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tarjapearce · 3 months

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Dr. Michael Stone (Pt. 2)

Art and Character by: Spiderthingcoo on X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, forced voyeurism, body exploration, edging, double v penetration, female anatomy, rough and drugged induced sex, manhandling, substance abuse, 3some-ish, rimming (m receiving) nudity appreciation, breeding kink, a bit of dacryphilia, Objectification, overstimulation, filthyness undercut, no proofread, bit of cum play, bellybulge, electrocution, Michael is a sick fuck and I love him.

Miguelverse

Summary: Michael Stone has the time of his life.

A/N: I got too carried away and the fanart didn't help jskjs, hope you enjoy <3

Time ran at the speed of a snail. Each blink was torture, like you were removing seconds from the clock with each brief pause of your eyes.

How long have you been here? Certainly too fed up with trying in succeeding to escape. There was no punctual way to determine in which part of the day you were as there was no windows, no clocks, or anything of the sort that dictated the unstoppable force that always outlasted everything within reach.

Just dull pale grey walls, borderline white in every direction your sight stretched. Which wasn't much.

Your new habitat, was minimalistic, decored with the basics to sate physiological needs such as sleep, shower or pee. Ceiling too lowered to crawl or stretch your muscles properly when you tried to keep mobility going.

A fancy cage, nothing much, nothing less.

How long had it been since he slammed the door shut? Days? Week?

You didn't know. And the lack of a sense of time was irrevocably screwing with your head in a way it resembled how Michael had fucked your insides. There was no sun to bath in, no wind to blow and mess with your hair as you swung through the buildings, providing the right amount of adrenaline, no structures to crawl or stretch your muscles completely on. No external stimulus.Nothing.

Just a few meters of space that caged you like a live sample for a maniac's twisted experimenting and amusement. Fed and cleaned whenever you required it. It sometimes blurred the line between being a pet and a Guinea pig.

Just your cell, withering away your spirit. Even the food provided, lacked that homey seasoning you adored indulging in HQ's cafeteria after a mission. The only rift of color popping in the tray and around you were the vast array of vitamins and minerals, shaped in round and squared pills, nested within a metallic cup.

Cause according to him, if his offspring was to emerge within you, your body had to be properly nurtured. Ironically, the food was bland and tasteless, but you didn't starve. And it spooked you how easy your body took a liking to it.

Skin healthier, glowing and silky even, a soft natural flush dressed your cheeks, metabolism in its peak, a couple of pounds were lost, but that was the least of your concerns.

He was set into perfecting the vessel for his future seedling. You.

Michael was... You didn't even know where to start besides being the obvious doppelganger of Miguel. The only way you could tell them apart was because of his eyes. They were brown, like the most scrumptious shade of chocolate you've ever seen.

Unlike Miguel, he just took what he wanted and needed, everything in the name of science. He was the embodiment of 'the end justifies the means'.

Alluring, inviting you to a forbidden and fucked up world where he was the unanimous and dangerous sovereign. Like his whole aura. His impassive act was only a coy facade to hide what was underneath.

Madness, lust and something so dern you didn't want to try and decipher cause in truth, you were terrified to fuck around and find out. He had already gave you a little taste of his abyss, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you to drown in him and everything that rendered his mere existence.

He needed to crown a queen for his chaos. And what a better way to do it, than choosing you to give him a perfect offspring.

In his own twisted world the need of a superior being was a must. A need he was creating the proper foundation to sate.

He was prepping you to bare his child. And it scared you to no end. Not that you didn't want kids, but to be forced to fit into that role out of sudden scared you shitless.

And you didn't want to sour and make your thoughts awkward by knowing a variant of Miguel would be the father.

Fuck. No.

If your mind could have arms, it surely would've slapped itself for such thought. Not that you didn't think Miguel was handsome, in fact, you avoided being seen as that recruit that had the hots for the boss, lingering too much around him made you more nervous than you liked to admit.

And when you were paired with him, the anxiety of knowing you could mess up went heavenwards. Your Miguel wasn't one to dwell into conversations if they weren't necessary, canon before personal interests came first and always, awkward social skills that came out stilted and forced almost mechanically, specially when someone caught him off guard or in the high level of stress his gorgeous brain fed him on a daily basis.

Grumpy was his default emotional read, snarky or dry humored replies when dumb questions were asked, overworked to the bone. Secretly labeling himself as a bad man cause of the things he needed to do in order to keep the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse working, a walking failure through and through, weak for meeting his emotional needs and trying to be happy for once and failing at it, and apparently the only one that knew how to keep everything together.

And still, the first one that always replied the call for help by either sending a group, or creating an escape plan route to ensure your and the rest's safety with the help of Lyla.

Unlike him. The man in the flesh and bone, that would easily supplant him physically, and had been watching you ever since you awoke. You didn't have to turn to him to know his presence had invaded your already reduced and secluded space.

Brown coals raked over the slope of your neck, the dip between your shoulder and junction, gaze remained over your rising form in every disguised breath you took, hoping he'd go away. Long and tan fingers tangled softly in the silks of your hair and the touch alone made your skin crawl, and not precisely in a good and pleasant way, no.

Whenever he was around your spider senses tingled, sometimes you'd end up with a headache, unable to shut it off. You didn't have to look deep enough to know he was as messed up and unpredictable as the task he had bestowed upon you.

"Eres tan perfecta..." his impish titter made your heart wrench and anxiety to bubble in the deepest of your gut.

In other circumstances you'd be a flustered mess, flattered even to have such kind of man groveling over you. But this one in specific had you coiling away from his touch, hoping to vanish into thin air or turn invisible like Miles.

God, you really wanted to have Mile's invisibility powers right now, so at least you could have a chance to escape. But dreaming had gone out the window ever since he dumped you here.

He never lingered too much, even when he did routine checkups on you. Blood and other fluid samples were taken, he made sure you ate the bland and soggy looking food 'til nothing but crumbs were left, and then he'd leave to do whatever he did in the lab and wouldn't return until your next feeding time.

The only thing he had in common with your Miguel was the workaholic attitude. He'd spend hours if not days tinkering with canisters and things you low key feared to know their components. You've noticed the little parts of limbs floating in some recipients, none of them human.

What kind of things this Alchemax did? Cause the little you had seen so far wasn't nice nor pretty.

Alchemax took seriously their research, and with this man on charge, you didn't want to even think about what kind of ungodly horrors they harbored. There was a little slapping in the air as he removed his gloves, and it was your chance to crawl away.

Rough pads thrummed over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine, breath hitched as he beckoned your forearm, the only part of you that budged, towards him in a demanding pull.

"Haven't had the time to properly examine these." he mumbled, more to himself than to you, as his thumbs squeezed soft circles, soothing the previous pressure's discomfort.

You gulped as he narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at the tiny circular slits indented in your wrist, a pale pinkish hue rimmed the tiny hole. The way he admired and looked with child-like wonder at your web shooters was overwhelming.

Cheeks grew warmer as the tip of his nose ran up your forearm to finally stop on the shooters. A soft salty musk emanated from them.

"Organic webbing... Fascinating." He crooned.

He closed his eyes to relish in the smell of your skin. A shaky breath came off your lips as his moist tongue rubbed a kitten lick on it, a bolt of electricity flooded your senses and earned him a whimper. Eyes immediately shifted on you, pupils widening.

Much to your dismay both had accidentally unveiled a borderline gruesome breakthrough. The twinkle in his eyes made your brows twitch in worry. Your neck gulped and his eyes caught the fraction of movement to then smirk.

Pearly whites shone with twisted pride upon the discovery.

"W-Wait-"

The tip of his tongue pressed harder on the slit and you couldn't help but moan. A lovely and surprising melody to his keen ears at your reactions.

Web shooters were a sensitive and therefore an erogenous area.

You tried yanking your arm away, but your knees trembled when he delivered a wriggle of the tip of his tongue, trying to worm into your veins, prodding and tasting unabashedly at your dint.

With every coil of his moist muscle your brain sparked alive, neurotransmitters soaring in wicked delight. Your teeth clamped on your lower lip, stifling another upcoming moan.

The wet sounds and pops of his mouth made your insides clench involuntarily. Legs smothered together, as he now sucked. His lips pursed in that familiar shape it reminded you the way he ate your engorged and sensitive nub.

