Suguru's touched you before. You never noticed. Never cared enough to notice. They were sparse brushes of fingers against your waist, arms, shoulders. Harmless.

Looking back, you wonder if you should have protested more against them. Maybe he'd have less courage to bury his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it would have just made it worse.

"You're scared," he tells you, but it sounds like he's talking to himself, "It's okay to be upset."

You scream, but it comes out as a muffled sob. Suguru's mouth trails down your cheek. He kisses the underside of your jaw.

"You don't have to be. I promise I'll never hurt you. I cherish you too much."

He's lying. He's a liar. That's all he ever did. Lie to you. Cheat you.

When he pulls back to look at you, he almost smiles.

"I think I'm starting to understand why he left: I let him go."

His grin gets wider.

"I don't plan on doing that with you."

#dark content #yandere jjk #yandere #dark geto suguru #yandere geto suguru #x reader #manipulation #implied non con #hint of satosugu

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maxidentscene · 1 year

Text

puppy love

⚘ genre. fluff

⚘ members. ot8

⚘ synopsis. the kids are lovesick! they’ve caught themselves up in a big fat crush and act like total fools

chan wants to figure you out

As the person who’s caught his interest, you’ve become a constant thought in the back of his mind. Would you like the track he’s working on? Do you think this pullover looks good on him or should he pick a different color? What are your thoughts on ice cream and cake and every other desert on the planet?

Basically, he wants to know everything about you. He wants to know the way your mind works, he wants to pick you apart and find more things to adore about you. Because of this, he’s always asking for your opinions on the most miscellaneous things

“Hey,” he hikes your legs up from where they’re resting on the couch to make room for himself before plopping them in his lap. “Do you think I could beat all of the guys in a swimming relay? All of them.”

You thoughtfully hum and take note of the dopey smile on his face, dimples on display, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If I say no?” You tease back playfully, leaning into the soft cushions of the couch

The disappointed shake of his head makes you giggle and you decide to just entertain him. “Yes, I think you could beat them all,” you start, stopping to think for a moment. “But there’s no way you could beat me.” Even if it were a lie, it was worth it to watch Chan’s face light up as he laughed

lee know gets oddly jealous even if he shouldn’t

Minho is trying to be reasonable about these feelings that have been rapidly growing for you. Instead of stressing, he’s taking his shot at enjoying and welcoming the feeling of infatuation

This isn’t an easy thing to do when his losers for group members hang with you just as much as he does. You’re familiar and friends with all of them, but sometimes Minho really can’t find it in himself to be rational about your proximity with everyone else

It’s not a raging jealousy, nothing that makes him act out and cause a scene. It’s subtle, whether it be letting out an annoyed sigh to the members when they get too close or being quick to steal the seat that’s next to yours when out to eat

A perfect example would serve to be right now, Seungmin jokingly draping his body over yours because he was oh so tired from the ‘rough’ practice Minho enforced upon them today

Sure, he was just being friendly and comfortable with you, but that didn’t stop Minho from softly kicking the back of Seungmin’s shin to get him to stand up straight. “Get walking before we leave you here.” When the younger shot him a knowing look, he only shrugged in response

changbin simply can’t crush

Honestly, it would be an obvious crush if anything. You’re fully aware that Changbin has a crush on you, it’s a growing thing between the two of you that you sort of just slowly build together

In a way, it’s endearing. You’re both pining after each other and it’s sickening to anyone who is watching but in your eyes, it’s perfect. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while. Dancing around the topic at hand and just flirting back and forth, constantly in each other’s personal space, spending more time with each other than necessary

Changbin has been nothing but sweet to you, taking care of errands with you and talking to you about his day, letting you in on the kind of person he is. Everything about your relationship is being taken slowly, a nice pace that you’ve mutually agreed on

“Why don’t you two just date?” Hyunjin asked from the kitchen counter, sat on the marble and kicking his feet back and forth as he stared at the two of you cuddled up on the couch. Changbin shoots him a glare and he throws his hands up in defense, excusing himself to his room

You didn’t think much of this, knowing that Changbin will talk about that when he’s ready, which he’s assured is soon. It has to be ‘perfect’, or so he says. For now, you’re okay with being his cuddle buddy every weekend

hyunjin keeps his composure (mostly)

You wouldn’t know it, but Hyunjin has a pretty cool and calm exterior for someone with a raging crush on his best friend. Everyone in the world seems to know but you and that’s just because he’s so good at hiding how lovesick he is when he’s with you

It’s totally okay if you take a sip of his drink when you’re thirsty and it’s more than okay when you slip on one of his beanies because you feel like you’re having a bad hair day at the dorm. It’s very very okay if you’re just so cold that you have to hug Hyunjin and let him shield you from the winter air, tucking your hands into the pockets of his hoodie to meet his own

At least that’s what you think. For fuck sake, he’s a mess every single time. Every little thing you do has him reeling, his heart is pumping so hard you’d think Changbin convinced him to join in on cardio day. He’s thankful that you can’t feel his pulse or see the way he’s shaking ever so slightly when you’re too close

“Hyune, can I stay over tonight?” You asked with a frown, defeat written all over your face and he can only blink back at you, silently asking for an explanation. “I think it’s gonna snow pretty bad tonight.. I don’t wanna drive in that.”

Yeah. You’re gonna be the death of him, one way or another. He really needs to get this whole crush thing sorted out immediately

han literally does not know how to act around you

Even though he’s a nervous ball of…. nerves around you, he still manages to act as normal as possible. Even after all of the time you’ve spent together, which can be chalked up to almost a year, he still finds his hands clammy when he’s left alone with you

Truth is, it’s easy to talk to you and he likes everything about you. Jisung wants nothing more than to spend endless time with you, learn what you like and don’t like, maybe take you out on a date eventually, he doesn’t even care if that sounds like he’s getting ahead of himself

“You did so good out there Sung, you literally lit up the stage!” You showered him in compliments after a performance, knowing how insecure he was feeling before he went on. You noticed the way his mouth slowly fell open, visibly stunned, and found it adorable

It’s getting easier, of course, it’s only natural considering you see each other almost everyday. He’s able to hold conversation for longer than 2 minutes at a time and he can actually manage looking right into your eyes when he talks to you

“Ha, uh, you’re welcome, I mean thanks!” He’s sure that he’ll always be a little shy around you and he doesn’t see it as a bad thing. You make him want to produce so much word vomit that he actually thinks it’s cute, the effect you have on him is insane

felix showers you in gifts

Felix is a gift giver! Probably the biggest gift giver in the world, he loves to spend money just as much as he loves to shower the people he loves in presents. Of course, he knows that gifts are superficial and they don’t always mean everything, but it feels good to get you things that you talk about a lot

Every single time, Felix manages to totally surprise you. He’ll give you a pretty gift bag on a really bad day that makes you instantly light right back up or he’ll take you out to dinner on nights where you ramble about wanting to go out and do something

“This is the one… right….” His freckled face heated up as he realized that he may have bought the wrong item for you, feeling uneasy about your facial expression. Little did he know that you were damn near in tears because he managed to, yet again, catch you off guard

It had been a messy day and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed. It was like a domino effect, one bad thing simply led to another and you were at your breaking point

But, when Felix showed up to your door with a brand new heating pad because you were complaining about your back, you about burst into tears. “No. God, no, come in Felix,” you stepped aside, making sure to wrap him up into a thankful hug as soon as the door shut behind you

seungmin wants to be in your personal bubble

After years of knowing you, Seungmin is more than comfortable with you. He sits himself in your lap, he snuggles up to you when he’s sleepy but can’t go to bed yet, he snakes an arm around your waist to sway with you when a familiar song plays in whatever shop you’re visiting together

But, these aren’t really just random touches at all. Sure, he’s like this with his members and other people he’s close with, but you’re a little different. He loves your space, he loves being close to you and maybe he’s touchy on purpose

“What’s the deal?” Your eyebrow shoots up in suspicion as your peace is interrupted. You were laying on your belly, reading something on your phone when Seungmin sighed and draped himself across your back playfully. “A mattress? Is that all I am to you, Seungmin?”

“A comfy mattress,” he corrected you with a giggle when you reached behind your back, hoping to find his mouth so you could shut it. Instead of that, you found his hand instead, the sound of Seungmin’s cooing making you roll your eyes

“Aw, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just said so,” he mocked before grabbing it and refusing to let go

jeongin is the biggest tease

You can feel his sharp eyes watching you from across the table, cheeks heating up as he witnesses your struggling. Usually the sauce packet in your hands would be open in seconds, but you swear, your fingers are slippery and the packaging isn’t cut like it normally is and-

“Oh, is it too hard?” Jeongin chirps at your frowning form, smiling with the deepest dimples and gingerly taking the package out of your hands. He can’t help but laugh at the way you smack his arm in retaliation, mumbling about how you ‘almost had it’

At first he exaggerates a struggle, huffing and puffing as if the small foil was way too powerful for him to withstand, but you shot him an icy glare and he pulled it open almost immediately

He could only laugh that breathy laugh that has him gasping for air, shoulders shaking as he got up and dumped the seasoning into your noodles. “That was such a workout,” he stated before fanning himself off with his hand

This sort of behavior would probably piss you off if it were literally anyone else. But Jeongin? He does it right, he teases just enough to get you to bite the inside of your cheek in attempt of hiding a smile

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids headcanons #stray kids comfort

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miyacults · 3 months

Note

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

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bloodlust-1 · 6 months

Text

୨⎯ May I Have This Dance? ⎯୧

Astarion x fem Tav — Fluff

Summary: A celebration! A royal party is thrown for the hero’s of Baldurs Gate, and everyone is dressed for perfection. Astarion eyes Tav as she is offered many dances, waiting to get his turn.

Note: I had this thought of Astarion eyeing Tav down at a ballroom setting, jealous of the guys asking for a dance. And well, here’s this straight from my noggin’

The latest 18+ fic (Halsin)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

In the grand ballroom, adorned with opulent chandeliers and intricately designed carvings on the ceiling, a lavish gathering was taking place for a special group. The room was filled with an air of excitement and anticipation as guests dressed in extravagant attire mingle and socialize. The men tailored in beautifully made jackets of all kinds of styles. The women wore elegant gowns that cascaded to the floor, embellished with sequins, lace, and intricate embroidery.

As the music begins to play, all eyes are drawn to one particular girl, Tav. She was definitely nervous for this event. Not because of how many people were there, but how fancy the event was. Tav was a noble before the tadpole situation, her bloodline magic descended from dragons long ago. Tav was familiar with a setting like this, but she did feel a glint of shyness because no one in her group had seen her this way. This felt a bit vulnerable for her especially in front of Astarion who was also familiar with ballroom adequate. She didn’t want to get judge for not knowing her waltz properly for sure. However, Tav exuded an aura of grace and confidence as her dress moves gracefully across the polished marble floor. Her gown was masterpiece of fashion, it huged her figure perfectly, accentuating her every curve. The dress was adorned with shimmering crystals that caught the light and created a mesmerizing sight in the eyes of the guests.

Her hair was meticulously styled into an elaborate updo, adorned with delicate jewels that glimmered in the soft glow of the ballroom lights. Of course, Tav had a great taste for style and knew what exactly fit her body. Her makeup was flawless, it enhanced her natural beauty and highlighting her striking features. Particularly her mismatched eyes, thanks to Volo.

“You look beautiful as ever, Tav.” A hand reached out to Tav, It was Gale.

Her smiled emulated warmth and she took his hand, “And as for you, good wizard.” She joked while doing a small curtsy.

“I knew you were a noble, but this is a side I’ve never seen of you before. It’s interesting to think about when I’m so used to seeing you snugged in a bedroll on the dirt floor. But of course, this is also a great view as well...” Gale cleared his throat for that last sentence, his face had gone red for a moment. He then smiled and led Tav onto the dance floor.

Tav nodded and followed Gale. But she looked around for familiar faces. She had caught glimpse of Wyll, shadowheart, and even Karlach that for surely was not wearing a dress. It was a beautifully tailored feminine jacket, and she looked fantastic. It was definitely more her style. Though, she was hoping to see someone else, Astarion. They had an intense romance while traveling together, and she was disappointed to have not spotted him out in the crowd. He was the only one who could really stir up her heart, with the history they made together. Astarion promised Tav he would be at the event, it was a matter of time of when he would pop up.

“My lady.” Gale kindly placed his hand on Tav’s waist as she placed hers on his shoulder. Hand in hand Gale began to waltz Tav on the polished floor. They danced and Gale was captivated by Tav’s beauty and grace. He thought she was like an actual princess even. He was steady and lead her around the dance floor. Tav even caught glimpses of Wyll who was smirking at the sight of the two dancing. It made her a little shy.

Across the room stood Astarion. He came fashionably late with his laced red top, it was very fitting for the dress code. He instantly smelled Tav’s sweet blood in the air. It led him to her with the sight of Gale. They danced swiftly, but Astarion instantly thought he could do better. He was too sloppy with his feet.

Astarion crossed his arms and leaned his back against a pillar. He watched Tav enjoy herself in the crowd. She was gracefully passed from partner to partner of many men Astarion was familiar with. Ones that he saw staring at her with loving eyes during camp. He knew that state all too well. But he also enjoyed seeing Tav so fluid. Engaging and captivating the crowd with her confidence and beauty. Astarion was equally mesmerized by her presence.

The atmosphere in the ballroom was electric and lively, filled with whispers of admiration and awe. The guests cannot help but be drawn to this captivating woman who stolen the spotlight. They are captivated by her elegance, poise, and undeniable charm. Tav effortlessly commanding the room's focus. Her presence was magnetic, and she effortlessly captivated the hearts and minds of all who have the privilege of witnessing her grace.

Astarion felt a mix of emotions— admiration, desire, possessiveness, and jealousy. He is unable to tear his eyes away from her as she twirled and spun with other men. Specifically Gale, who was a little more touchy than normal. He looked like a puppy following her around, tail wagging between his legs.

Tav took a break between the music and excused herself from Gale. She smiled and walked off from the dance floor. Astarion’s gazed followed her as she walked into a vacant part of the palace. He followed her moments later.

Tav’s heels clicked against the marble floor, it stretched out before her in its great emptiness. The room was lined with many mirrors of tall stature. She took small steps, heels clicking as her reflection stares back at her. Each mirror capturing every different angle of her, showing all sides of her beauty. Tav almost couldn’t recognize herself. Not after getting used to seeing bruises, blood, and war gear. This was a much more wealthy side of her. She wasn’t sure if it even represented herself anymore. She got used to living a simple life traveling.

She stared into the reflection of herself before hearing a voice, “You look absolutely beautiful, darling.”

Tav was startled at the compliment and saw no other reflection behind her, she immediately turned her head and saw Astarion in his best suit. She felt her cheeks go warm, “Astarion, You made it!”

He smiled gently, “of course, we are the guests of honor after all, hm.” He started to walk closer to Tav. The mirrors were empty with his existence. But she knew she wasn’t dreaming, this was real. Astarion was very much real and alive even if the mirror couldn’t show him how handsome he looked.

Astarion reached out for Tav’s hand, her skin was met with a warm kiss, “I admire your dancing skills, you could be holding a candle while dancing and it wouldn’t go out. I’m impressed with you. However…”Astarion held her hand and placed it over his shoulder, “I couldn’t say the same for your dance partner. Perhaps I can show you a real dance?”

Tav’s cheeks flushed, she nodded her head in a moment of shock. Sometimes she just didn’t know how to react to Astarion’s advancements. He was so charming. She looked into his ruby eyes, “A pleasure…” a soft whisper left her lips. Her heart was racing and she felt her legs go shaky. Why was dancing with him such a hard task, she just did it moments ago!

What Tav didn’t know is that Astarion felt the nervousness off her body. The little quivers from her hands and shoulders tense. He tried to ease her with a gentle squeeze from his hand around her waist, “Relax, love. I want you to enjoy this.”

She took a deep breath in and they took their first step together. What was a brief moment of tension melted away. Their bodies were perfectly aligned, as they gracefully swifted across the empty room. It amplified their foot steps and the mirrors showcased a movie of Tav’s reflection dancing as if no one was there. It was so magical. The attraction between them illuminated the atmosphere. The tension was so thick between the two. The pair became a timeless motion of synchronized passion.

Astarion’s gaze never left Tav’s face and it was nothing short of love and admiration. Every step they took was a showcase of passion in one beautiful dance. Tav let herself go in the moment and let out giggles and smiles as they waltz. Astarion brought Tav closer against his body and the show came to a sudden halt. Both their chests rose up and down from heavy breathing against each other’s bodies.

Astarion placed his hand under Tav’s chin, bringing her face up to his gaze. She clutched his shirt as he leaned in and placed a heated kiss on her lips. Tav has never seen Astarion’s face so red. And this wasn’t blood, it was his cheeks lit up like a fire.

“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. And to see you at every angle..” Astarion looked at the mirrors around the ballroom floor. Each mirror represented a different side of Tav’s features. Her skin was unblemished aside from small scars, her lips like rose petals, but most of all those eyes. He couldn’t get enough of them. How filled of life they were. They shined like stars. Astarion was absolutely star stuck by her presence more than ever.

Tav’s heart melted under his grasp. But there was something also lingering in her head. Tav was still unsure where her and Astarion stood with each other. The thought of maybe just a fling hurt her heart. She knew her heart was trying to tell her more. The way her chest tightens with him, the heat of her cheeks flushing up, but the most of all…how the thought of him kept her up long nights. How unfair it was to not have him alongside her bed. It did hurt.

“I need to know…” Tav cleared her throat but it still cracked anyway. “If we are just to find each other in times of loneliness o-or, are we something that could blossom into something more meaningful?” Tav passionately stared at Astarion. She went completely shakey, yet there was a tone of authority in her voice. She knew she wanted more with Astarion, but he was too unpredictable. She feared she was just company when he wanted affection.

Astarion gave her sad eyes, his expression instantly went somber. There was a long pause. A once lively ballroom moment turned into an intense one. “Tav…”

She started to pull away from him. This wasn’t the way she expected him to respond. In a way she hoped for more. Maybe it was her own expectations of him that’ll be the cause of her heart break. “Every night I laid in my bed, thinking of how I would finally tell you how I truly feel. B-but I can’t feel like this a-anymo—“

Astarion cut her off and grabbed her body into his in an embrace. He held her tight. He did not say anything nor did he lose his grip. Just a long gap of hugging her body, smelling her scent. As he finally pulled away he saw streams of tears flow down her cheeks. How long has she been hiding her feelings for him? He couldn’t tell for sure, but it was driving him crazy that she didn’t tell him this earlier.

he swiped his knuckles against the tears to dry her cheeks, “please don’t cry. Tell me how you feel then. I need to know the truth.”

She bit her inner lip. Her nerves started to take over again. Her eyes started to feel hot, Tav was never a public cryer by any means. She almost felt embarrassed for Astarion to see her like this, “I’ve loved you for a long time now..I thought maybe you only saw me to pass time. I thought maybe it was just your trauma instincts kicking in, to charm me. In a way, I was delusional enough to hope so badly that your affection wasn’t that. But in reality..” she took a deep breath before shutting her eyes tightly, tears flowed down harder. She sobbed quietly, “…B-Be someone who was special to you. It hurts too much. Not seeing you for long periods of time. I thought I could be special to you. I just don’t know. B-but— I beg you please just be honest with me so I can heal.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you often after everything ended. I didnt want to overstep my welcome…I did not know how much that would hurt you. I had suspicion that maybe you saw me differently after Cazador’s death. The way you found out how I’d lure victims to him. I never meant to be the reason you’re tossing and turning at night. I’m truly, utterly sorry…” he reached out to clasp her hands in his own, “But if there was one thing I was certain about, it was that you were going to be mine. I haven’t felt differently since.”

Astarion clutched her hands tighter, “You don’t even know how much I love you. You’re the first person I truly cared for in over 200 years.”

It was an instant relief. The mental load was excruciatingly heavy on her heart. Finally could she enjoy her moment with Astarion that didn’t have the uncertainty of their relationship poking her head.

“You know, I could prove it to you how serious I am.” Astarion cupped her cheeks and swipe away any tears. “Let’s get you cleaned up, I want to show everyone something.”

He cleaned up her wet face and grabbed her hand. Astarion led her back into the party. The music was still playing but everyone seemingly turned their heads back on Tav, who was the star of the party. People of all races saw the vampire and hero hand-in-hand. The rumors of Tav’s romanced did circle around the city, but those were just rumors?! Right? The community had no real evidence of their rumored romance until now. Small gasps, whipsers, and even wide eyed stares pierced the couple.

Astarion walked to the center of the room, making sure to grab a glass of wine on a servers tray. The room fell silent, as all eyes were fixed on him as he lifted his cup. He still held Tav’s hand in the other, “Our city stands tall, it embodies strength as we continue to defeat any threat that comes to us, Buldarians! We were prayed on, stripped of our hope. But still, we persevered. We couldn’t have done it without each other, my friends…and, of course our heads held up high with Tav’s bravery.” He held her hand up high and the crowd began to cheer and clap. She was hero after all.

“She is all of our hero’s. I am lucky to call her my lover. My reason why I can stand here and give this speech to you all. Tonight, we dance, drink, and celebrate our freedom! As I will enjoy mine…Cheers!”Everyone cheered, and clank their wine glasses with each other. Both Tav and Astarion could see familiar faces. Wyll cheered, Shadowheart smirked and clapped her hands, Gale looked bittersweet, and Karlach yelled and pointed her finger, “I KNEW IT! Ahaha!”

Astarion kissed Tav’s forehead. So this is what he meant by proving it. He wanted everyone to know what she meant to him. An equal and a lover.

“Everyone saw how special you are to me…and tonight..” he glared red eyes at her, “they’ll hear how special you are to me.” He smirked and laughed devilishly.

“But for now— May I have this dance, my sweet?”

#bg3 fluff #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 #buldars gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 astarion #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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stararch4ngelqueen · 6 months

Note

hey! just hopping on the period train here…can we get tender, soft, tooth-rottingly sweet ghost with a reader on their period? reader has cramps and will 100% try to overexert themselves if not directly managed lol. Anyway love your work🤍🤍🤍

The unintentional period train 😆 I’ll try, haven’t written about Ghost in a hot minute.

It’s not as grand as I’d like it to be, but I think it’s pretty good for a quick half hour ✨let’s say this is at home too for convenience sake

—

Simon wouldn’t be aware you were on your cycle at first, which makes the most obvious sense.

You; his sweet, bombshell of a woman, had a tendency to hide what irritated you. Physical or not.

Moving into a new house was a bit of a process, one that had a lot of challenges to overpass before enjoying the rewards. You believed their wouldn’t be as many boxes, or as many things to haul off the moving truck and through the front door.

Simon would then assume something was wrong by the amount of breaks he’d find you taking. Moments you’d catch your breath, stand completely still with a hand along your side, or sitting down in the passenger seat of the truck.

Try as well as you like, it’s his job to be concerned about your well-being. Exertion was a high price to pay in the military; sore muscles, lack of proper sleep, etc.

You weren’t in the military anymore. Pushing yourself wasn’t necessary inside your new home.

You figured this pain would go away. Exercise was always a factor to lessen cramps. An annoying tale, but sometimes effective.

Sometimes.

The more boxes you hauled, the quicker you’d walk, the more you’d pace yourself was met with more pain on your end.

“Go rest.” Came his voice from behind you, startling you after you settled some kitchen appliance boxes on your new marble counter.

“I’m fine,” you quickly state, turning your head to meet your husband’s gaze. “I’m okay—“

“That’s an order.” Simon states, leaving little to no room for doubt or denial. You’d frown, but he didn’t care, maintaining his ground with a firm brow and stern expression.

“Simon—“

“Now.”

You scoff, glaring up at him as if he asked something vile from you. Again, he didn’t care.

“Fine,” you bite back a bitter tone before leaving towards your bedroom. “You can finish unpacking all by yourself.”

Simon expected this, seemingly unfazed as he watched you go. He didn’t mind the attitude, he would’ve found it funny. He kind of did, but you didn’t see his smile.

He’d find you later curled up on a bare mattress, yanking blankets out from their boxes to wrap yourself up in. Your head settled on a pillow, his pillow, he recognized after a second glance.

He approached, proceeding to pull off your socks and shoes for you.

He pulls the blankets back after crawling into bed, per your irritation, only to apply a warm bottle compress along your tummy.

“M’sorry,” he murmurs into your ear, proceeding to lay the blankets back over you. Your raised hand stops him, your fingers grasping along his wrist.

Your quiet plea encourages him to join you in bed, clutching your body like a gentle wall of support. Occasionally, his hand would remain over the compress, moving it around along spots you desired it the most while his other massages the back of your neck.

“I’ll start unpackin’ in the morning,” Simon murmurs, his head settled ontop of your head, breathing in your sweet scented shampoo.

Your mouth opens to persist, but he beats you to it.

“No no, don’t wanna hear it. I’ll unpack the rest of the frame, an’ the sheets, give you a proper bed to rest on.”

Your silence meant you were listening, which makes him assume you’re growing irritated by his unique form of ‘persistence’.

“Sickness an’ in health, love,” He kisses underneath your earlobe, hearing your small sigh.

“I’m not sick.”

“You’re cranky.” A faint rumble of a chuckle erupts from his chest. “Often times I’d hear ya say you would get lobotomized back in the day for this type of behavior.”

“That’s what I used to tell Soap just to mess with him,” you faintly muse, nearly falling asleep from his rough hand providing the most gentlest of massages along your nape.

“Get some shut eye, sweetheart. Talk about your self diagnosis in the morning.”

I don’t know how to end this 🧍🏽‍♀️this is not proofread. Back on the grind.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost modern warfare #I’m sorry this is so short #I gotta work super early and I’m dreading it.#I also don’t know how to end this

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undercoveravenger · 7 months

Text

Intoxication

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “love potion mix-up with Billy Hargrove??”

A/N: Happy Spooky Month everyone! Here's the first post for the 2023 Spooky Month event - the next post will be dropping on Tuesday, October 10th. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Things had been strange ever since the arrival of Billy Hargrove and his little sister, Max.

Well, things in Hawkins had been weird for a lot longer than that, especially since you and your best friend Steve had befriended the group of misfit kids that called themselves “the Party”. They’d introduced the two of you to a secret side of Hawkins, where magic and curses and strange creatures ran amok. One of the kids, a girl named Eleven, was able to control objects with her mind and see beyond what was there. Another, Will, was psychic and could connect to other planes of existence. Dustin had a way of knowing how things fit together before anyone else could even guess. Steve’s coworker from Scoops Ahoy, Robin, was a witch. And now, Max and her brother. Werewolves, if what Lucas had told you was to be believed.

But you really couldn’t bring yourself to care much about Billy Hargrove. Not when so much of his life seemed to be spent antagonizing your best friend and trying to disrupt your comfortable station within the school’s hierarchy, seemingly dead set on turning your life upside down. Even at stupid parties like this one, you could hear people chanting Billy’s name while he faced off against Steve in a match of beer pong somewhere deeper in the house while you try to coax the sticker-covered flask away from Robin in the kitchen.

“Robs, babe,” you murmur, sidling up beside her and leaning back against the kitchen island, “I think Vickie likes you already. I know it’s scary to risk rejection, but a love potion isn’t the solution here.”

Robin nods slowly to herself, but her fingers don’t loosen around the metal. “But what if I can’t do it?”

You cock your head, smiling as she meets your eyes. “But isn’t asking her and knowing better than using that and not knowing how she really feels?”

It takes a moment of consideration, but your friend nods, setting the flask on the chipped marble countertop.

“It’s more of an enhancer than-” Robin starts and it’s clear that you’re about to get one of Robin’s infamous lectures on the science of magic when she is cut off by someone snatching the flask from its place in front of the two of you.