Head split in two, fighting over what side of reasoning you'd agree with. One side was ashamed such ministrations from your wretched captor turned your unwilling body like puty within seconds in his dexterous hands, and with this newfound information, his power over you just increased tenfold.

Or aghast for allowing such thing, for allowing him to cage you against the bed and his formidable frame while he devoured and toyed with your wrists, and for him to make you feel revered like no man ever had, even if it was for the wrongest of reasons. Brown eyes stared at your countenance with such curiosity and enthrall, as if you were everything he needed. Like his prayers had been answered and delivered in silver platter with you on it, right in his hands.

It didn't help your shaky resolution he squeezed and draped his other thumb in your other slit. Rubbing in lazy circles, pressing the right amount to have your clit throbbing and your mouth panting. The vibrations of his low groan on your skin sent your brain in tiny shortcuts, your synapses were howling.

A shiny streak of his saliva connected with the left wrist. The irisdiscent shine of your webs connected to his bottom lip.

"Tad salty" His tongue licked the web away, His thumb moved in a back and fro motion, alternating between circles and soft licks from his thumb pad.

"Hnng-" Your toes curled in, as your hips stuttered but he grounded his even more on yours, preventing you from shifting too much.

"Stop squirming" He huffed, annoyed, trying to focus his sight on the tiny crevice.

"F-Fucking stop then" you panted in angry breaths

Michael smirked, genuinely amused at your unexpected reaction.

"Why would I? This is the most exciting part of the research."

Shit.

He took your other wrist and kissed the dent, your eyes went shut as he pressed both wrist above your head. Thumbs kneading with a bit more of pressure right above your tiny holes. And God, it was embarrassing hearing yourself mewl like a needy bitch.

How couldn't you notice such thing about yourself after so many years of being a Spiderwoman?

Fuck

And why the fuck were you about to cum while having your wrists stimulated? But more importantly, was he really having a boner by toying with you?

"God, you're a pervert..."

You couldn't help but mumble and he pressed tighter on purpose, sending a muffled whimper through your throat, silencing your yapping.

"I rather the term, Man of science, pequeña. Now stay fucking still."

But you couldn't, not when he kneaded so closely to a spot that send your mouth gaping like a fish out of water, begging to be thrown back in the liquid oxygen. He pressed two inches away from the bitty hole, and that was it.

Jaw clenched and your spine arched. His brow quirked with clinical curiosity at your thrashing despair. Breaths paused and shallow, still deciding whether to moan or sob.

"Nmh-Fuck, fuck, oh my god-" Your eyes rolled back, and your insides clamped. Brain vaporising any coherent thought, mouth too busy catching air and sputtering dumb babble at the consuming climax. Contracting and pulsing at nothing as the little dent squirted a silky and sticky rope towards the wall with a soft Thwipsh. He blinked nearly stupidly at what he had just achieved, cracking his apathetic stare for good.

"Dios mío..." He pressed again and again and you sobbed as the web spurted hapzardly, diverting in every direction and etching to whatever surface it touched or landed. He stared with wide eyes between you and the webs. Limp limb suspended in the air.

Toes curled and clenched at the bedsheets, attempting to anchor yourself at the overwhelming sensations that clouded your judgement. Head spun and buzzed with the thrill not even you achieved when handling those annoying reminders of your solitude in your own hands.

For once your spider senses tingled deliciously. His cock twitched almost painfully at what he just witnessed, he groaned and cupped your face to deliver a deep and breathtaking kiss.

"I knew someday, all my work would be rewarded. All those sleepless nights, those sacrifices, would bring someone like you to me."

He panted, examining you with wicked excitement, shaking you softly in his aroused wake.

"You and I, will create something so beautiful even God will be jealous!."

If it wasn't for the ominous meaning behind those words, you'd be amazed and moved at his overboard thrill. He rested his head on your lower belly, a dark grin plastered over his face, fingers padded your skin, warmth spreading through his hand.

Where are you, Miguel?

"I can't wait to see you swollen, carrying the future of this earth, pequeña."

I'm scared

But as quickly as he laid down, he bolted out of your cell, too enraptured in his musings to actually care for your rattled state.

Now that his motives were clear, your need to escape was greater. But maybe if you played your cards well, you'd have a chance.

I need you.

----

The table landed on the wall, shattering in smaller shards that splintered all over the place. Michael's back rose and tensed so tight, his lab robe wrinkled, trapping the fabric in between his muscles.

The corner of his lip twitched, almost like a tick, teeth menaced with baring, fury boiling underneath his skin. If he could, the steam would blow off his ears, but instead he prowled over your unsuspecting and sleeping form in the very back of the lab. Mind assaulting his reasoning with so many questions, but one in particular made his hands to clench into tight fist.

Why weren't you pregnant?

He had came inside in your most dangerous and fertile days, and still, you weren't pregnant.

As much as he was a patient man, he was throughly disappointed at his own failure. Was his seed defective? No.

He had run studies on himself and his results were everything a desperate man in need of children could ask for.

Fertile, fruitful, healthy.

And still, the screen shone brighter on the 'Negative' results.

Hot and furious breath fanned over the glass wall where he saw you sleeping. He'd have to run even more tests on you, start all over and wait for another two weeks.

But what if your body refused him again? Your womb's rejection was an open slap on his face, when he had been nothing but kind to you. He had been taking care of you with the best things, and this is how you repaid him.

It frustrated him beyond reason. But he was a patient man. Weeks were nothing compared to all the time he had already waited. With a final huff, he returned to his lab to correct your stupid hormonal imbalance that was costing him his valuable time and resources.

However, a Public Eye officer barged in, breath in his throat. His personal hounds, and whenever they came in, it only meant one thing. They had found something, and by the scratches and claw like marks on the officer's bleeding shoulder, meant it was something good.

You had to wait for a moment longer.

-----

"Lyla"

Miguel's gruff whisper came behind the corner of the structure he was in. Lyla appeared right on his shoulder.

"Any readings?"

"Some-" She froze for a second, "Ssft-"

Her yellow shade glitched to then appear right before him, she was speaking, but Miguel could barely understand her.

Fuck.

The place's interference was messing up with her programming. His gizmo popped with a message, your location. Beeping in a bright yellow dot within the ever tall and imposing Alchemax building in the middle of the city, like a watchtower.

Your last signal. Earth S-2015.

If you were here, he was sure you'd quip up something about a movie reference, something about a Mordor, whatever the thing meant, to lighten up the mood. He'd never admit it, but it always made him a bit curious as to what you watched or did to entertain yourself. The things you spoke were beyond absurd and still, he listened, inwardly pondering as to what kind of substances your universe used to get that sort of inspiration, but now there was nothing but silence at his side. And he grew tired of it.

No matter how much he had tried to recover or track you, the signal vanished into thin air. And he wasn't happy. At first he thought the gizmo's self restart feature would bring the signal back, but days kept passing, and nothing happened, he even went to the extent of rewiring the trinket's code to see if there was anything between lines, but there was nothing after the current location he was in.

Miguel swung through the buildings, avoiding the constant and alert drones soaring through the sky. Alchemax safety propaganda was plastered all over the place, but this earth's inhabitants looked everything but happy. Unlike his wonderful and manageable utopia he had helped to improve.

Fear was forever etched in their faces, constantly moving, never lingering too much around those mean looking officers. The Public Eye.

Their image all over the city, with low key subduing messages as 'Keep The order', 'Report any anomaly in the nearest station.' It set perfectly with the gloomy, authoritarian and heavy atmosphere of this universe. Chaos brewing in the darkness, awaiting to be unleashed.

His gut felt queasy. He might not have spider senses, but intuition never failed him. And right now it was telling him to find you and get the fuck out as soon as possible. Precisely in that order. He didn't want to pull out a Miles, even if he wanted to on this wretched world. Frustrating as it was, Earth S-2015 was a necessary evil, like his ruler and his major minion.

Not that you were incapable of fending for yourself, one of the main reasons he didn't act right away, but knowing who was in this place, and the possibilities, made his chest constrict with a new wave of underlying anxiety and dread as there was no Spider in this earth to protect it.

His watch buzzed a bit too late with a new message from Lyla.

RUN!!!!

A hoard of drones shoot his way, creating a sequential line of explosions, he dodged, tore, and crashed the drones against eachother, as if they were bugs pestering him.

"Look! Another one!"

Some officers didn't wait to appear and shoot their best shots at him. They fired and Miguel fought back, talons in hands, ripping and tearing flesh.

They had taken you, and a cold sweat ran down his spine.

Mierda...

He took one officer by his neck, masked face came into view as his teeth bared.

"The other one, where is she?!" he seethed but the man was stupid enough to oppose. He thrashed, which only added gasoline to Miguel's already blazing fury. Talons dug in the man's tender flesh, but even so, the officer had managed to impale a needle on his arm. It's liquid immediately melting into Miguel's muscles.

It stung.

With a hiss, Miguel let the man go, too focused on the sudden burning sensation spreading through his arm and body like a wildfire. Breathings took a couple of seconds to turn erratic, lights flickered and dances before his eyes.

Concéntrate, mierda! (Fucking focus)

The remaining officers jumped on him, using their subduing tools on him, an electrical shock here and there, a couple of stabs that had him kneeling, punches that definitely got all air out of his scorching lungs. It hurted to breath, to move, to see. His photophobia was rampant as lights were suddenly on him.

Miguel tried to cover his eyes but punches kept coming, he lunged and swung back to nothing but air, as his faculties were in a painful sensorial overload. The last thing he could manage in between blurry and prancing lights was the officer's wicked smile, stretching. Darkness claimed him.

----

"Me estás hartando, quédate quieta de una vez!" (I'm getting tired of this, stay still!)

The lack of exercising had made you slow, he didn't give you enough time to fight back when dragging you by the ankles while you were in the best of your nap. The alerts in your body kicked a bit too late, and like he had done before, his hips grounded yours, suffocating their squirming as his hand squeezed the wrists, needle menacing on his other hand, a pinkish liquid shook within.

"Fuck you!"

With a low growl he smashed your hands against the mattress, earning him a painful yelp, and it was his chance to sink the needle on your neck, a sting that immediately stifled your body, a brief itch spreaded through before turning into a cool shot of drug.

"Don't worry... We'll get to it later. But I need your body cooperating first."

You tried batting his hands away, but he held your face, and you gulped. He was staring.

Michael Stone was staring at you.

Thrill, joy, and something eldritch within his beautiful eyes. It scared as it intrigued you.

"What did you just put in me!?"

His nose nuzzled on the crook of your neck and crooned, "Nothing you should worry about, pequeña. Just a little enhance that will take my investigation to the next level."

His nose revelled up to your neck, body shuddering with the soft kisses left imprinted on your skin. It confused you.

One moment he treated you like the best thing he had ever had, and the next he manhandled you like a rag doll, pumping whatever substances he thought right into your bloodstream.

"Ger'off me!" A backlash and he chuckled.

"You're amusing. Might keep you as a pet once my child is born." He frowned suddenly, like if an idea had came into mind, pondering.

"Or not, I could grow it on my own... But, no no. It wouldn't be the same, wouldn't it?." His peering landed on your abdomen, ready to see it plump. "Call. me traditionalist in that way, but there is nothing more beautiful than seeing life growing within a perfect specimen." His eyes twinkled.

"You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

"You loved having this sick fuck inside, pequeña. Your mouth might be spilling nonsense, but your cunt" He cupped it suddenly, shutting you up right away, "neither data lies."

A thick lump was swallowed down your throat.

"Rest well, I've got a surprise for you."

The smirk on his lips was everything but a good omen. And the heat increasing on your body didn't help. Hormones were slowly coming to a riot, spider tingle ringing harder for a moment.

Great.

Fingers rubbed on where he sunk the needle, wishing that for once he wouldn't use the thick ones. A tiny red smudge came into the pad of your fingertip.

Asshole.

----

Disgust, curiosity and repulsion.

Those were the main reads on Miguel's bruised face when Michael was before him, having a taste of his lips, but quickly backed up upon feeling the prong of his fangs grazing at his tongue. Miguel spat away his taste.

"Vete a la mierda, cabrón!" (Fuck you, asshole)

"Oh" His smirk went wider, almost wicked. He wasted no time in securing his grip on Miguel's chin to probe and poke at his mouth, revelling at every single thing within his structure.

"This is... perfect! With you and my vessel, we'll create-"

Michael jumped backwards as Miguel tried to lunge for him, but to no avail, chains clinked on his feet and wrists, restraining him.

"Now, now. What happened to that... friendly neighborhood thing your species used to preach? Is it a ruse?"

Miguel's fury burned brighter than the sun, he was ablaze, the Ethyl Chloride still railed within his bloodstream. He'd have to wait a bit more, just a bit for it's effects to leave his system and he'd free himself.

Never in his life had the urge of hurting someone came so strong on him, but he needed to be as collected as possible if he wanted to find you.

Even if his evil twin's hand roamed over his chest, measuring and probing his physiology. What's with everyone trying to get a piece of him?

His sight landed on something that undeniably belonged to you, a piece of your suit, under a microscope. Michael followed Miguel's line of sight and smiled, naturally, proud even.

"She's been a good specimen. The best one I've got so far."

A cold shudder ran down Miguel's back, eyes immediately on him, venom dripping in his words as they came out in a growl

"What have you done?"

Michael shrugged nonchalant, pride swelling up his chest. "Nothing but my work, Mr. O'Hara. And now that I've got you, you'll help me too."

"Te juro que si has hecho algo para lastimarla-" (I swear if you've done something to hurt her)

"Oh no, no. Im not that kind of monster." Michael tinkered with some tubes as he pulled a couple strands off Miguel's head. The Boss shook his head away from his tweezers.

"But she can get annoying sometimes. Nothing that pleasure helps to shut her up"

Miguel's eyes went wide, horror and anger in tandem within his crimson gaze.

His talons poked out, itching to tear the man before him, until he was nothing but bloody chum, fuck the canon, fuck this dimension. He'd do everyone a favor, unlike the first time he broke the rules.

"But dread not. Tonight is very special" Michael smiled at Miguel, but it didn't reached his eyes. The same pink liquid he injected on you was now flowing in Miguel's veins, thanks to thw needles in his shackles.

"Mating season is around the corner , isn't it?"

Miguel scowled, wary as Michael made his arms and legs restricted to the metallic wall of his confinement, hitting his head in the process. A wave of pain invaded Miguel's skull.

"I won't hurt her, no. But I won't allow you to take her away from me."

Michael pressed a button, sending shockwaves through Miguel's body, suit glitching out, until it disappeared, leaving a bare, righteous doppelganger of himself at his feet, panting, gritting his teeth and growling in pain.

Michael leered at Miguel unabashedly, smoke oozed from his shimmery tan skin, and the madman nodded, pleased.

"You spider-folk are unique and wonderful creatures indeed."

It was the last thing Miguel heard before another electrical and unexpected shock subdued him to darkness.

----

Miguel

His mind was a puddle. Nothing coherent could properly take shape in his brain. His body was heavy, doused in a borderline painful heat, the same sort of feeling he'd get once his body entered this spider-like urge to mate.

Miguel!

The voice calling him was familiar, but it's tinge sent a delicious pulsation right to the tip of his already twitching cock.

Wake up!

Leaden-lids parted enough to take in his surroundings again, consciousness returning to his empty body. But as it did, the strong tidal waves of his arousal drowned him in.

It didn't help he kept hearing these delicious mewls and pants, begging for him to do something simple as to wake up. The constant slaps of flesh and the breathless moans made a trail of precum escape his flushed and sensitive tip. Thick veins decored his pulsating girth, aching painfully to sink in something. To be wrapped in nothing but snug zeal.

"F-Fuck... Wake up, please!"

Another garbled moan that ended in an acute whimper. And that made him growl. His toes curled in, bleary sight finally taking focus on what was going on.

He could only blink at the scene. Stupid and high in need. Dying to be free and unleash himself.

"Ohmygod-" you hiccuped, watching him, flushed cheeks, mouth gaping and panting, exhaling deep and sweet mewls his body yearned to induce

"Miguel!"

You called, waking him up despite your insides getting a good rearrangement by Michael. The latter was too keen in watching his reaction as he smacked himself against you, his cheeks reddened in want.