“Aww, so sweet of you to have my next drink ready for me,” Billy Hargrove leers at you, unscrewing the cap of the flask even as his usual infuriating smirk slips over his lips, pretty blue eyes fixed on yours in with that intense, holier-than-thou look he always had. Just because he was tall and handsome and had pretty eyes and hair that you kind of want to curl your fingers into and use to pull him closer to shut him up with a kiss, doesn’t mean he could do anything but irritate you by looking at you like he knew something he wasn’t willing to share.

Your heart lurches in your chest as he raises the flask, you know you have to at least try to stop him, especially since Robin seems so stunned you’re not entirely sure she could say anything at all.

“Probably don’t wanna drink that, Hargrove,” you say, reaching out just in time to catch his wrist. “Might end up with something worse than a hangover.”

Billy leans forward against the counter, using his other forearm to prop himself up, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks at your hand, holding tight around his wrist, before his eyes shift up to meet yours. “You threatenin’ me?”

A derisive snort escapes you, and you gesture subtly for Robin to make her escape. The last thing you’d want is for Billy to figure out she had anything to do with whatever happens if he’s stubborn enough to drink the potion and start targeting her once it wears off. She catches your hint and mumbles an excuse about finding Steve, disappearing quickly into the crowd.

“Of course not,” you say, releasing him and holding your hands up placatingly. Sure, you didn’t really want to spend longer than necessary around Billy Hargrove, but you wanted to spend time with a pissed off Billy Hargrove even less. “Just think it probably wouldn’t be something you would like, so I was just hoping to get it back,” you reached for it as you spoke, leaning across the island yourself to try to make a grab for the flask.

Billy snatches it away, taking a long gulp from the mouth of the flask, grinning at you all the while. He pulls a face, but doesn’t wince the way one might at the burn of alcohol, but you can see the moment the look in his eyes starts to shift and the realization hits you with all the weight of a semi-truck.

Billy Hargrove had just taken a love potion while looking right at you. Billy Hargrove was about to be convinced that you were the love of his life.

“Well,” you say, eyes flickering around to look anywhere but at Billy, “I should really be going.” You push back upright, swiftly turning to make your way out the back door of the house and starting off down the sidewalk in the direction of your own home before Billy could speak. You don’t make it far before you realize you’re being followed, the scuff of Billy’s worn leather boots giving him away as he trails behind you.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” you call back over your shoulder, pace remaining steady even as Billy speeds up to walk beside you.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to be,” he drawls, lips quirking up into something softer than his usual sneer. “Just walkin’.”

You study him for a long moment. “Didn’t you drive to the party? Surprised you’d leave your precious Camaro behind.”

“I’ve been drinking,” he shrugs, clearly trying to appear nonchalant. “Drunk driving’s dangerous, y’know.” He’s quiet for a minute and you find yourself almost wondering what he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to walk me home if that’s what this is,” you say, shoving your hands in your pockets and focusing your eyes on the way the lights on the stoplight a few blocks down flicker. “Steve already made me promise to call him when I get home.”

Billy huffs and he almost seems to be pouting when you glance over at him. “Don’t see why you’re with that loser in the first place. ‘s not good enough for you anyway.”

His words shock you enough that your steps falter and you have to turn to face him to see if he’s joking or not. Billy looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, steely blue eyes fixed firmly on you.

You have to fumble for words for a minute, the first thing you’re able to force out being a weak protest. “Steve’s not a loser!” Then the rest of his words catch up to you, “And he’s just my best friend, anyways.”

Billy seems to brighten at that, a more genuine smile crossing his lips than you’d ever seen before. “So,” he says, moving toward you slowly. The dull orange glow of the streetlights makes his hair shine almost copper and his eyes flash that distinct werewolf silver as he stalks toward you, gently herding you backward until your back is pressed to the brick wall of some long-closed business and Billy’s in front of you, arms caging you in on either side. On any other day, you might’ve felt claustrophobic- trapped and threatened by someone determined to fuck up your life. But today- with that love drunk look in Billy's eyes and that fond grin on his face, you were hesitantly pleased with your position. "If you're not with Harrington," Billy starts, leaning just a bit closer, until you can almost feel the breath of his words against your lips, "Does that mean you're available to go out with me on Friday?"

Part of you is tempted to say yes- to give in to this sweet, intoxicating side of Billy and let this go as far as he wants to take it- but the rest of you knows that what's happening is wrong.

You press a hand to Billy’s chest, pushing him back enough to give yourself some breathing room.

"I would, but this isn't real, Billy." You force yourself to say, "You drank a love potion tonight- this- you don't mean any of this."

Billy laughs then, full and unrestrained and the most genuine you've ever heard him be. "That shit doesn't work on werewolves. Metabolism’s too fast for it to really do much of anything," he says, grin unable to be helped even as his laughter subsides. "And even if it did, the stuff that your buddy whipped up just makes feelings that's already there easier to act on."

You blink, the pressure you'd been using to keep Billy at bay slacking as you think through what he'd said. If he hadn't been affected by Robin’s potion then-

Billy nudges closer, slipping his arms around your middle and tucking his face against the side of your neck. "The reason I was always so shitty to Harrington is that I was jealous," he murmurs softly, and you can feel the way he grins just a little wider as you start to relax against him, "I wanted to have people look at me like they look at him. I wanted to have you look at me like I was him."

You can’t help the way your hands come up to curl around him too, the way your fingers curl into his shirt, or the way you press just a bit closer to him. You can’t help the answering grin from carving its way across your cheeks at the thought of how pleased Billy seems to be at being the center of your attention, but you also can’t stop those few little questions from itching away inside your mind.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The thought escapes you almost unbidden, before you can second-guess yourself, and you can’t help but keep talking. “Why didn’t you ask me out? Or- or just say hi? Something other than-” you gesture vaguely back in the direction of the party.

The tired sigh that escapes him makes it clear he knows you’re talking about his grudge against Steve and all the drama he’s stirred up for the two of you.

“It’s-” he has to pause and think over his words for a moment before he can continue. “My experience with love is… complicated. My mom died when I was little and my dad- he changed after that. Got mean. Angry.” He swallows hard, pulling away far enough to look at you, to really look at you. “He made it clear that he expected pretty specific behavior from me and anything that didn’t meet that wasn’t… good for me. Liking a guy- well, that was pretty far from what he’d expect.” His hands drop from your sides and he steps back a bit, arms crossing over his chest like he’s trying to distance himself from his thoughts. “So I was rude and sarcastic and I was mean to Harrington because at least that kept me in your peripheral.” He meets your eyes again, bright and open and honest in the orange glow of the streetlights, “But I don’t want to just be in your peripheral anymore.”

With all of what he'd said playing through your mind, finding the right words is proving difficult. "If we’re gonna try this, you've gotta leave Steve alone," you start finally, heart squeezing with more fondness than you're ready to admit as you watch the realization of what you mean starts to sink in and a million-watt smile pulls at Billy’s lips. "And Robin and the kids, too.”

A giddy laugh escapes Billy and he takes your hand in his, tugging you back down the street in the direction the two of you had been walking. “That’s a deal I’d make a thousand times over,” he says, grinning brightly as he walked with you, fingers intertwined with yours, hands swinging easily between the two of you.

Conversation flows easily as the two of you walk and you’re more at peace with Billy now than you could ever remember being with any of your exes, he insists on walking you home no matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t need to.

“Go out with me on Friday?” He says as the two of you stop at the foot of your driveway. “We could go for a picnic or to the drive-in if you want?”

When he’s looking at you like that, you can’t help but agree, quickly finding yourself more and more excited about your pending date.

Billy kisses your hand before he lets go, stepping back as you turn away from him and head for your house.

Billy smiles to himself as he watches you make your way up the driveway, keeping watch until you're safely inside, before turning and heading off in the direction of his own home. No, he knew he'd never have needed that love potion- not when it came to you. Billy Hargrove had been intoxicated by you since the first time he met you and he knows that isn't going to change any time soon.

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 months

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Tableskills: Making a Game of It

Recently I learned a bit of an unspoken truth that I'd brushed up against in my many years of being a dungeonmaster that I'd never seen put into words before: If you want to liven up whatever's going on in your adventure, figure out a way to engage the players in some kind of game. It's simultaneously the best way to provide a roadblock while making your player's victories feel earned.

This might seem redundant, since you're already playing d&d but give a moment of thought to exactly what portions of d&d are gamified. Once you learn your way around the system, it becomes apparent that D&D really only has three modes of play:

Pure roleplay/storytelling, driven by whatever feels best for the narrative. Which is not technically a game, nor should it (IMO) be gamified.

Tactical combat with a robust rules system, the most gamelike aspect.

A mostly light weight skills based system for overcoming challenges that sits between the two in terms of complexity.

The problem is that there's quite a lot of things that happen in d&d that don't fall neatly into these three systems, the best example being exploration which was supposed to be a "pillar" of gameplay but somehow got lost along the way . This is a glaring omission given how much of the core fantasy of the game (not to mention fantasy in general) is the thrill of discovery, contrasted with the rigours of travelling to/through wondrous locations. How empty is it to have your party play out the fantasy of being on a magical odyssey or delving the unknown when you end up handwaving any actual travel because base d&d doesn't provide a satisfying framework for going from A to B besides skillchecks and random encounters (shameless plug for my own exploration system and the dungeon design framework that goes with it).

The secret sauce that's made d&d and other ttrpgs so enduring is how they fuse the dramatic conventions of storytelling with the dynamics of play. The combat system gives weight and risk to those epic confrontations, and because the players can both get good at combat and are at risk of losing it lets them engage with the moment to moment action far more than pure narration or a single skill roll ever could.

I'm not saying that we need to go as in depth as combat for every gamified narrative beat (the more light weight the better IMO) but having a toolbox full of minigames we can draw upon gives us something to fall back on when we're doing our prep, or when we need to improvise. I've found having this arsenal at hand as imortant as my ability to make memorable NPCs on the fly or rework vital plothooks the party would otherwise miss.

What I'd encourage you as a DM to do is to start building a list of light weight setups/minigames for situations you often find yourself encountering: chase scenes, drinking contests, fair games, anything you think would be useful. Either make them yourself or source them from somewhere on the web, pack your DM binder full of them as needed. While not all players are utterly thrilled by combat, everyone likes having some structured game time thrown in there along with the freeform storytelling and jokes about how that one NPC's name sounds like a sex act.

A quick minigame is likewise a great way to give structure to a session when your party ends up taking a shortcut around your prepared material. Oh they didn't take that monster hunter contract in the sewers and instead want to follow up on rumours about a local caravan? The wagon hands are playing a marble game while their boss negotiates with some local mercahnts, offering to let the party play while they wait. The heroes want to sail out to the island dungeon you don't have prepped yet? Well it looks like the navigator has gone on a bit of a bender, and the party not only need to track them down but also piece together where they left the charts from their drunken remembrances as a form of a logic puzzle.

Artsource

#tableskills #tabletop inspiration #dnd #dm tip #dm tips #dm toolbox #d&d #dungeons and dragons

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diakaoniii · 7 months

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With their daughters

— reiji sakamaki

Reiji's serenity was abruptly shattered by a shrill voice calling out to him, yanking him back to reality. Slowly opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of his 6-year-old daughter standing before him, clutching a tray with a lopsided smile on her face. The tray itself held a rather unappetizing selection of food, the burnt omelette and poorly sliced tomatoes and salad attesting to the child's earnest but clumsy attempts at culinary prowess. A fleeting thought of annoyance flickered in his mind, but he quickly suppressed it, reminding himself of the importance of nurturing his daughter's attempts, no matter how imperfect.

"Papa, I made breakfast for you!" Her innocent eyes shone with excitement and anticipation, clearly proud of her creation. Reiji's voice softened as he gazed at his daughter, his sense of responsibility and affection intertwining within him.

Despite his initial reservations about what lay before him, Reiji managed to compose himself, shifting his gaze from the tray to meet his daughter's sparkling eyes. A small, genuinely warm smile graced his lips—a rare sight for those who knew him.

"My dear, it appears you've taken great care in preparing this... concoction," he said, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. Carefully reaching out, he took the tray from his daughter's tiny hands, placing it on the nearby table.

"You remind me so much of your mother with your determination and kind spirit. However, there are certain standards when it comes to culinary delights. A true gentleman knows the importance of proper preparation and presentation."

Reiji gently patted his daughter's head, his voice carrying a soothing tone as he continued, "You see, my precious one, cooking is an art. It requires discipline, precision, and an impeccable attention to detail. Let me show you how it's done."

With practiced grace, he stood up, his tall figure looming over the little girl. He motioned for her to join him in the kitchen, leading her by the hand as he traversed the hallways of the mansion. As they entered the grand kitchen, adorned with sleek stainless steel appliances and pristine marble countertops, the young girl's eyes widened in awe.

"Now, my dear, watch closely. This is how one truly prepares a meal,"

He declared, his voice carrying authority, yet tinged with a gentle warmth. With meticulous precision, he demonstrated the correct way to slice tomatoes and lettuce, guiding his daughter's hands as they worked together to create a visually pleasing salad. As the aromas of sautéing vegetables and eggs filled the air, Reiji delicately cooked an omelette, ensuring that it was cooked to perfection—lightly golden on the outside, fluffy and moist on the inside.

After a short while, the duo had successfully transformed the makeshift meal into a feast fit for royalty. The vegetables were vibrant, the omelette delicate, and the tea brewed to perfection. Reiji presented the new creation to his daughter, a masterpiece of culinary finesse.

"Now, shall we enjoy this feast together, my dear daughter?"

His eyes softened as he watched his daughter's face light up with a mix of awe and gratitude. He had not only imparted his knowledge but also shared a bonding moment with his little one, a memory they would cherish for years to come.

#sakamaki reiji #diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers ask blog #diabolik lovers x reader #diaboys #diabolik lovers reactions #react #diahell #diabolik brothers #diabolik boys #sakamaki brothers #3/12

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artificial-transmutations · 3 months

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Strength Within

Tiberius was humming slightly as he carefully, almost tenderly, chipped away another piece of marble. It was a warm summer day, and he was working on one of his best pieces yet: A statue of a gladiator, made of the finest marble. It was going to replace one of the hundreds of statues in the great Colosseum. There had been a storm some weeks ago, and a few of the lighter statues had been toppled over, breaking them beyond repair in the process. It had been a great honor to be asked to create a replacement, and Tiberius had immediately started to work on it.