You were spreaded like a book ontop of the sitting madman, back colliding with his bare chest, hands cuffed within two metallic hoops, hooked behind Michael's head; cunt swallowing him inside, choking with his continuous thrustings, slapping the back of your ass over and over as his hands kept your thighs apart and close to your chest, providing Miguel with a 4K image of your bullied and glistening pussy.

The way Michael pushed in so swiftly made Miguel's cock to erupt with another pre cum bead. Your breast swayed and bounced at the rough pace settled underneath. A rhythmic slap, like a perfect metronome for an obscene and wet melody.

The little rational part of Miguel told him, demanded him to look away. To spare you some shame, but his body had been rewired in such way he was unable to tear his oggling away, cause he could feel the need to break the chains and do a better job than Michael. He'd destroy you. He needed to.

Michael's hands made you hold the back of your own thighs, so he could plow deeper. And your spine arched as your toes curled, legs shook and a sweet acute cry echoed through the lab, announcing your first orgasm.

Miguel's sore cock twitched. Begging him to jump into action. His mouth watered as your pussy swallowed Michael's cock so deep and tight that a frothy, creamy ring nested at the base of his tightened balls, contracting as the madman came inside your snug hole.

Your arousal awakened a primal need in him, to the point that his talons dug in the fat of his palm, cutting skin and bleeding, like his bottom lip. Plump mouth heaved, his throat rumbled with gutural growls the more he stared, hypnotized at your post-bliss face.

Miguel whimpered, like a kicked dog, a deep flush invading his heaving countenance.

"Seems the serum is also making effect"

Michael slicked his hair back and gave an excited sigh, "I think it's time to see his performance, right?"

Michael pushed you away from his body, Bambi-like legs failed their attempt to hold your whole frame. You fell on the ground with a wheeze. Miguel immediately lunged, but his restrains held him back, prevented him from achieving his main goal.

Crimson eyes turned darker, nearly matching Michael's. The latter pressed a button and the collar on Miguel fell with a clank on the floor.

"M-Miguel" it was difficult to find your voice when it was scrapped raw and dry, but still, you had to try.

"We... we gotta leave. Do you hear me?"

Of course he did, but his mating cycle was on peak, thanks to Michael. He had messed up the natural process by accelerating his heat prematurely.

Why would he leave when he was about to wreck you?

His feet were unlocked. You gave Michael a pleading look while trying to crawl away. When the last lock clicked free, your breath hitched.

It felt like a slow motion as you looked over your shoulders, marked with hickeys Michael left. Pupils wide blown as Miguel lurched forward, stalking and hovering over you. Cock smearing his pre cum in whatever skin it landed, marking you with his scent as he manhandled your hips up, aligning them with his girth.

His hand was big enough to keep your whole head on the floor. Michael cackled as Miguel sunk in deep in a powerful roll of his hips, earning a stuttering grunt through clenched teeth from you.

The fat of your ass trembled, your clasped hands curled underneath your torso, in dire need of holding onto something, cause Miguel merciless plows were fucking any coherent thought.

Your whole body shook underneath him, cunt ever tight, your juices and Michael's cum made him easier to delve in a pace you knew would scrap your knees, cause he wasn't stopping nor waning.

Michael circled you both, hand on his cock, stroking himself at the sheer display of primal desire. The whole show made him hard, specially when seeing your engorged clit peeking underneath Miguel's jackhammering frame, flushed from the unceasing beating the hero's balls provided it.

"Just like that" Michael husked, and whimpered as you did nothing but sputter nonsensical and lewd blabbering.

Miguel's fingertips sunk tighter as they grope your hips firmly to keep you from lurching forward, despite him plunging into you with abandonment, as if with every thrust he'd say take it.

Take it for disobeying.

Your toes curled in and your jaw slacked open, unable to keep it together.

Take it for not following instructions.

"M... Mig-"

Bendito... He was just starting and you were already clamping onto him in a grip so tight it only matched the way he was holding your beautiful and generous hips.

"You're almost there, Mr. O'Hara! Keep it going!"

One specific thrust had your eyes watering and rolling back. A pathetic and incomplete scream made Michael to kneel behind you both. His eyes were too dazed in how Miguel fucked you. Dancing up and down, like the strokes of his hands on his cock.

Miguel secured your head in a tight headlock that cut your air supply enough to clench on him, again. Strong biceps trapped your airy head, clouded with a biting desire that came stronger every time you breathed.

Michael groaned when Miguel pulled a last thrust, sheathing to the hilt, forcing a powerful and milky kiss on your cervix. The madman's mouth wasted no time to sink in between Miguel's firm glutes, tasting him, squeezing and pushing him towards his face, tongue fucking the tight hole, earning a low but stuttering growl from a surprised Miguel. Glasses fogging at the rising temperature.

"Fucking delicious." He mumbled with a smack of his lips to focus his attention in your flushed and sensitive cunt. When Miguel pulled out, Michael was already pushing him away, to then prowl at your throbbing cunt, gathering the leaking cum on his tongue, revelling in the taste as he pushed it back inside with a soft dribble.

"W-Wait" You hissed, his moist muscle had been wonderful once, but right now it felt rough. Flesh too sensitive to the touch.

Miguel staggered, body overridden with a relentless urge to be inside you again, but his body screamed for a rest, the venom still lingered on his muscles. Michael on the other hand, cradled and sunk you once more ontop of him.

"The more you take, the more chances you'll get pregnant are." He explained underneath you. Tears rolled down your flustered cheeks, overstimulated and pearled, glowy skin by the thin layer of sweat etched in every slope and dint in your body.

Michael licked them with a groan while his hips smacked yours in a slow but deep, deep rut, pulling the last coherent thoughts through muffled groans and hiccuping mewls, while you shook your head vehemently.

"You're so perfect, pequeña"

"T-Too much" you croaked

Michael sunk you in a swift move, as his slapping hips met yours upwards, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"No, no. you can. You're strong, bonita. You can take me." His crooning was eerie, yet so alluring it blurred the line between monster and devotee.

Pleasure clung to your brain with such force it was dizzying. Every pore of your body oozed with the pheromones the serum produced, creating a tantalizing smell that lured Michael and Miguel's attention.

The grumpy hero could only watch you squirm as another cock that wasn't his, wrecked your insides in a tortuous pace.

"Fuck" He grunted, feeling the consuming and mind numbing drug licking at every inch of his cinnamon skin, imploring to feel you again.

Even though the Ethyl Chloride's effect had been long gone, the serum reacted to your pheromones. Meaning he'd need to provoke one more peak to have the effects completely worn out.

He'd feel sorry and awful all he wanted later, his priority was to get you out of this madman's claws. But...

It was impossible not to think in how good you felt, how delicious your whole body contorted while witnessing the way Michael subdued you to ride him as he captured one of your nipples in his urgent mouth. Lovely and plump bumps of flesh jiggled at the tempo, outer folds that without a doubt would be so sensitive to the touch, parted and guzzled Michael's veiny cock.

Miguel crawled to you both.

How well you had taken them each., Adjusting perfectly at their sizes, like a perfect flesh sleeve.

He hovered over the both and smoothed away the strands of hair that stuck on your flushed and gorgeously fucked out face.

The heat was consuming, and Michael's pace wasn't enough. The madman noted you were reaching the peak of the serum functionality as you urged your wobbly hips clumsily on his.

Despite you not being able to properly verbalise your pleasure, you still sought it. Michael's wicked fantasies came true when Miguel pushed you tighter against him, as if wanting to flush your body and Michael's as one being, just to have a proper glimpse of the sight that had him guiding his tip towards your already stuffed entrance.

Detente (Stop)

But he couldn't, he couldn't stop himself from entering you, knees flexing as he lowered his pelvis, pushing inch my inch deeper. Earning an ascending pleasurable wail from you.

Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched, baring your teeth as he also sheathed inside, womb so full it bulged.

Michael's laugh echoed through the room. Everything had came as planned.

"Let's make you a wonderful mother, mi pequeña."

Oh my god.

A panting groan escaped as Michael moved in first, igniting the painfully delicious friction inside you. He wasn't only stimulating you, but Miguel as well. The snug crevice too tight for them to coexist in peace, yet there they were, fighting over who pulled the last peak and thread of rationality out of you.

Their cocks pumping and prodding had your spine arching. Miguel grabbed a fistful of your front strands and pulled backwards, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, letting your chest exposed to Michael. He wasted no time into pushing both of your breasts together, tongue alternating between the left and right.

Sucking, lapping, wriggling his hot muscle on your taut peaks, making a mess out of them by creating more hickeys in every inch of salty tasting visible skin.

"Michael!" You whimpered and it was enough for Miguel to plow harder. The sinful makeout session of their cocks inside your walls made you pant, beg and laugh like a total loon.

A streak of saliva escaped the corner of your gaping mouth. Head lolled back and fro, fried brain with the lust both men induced you, floating on cloud nine. You didn't want to come down to earth, much less when Miguel and Michael's groans and moans over you, urged you to be the best cum dumpster ever.

Miguel pulled your handcuffed hands underneath your chin, beckoning your lips to his. His mouth suffocated any future moan as you bounced on both.

Your one and only boss didn't need you wailing his name to know you ached for him. But Michael was set into having a proper taste out of you both.

He pulled you closer, pushing deeper inside you. Michael's lips erased all trace of Miguel's on yours, to then kiss Miguel. To his surprise, Miguel didn't oppose, too gone in the sensations this mass of tangled limbs offered.

Michael hands roamed your body and Miguel's, feeling his own climax approach.

Hearing Miguel's animalistic growls on your ear, made your clit throb. He pounded with every fiber of his body, urging you to reach the stars and play with them.

Your cunt soaked them, too wrecked and ruined to care. Like your mind. It didn't matter who fucked better, all your body asked was fresh cum, deep in your womb.

The serum coaxed you to move faster, almost matching the rhythm of their whomps. The sound of your greedy and drooling hole being battered was music to their ears.

Michael whimpered and his spine arched, finally reaching his peak, spurting his hot sticky scent inside. Miguel hissed and held Michael close, watching him.

Limbs nearly cramped as they curled in, hands fisted tightly on each side of his trembling body, eyes rolled back, mouth panting, head too heavy to think straight. And that's when Miguel sunk his fangs on his neck, injecting his paralyzing venom on his bloodstream.

A pornographic and slurred moan erupted from Michael, his wicked smirk widened as his body slowly but surely, lost all control of his nerves, unable to command them to move.

Miguel had to resist the urge to come inside. He knew he had a couple of minutes before Michael regained mobility, and as heavenly as you felt, he pulled out of you, drowning his orgasm with regained self control, earning a small hissing as he pulled you out too, gently, off Michael.

Legs and body refused to cooperate. With clumsy steps he stood, taunting the surfaces for support. He slanted against the table, gasping for air.

Miguel shook his head and threw a quick look to Michael, still on the floor, but now groaning in discomfort. Even his tongue had numbed out.

Miguel didn't waste time and sauntered over the next table where pieces of his gizmo laid neatly arranged in a metallic tray. He swept them all in a container, along the tubes filled with his samples.

Like Hobie, he took other parts of machinery in a quickened pace to finally grab a couple of lab robes. He wore one and covered your overworked body, to then throw you above his shoulder.

"Nos vamos." (We're leaving)

Michael groaned, loudly. Anger was felt in every gurgle his throat did. Despair widened in the only thing that still remained movable in his numb face. They darted between you and Miguel, begging him to leave you there.

He groaned again, losing sight once Miguel swung with you from a window.

"Hold on tight if you can" Miguel's voice cooed as you two escaped.

-----

Michael had to douse some pain killer spray on the two slits done in his neck.

How could he not forsee this? How could he miss something so obvious that ended up messing his one decade old plan?

He let his emotion get the best out of him, fouling up his usual calculating judgment, replacing it with excitement.

A Public Eye squad remained before him, awaiting for his orders.

"Find them. I need the woman alive, understood?"

"What about the... other one? The monster?" The same officer Miguel had sliced through and marked, spoke.

The lights in the screen gave Michael a sinister red hue on his face, light reflecting on his glasses.

"He's not a monster, Johnson." Dr. Stone smirked, copying your information in his database, "There can't be two of us."

Johnson, the captain, nodded. The squad obeyed, and the hunt was on.

Taglist: (I apologize if your blog isn't able to be tagged, tumblr is... tumblr)

@smokeywhalee @maomaimao @beingdeluluisthesolulu @byjessicalotufo @darkfairy102190 @angel-of-the-moons @bunnibitez @decaffeinatedplaidwinnersoul

@thealleydog @sariespi @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @barryatsumu @missylo @fistsuptitsup @lazy-idate @crimsonriot06-7 @uraritychain @little-lovelace @llama--drama @deathlypickles @cupidojenphrodite @@nostalgicdaira @homewreckingwreck @millliko @tatatida @melday0105 @scaryplanetdestroyer @minispidey @miranexx @migueloharacumslut @keepghostly @ion-news @misswonderfrojustice @kishimiest @prctty-birdie @migueloharacumslut @the-true-tato-god @1biggestsimpofalltime @catfwngz @drefear

#t writes✨#Michael Stone #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman

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house-of-daena · 7 months

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IMAGINE...

[CONTENTS: nsfw, robotic anatomy, f/cking robots but with no penetration, just messing with his circuits, wires, screws, whatever (im not a mechanic, idk half i said here), sub dottore segment (omega), gn.mechanic.reader (co-created the segments)]

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤"sit still, omega." you warn him, a serious lilt in your voice as you move your hands carefully into his open chest cavity, wires, and bits of his intricate parts all laid onto the metal surface of the table he was currently sitting on. "you wouldn't want me to mess up, right?"

and although your delicate hands, now covered in black soot that will be difficult to clean off, a smile adorned your lips, eyes bright and full of mischief. "this is the 3rd time you've visited my office, you know?"

omega merely scoffed, turning his face away from your teasing gaze. his cheeks, despite it being a cool surface composed of metal, were dusted with muted shades of reds and pinks, that spread down to his neck, and to his shoulders. it contradicted his dismissive attitude, and he cursed at the useless feature implemented in his system.

"awww, flustered now, are we?" you cooed, lips brushing against the edge of the panel that's usually covered by his mask. your hot breath fanned against his skin, and though he was a machine, he shivered at the feeling, biting his bottom lip as you pressed a kiss onto his star-shaped sensors. you chuckled when it glowed a brilliant red, his pale skin, now flushed, as he grits his teeth in anticipation. "you're so adorable, omega, so hot and bothered just with some words."

you hear a faint 'click' inside his titanium rib cage, where his core and other frail components lie. curiously, you pull back to see what activated in his system, only to break into a big, shit-eating grin to see his automatic internal cooling system begin to gleam blue. "oh my, don't go all shy on me! not after coming in here inside my workshop~"

"j-just get it done," omega finally finds it in himself to speak, his voice breaking easily as his trembling hands grip your shoulders, holding himself back on wrapping his legs around your waist. "i have important matters to attend to, and prime won't be happy if i report late— a-aAHN!"

he was cut off by his own moan, writhing and panting at the feeling of your hands rubbing and fondling his metallic spine, aiming for the sensitive spots of his system, thumbing between the joints of his fragile parts. omega couldn't help but arch his back and whimper your name out loud when you've begun tugging on his complicated wiring. you relished at how his bottom lip shook, his body instinctively mimicking organic reactions when it comes to pleasure, his shoulders rose and fell as he pants at each tantalizing touch.

you shook your head as you clicked your tongue, plunging your arms deeper into his chest, making him gasp and choke on a moan, fingers brushing against his convoluted circuits. "this doesn't usually happen, you know?" humming, you began to unscrew a bolt to access an even more complex section of his body, though you did it agonizingly slow, making sure omega could feel each twist and turn of your tool. "unless someone else messed with your circuits… but that's impossible. each segment has a different screw, nut, and bolt, all custom-made and unique, courtesy to me, so that only prime and i could have access to your very fragile and very complicated machinery."

before omega could even make an excuse, trying to save himself from this utter embarrassment, he throws his head back and almost falls off the table as his body is suddenly electrified with intense shocks of pleasure, his system overwhelmed as he felt sparks coursing through his wirings. drool seeped at the corner of his lips, he keens when your hands didn't relent on reattaching wires back to their proper place, and tweaking the numerous gears inside of him.

he couldn't stop shaking, hands pawing at your shoulders as he tries to keep still, lest he wants you to fuck up his system even more… although the thought made his fans whir faster, to have your hands touch every single intricate piece of his metallic body, your hands warm to the touch and expertly assaulting his every weak spot he had. he was at the verge of an overload, senses making him lightheaded.