It was the statue of a young man, his body chiseled out of a piece of white marble that Tiberius had bought at the market. He was so focused on the statue in front of him that he almost didn't hear the noise of approaching feet. Only when the person stopped right next to him, did Tiberius avert his gaze.

It was Marcus, Tiberius' slave, a young man with a lean, fit body. Tiberius even supposed that the young man was kind of handsome, at least judging from the attention Marcus got when he went to the forum for him. Right now, however, the slave seemed flustered, almost fearful even.

"Master, there... there is a visitor for you."

Tiberius frowned slightly. Usually, Marcus knew not to disturb him when he was working. One wrong move and the whole statue could be ruined.

"Well, can't you see I am busy? This is most important work. Imagine all the people who are going to see my statue at the great Colosseum when they pass it by. Even the nobles, perhaps even the emperor himself. I can hardly afford to make mistakes here. Tell the visitor to return after sundown."

Marcus gulped slightly.

"Master, it's..."

Another voice, strong and filled with arrogance, spoke up. "I will most certainly not return after sundown. I am here, after all, to inspect the work for my Colosseum."

Slowly, Tiberius turned around before letting himself fall to his knees in a panicked motion. Standing in front of him was no one else but Cornelius Magnus, the emperor of Rome. The most powerful man in the whole world was standing here, in the backyard of Tiberius' villa, clad in the finest toga.

"Y-your lordship, I am so sorry! Please, forgive me for being rude!"

"Oh, I forgive you, artist." Said the emperor, stepping closer to Tiberius. "You seem like a nice enough man."

Tiberius was still looking at the ground as the noble came closer.

"Stand up, artist!" The emperor commanded.

Tiberius was shaking like a leaf as he got back on his feet.

"I... thank you, your lordship."

The emperor thankfully didn't comment on his stuttering and instead looked at the marble statue.

"I can see why the great Colosseum has employed you. This is truly a magnificent piece. Who is it supposed to represent?"

"That... uhm. It's nobody, actually. I was just imagining a gladiator."

"Ah, I see. And what a fine gladiator he would make, too." The emperor replied.

Tiberius couldn't help but blush slightly. It was such an honor to receive praise from the emperor himself.

"But tell me, artist! Why is his chest so smooth and unadorned? Where is all the manly hair you would expect on a man of his strength?"

"I-I just figured that... you know... a gladiator would look better without chest hair. More... more elegant. It's the style, you see. Also, it is almost impossible to capture these fine details in marble."

"Hm. A pity you think so." The emperor continued to look at the statue for a few moments before turning towards Tiberius.

"You know, I have not only come to inspect the art, but also the artist." The look of the emperor now lingered on Tiberius himself, making him feel entirely uncomfortable. It was just the same judging look he just used on the marble statue.

"What... what do you mean?", Tiberius stammered.

The emperor didn't answer the question, but slowly circled around Tiberius. "You are aware that you are my subject, yes? That I basically own you, just like you own that slave boy?" he asked in a casual tone.

"I... yes, I am. I would never dream of questioning your authority." Tiberius didn't like where this was going, and he knew the emperor was, in fact, wrong. He was a free citizen, not a slave. Not even the emperor *owned* him. But that were semantics he didn't want to lose this job over.

"Good. It pleases me that you are not a troublemaker. It makes my life easier. I do not enjoy punishing my subjects." The emperor paused and then looked directly at Tiberius.

"Now, take off your toga."

"My... my toga?"

"Yes, you heard me."

"Eh..." Tiberius didn't know how to react. It wasn't that he didn't want to obey the emperor, it was just that the command made no sense to him. He had no idea what the emperor had planned.

"Are you refusing an order from your emperor?" The man now asked with a hint of danger in his voice.

"N-no, of course not, your lordship!"

Still shaking, Tiberius untied his toga, exposing his naked chest.

The eyes of the emperor were akin to those of a vulture as he studied the exposed body of his subject.

"Pitiful. But your face is agreeable at least. Agreeable enough at least. Get on your knees, boy, and use that mouth of yours to serve your emperor."

Tiberius froze.

"I... I don't understand."

"Don't be daft. You are going to suck me off. Use that mouth for something other than talking."

Tiberius stared at the man with disbelief.

"No." Everything in Tiberius was revolting against that request. He wasn't a particular fan of being intimate with other men, but even more importantly, he wouldn't let himself be forced to that against his will. Not even by the emperor. He was a free citizen.

The emperor had a cold look in his eyes as he spoke up:

"What did you say? I thought I misheard."

"I... I said no." Tiberius was trembling, but he managed to keep his voice firm.

"You... dare to defy me? You dare to defy your emperor? You will regret that, artist. You just forfeit all your privileges. Your life is not worth anything anymore. Do you know what happens to slaves who disobey their master? They are taken to the arena and fight to the death against wild beasts."

Before Tiberius could protest - or react at all - the emperor snapped his fingers. The clicking sound was unnaturally loud, like the crack of a whip. All of a sudden, Tiberius felt weak. Shadows and darkness came closing in from all sides despite it being a sunny day. He barely heard the voice of Marcus cry out, as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

***

When Tiberius awoke, he was not in bright sunlight anymore. Instead, he found himself in a dark dungeon. Moist stone surrounded him and as he got on his feet carefully, he noticed that he was imprisoned. His cell was small and empty aside from a heap of straw that served as a bed. It smelled as bad as Tiberius would have expected, and light only came in from a torch in the corridor through the iron barred door.

Tiberius stumbled towards the door, holding on to the bars for support. He was weak and felt lightheaded. He was also wearing different clothes, a simple tunic and sandals.

Of course, Tiberius recognized his surroundings. He had not been here before, but he recognized the masonry. He was in the coliseum, the biggest and most famous structure in Rome. Only now, he wasn't in the part where visitors went, and statues stood. He was in the dungeons beneath the arena.

"Hello?" He called out, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Even though he didn't expect any reaction, he heard steps approaching. He thought the sound of the steps sounded familiar and, really, a familiar face appeared in the torchlight.

"Marcus!"

"Master! You're awake!" The slave was obviously happy to see him.

"What happened?"

"It was all very weird. After the emperor snapped his fingers, it became really dark for a moment, and you collapsed. Then, the emperor ordered his guards to bring you to the coliseum as a new gladiator. And then, all your stuff was being sold off. I, too, was sold to the arena, although not as a fighter. They need a lot of support staff for the fights, so I was bought to be a cleaner and a servant. Oh, and the emperor's guards took your statue and smashed it. He was really angry at you."

Tiberius needed a moment to digest that information.

"I'm a... gladiator now?"

Most gladiators were slaves, or criminals, or prisoners of war. It was about the lowest one could fall, and all just because he had the nerve to refuse the emperor. Still, even though Tiberius felt anger swelling in himself, he wasn't angry at himself, but that *asshole* of an emperor.

"Master, I'm so sorry, I..." began Marcus, but Tiberius quickly cut him off.

"What happened is not your fault. And don't call me master. I'm not your master anymore. I'm a servant myself, as it seems. Just call me Tiberius."

"But I can't..."

"It's okay, Marcus. Just do it."

"Okay, Tiberius. Thank you. We will figure something out. The emperor said he would 'inspect his work' later, perhaps you can appeal to him then."

That sounded reasonable. However, Tiberius didn't *feel* reasonable. He felt... enraged. Full of furious energy. His whole body felt like it was on fire from within.

"Perhaps." Tiberius murmured, clenching his fists.

"How... how long was I unconscious?"

"Two days."

"Do you have any food?"

"Yes, the kitchen is well stocked. Let me get you something."

While Marcus fetched the food, Tiberius was left alone with his thoughts.

Being turned into a gladiator was pretty much a death sentence, at least for someone like Tiberius. He looked down on himself and looked at his lean, but not overly fit body. He wouldn't last ten minutes in the arena.

However, as he looked, the warm feeling inside of him intensified. Every breath he took in seemed deeper than the last, and every time he exhaled, his chest didn't recede all the way, as if his lungs were expanding with each breath.

When Marcus returned, he almost cried out: "Ma- Tiberius! What is happening to you?"

By now, his chest had barreled out considerably and his clothes felt tight. When he spoke, the added lung volume made his voice resonate somewhat deeper. "I don't know." He replied. "What is happening to me?"

"You... are growing."

"I know." came Tiberius frustrated answer. "It's like my chest is blowing up."

"It's not just your chest! Your shoulders, too."

It was difficult for Tiberius to look at his own shoulders, but he found Marcus was right: His shoulders had become considerably wider, and his arms were further apart then just minutes before.

"I feel like I'm growing. Growing stronger, I mean. My body feels so energized. I feel like I could smash that iron door with my bare hands."

"Well, perhaps you should try not to. This is some weird magic going on, no doubt." Despite his words, Marcus didn't just appear to be frightened. A certain ...interest was clearly audible in his voice, too.

Tiberius could hardly focus on it, though. His simple tunic felt even tighter as his arms and legs began to swell with strength and muscles. At the same time, his chest and shoulders expanded further and further, the fabric stretching beyond its limits. The seam of his tunic ripped, and the garment fell apart, leaving his torso naked.

"Fuck." Normally, it would be unlike Tiberius to curse like that, but now it came to him naturally. On the other hand, he found it more and more difficult to focus on the more complex thoughts, like *why* he was changing.

All of a sudden, an itching feeling spread quickly over his body.

"Gods, my armpits!" Cried Tiberius, scratching his underarms and sides.

"Let me see." Marcus quickly rushed closer, and indeed, small hairs began to grow out of the previously smooth pits. They didn't stop there, though. quickly, like a fire, the pelt of hair covered his bare chest and back, quickly spreading further north and south from there.

"Your face!" exclaimed the slave, before obviously getting an idea. He produced a small piece of polished silver and handed it to Tiberius, allowing him to see his own face change.

While before, his face had been lengthy, crowned by dark curly hair, he was changing quickly now. His skull reformed to a blockier appearance, radiating a form of rugged but outlandish and primitive manliness. Coarse stubble grew on his chin, and his curly hair straightened into strong spiky strands in an exotic blonde color.

This wasn't the face of a roman, Tiberius knew that. It was the face of a barbarian from the north, a member of the tribes of Germania. Confusingly, Tiberius didn't feel particularly disgusted by becoming some filthy animalistic barbarian from the north. Instead, he felt... pride? It was hard to find the right words, even more so, as his knowledge in Latin diminished to a heavily accented basis.

He looked back at Marcus, who was watching the whole process with big eyes. Well, not only big eyes, as Tiberius noticed. The excitement was clearly visible in the loin area of his clothing. That, in turn, was oddly exciting for Tiberius. The thought that he preferred female company was quickly diminishing as his own member grew. It wasn't just that his cock was becoming stiff, no. It was also becoming *bigger*. In Rome, a small cock was considered civilized. But Tiberius wasn't from Rome anymore. In Germania, a big fuckstick was something to be proud of! And proud he was.

It was impossible for Marcus not to realize the hefty tool Tiberius was now sporting.

"Tiberius, you..." he said, but again, Tiberius cut him off. "It's Torben." he said with his gruff accented voice. After a moment, he added: "I... like you Marcus. Really." He wanted to express more than that. He wanted to express gratitude that Marcus was there for him, and he wanted to express the deep fluttery feeling that was composed of both barely contained lust for the other man and emotional closeness, but Torben didn't know the words for that.

However, even though Torben lacked the words, it looked like Marcus understood him perfectly well. Still separated by the bars, he brought his face close to Torben's. So close they could feel each other’s breath. However, just as their lips parted, the door to the dungeon opened. Quickly, both men took a step back.

It was the emperor, a smug grin on his mouth.

"Ah, the artist. Although, you're not much of an artist now, are you? But don't worry. What you lack on status now, you'll make up in entertainment value for the people of Rome. Or..." he paused for a moment before continuing. "For me. In my grace I have decided to give you one. last. chance. Serve in my bedchamber for one week and you shall have your former body back and be exiled. Now that is a most generous offer, if you ask me."

Torben couldn't help himself and snorted.

"And what if I don't accept?"

"Why, you stay like that of course. And be eaten by lions, eventually, I suppose."

Torben looked at the emperor intensely. The offer wasn't that bad, he had to admit. Being with men wasn't a problem anymore for him, and a week wasn't that long. The only trouble was his burning hatred for that arrogant asshole. Nevertheless, it was his best shot at survival.

Torben was just about to agree, when his gaze fell on Marcus. Torben wasn't too bright, but he understood: If he returned to his old life, he wouldn't be attracted to Marcus anymore. Even more so, he would be exiled, without him. Torben might be strong as a bull, but the thought alone made his knees weak.

"No." he said firmly. "I stay. With Marcus."

Clearly, the emperor did not expect that. His expression changed from surprise to anger, and, after a few seconds, to an amused grin.

"My, aren't you a strong one. Even now you have the audacity to defy me. You realize I could just let you have executed right now?"

"Yes." Torben said, with his head held high.

"Ha. You really must like that slave boy. Fine, have it your way. Stay a gladiator, see how long you survive."

The emperor turned around and went for the door. When he reached it, he turned around once more.

"You know, it doesn't happen often, but every now and then a gladiator can earn back his freedom. I'll be delighted to see you try."

The closing door felt as if Torben's fate had been sealed. He looked to Marcus, unsure what to think, but the young man just smiled.

"Thank you.", he said, and closed in for that kiss. Life surely wouldn't be easy from now on, but Torben had a goal. He would fight for freedom, both his own and Marcus'.

Hey, if you like Torben or Tiberius, check out my Tip Jar - There are many alternate versions of him!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #straight to gay #racial transformation

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dark-and-kawaii · 4 months

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༺ 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉 ༻

Raphael x Tav/Reader

Summary: You had failed to leave his house of hope in peace. During your last moments, Raphael ceases the fight and offers you one last contract.