"this is a very calculated error, so much so that only a person or a machine with high intelligence can pull it off, rather than it being due to the humid air of sumeru." omega lets out a cry when you tightened a screw, making him curl his toes and fall back onto the table, back so beautifully arched against the metal surface and rattling his mechanical parts. "you know very well that i built you more resilient than that, darling~"

omega swallowed down his moans, trying to catch his breath as he glares unto your eyes, a weak scowl on his trembling lips. "p-perhaps the mechanic lacks the utter skill to—h-hahnn! t...to even complete proper maintenance o-of their own creation... f-fuck!" he argues in between his whorish moans, cursing and stumbling over his words, "l-leading to this 'calculated error', as you've said..." you knew if he had eyes, he'd shed tears.

you laughed at his poor attempt of an excuse, especially when he's been letting out perfect mimicry of hiccups and sobs, pretty sensors flashing red, fingers digging rather painfully against your biceps as his joints creaked. "oh darling, you and the other segments are all the same," you tease, leaning towards him and pressed kisses on his neck, all the way up to his jawline, paying attention to how his body reacted to everything you do to him. "knocking on my office door, saying that they're having calibration errors, or they need an early tune-up, begging me to fix them."

omega felt like he was perpetually on edge, the pure ecstasy driving his system into a frenzy, his body struggling to cool down his processor. he couldn't even cum if he wanted to; you didn't build him like that. it was maddening—each caress made him mewl how a slut would, each tug of his wiring made him quiver weakly beneath you, the desire to be absolutely ravished by you growing stronger at each passing second.

"are you all so jealous that i can fuck your very own creator so good that he's crying my name all night long, but can't do the same to you?" you purr into his ear, and he bucks his hips upwards, taut against yours as he whines in desperation, "so you'd mess up your insides so i can fix them? hoping for me to touch you in ways only i know that will make you feel good?"

and he nods, tongue lolling out between his lips, looking absolutely wrecked. again, you laughed mockingly at his pitiful display. you kiss him all over his face, and he cries, begging you to be gentle with his insides, that he can't take anymore. he's so sensitive that he could feel it through his mechanical bones, the electric currents flowing through his body giving you small shocks whenever you touch him, and his system making loud beeping sounds, indicating that he was overloading.

but you found it too amusing, for what was supposed to be an unfeeling robot, melting into putty in your hands as you stroke, palm, pull, knead his pieces to the point he's seeing stars. "if only i had known you segments were all pathetic whores for me, then we should've gone for a more organic approach..."

"although," your hands paused, and omega took big gulps of air, his back somehow began to ache for how long he's had it arched in burning bliss, his sensors focused on you, body twitching. "i could stimulate a feature that could mimic a human orgasm..." omega visibly lights up, gripping onto the sleeves of your shirt as raspy pleads slip from his lips, but you shush him, smiling sickeningly sweet for reassurance. and yet, omega could feel regret creeping up his circuits in the dark and wicked intent behind your eyes.

"alright... it will take a few hours," your hands began to move again, and omega screamed, voice caught in his throat as you pressed a button that made him extra sensitive to stimulation, head clanging against the metal table. he could feel his inside buzz with delight, every single command prime had given him was left forgotten, and he could only think about your hands, tinkering away on his engine.

"try to keep your system stable until i finish, okay~?"

a/n - haiiii @brenbosan this is for u... i've had this thought for a while, saw ur post and my brain just. buzzed,, this was so fun to write hehe,, okay i will answer u guys asks now 🥹🥹

#» asmo's writings #» dottore #dottore smut #dottore x reader #sub dottore #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #sub genshin impact #sub genshin

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moondirti · 7 months

Text

warnings: smut, afab!anatomy, unprotected p-in-v, eye contact, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), biting, hickeys, drooling, literally a good for nothing thirst, pwp

Miguel O'Hara likes to watch your face as he fucks you.

Doggy style and cowgirl are good 'n' all, don't get him wrong. There's a particular way to them that allows him to hit parts of you inaccessible in any other position. But Miguel O'Hara likes to watch your face as he fucks you – sandwiched between your spread legs, rutting in missionary – because nothing gets him going like the subtle unravelling of your expressions. The manner in which your brows screw up, or the tears that droop your lashes. How glossy your lips get with the spittle you've no energy to swallow, drooling, fucked silly on his cock.

Yeah, if he had it his way every time, he'd choose to be real up close and personal, his full weight on top of you. Nothing gets him going like when your noses touch one another, your jaw captured in his hand. He holds your head in place because he knows how flustered you get with constant eye contact, all demure in spite of the wanton moans he thrusts out of your chest. So, you're either a shy thing or his attention is too intense, severe reverence pouring from carmine irises onto every tenuous reaction. The room, your shared space, heady and sweltering hot with sex.

And he never misses a thing. He sees the way your teeth clench when he pinches your clit, ignited by the strict pleasure. He sees how your cheeks cringe, pull, drop, when he plugs you with his cock, siphoned into stillness by your spasming slit. And when he whispers filthy promises onto your chin, mouth pressed there in a perpetual kiss – gonna fuck you full, corazón. my pretty girl, clever girl. gonna cum into you and lick it clean. you'd like that, hm? uhuh. yeah, i see you. i know you would – he revels in the hot bursts of breath that fan across his cheeks. He's always close enough that he can feel, not just hear, your moans.

That's the thing. Miguel likes panting in tandem with you – warm, dry palm smoothing the matted hair off your cheek. He's always infinitely more composed, though. A thin sheen of sweat glazes his bronzed skin, and his cock is slick with both your juices, but he still manages to keep his wits about while you hardly remember yours. They're always honed in on you; how you respond, what you like, what he does that draws the loudest scream. He peppers your face in kisses and nips the fleshier bits. He nuzzles the plane under your jaw. He keeps his efforts almost exclusively focused on your head and cunt, equally divided amongst the two, and it's only on the rare occasion that he ventures away from either.

To take a nipple into his mouth, maybe, tongue lapping at the pebbled peaks. To lay hickeys over your chest – a personal favourite past time when the rise and fall of it is another indication to your enjoyment. To drag his fangs softly on the soft expanse of your tummy. He always makes good on his word, so he eats you out like your pouring into him will quench him for weeks, stuffing his face on puffy folds and refusing to come up for air.

All the while, though, his eyes will remain trained on you. They never left. He props your neck up by a pillow so your expressions are still accessible to him, and when he moves gradually down your body, they're focused upward through dark lashes. If you squint through the foggy pleasure that obscures your vision, you in turn can recognise the subtle smirks he makes at every ministration. The sniffs when you cum on his lips for the umpteenth time. The lewd wet of his fingers when he sucks them in preparation for your needy hole. He scissors them into you, stretches you enough, then dives back up to squash a bruising kiss to your lips as his cock finds its way back in again.

Because he can't forget the other component of his promise, of course – to pump you full of his seed. It's so much, an hours worth of build up, straining his heavy balls from the moment you started. He humps you until every last drop is adequately milked from them, groaning into your mouth as his tongue wrestles yours. It's hard to breath with his body pinning you down, all broad shoulders and defined muscles, and the unrelenting attention battering you into something stupid – yet the hypoxia only adds another intoxicating angle to the mix. You have to make the decision between stopping for air or taking him in in all his vigour.

And, more often than not, it's the latter. It's the least you can do after all he's given you, after all.

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rustedhearts · 8 months

Text

misled (college!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: overtaken by irritations with his playboy persona, you distance yourself from steve. but how long can you really stay away?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the scholar stud masterlist ✶ main masterlist

tags: angst-ish; steve’s a whore; general horniness; teasing; smut; frat-party-sex; rough-ish; choking (but not really); once again not edited.

“late at night, body’s yearning. restless night, want to be with you. someone’s playing in the garden, so enticing, he’s sure to take a bite.”

misled, kool & the gang

somewhere in indiana, october 1988. tillman university.

last week...

"So, you fucked me and don't even have the courtesy to call after?"

The students listening across the hall winced at the sound of your voice shrilling through the hall. Peeking through the crack, the rear of Steve Harrington's chestnut tresses, recently conditioned and gleaming in the fluorescents, could be seen standing in front of your door. Behind you, your roommate, Caroline, could be seen hovering a pink nail polish brush over her big toe, too stunned by the confrontation to even move.

"Heh," Steve chuckled, bracing one hand against the doorframe. "I was gonna call, baby."

Chest tight with an air bubble of embarrassment, you glared at him fervently through a pair of thinly rimmed glasses. "Yeah, when?"

Steve, though never usually colored with humiliation, tinged pink. He'd slept with plenty of girls and never called—but with you, it was purely accidental. He meant to call, he honestly did. But then his dad appeared the day and demanded Steve's attention, and off they went to their second home in Connecticut, where he laid down "the law."

"The law" being that this was Steve's year to "get his head on straight," and drop the poli-sci major for pre-med as originally intended.

"I've let you screw around long enough," Mr. Harrington gruffed over a grilled lobster, white chunks buried in his teeth. "It's time to get serious."

"Sweetheart, listen—"

"—I thought I was 'distracting.' I thought you were so obsessed with me that I barely had my bag down before you were humping me like a dog, Harrington," you snipped. "What happened to that?"

The girls across the hall giggled and snickered, and Caroline grimaced into her nail polish bottle. Steve, on the other hand, pushed himself away from the doorframe and crossed his arms. You hadn't meant to be so cruel, the words just came rushing out like a tap on high—and it came out scalding hot.

"You're cute." His tone matched yours, sharp-edged and mean. "I said I was sorry, that not enough?"

You mirrored his stance, arms folded tightly over your baggy t-shirt. "You didn't, actually."

Dropping his arms defeatedly, Steve sighed and tipped against the doorway again. His cruelty fizzled out, overtaken by soft, rounded eyes of hazel brightness.

"Well I am, alright? C'mon, you gonna make me stay out here and beg?"

The shuffling across the hall ceased, the girls taken aback by Steve's murmured words. You, on the other hand, watched him carefully. He was handsome, no doubt, and knew how to turn on the sweetness like a honey drip. But is that all it was—an act? Did he mean all he said in his dorm that night? Or did his reputation precede him, and he just knew how to work you a little too well?

You could feel your edges rounding, melting bit by bit like butter in the heat. You reached for the door, prepared to open it a bit further and ask him inside—but a whizz of long, silky blonde hair flittered by and skirted to a stop. It came with a thin, fair-skinned face and eyes as blue as water. A girl too pretty for Tillman, a girl too pretty to be real.

"Steve?" she gasped, staring at the back of the boy's head with a wide grin. "There you are, I haven't seen you in ages!"

The quiet across the hall quickly morphed to noisy commotion: fumbling, gasping, and a little profanity. The softness quickly hardened like caulk, and you whipped the door halfway shut, flashing Steve a bitter grin. The blonde's hand reached for Steve's arm, turning him to face her and avert his attention.

But the boy's big eyes were only set on you, welled up with pleading. "Honey, wait, it's not what it—"

"See you around, Harrington."

today...

Since that day in the hall, you did everything you could to avoid Steve Harrington.

But it seemed Steve Harrington didn't let up easy.

He was there when you got back from class, waiting for a chance to explain himself. You rushed past him with a speed he couldn't keep up with (and the other girls glared at him with such ferocity that he worried for his safety). He stared at you in class, eyes unabashedly fixated in the rear of his chair, back to the professor until a sharp "Mr. Harrington," startled him back into focus.

But on the fifth day, when all you offered was silence, Steve felt his patience wear thin.

When your familiar scent wafted by on the way out of British Lit, Steve shot his hand out and grabbed you by the arm. You gasped upon impact against the wall, heart racing at the sight of Steve's firm body blocking you in. He felt firmer than before—or maybe you just missed the solidity of those bronzed muscles. Scented overpoweringly of vetiver and amber, coaxing you with that animalistic restlessness that festered in your veins just like last time.

Steve's lip quirked upward, hand pressing flat against the wall beside your head. "How long's this gonna last, sweetheart?"

You could feel yourself slipping into a daze. What harm could dipping your toe in the murky water really do? It certainly looked enticing—with all his bulging muscles, and beautiful plump lips—

No. You had to have some self-respect.

"I’m over you, Steve. Simple as that.”

Steve watched you tip your nose up at him, jut your little chin out and huff. You were good, he’d give you that—enough to keep a calm face beneath his heavy stare. But he could see the way your chest stuttered beneath your shirt, how your nose flared with shallow breaths. You lingered on his mouth a little too long to be over him.

He slid his tongue over his teeth and shrugged, pulling his hand away from your head. “Alright, baby. Whatever you say.”

Steve whirled around and strode down the hall, shoulders pulled back and head held tall. If you wanted to play, he’d play. But he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

✶ ✶

“No Harrington at the door, that’s new,” Caroline snickered as she kicked the door shut behind her.

You glanced at her over your shoulder from your place in the mirror. Makeup bag spilled over the tiled floor, lips sticky with gloss, you were ten minutes deep into a carefully crafted eye look meant for one night only. Alpha Phi were hosting a Halloween party tonight, and you were determined to prove Caroline—and Steve—wrong. You were over him. Totally, 100%, completely over Steve Harrington.

You didn’t even care if he’d be there tonight, which you knew he would. Maybe that’s why you insisted on keeping your dress pulled down so low, skirt hiked high. You wondered what he’d decide to wear. Something tight on his chest, stretched thin across the broadness of his back. Maybe something dark, because dark colors made his eyes brighten and sparkle.

Swallowing, you tossed your eyeliner back into the makeup bag and huffed. “It was about time he got the hint.”

Caroline’s gaze narrowed. “Right. Because you’re over him.”

Straightening your spine, you grinned at the mirror and nodded. Even a heavy, centering breath couldn’t calm the stirring in your stomach. An arousal burrowing deep in your bones.

“Absolutely.”

✶ ✶

He wore a black suit. Somehow, though it covered his limbs completely, it made him look bigger. A tall vision of lean limbs striding through tightly-knit bodies leaking liquored sweat. The music Alpha Phi played seemed to muffle at the sight of his back, heading toward another room where people waited. Waited for him. Just for him, in all his pretty boy glory.

The black clothes on your body stiffened, and you huffed as you plucked at the fabric thinning with dampness. You just got here and you were already pining.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pushing through a group of people at your left to maneuver toward the kitchen.

You wanted to be souped up and fuzzy with alcohol haze in the next twenty minutes, or else you weren’t sure you’d make it. As you scrutinized the drink selections wading in ice buckets on the kitchen counters, a familiar, deep-throated chuckle rumbled somewhere behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling slowly, curling your fingers into fists in time with the swell of breath. You could do this. Steve Harrington was just a boy, and there had been plenty of boys over the years. He wasn't special.

Opening your eyes, you snatched a pumpkin flavored ale from the first bucket and reached for the bottle opener.

"Here, sweetheart, lemme get that for you."

Steve's hand swallowed your own, plucking the opener from your grasp as easily as a toy from a baby. He crowded you, arm brushing your own as he popped the top off the amber bottle of beer with ease. It clattered somewhere on the floor, but Steve seemed uninterested in mess; his eyes settled on you as he held the opened bottle out, sunglasses tucked in the collar of his t-shirt.

You reached for the bottle, but he held it out of reach toward his elbow. Frustration took hold in your throat, lumped like undigested food. And it found home in your stomach, twisting like a thin blade in a mess of guts. You can do this, you reminded yourself. He's just a boy.

"Steve," you huffed, glaring at his chest instead of the sly smirk toying on his handsome mouth.

"What, no thank you?"

Lifting your eyes, you settled a hard, narrowed gaze on his forehead and reached for the bottle again. "Thanks."

Steve shot the bottle up toward the ceiling, held tight in his fist. He was wearing a silver ring on his right ring finger and that slutty, brown leather-banded watch again.