Angst - Death

Raphael stopped abruptly. Your little form was heaving with the effort of breath, your hair matted with blood. In a snap he had cleared the room, allowing it to be just the two of you.

Raphael whispered, his voice laced with a tenderness that belied his devilish reputation, “Look at what ill fate has befallen you, little mouse.”

Your eyes fluttered, struggling to focus on the towering figure that loomed over you. "Raphael," you breathed, your voice a mere rustle against the marble flooring. "I fear my end is near, all thanks to you.” You let out a weak laugh, “And to think, I’m not even upset by it… I betrayed you afterall." You smiled weakly at him.

Raphael knelt, his elegant attire gathering dust, uncaring. You gasped for breath, each one a shallow battle against the inevitable. His face, usually a mask of impeccable composure, betrayed a flicker of distress. He had grown fond of you…

Raphael's eyes, dark as the void between stars, flashed with an intensity that could sear souls. His voice a smooth melody that belied the chaos of his nature. "There is a way to mend your wounds, little one. A way to grant you life anew," he offered, extending a slender finger towards you.

Your breathing hitched, hope mingling with apprehension. "At- at what cost?"

A parchment materialized in Raphael's hand, along with a quill, the feather as black as the darkest night. "A contract. Sign it, and you shall be healed. You shall have life. But you will remain by my side, within these walls, for all your days."

Your heart sank, a weight pulling you further to the shadow of death. At last, you sighed, a decision resting in your eyes. "To be with you, yet not as I am, not as your equal or lover but as a possession? This is the paradox of your kind nature, Raphael.” Your eyes closed as you gathered strength to continue, “You offer life but dictate its terms." Tears, like diamonds, formed in the corners of your eyes, “A cage, even gilded, remains a cage, dear Raphael. And though I’ve come to be fond of you, I cherish my freedom to roam wherever it is I please."

Raphael felt the sting of your words, “Freedom is a precious thing, indeed," he mused, his sharp eyes softening. "But what is freedom to the dead?"

Raphael's hand finally touched you, a caress as light as a falling leaf.

With the last of you strength, you reached out, your much smaller hand touching his. "true love does not chain, let me go. I shall cherish our moments in the flutter of my final breath… Even if it ended like this, I’ll still cherish it."

Raphael's hand trembled, an imperceptible quake that would have gone unnoticed by any but the most observant. "Then, so be it," he spoke, the quill and parchment vanishing into the ether. He wanted you to beg, to call out to him to save you, to hold your weakened arms up to him and ask for forgiveness, but none of those things happened…

He watched, with a heart breaking in silence as you, his little mouse, closed your eyes for the last time…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #tav #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion

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curlyfries967-blog · 10 months

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Vamos A Bailar

Word Count 10.0+

WARNING NSFW THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY SMUT.

FemaleReader, BreedingKink, BDSM, Shibari, RopePlay, Blindfolds, Edging, Facefucking, Primal Play, PraiseKink, Toys. If it's not your cup of tea then please find something else to read.

Plot: you haven't seen Miguel in a month and a half because he's been busy with work. But tonight is your date night together at a Salsa Social and he's going to make it up to you.

Light chatter and upbeat passionate music fills the air as you enter the large dance hall room. Your new heels gently click on the marble floor as you navigate about. Your black dress flowed with ease as it danced around your thighs just above your knees. Your kind gentle eyes search the crowded hall for your missing partner. The one who swore to you that he would be here on time tonight. You have not seen him in almost an entire month. Maybe you wouldn't see him tonight. A disappointed click escapes from your mouth and tongue, realizing that he wasn't here at all. Your shoulders slump disheartened looking down at your watch. Miguel was late to your date night. He gave his word that he would be there for you.

The man was always late to everything. He never meant to be a disappointment, but he’s so focused on his work that sometimes he doesn’t even realize what time it is.

He does always make it, though. He’s reliable that way.

You see a familiar tall, muscular man with dark brown eyes and curly dark hair. His large figure made him stand out from the crowd around the two of you. He's wearing a black button up along with charcoal gray ripped jeans. When he spots you he smiles and walks up to you. His biceps bulge effortlessly as they hold up two glasses of wine in his possession.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he apologized quickly, leaning in, placing a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a glass of wine. Making up for his lateness with some sweetness.

"What happened to being on time?" You asked, feeling crossed with him.

"Hobie happened," he groans in disdain, rubbing the bridge of his nose, before taking a sip from his glass.

"Oh?" You laughed while drinking from your glass. You knew the teenager enjoys giving Miguel a run for his money. But as long as you knew Hobie, he was always respectful and kind towards you. But whenever Miguel had his moments of ranting or venting about him. You could have sworn he was describing another person or talking about somebody else completely different from the Hobie you knew.

"What did he do this time?" you asked with a raised eyebrow, placing a hand on your hip and turning towards him.

"He messed up the inventory again," he replied, shaking his head and letting out a big sigh. "I swear that boy lacks basic skills."

You couldn't help but laugh at his rant, knowing how much Hobie's actions bothered him. But despite his complaints, there was a warmth to his attitude towards his younger coworker, and you knew that the two of them had a special connection despite their differences.

"Work is like a daycare. It's like trying to manage a bunch of kids and it's damn near impossible." He's beginning to get worked up and catches himself before it ruins his evening.

He changes the topic not wanting to talk about the frustrating teenager nor his job, "You look absolutely stunning, Cariña," he successfully distracts you with a compliment and his rare mesmerizing smile. His dark brown eyes soak up your beauty. Your hair was in a braided bun, lips were ruby and enticing to look at. His eyes lingered longer looking at your welcoming full lips.

Flustered by his kind words, you can't help but smile back. You had always been conscious of your looks but his attention made your confidence skyrocket like never before. You can't help but look around, seeing if anyone was watching, though a part of you didn't care. There was something in his eyes, in the way he was staring at your lips. Feeling your heartbeat accelerating, you took a drink of your wine, hoping to ease your nerves. As you swallow, you felt a pair of strong hands slide along your sides, causing butterflies in your tummy.

"You're not so bad yourself," you gestured to his clothes with your free hand.

"I really didn't think ripped jeans would look good on me," he confessed, giving you a slow threesixty of his outfit that you had laid out for him on the bed, "You have good taste." Absolutely, the clothes you picked highlighted his assets. If you left it up to him; he would have dressed as comfortably as possible in sweats and a hoodie. Not that you had an issue with his outfit choices, but tonight was Salsa night and he promised you a romantic evening together.

"You'd look good in anything," you said coyly. You had picked out a pair of clothes for him, and you were right: they did compliment his physique. His arms bulged as he waved around his glass of wine, causing him to flex his biceps. He even looked handsome in ripped jeans. What can't this man get away with? He was charming, kind, and incredibly sexy. How did you get so lucky?

"Why thank you, gorgeous," he responded, turning to you with a grin, his eyes twinkling from your compliment. His confident smirk was enough to make you want to bite that cocky bottom lip, but you didn't let yourself go out of control. As your gaze traveled down his body, you saw how those ripped jeans accentuated his muscular frame, making your heart sink a little. How was he so ripped and so attractive at the same time? He was the ultimate tease and you just couldn't get enough.

Letting out a long breath, you took a sip from your wine, feeling your thoughts wander. This night was promising to be a good one and you were looking forward to a bit more than salsa.

A guitarist on stage played with passion, his fingers moving deftly over the strings as the singer's voice soared above the music. Emotion of the music washes over both your bodies. The couples that were there on the dance floor, spun and moved around each other. The sounds of trumpets filled the room, along with a cowbell, other chorus of instruments that the Banda played. He listens to the beautiful music as he then wraps his arm around your waist as he starts to move to the beat of the music.

You lean against him as he guides both of you towards the dance floor. As the music takes over you, feeling his body rhythmically rocking against yours, you feel yourself giving in to the passion of it all. Dancing like nobody's watching, you let yourself enjoy the moment, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist and your smile stretched across your face. You were in your element and you didn't care if people were staring. This was your night and you were going to enjoy it to the fullest.

You love it when Miguel dances with you. Not that he's a professional at it, but there's something about holding him close that makes you weak in the knees. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. Tonight is perfect, and you feel a little better about Miguel being late. You're lucky to have a boyfriend like him.

"I love the music here," He says as he then pulls you closer to his side while still moving to the beat of the music.

"I do too," you replied, turning slightly towards him and placing a kiss on his chiseled cheek. "It just screams romance, doesn't it?" You raised your glass in a toast, and he clinked his own against it, his fingers lingering in yours. "To a perfect night," you said, before taking another sip.

Feeling his warm breath on your cheek, you couldn't help but smile. This was the kind of evening that made you feel alive inside. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company, it almost felt out of this world…

"Let's dance," he takes you out to further into the dance floor.

"You lead, love," you say, allowing him to take charge. Miguel is much more of an extrovert than you are, and he loves being the center of attention. You have no problem letting him take the lead, and he happily obliges. He takes you out on to the dance floor, and soon you're swept up in his arms. You dance together for hours, losing track of time and the rest of the world. Your mind is only occupied by Miguel and the way he makes you feel.

You're his yang to his yin when you two danced together. He steps towards and you mirrored him opposite. And vice versa as you step towards him, smiling up at him. He held your right arm up with your left hand and gently made you twirl on the floor. He loves to show you off in front of jealous eyes. He tugs you towards his body. His large hand resting on the small of your bare back, his touch sent goosebumps running down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, giving you such a devilish sultry smile. A nervous giggle escapes your lips, "Miguel!"

"Tu querias a bailar." He snickers, drawing you closer. You were so close to him now that it was impossible not to blush at each touch. You were still a little nervous around Miguel; but he made you feel safe, and that's what mattered. You felt yourself relaxing in his care, and your smile grew.

"I love you, Miguel," you said, looking into his eyes. You meant it, every word. You had never loved someone as much as you loved Miguel.

"I love you, too," he replied, pulling you in for a kiss.

His large body towers over you and he ever so slowly kisses you. Your head felt fuzzy, you weren't sure if it's the wine or if it was the effect he had on you. The kiss made you stumble in your sparkly high heels, causing you to accidentally roll awkwardly on your ankle and step on his toe. Mortified, you gasp. You were so embarrassed that you wanted to curl up and die.

"Are you okay, Amor?' Miguel asked, he caught your arm just in time preventing you from falling. He kissed you on the forehead, and you could feel your cheeks glowing red from his affection. He made you feel comforted, even when you felt like a total fool.

"I'm sorry, Love" you mumbled looking down at your heels while the music came to a steady halt, "Did you still want to dance?" The back of your heel stung a bite but you ignored it, you're only focused on the man before you.

"Always. Let's keep dancing," he replied, taking your hand into his and leading you back onto the dance floor. You were still embarrassed, but you knew that Miguel had already forgiven you and forgotten your clumsiness.

The music was at a lively tempo and the crowd on the dancefloor moved faster. Leads turned and twisted their followers to the rhythm of the beat. Miguel was experienced, he held both your small hands in both of his large ones. He guided you and spun you around. Loving the way you dance and move about your body. There was nothing else like dancing with Miguel. It didn't matter what moves you did or how you did them; as long as you had his large hands as your guide, you knew you'd be okay. You trusted him above anyone else and knew he'd take care of you. He always did.You turned and twisted and twirled, following his lead. He was like a magnet, making you feel at home in his arms. This was where you belonged, and you were never going to let him go.

A tap on the shoulder from a gentleman on the floor catches Miguel off guard.

"Can I dance with her, next?" He inquired peering at you.

You weren't thrilled by this other guy tapping Miguel on the shoulder and asking to dance with you. Your boyfriend seemed a little taken aback by the man's question, too. In your opinion, Miguel was the only one allowed to touch you, let alone dance with you.

He shoots the man a look of annoyance, even though it wasn't the man's fault at all, but the simple fact that he has to share this woman with *someone* is enough to cause him some degree of annoyance, however brief it may be.

"Sorry, she's taken," he says simply, almost sounding a little possessive.

"Thanks anyway," he adds quickly as if to soften the blow, just so he doesn't give the poor man the wrong idea about them.

The man gives in and Miguel whisks you away to the sound of music. "My sweet," you said, "My feet are a little sore. Can I sit down for a bit?" You bat your long lashes at him. Truth be told, your new high heels are killing you. And to break them in on the dancefloor was a completely dumb choice on your part.

"Of course, love," Miguel said, nodding. "Let's sit down and get some ice water or something." He led you off the dance floor and into the seating area, where he ordered drinks for the two of you. He sat you down in a chair, making sure you were comfortable, and then sat down next to you. He put his arm around your shoulders protectively, and you were safe in his embrace.

"Are you alright?" He asked, worried. His brows furrowed scanning your face. You seemed in pain, and he was anxious to help you.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, "Yes, Love" A waiter dropped off your drinks at the table for the two of you. Miguel drinks a dark amber liquid from a short and stout glass. You had another tall glass of wine. You moved your feet to get a better look at your sore heel. You noticed a red, burning, sore forming right at the back of where your heel strap was touching. You figured it was from the constant friction of the strap digging into your skin.

"Do you want me to take a look at your feet?" Miguel asked, putting down his glass. He looked concerned as he looked at your heel strap, his brow furrowing deeper. He seemed worried about you, and as always, you could feel his kindness radiating through you. Even if he acted indifferent around the others; he would always let his guard down around you.

"No,no, " you waved it off trying to downplay the discomfort, "I'm going to take a small break from dancing." You didn't want him to worry about you. You didn't want to ruin salsa night. However, your feet were killing you and aching terribly.

"Are you sure?" Miguel asked, looking at you sympathetically with soft chocolate eyes. He didn't want you walking around with pain in your feet. If going home earlier meant you didn't have to deal with that, then it was worth it. He put down his glass of whiskey, and his hand was still on your shoulder.

"I'll drive us home," he stated firmly, not wanting to hear you protest. There was no point in arguing with him once he's concerned about your well-being.

You stand wobbling unsteadily on your feet. You were unsure if it was the wine or exhaustion overcoming you. "Miguel, would you please be a dear-" you wince from placing too much weight on one of your feet. "Ouch!" You cried softly.

"Let me get you out of those shoes," Miguel said quickly, kneeling down and unstrapping your heels. As he took off your shoes, he carefully inspected the redness forming on your heels. "Dios mio," he sighed grimly. "You can hardly walk. Let me help you."

He picked you up in his arms effortlessly and carried you out of the club.

Your face burns a bright beet red as onlookers watch him carry you out. "This is embarrassing," you mumbled, burying your face into the crook of his neck, refusing to look at any more people. His cologne was pleasant and soothing. You inhaled slowly through your nose and exhaled out, not aware that your breath brushed just under his earlobe.

Miguel chuckled softly, but he didn't disagree with you. Your lover just kept walking. He didn't care if other people were watching him. All that mattered right now was that he made sure his girlfriend (you) were safe and comfortable. He brought you to his car and opened the door for you, helping you get inside before walking around the front. After climbing in himself, he started the car and carefully backed out of his parking space.

He looked into your eyes as he drove, smiling warmly. "Almost home, love," he comforted you.

You loved to watch him drive. His corded muscles showing off as he navigates the steering wheel. His brown eyes focused on the road. His right hand rested on your thigh giving you reassuring strokes with his thumb. You squirm rubbing your thighs together. Goodness, you couldn't collect yourself to save your life. You felt a familiar ache form. A sense of neediness.

"M-Miggles-" you mumbled softly, "How much longer till we get home?"

You gripped both of your hands on top of his hand which rested on your thigh, squeezing in hopes that he would get the message. Your stomach slowly filled with butterflies as you imagined what else he could be doing with his hand.

Miguel quickly glanced at you then returned his gaze on the road, and he could read your thoughts just by the look on your face. He knew exactly what you wanted him to do, so he gave you even more than what you were expecting. He squeezed your thigh in the way he knew you liked it, and his fingers brushed against your skin. You could feel a tingle running through you, and you grew hotter with every passing second.

"Home's just five minutes down the road, Hermosa," he chuckled. He smelled your excitement. And knew you were getting hot and bothered. He shifted in his seat a little bit to relieve his forming hard-on.

"Five minutes?" You grumbled pouting, "I don't think I can wait that long." You traced your fingers tantalizingly up and down his forearm. He was built. Absolutely strong. You admired his muscles. Your fingers moving up and down and further up to his biceps.

"I can make it two minutes, if you prefer," Miguel said playfully. You were teasing him by tracing your fingers over his arm, and he loved it. He felt his heart beating faster the more your fingers grazed over his muscles. He drove a little faster than usual, and it wasn't long before you got closer and closer to his house.

When he pulled into the driveway, he turned to you. "We're here," he said.

Eagerly you wrapped your arms around his right arm and pulled him towards you. Your lips finally meet. It was hot, sincere, and needy.

He pulled you close, loving how eagerly you kissed him. You were both in need of this, and it felt so good to finally be in each other's arms again after not being around each other a whole month.

"I love you so much, Cariña," he whispered into your ear. "I never want to go anywhere without you." There was a lot of truth in his words. You were his world, and he never wanted to be apart from you. He hated being away from you.

When you broke apart, he rested his lips on your cheek. It was a soft kiss, filled with love and affection.

"I love you, more." You giggled as he pulled you closer. Your elbow accidently hit the volume button unmuting the radio. Loud music blared throughout the vehicle startling you both. A fit of laughter escapes from Miguel as he quickly turns off the radio.

Miguel laughed with you, and soon the pair of you couldn't stop giggling. It was the little things that made you laugh with each other, and you both loved that.

"Shall we go in?" The handsome man asks after a few more minutes of laughter. He looks at you, giving you a playful wink. Even through all the laughter, he still looks dashing, you thought to yourself. How was he so good-looking?

"Only if you take me to bed," you quipped playfully. You couldn't take your eyes off him only because everything felt like a dream. You didn't want to take your eyes off him. If you blinked you were scared he would disappear.

"I'll take you in bed while I'm at it," Miguel teased, his eyebrows raising suggestively. Your eyes were already glued to him, and his question only amplified your attraction to him. He laughed at your reaction to his words, and you could hear a little excitement in his voice. He knew that those words would get a reaction from you, and he wanted you to say yes.

"Absolutely, my sweet," you chimed. He gets out of the car and makes his way over to your side of the door. The tall Hispanic mixed man opens it, taking your hand and pulling you up to him. In a blink of an eye he throws you over his shoulder. You squeal, laughing dangling over him. His hands securely warped behind your thighs; careful to make sure you don't slip from his grip. It's some miracle he's not out of breath. He made you feel weightless. It was a strange feeling, but it was also exhilarating. And with his hands wrapped around your thighs, you knew you were safe in his arms.

"Miguel, you're so strong," you said with admiration thinking about how easily he could spin you around on the dancefloor or carry you anywhere he wanted. Impulsively you smack his bottom as you face his back upside down. It's only fair if he could carry you like that. You had the privilege to smack his toned glutes. So firm. You burst into another fit of laughter as you felt the blood flow to your head.

"Did you just smack my ass?" He was perplexed and annoyed by your sudden impulsivity. The muscular guy was still able to walk and navigate the walkway to his driveway, but he was laughing so hard at your reaction that his face was a bright red. The keys jingle in his hand as he unlocks the door.

"It was right in my face," you lilt. "Again those gray jeans do you so much Justice." He shrugs his broad shoulders and nods agreeing with you. He guided you to the bedroom.

You're a little dizzy as he led you to the master bedroom where it was far more intimate. He gently closed the door behind the two of you. You could feel that he wanted you, and you wanted him just as badly.

"Ready for tonight?" He throws you over on the mattress.

"Oof-" you plop on the Bedding and he manages to dishevel your hair from throwing you there.

Smiling and teasing you move away from him by crawling off the bed, "What's gonna happen tonight?" You played dumb.

You waltz to the other side of the bedroom, away from your loving partner, undressing yourself without a care in the world. Your dress dropped pooling around your feet. Your hands reach up into your hair and unleash the braided bun it was in. You were bare. You felt his eyes follow your every move.

He swallows thickly "Oh, you already know..." He grinned at your teasing tone of voice, finding himself becoming more and more excited as you undressed in front of him. He could clearly see how much effort you had put into your hair, and he loved it.

"Are you trying to get a raise out of me?" Miguel said softly, a lilt in his voice. "Because it's working."

His eyes were locked onto you, and he hadn't looked away since you began to take off your dress.

"Is it working?" you quizzically pondered, You exposed yourself to him, just for a moment in panties and all. Making sure your back was arched just right.

"Oh, definitely." Miguel's voice was husky and low. "It's definitely working. I don't think I've ever seen you look so beautiful," he continued.

And you looked absolutely stunning. Everything about you was perfect, and this was the first time in a while Miguel had seen you like this. He was always cooped up at work, working with the other spider people. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, and his hands were shaking with anticipation. He had never felt so excited before.

"Hmm…" you drawled amused, "I wonder if I should just go to sleep, already? It is past our bedtime."

"In your underwear?" Miguel replied with a smirk. "I think you know that's a bad idea." He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorway, grinning cheekily at you.

"What do you suggest I should do, sir?"

He loved the way you addressed him. He felt something tingle inside of him. He slowly licked his bottom lip, his tan fingers raked through his dark curly hair. His brown ravenous eyes carefully regarding you. He knows the woman before him is pushing for a chase; a little game of cat and mouse. He might give in just a little bit.

"I suggest you undress all the way and come back," Miguel said with a satisfied grin. "Or I could just come over there and make you do what I want."

He was teasing again, but it wasn't without a little bit of truth to it. Miguel was more than happy to make you do what he wanted; he just wanted to know whether or not your intentions were to play hard to get, or if you really were going to get changed before sleeping.

That's Exactly what you wanted to hear, "Make me then," you challenged him. Miguel was only too happy to oblige. Before you could even blink, he had caught you in a firm grasp. One of his hands was wrapped around your waist, while his other hand gently caressed your neck. His forehead gently touched yours as he looked into your eyes; they were like the sun, warm and radiant.

"You really wanna play hard to get?" Miguel said, a smirk spread across his lips. His voice was low and raspy, and you could see that he couldn't wait to play along with you.

"Absolutely..." You said squirming away from his laxed grip. You managed to escape from his hold, and dart across the bedroom attempting to get away from the superhuman you have as a boyfriend.

"Are you really doing this?" Miguel said annoyed as he caught up to you.

This time, he pinned you against the wall as he leaned into you. "You have nowhere to go," he whispered into your ear. His tone was suggestive but not too revealing, and his hand still caressed your neck as he leaned in to you.

"I guess not, huh?" Your eyes flutter relishing in the fact that you felt his full weight pressed against you. His chest pressed up against your bare soft mounds. You reached out and cupped his jawline ever so tenderly admiring him. You loved to touch his stubbles. His full lips were just centimeters away from yours. You felt his hot breath brush over your cheeks, nose, and lips. Miguel didn't let you speak. When you reached up to his face, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips pressed against yours, and it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It was deep and soft, yet there was a spark behind it that let you know how eager Miguel was.

Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist, and he pulled you in even closer to him. One of his hands went to the small of your back, and you felt a tingle run down your spine. His kiss became firmer as the moment went on, and he became more and more eager.He leans down, pressing his warm lips against yours again. His tongue slips past your teeth, exploring the wetness of your mouth. He tastes your sweet nectar, savouring the flavor. He moaned into the kiss, his hands moving to your hips as they grind together. You push your hands into his hair, holding him close as you press your bodies together. You could feel your nipples hardening, and you could practically taste the need between both of you. Your dainty arms snake around his big shoulders and neck.

"I want you," you breathlessly murmured against his now bruised lips, "Please, please, please…"

"What do you want me to do, Cariña?" Miguel asked as he broke away from you for a moment and stared into your eyes.

His eyes were full of love, longing, desire, and passion as he stared into you. When he kissed you again, there was so much longing that it was overwhelming. You had never been kissed with this kind of love, and it felt incredible.

Miguel was experienced in rigging up ties. It came along with his superhero responsibilities since he developed spinnerets in his arms. He sat back a little bit rubbing his fingers along his stubbles lost in thought. And wondered what kind of ties would suit the woman before him. Knowing you well now he knows you loved to be chased and tied down. You loved surrendering yourself to him. Granting him permission to anything to your body, as long as you were safe and comfortable with it.

"What are you waiting fo-" you blurt out loud pulling Miguel out from his train of thoughts. He stuck his fingers in your mouth before you can even finish your sentence. Dark brown eyes were looking down at you, "How are you so pretty and impatient?" His gaze darkens admiring how well you suck his fingers down. He chuckled at the way you looked at him in disbelief when your sentences were interrupted.

"I'm just thinking," Miguel said with a smug smirk and paused for a moment before adding, "I have an idea for us now."

Your boyfriend is right. You were a gorgeous woman, but sometimes you could get a little impatient. You couldn't help it though it's because you missed him terribly. You couldn't help but blush as he complimented you about your beauty and your impatience. It felt as though you were always impatient when it came to him; he simply ignited a primal drive in you that you could never ignore.

He withdraws his fingers reluctantly from your mouth. "Oh, yeah?" you said with a grin. "What exactly were you thinking about? You definitely have me curious." You had an inkling of suspicion you knew what he had in mind; you could see it in his eyes.

"Stay." He orders you.

And you happily obliged laying back in bed stretching out your body as he shifted his weight off of you. He stalks towards the toy box that was at the foot of the bed. And retrieves some special toys in his possession. You stayed where you were, looking up at him as he retrieved the toys. You were curious as to what he was planning, but you couldn't help but keep your eyes on him as he walked to the toy box. His strong body was on full display, and no matter how many times you saw him, there was always something about his body that you couldn't help but stare at.

"Should I be scared?" You teased with a grin.

Miguel couldn't help but start chuckling as he looked at you. He looked down at you, amused by your comment. "Only a little," he chuckled, looking down at you with a grin. "Or maybe a lot." He gave you a kiss on the forehead, and he looked down at you as he gently grabbed your shoulders.

"I'm only kidding," he said with a smirk. "I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to." He was always trying to take care of you, and he always wanted you to feel safe and protected.

You couldn't help but laugh at this. "Am I allowed to move now? Or do I have to be a good girl and stay put?" You teased, your eyebrows raising. You could see something in his eyes, and he definitely had something planned for you. You hadn't had this much fun in a while, and you couldn't wait to see what he had planned.

"Ven aquí," he motioned you to move to the edge of the bed with a finger curling in his direction. You bite your bottom lip sitting up immediately and scoot to him. Your bare legs dangling off the bed as you stay up looking up at his big clothed body with Doe eyes. "Good Girl," he praised. In his possession he had a black silk blind fold. Your heart pounding loudly against your ribcage, as you watched him lazily roll up his sleeves. You watched a sin unfold before you. He could hear it. The anticipation and discomfort he was causing poor little you. With his super hearing he smirked at the increased heart rate he caused you. He reached over your shoulders, his breath deliciously near your ear you squirmed, rubbing your legs together. He inhaled slowly through his nose, your scent tainting his senses. The man standing before has you absolutely riled up.

"We're going with the Traffic Light system," he promoted you, "Green means?"

"Good," You chimed in a little too quickly, "Yellow means easy. And Red is Stop." You blurted out the rest ready to get to the best part- him fucking you.

His chest rumbles as he chuckles, "Good Girl." He ties the fabric over your eyes, taking away your vision. You had to rely and solely depend on him.

He pointed his spinnerets at you and craftily tied you up in his crimson red web. You felt constricted and secured. The red web wrapped around your shoulders and bare chest, forming a star. And along and between your thighs he weaved and wrapped the silk web several times, where it stopped up just above your belly button and wrapped around the small of your back. You felt the web gently tug into your skin as you wiggled. "The more you move the tighter it gets" he reminds you, "Behave yourself." The rope also becomes loose if he tugs and twists it a certain way.

He tied you up so effortlessly, just like Spider-Man would do with his foes. You sat there, all tied up, your blindfold on, unable to see what he was doing. It was a rather unique experience; all you could do was sit there and let him do whatever he had planned for you.

"I'll be a good girl," you said as he finished tying you up. You were happy to play along with this little game, and you couldn't wait to see what he would do to you next.

"Excelente," he mused regarding his masterpiece with half hooded lust filled eyes. You felt him shove you back by the shoulders, and you flop back, your hair cascading around you on the linens. A nervous giggle escapes from your lips.

Miguel was so good at this. He used his powers to tie you up, and now you were completely vulnerable. You were still so attracted to him, even after all the times he had wrapped you up like this.

"You enjoy tying me up don't you?" You couldn't help but chuckle. You loved it when he dominated you in many different ways, and you wanted him to keep going. You looked forward to whatever he had planned next, and you would happily let him have the reigns.

"You look beautiful," you heard him say.

Your boyfriend had a way with his words. "Oh, thank you..." you said softly as you heard him give you that compliment. It always meant a lot coming from him, and you could tell he meant it when he said it. You both knew how much he meant it when he complimented you, and you loved him for being so genuine about it.

You could already feel those lustful feelings boiling over, and you knew he had something special in mind.

He reached over and grabbed a large white Wand. He kept it out of sight from you purposely when he received the blindfold. You hear an audible click followed by a buzz coming to life.

You could feel goosebumps slowly rise up on your skin as you heard the click and the buzz, and you weren't quite sure what exactly was going on. You couldn't help but notice a little bit of fear mingling within your excitement. What was he going to do to you? You couldn't wait to find out; you were eager to see what he had planned.

He tactfully places the vibrating wand on the outside of your thigh. You jerked from the sensation. "Gah!" You gasp wiggling away feeling the web grow snugger on your skin. You were quick to stop the movement, stilling yourself.

Miguel laughed at your quick reaction as you were distracted by the wand. He was surprised by how quickly you caught on to what he was doing, and he was impressed at your ability to follow his direction. You were definitely doing well so far.

"I'm very impressed," he said, smirking a little bit as he saw how well you were able to do as he directed. "You seem to be handling everything very well."

Lazily he glides the wand up and over your perky mounds. The web tied around your torso made them look more pronounced. You breath hitches and a small delicious whimper escapes your lips.

"Oh?" Miguel was surprised by the sound you made as he dragged the wand all over your body. He continued to drag it around, making the webbing tight every time he did. It wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable, and you could feel every inch of your skin feeling it.

"How are you doing?" he asked, smirking at the sound you made. It wasn't a good sign, but he enjoyed your reaction as he tormented you.

"I'm great," you huffed trying to resist the urge to pull your bud away from his torturous touch.

"Oh," he said playfully. "I doubt that you mean it." He knew you were enjoying his torment, of course, and he was happy to be able to have this much power over you. He couldn't help but smile with a chuckle as he continued his little torture session, loving every second of it.

It accidentally drifted over your core. Miguel watched amused.

Miguel laughed. "Where did it move off to?" He was trying to tease you. He had been teasing you all along, but this was the first time he had teased you in a way that could be interpreted as a threat. He was glad that he had found this new way to torment you, and he was looking forward to watching your reaction.

Miguel was trying to make you break, but would you finally have the strength to do it? Or would you give into the pleasure?He managed to elicit several pretty noises from your mouth. The wand rested near your slit. "Miguel-" you plead desperately, withering away. Your face contorted in pleasure

Miguel leaned into you. He couldn't help but chuckle at you as he looked at you as you pleaded with him. He leaned in even closer and whispered into your ear, "What is it, Amor? Is something wrong?" He looked at your quivering body.

"I'm going to cum" you cried out to him, "Can't do this."

Miguel's eyes lit up, and he felt an air of excitement building within him. "Oh, are you sure?" he whispered. "It looks like you were having so much fun..." He smirked, giving you one last taunt. He was so close to finally getting a reaction from you.

You heard a loud click just between your legs. And all hell broke loose. The buzz grew louder and was stronger. Much stronger. Your back arched up feeling the web press tighter into your skin.

Miguel smirked as he watched your reaction. "Having fun, yet?" He watched you fight through the pain and the pleasure, and he loved seeing you react this way. He couldn't help but laugh as the tension between you two built and built.

"I think you should just give in," he said softly.

"But you're going to punish me," you wailed, breathing harder with every moment that passed. You don't have to see him to know he had a condescending shit eating grin on his face. You could hear it in his voice as he coaxed you to give in. It was a trap and you knew better. Your body kept tensing up, you carefully try to move your body in a way that didn't trigger the webs to constrict you. Miguel noticed and pressed just a little bit harder on to your core.

Miguel couldn't help but smirk; he was loving the way you were reacting to his little punishment. He enjoyed tormenting you, and he could tell that you were getting a kick out of it. Even if it hurt a little, you were clearly having fun.

"Oh?" he said, taunting you. "Are you scared now?" he laughed. "I can be much worse if I wanted to. Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes, please"

Miguel smirked. "Oh, is that so?" he asked. He continued to drag the wand all over, enjoying the reaction he was getting from you. Every time you squirmed, he knew he had found something that worked. He would give you a little more of it, enjoying your reaction as the web tightened around you and the wand continued to tease you.

"Is this better?" he asked. "Or should I give you a little more?"

Your tears pricked the corner of your eyes darkening your blindfold. You felt a small lump form in the back of your throat feeling it get tight. Maybe you shouldn't have begged for more. The handsome devil who taunts you watched in amusement. Miguel knew if you didn't want this you would have said a color by now. He leaned over your tied up beautiful body. His dark chocolate eyes devour the carnal sight. The web tightens in just the right spots. You didn't hear it but you definitely felt it. The wand abruptly stops its little sadistic ministrations gone. His calloused rough palms caresses your quivering body, his fingers tracing along the web. He made sure it didn't cut off your blood circulation. You jumped at his sudden tender touch.

"Better?" he asked. "How are you feeling?" Miguel was getting some sort of pleasure out of watching your reaction, and he couldn't help but smile at you once he stopped. He continued to run his hands over you, his fingers moving softly along the web. He leaned in, as his lips brushed against your ear and he whispered into it, "I love watching you struggle."

Miguel was happy that he had managed to push you this far; you were so easy to torment. He loved having this much power over you, and he loved using it to test every limit you had. He knew that he had pushed you to your limit, and he was curious to see whether or not you would reach it.

Your body trembled slightly as he touched you, and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a few moans. You weren't quite sure why you were reacting this way, but you knew that you were enjoying it. You were happy to play whatever games Miguel wanted you to, and you could already feel yourself getting wetter.

"I want to make you feel good," you confessed, feeling guilty that he was tending to your desires. You hadn't done anything to show him your love and appreciation. You strained your ears to hear him, the echoes of the wand still lingered in your eardrums. "Hermosa," His rough fingers curled around your chin holding you in place. Even though your vision was robbed from you; you certainly felt his gaze on you. And you were right Miguel's breath brushed over your lips his eyes fixated on

"I love it when you call me that," you admitted, your voice breaking a little bit. He could tell you were trying to stay strong, but he could also tell that you were close to breaking. Was that his goal this whole time? To push you just close enough to break you? You would definitely learn a lot about yourself if your boyfriend managed to get you to scream for mercy again.

As Miguel held onto your chin, you could hear his voice come close to your ears. "What do you think you deserve, my love?" he whispered.

"I deserve you." You whisper back so quietly you were unsure if he heard you. Your body shook in waves sending small tremors to your hands and feet.

"Oh, do you now?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement as he held your chin. "Do you think you truly deserve me?" Miguel was going to make you earn his affection, and he was looking forward to the challenge. He was certain that you wouldn't be able to keep yourself together much longer.

He couldn't help but smile as he spoke, knowing exactly what it meant to you. He enjoyed knowing how much power he had over you. "How would you prove it?" he whispered.

"I want you in my mouth," you sobbed tears begin to stain the blindfold, "I want you to feel good too, Miguel."

Miguel smirked. It was clear that you were close to breaking, and he couldn't help but continue to push you further. He was enjoying himself, and he couldn't help it. It was almost as if he couldn't help himself from tormenting you in this way. Miguel was loving every second of this.

You begged for him, and he laughed in excitement. He looked forward to punishing you in more ways to get you to beg for him. "Oh, is that so?" he asked, his smugness obvious.

"I guess it can't be helped," he sighed. You felt the bed shift and he was no longer near you. The sound of jingling metal could be heard. The bronze being slowly removed his belt and along with his jeans. His package stood up loud and proud, clearly triggered by your pleas. He then rid himself of the black button up by tossing it away. He stalked back to you a little disappointed you couldn't admire his body but that was fine. He tossed his brown locks back with his fingers and crawled back to you. His tawny lips trailed from your toe to your heels. Apologetically kissing the sore that formed from dancing earlier tonight. He worked his way up to your ankle and shin reaching your knee. He nipped at your plump thighs, careful not to puncture you with his fangs. You felt blissful.

As Miguel leaned in, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure. His touch was so delicate, and he seemed so concerned with you. You could feel every part of yourself begin to relax, and you could feel every inch of yourself come alive with pleasure. It was a stark contrast to the pain you had felt just a moment ago. You were so happy that he was touching you.

Miguel was surprised that you were already falling for him again, but he didn't hold it against you. He continued to move up your body, taking his time and being as careful as possible.

Ever so slowly he worked his way up to your breasts. Admiring how you melted under him. He kissed your puffy sensitive mounds. His full lips tantalizingly traced up from your collarbone to the crease of your neck. He fingers tweak at your peaks earning more pretty noises from you.

"Hermosa, a donde mi quieres?" He huskily groaned in your ear.

"M-my mouth," you meekly answer.

Pleased and satisfied with your answer, he crawled up your body, both knees rested on both sides of your head caging you in. He placed your arms above your head and shifted enough to pin them down with his knees. He grabbed his gifted package with its crimson, angry, big tip. He traced it around your lips. Precum coating your mouth like lipgloss.

"Are you going to suck me off like a good cumslut?" He coos cruelly to you.

"Yes, Sir," you part your lips, your tongue out desperately waiting for him to stuff your mouth full.

A low groan escapes from him. "Open your fucking throat," he hissed. He forced his heavy cock all the way to the back of your hot warm mouth. "Mierda, is this what you wanted?" he was going to remold your throat to his size once again. He hated having to do this to you, but he did work a lot and now he was going to make up for the loss of time. His hips rock steadily, finding a rhythm suitable for both of you.

You happily obliged, gagging down and slurping him up. Miguel chuckled. Was this really it? It was what you wanted, but he was expecting you to keep going. He was expecting it to get louder. He was expecting to be able to hear you scream just a little more, but he could tell that you were already broken. Miguel growled deep in his throat as you opened your mouth wider, allowing him to slide deeper. You loved the feeling of having him fill your entire mouth, and you did your best to swallow every inch of him. You felt his girth stretching your cheeks, and you loved the sensation. It made you feel powerful and sexy, and you didn't mind one bit.

"Maybe we should move on to something else," he said.

Desperately you lapped at his thick cock, you had already memorized where his veins were warped decoratively. In hopes that he would keep cock there for you to enjoy just a little bit longer. Drool and precum ran down your chin.

Miguel chuckled. He stopped thrusting into your mouth. You were so eager to please him. He couldn't help but be amused by you as you continued work on his cock, enjoying the pleasure. He enjoyed seeing you beg for him, and he was happy to have power over you.

He wanted to push you beyond your limits, and he was going to do it. "Do you really want my cock in here?" he asked. "Or do you want something more?"Your mouth was stuffed full with him.

At this point you didn't even care anymore. He had your arms pinned above your head. Your head is trapped between his muscular thighs. You just wanted him and whatever he gave you you would gladly accept it.

"Answer me." He withdraws his cock.

But you moved your head up stubbornly trying to take him back into your mouth. Oh no, he wasn't having that. He wrapped his entire hand around your pretty neck and forced you down, choking you.

"Ahora," he growled.

Miguel couldn't help but laugh. Your response was expected, but he had been hoping for an answer that would lead him down a different route. He couldn't get over how easily you were willing to bow down to him. It was like he was the king, and you had to bow down to him. He enjoyed feeling that way, and he was certainly going to utilize it more.

Miguel leaned in close to your ear, and he whispered to you, "I want to make you feel good. How can I do that?" he asked softly a stark contrast of how he handled you.

"Do whatever you want, Love, please" you cried "I just want you." And with that a sinister light bulb went off in his head. He retrieved the white wand while turning slightly and placing it on your puffy clit. He aimed a spinneret at your thigh causing the wand to stick there. Miguel couldn't help but smirk. You were an easy woman to please. He continued to enjoy pushing you, and he liked testing your patience. He got an air of smugness about him, and he couldn't wait for the next step.

The man leaned back slightly. He got an excited look in his eye as he realized what the wand would allow him to do. He couldn't help but smirk, looking forward to seeing your reaction. Miguel loved watching your reaction as he turned on the wand, but he did feel a little guilty. He didn't like to see you in pain, but he loved seeing you struggle. The wand was just the right mixture of the two, and he had gotten you right where he wanted you. You were trapped, unable to escape, but you could still feel all the pleasure the wand was giving you.

Miguel watched you continue to squirm and moan, and he smiled. He loved that he was able to do that to you. It only made him want to torture and pleasure you more.

You felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. " I'm gonna cum." You sobbed, "'nna cum. Just fuck me."

"Oh, are you?" he asked softly, looking down at you in amusement. He had been hoping for a reaction, but he didn't expect this. He smiled at how easily you had taken to his plan. Miguel loved that he could turn you on so much. His smirk grew, but he didn't say anything back, just kept on looking down at you.

He knew exactly what you meant, and he had the power to give it to you. He loved the way he would keep you on your toes; it made him feel powerful and in control.

You squeezed your eyes closed. The vibrator was the end of you. Your body slowly arched up on its own even with him pinning you down with his weight. Miguel quickly caught on and slipped his large swollen cock his back into your mouth. He thrusted it down your throat along with your air. And the coil in your belly finally snapped. A heady, broken moan wraps around his dick struggling to move past your stuffed mouth. Your eyes rolling back as you trashed from the fierce orgasm ripping through you.

"Take it, take it," he growled, pounding balls deep against your chin.

The way your throat tightened around him sent them over the edge. He dumped his cum all in the back of your poor throat. That's all you could do just take his length as you convulsed in pure pleasure. His cock was halfway out and his hand moved around it to pump more out.

"Keep that mouth open and Don't fucking swallow it." He spat warning you fangs on full display. The shiver that went down your spine from the way he barked his order was surreal.

Your mouth was filled with his white creamy relief. And you weren't allowed to consume a single drop. He was mesmerized admiring his handy work.

"Swallow it, Hermosa."

You did.

"Don't waste it or I'll fuck it back into your throat." Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, feeling his cock rest against your wet cheek.

"Show me." He ordered. Your mouth parts wide open showing him what a good girl you are for him. You swallow every last drop he gave you. Miguel smirked to himself, very content . You were such a good girl for him, and he couldn't find anyone else that would suit him like you did. You were the perfect girl for him, and he would treat you the way you deserved. He turned off the wand strapped to your thigh and pressed up against your pussy.

"You're such a good girl, my little Hermosa," Miguel purrs, pleased with you. "I'm so proud of you."

"You are?"

"Of course I am," he smiled. "There isn't anyone else I'd want but you." Miguel's smirk grew. You were amazing, and he could barely hold back his grin. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

Miguel loved you so much. He would do anything you ever asked. But now wasn't the time to talk about his love for you, as he was going to keep pushing you. He was still hard and ready to go.

Miguel rolled you over on all fours, putting you in a vulnerable position. You couldn't escape now, no matter how hard you tried. He had the power, strength, and he was going to use it. This was a different kind of pleasure, and he was going to enjoy it. Miguel looked forward to seeing just how far he could push you.

"I haven't even fucked all your holes yet," he snickers. Miguel grabbed hold of you by the red web and pulled you towards him. Your bottom up in the air, and your arms holding you up. He flipped on the wand that was still attached to your leg. "Ah-" your arms gave out. Your breasts fall to the bed making a deep arch for him.

"I can't take it," you wailed from the overstimulation on your poor swollen clit. You huffed anxiously unsure if you were ready to do this. Maybe you're in over your head. You should have just changed into your pajamas and gone to bed.

He coos tenderly, "Shh..." He pulled you out from your unfocused and chaotic cluster of thoughts with his deep voice. You feel his rough calloused palms caress your rear in soothing circles.

"Cálmate, you're doing so well for me." He pressed a kiss on your plump ass cheek. As soon as you settled down some more he gave you another reassuring kiss on your cheek. He lined up his large hefty package with your drooling entrance. "Take a deep breath for me," he coached. He plunges into your vibrating slit. "You feel so fucking good, Hermosa." Miguel groans.

He felt his self control slowly drift away. You winced at the sting in your lower belly hurting as he sheathed himself all the way inside. The tip of his enormous length kissing your cervix greedily. He peppered kisses on your shoulder blade to distract you from the pain. Your folds clenched him tightly, sucking him in deeper.

"Fuck Miguel-"

"I know, I know. You can handle it. This is why I don't like being away from you," he says, "Cause now I have to stretch you out all over again " He told lies.

He loved the way you felt. His favorite part was retraining your body to take him again. He pulled out gritting his teeth as your walls desperately clung to him.

"You're sucking me back in," he hissed, withdrawing his dick.

He thrusts back harder into you starting a rough pace for you to take. He repeatedly pulled your ass by the red web back to meet his hips. Your blind fold loosens from his fervent movement and friction from your cheek rubbing the bed under you, finally slipping off your eyes. Tears fall out the corner of your eyes landing on the sheets. Your vision was absolutely blurry; you could see nothing but stars flooding your space. Your fists gripped the cover for dear life while your lover indulged himself.

He made you cum for the Umpteeth time. "Que Rica estas," he growled pounding away at your vibrating pussy. Skin on skin echoes throughout the bedroom. The large white wand is still buzzing away at your poor throbbing cunt. You lie there a moaning mess with broken sobs. Drool pools out your mouth soaking the sheet. Miguel's crimson red eyes lock fixated on where you two were connected. He was mesmerized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. He loves the white frothing ring you created on his slick covered cock. He adored your fucked out expression as his heavy balls pat aggressivly against your pussy's lips.

"Dame una mas," he grunts, snaking an arm around your waist to get between your legs, feeling for your clit. He starts spelling his name on your clit, as if to remind your body who it belongs to. Him. Your lower belly feels full, a knot forming as Miguel summons another oragasm with his cock and fingers. He grabs a fist full of your hair forcing you to look at him. "Look at me,"

You looked at the feral sex god who fucked you from behind. His hair was a mess. Strands of his dark curls were sticking to his forehead. His sun kissed body glistening in sticky sweat. His fangs were visible and holy hell his eyes were red. This is the other version of him that you also loved and cherished dearly as well. His primal and animalistic side that he tried so hard to hide around you. When he was caught in the heat of the moment this version of him would come out. Miguel felt an overwhelming sense of pride. He had you right where he wanted you - a shivering mess on the bed, broken yet wanting more. He couldn't stop leering as he watched your tear stained face twist in pleasure, and he laughed. This was his element, and he was going to enjoy it as much as he could.

Miguel looked down at you in amusement, his smile growing even larger, he rubbed against your vibrating clit. He felt your walls around him squeeze tighter and tighter with every thrust. "Look at me when you fucking cum." He sent you over the edge once again, muscles spasming uncontrollably around his length. Your eyes rolled back, as more tears ran down your face. He loved your cock drunk face. It was that expression alone that sent him over the edge with you. He slams his pelvis into your ass with a wet audible smack. His chest sinks into your back pressing you further into the mattress. His low groan fills your ears with filthy Spanish profanities. He painted your cunt white and filled it up more. You felt a steady stream of liquid squirt out from you and run down your thigh. Every orgasm you have will be associated with him. The man knew how to condition your cunt. He sloppily kissed your tears as you cried out squirming under him.

"No more. I can't take it anymore." You wailed to him.

Miguel kissed your tears away as you squirmed. He couldn't stop himself now; he had to push further. He wouldn't stop until you broke, and this was just another step he was going to take. He would put you back together again after you broke as he has done many times before. He smiled down at you as you cried, taking satisfaction in his work. Miguel sighed slightly. He wasn't ready for you to give up yet. He wanted to push you, and you just gave in so easily. Miguel wanted more. He wanted to make you beg for him, and now you were just giving up. Miguel sighed again and shook his head as he flipped onto your back.

Miguel sat up. "Are you sure?" he asked. A smile grew on his face. "Are you sure you're done with this?" His voice was soft and sweet, but his eyes had that intense fire behind them, ready to push you further. He huffed and shook his head down at you as he laid you on your back under him.

"If you want me to stop then use your safe words." He challenged you. He knew you. If you really wanted him to stop you would have already called out a color. Miguel called you out on your bullshit. He leans down burying his face in the crook of your neck gently sucking at your sensitive skin.

"Say a color." He coaxed into your neck. You bit your bottom lip. Miguel's voice was so close to your skin. He couldn't help but smirk as he leaned into you more, his teeth just barely touching the soft skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, and it felt so good. Miguel enjoyed himself as he took in the aroma of your body. His eyes closed, and he loved what he had done to you.

Miguel pulled away, and smiled at you. "You still want me to stop?" he repeats. "Use your safe word if you really want me to."

You felt your face heat up once again. "Green." You moaned as he returned to nip on your breasts now.

"That's what I thought." He replied smuggly.

Miguel continued to look up at you with a mocking smile, knowing what you wanted him to do.

"So what do you want me to do?" he asked innocently.

Miguel knew what you wanted, but he wanted you to be specific. You had said the word, but he wanted to hear you ask him. Miguel loved making you beg.

"Keep going," you snapped at him, obviously annoyed with Miguel, your patience now gone, feeling too worked up.

"Hey, are you giving me attitude?" His brows furrowed and eyes narrowed down on you.

Your heart skipped a beat in fear of dealing with more intense treatment from your lover.

"Please, please, please," you punctuated with kisses on his lips desperately trying to convey your wishes to him, "Keep going, please. I need you." Your dignity and pride was nowhere in sight.

"That's my Good Girl," Miguel praised you. Miguel watched you, and he felt a wave of satisfaction run through him. You looked so cute right now. Your hair is a mess, your lips bruised , and your neck pink and purple with hickies. He enjoyed seeing you beg for his attention. Miguel had you exactly where he wanted you, and he would never let you go. Once you begged him, there was no taking it back. He felt powerful, and he enjoyed every second of it. He ripped off the wand from your thigh and flipped it off.

Miguel's smile only grew as he watched you try to appease him. You really wanted him to keep going, and he was going to give it to you. He kisses each of your knees as he places them over his broad shoulders. Miguel's heart was racing. He enjoyed this so much. He wasn't going to be satisfied until he had you completely ruined and it would happen eventually. But for now? He would enjoy this moment. Miguel couldn't stop smiling down at you as he continued to press kisses into your knee. You looked so beautiful under him. Your legs parted nice and wide for his eyes only. Your juices mixed with his slowly pour out your sore cunt. "So wasteful" he mutters, stuffing the liquid back inside with his thumb. Miguel kept grinning while watching you writhe and squirm. There was no stopping him now. He had control over you, and he wasn't about to let go. He plunges back into your warm depths. Reaching deeper than before. A heavenly sigh parts from his lips, his half-hooded eyes lock on to yours.

You whimpered pathetically under him, "You're going to be the death of me..."

And soon he begins to move as one with you. Miguel's smile grew broader. He was in control, and he enjoyed every second of it. You would always be his. He didn't want anything besides that. He didn't want to let you go, and he didn't deserve to let you go. Miguel just kept pounding away.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

He kisses you as hard just he fucks. Both of your teeth messily clack against each other.

Miguel felt alive as he kissed you again. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have someone like you. No one else could compare. Miguel's eyes closed, and he kissed you with everything he had. He wanted to feel as close to you as he could; he was finally in the heaven that he deserved. Miguel knew this was what he wanted, and he would never let it go. Your pussy was soaking wet accepting everything he gave you with ease. He had you almost folded in half knees touching your breasts. You're a sight for him to cherish and ruin.

"I'm gonna fill this pussy up," He growls at a quickening pace. He heavy balls scrunch up with each harsh rut.

"Tómalo, tómalo, toma todo lo que te doy." He's slurring up his words in a heated frenzy state.

His cock burst filling you up even more. He curls in forcing his sperm further up your cervix. Miguel swallows your cries messily with his hungry mouth. Your legs trembling over his shoulders, your eyes glassy with new tears. He gently removed your legs from up his shoulder down to his waist.

He refused to remove his cock from your full pussy.

"I want you to be mine," he urged, "All mine. I'm gonna knock you up," He leaned down and kissed your forehead. Images of you with a large swollen belly flash through his head. He could have you waddling around his workplace letting everyone know you were off limits. Breasts spilling out as you breast fed his baby.The one you both created together. But the idea of one child isn't enough for him, maybe two or four little ones running around the house. He could have his own kids and rub it in Peter B Parker's face.

You could tell that Miguel had been thinking about what your future together might look like, and you were happy to hear that he wanted you to be a part of it.

" I'm yours," you answered softly, feeling overwhelmed with happiness and adoration. You wanted your life to be tied to his in every way. You wanted nothing more than to be the woman who gave him children and made him happy. The thought of having his babies filled you with joy, and you wanted to do anything and everything to make that happen.You had never felt this way about anyone before. You couldn't imagine a life without him, and the thought of starting a family together was intoxicating. You wanted to give yourself to him entirely, and you were ready to surrender to the passion and emotion that you shared. You wanted to be his perfect partner and the thought of having his child was an incredible concept. You were willing to do anything for him, and you wanted him to know that.He finally softened and removed his cock from you. He ripped the red web off from your body effortlessly like tissue paper.

You had been through a lot with Miguel, and now it was time for some after care. After all, you had both pushed yourselves to the limit and it was important to take some time to relax and enjoy the pleasure you had just shared. He cradled you in his arms, gently kissing your head and face. He stroked your hair and held you close, wanting to provide comfort and reassurance. You could feel his heart beating, and you felt safe and secure in his embrace. You knew that he would take care of you and protect you, and that made you feel even more loved.

"Amor don't fall asleep," he murmured into your locks. "I'll get the bath started." He gets out of bed and stalks to the bath. The water roars to life filling up the tub. Steam could be seen escaping from under the door frame. He came back into the bedroom and lifted you up in his arms. He carried you to the bathroom and placed you in the bathtub. He held you close, supporting you in the steamy, warm water. You were still feeling the effects of everything that had just happened, and you were glad to be held and taken care of. You felt safe and secure, and you appreciated the love that Miguel was showing you. You felt like you would never want to leave that bath tub, and you hoped to always be kept in a bubble of safety and comfort.

"Hermosa, how do you feel?" He asked carefully massaging soothing circles into your shoulders. His fingers work their way along your body. You felt the tension start to leave you as Miguel's hands began to rub your shoulders, working away the stress and muscle soreness. The hot bath had helped ease your sore muscles, and you finally began to feel calm after everything that had happened. Miguel was there for you, holding you close and comforting you, and you were grateful for his presence.

"I'm fine," you choked back fighting tears.

"No,no, sweetie give me more," he pauses as he wraps up you with his arms pulling you back into his chest. "What's on your mind?" He sensed something was troubling you, but he wasn't sure if it was the sub drop from the intense session you two had together.

"You want to have kids with me?" You quietly questioned him.

Your question made Miguel startle, but he didn't hesitate to give you an honest answer. "Of course," he said. "I love you and I want to be with you forever. I want us to start a family together, and I want us to build a life together. I want us to have everything that we could ever dream of." His words brought a smile to your face, and you felt a weight being lifted from your shoulders. You felt hopeful and optimistic, and you were glad to have such a loving and supportive partner by your side.

Part two is out!

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