You swallowed, fingers recoiling toward your sides where they twitched with need. Flashes of those long, slender fingers of his skating over your flesh came like waves of heat. Massaging fat, pulling, prodding, spreading, diving into wetness and coming out soaked. How sometime after he dressed you again, when his roommate calmed his frustrated screaming, complaining about washing Steve's "jizz" out of his comforter, Steve's fingers found your bottom lip and traced their softness. How sometime on the walk back to your dorm, he pressed you against the brick wall in the walkway and wrapped them around your jaw to devour your mouth.

"You can't take it, can you?" Steve's voice, graveling lowly with an erotic rasp, snapped you out of your syrup-sticky thoughts.

He was closer now, standing toe-to-toe, gazing at you down the slope of his nose. Your beer bottle still in the air, his other hand dangling emptily near yours, Steve stood at a proximity so near that you could smell the cigarette on his breath. The outline of the pack in his front left pocket was enough to have you squirming. You craned your neck, attempting to release it of strain and tension from a constriction of muscles. Not even the tightest clench of your core could calm the festering heat settling in your body.

"W-what?" you scoffed, head shaking. "Can't take what?"

You lacked the bite of last week's confrontation, and both of you could tell. Steve swooped down a little closer, neck arching to meet your height. His eyes lolled left, then right, then back to your face where they met your mouth like he readied to tell a secret.

"You're all squirmy, darlin'," he mumbled, voice almost slipping away in the music from a stereo in the living room. "You want me. I can tell."

Pressing your teeth together, jaw wired shut, you huffed a breath through your nose and fixed up your chin. "In. Your. Dreams."

Beer abandoned, you whirled around on one foot and stomped toward the way you came. Behind you, Steve straightened his spine and tongued away a grin. Through the opening above the sink, Steve watched you dash toward the stairs, hair flouncing with every rushed stomp. You were insatiable. It would be so much easier for you to give in, but your stubbornness prevented you.

Steve set the open beer down on the counter and headed toward the hall, knowing even he could no longer stomach your hard-headedness. If he had to be the one to give in, then so be it. But watching your ass sway in that little black dress, your breasts rise and fall in quick, shallow successions in that plunging neckline, jeweled with a little, blinged-out blue cross—Christ, his knees felt weak.

He wanted you in his hands, and he wanted it yesterday.

With bounding, leaping steps up the stairs, Steve hurried to place you in the mass of bodies. The music faded, swallowed by distance and the blood rushing in his ears. He threw open doors and ignored screeches of bare, naked surprise from stray couples that couldn't contain their own impatience. When he made it to the bathroom door, he skirted toward the front of a line of girls half-clothed forming against the wall and knocked twice.

"Hey, back of the line," a red-head in a witch hat snapped at him from the front.

Glaring at her, Steve knocked again, incessantly desperate.

"Somebody's in here!" your voice called sweetly from the other side.

Screwing his face up at the girl still huffing and puffing at him, he jiggled the door handle. "It's me, sweetheart, just open the door."

A quiet 'oh, Christ' came through the door, and Steve shuffled back a step as things slammed and clattered on the other side. The witch hat girl crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, and Steve shot her another sharp look before the door flung open. Before you could admonish him with more synthetic, short syllable grievances, Steve breached the gap between your bodies and grabbed your face. Two big hands, slender-fingered and cooled with metallic accessory, scented of cologne and tobacco and Steve, pressing firmly against your cheeks and partially under your jaw.

Steve used this hold to pull you in, mouths attaching and eyes sinking shut. Tongue gliding against yours, searching the crevices of your teeth, sloppy and needy and completely blinded by the tightness in his pants.

"God, get a room already!"

Steve popped away from your mouth with a soft, detaching slurp. You heaved for air, cheeks round with warmth, lips plumped with rushing blood.

His eyes rummaged your face, and when he found nothing but astonished thrill, he slipped his hold to your hand and gave it a little sideways tug. "C'mon."

The stumble to a free bedroom came with a fumbling of clothes and wandering hands. The search for a bed without people already humping on it was fruitless, and so dazed with lust, Steve snapped at a couple with such ferocity that they went skittering out of the room before anyone could protest. And once the door was locked and the bed once-overed for ick, Steve grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back in again.

It was as you were bouncing back on the bed, shuffling to make room for him on the duvet while exploring his mouth with your tongue, that Steve pulled away.

"Mmm...wait, wait..."

Pulling back to sit on his haunches, Steve smoothed his hands over your thighs, teasing them under the hem of your dress—just to keep touching you, stimulating you, keeping you there. Your breath came and went rapidly, body collecting heat in the wait. Your fingers were practically buzzing to touch him again, thighs quaking with anticipation of the burning stretch from his body between them. You were itching for him. Sitting there in all his glory, black fabric and tousled hair.

"I just...I wanna say, baby, I really meant to call you. Honestly, honey, I did."

You sighed, desperation taking a rest at the softness of his voice. Reaching out, you rubbed the pad of your finger over his ring. "Okay—"

"And that girl? I haven't seen her in months—she said so herself! I just...I had a past before you, sweetheart, but that's all it is. Just the past."

A smile swept over your face, small and coy and completely taken by his boyish admission. Sincerity held his eyes with unblinking certainty. You reached up and brushed his hair away from them, thumb sweeping across his cheek.

"Okay, Steve. I believe you."

As though triggered out of some conditioned state, Steve pounced at your forgiveness. His weight toppled down on you, pushing a wheezed giggle from your mouth as he attached his own to your neck. Your amusement trickled straight back into arousal, thighs tightening around his hips as his fingers looped into and tugged down the front of your dress.

"Christ, couldn't take it anymore," he mumbled, wiggling down to smatter kisses across your chest. "Had to...mmm...have you."

Gliding your fingers through his hair, you tipped your head back toward the ceiling and sighed blissfully. “Then have me, Steve.”

The groan Steve expelled against your breasts came with a gust of hot breath, and a rumble that had you gasping and shivering. He nipped at the pudgy flesh once, lolled his tongue over the aggravation to soothe the sting, and pulled back to shed his layers. You hiked your dress around your waist, too busy ogling Steve’s bare abdomen and the thatch of hair at the base of his pelvis, all exposed with every article freed from his body, to bother discarding your own. You weren’t sure you could last much longer.

And as his cock sprung free, fisted with his ringed hand in all its pinken, glistening glory, you became embarrassingly needy—mewling, reaching out and pulling, scraping with your nails, pouting out your lip and welling up with tears.

“Aw, cryin’ again, sweetheart?” Steve cooed, rubbing his thumb through the slick on the head of his cock to smear it as he pulled your thighs over the top of his. “Don’t worry, baby, you won’t be waiting long.”

Trembling with anticipation, you shifted and tilted your hips in an attempt to gain friction and release your aching torment. Steve snickered, pushing his hand down firmly against your hip to pin you to the bed. You huffed through your nose, pout deepening. Steve’s eyes flickered up toward your displeasure, and he felt himself softening.

“God, look at you—alright, sweetheart, a little wider. Little wider—there you go, fuck,” Steve rambled, pushing your thighs as far as they could go to make room for his body.

Sweeping his cock through your slickness, he made gentle, delicate massaging glides against your sensitive, throbbing clit before sinking in. The stretch burned and stung, and you pinched your eyes closed with a gasp. But when he sank in to the hilt, settled in deep and snug, the burn fizzled away to a feeling so full that you could only whimper and writhe.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice was soft, a low whisper that tickled over your face.

Peeking them open, you found his face above yours, graced with a handsome smile that softened him like light. Trembling, your fingers approached his face, running down the dampness of his cheek and through the front of his hair. He kissed your wrist as it passed his mouth. His thumb pressed against the underside of your jaw, shifting you a little to the left until you felt the plumpness of a pillow beneath your neck.

“There,” he mumbled, swooping to kiss your head. “Comfy?”

As though satiated just by the fullness of his cock lodged inside you, you breezed with a dreamy sigh and nodded. “Very.”

Steve’s lip twitched into another grin. “Good.”

Running your palm over his bare bicep, freckled with mocha spots and slick with exertion, you hummed. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be gentle. Need you bad.”

A snorted chuckle rumpled from Steve’s throat, and he lifted another hand to cup his palm over the crown of your head. “That so? You need it a lil’ rough, pretty girl?”

Bobbing your head fervently, eyes rounding with delight: “Yeah—yes, please.”

Eyes scanning the surface of your flushed face, Steve took on a look of exasperated hesitation, wrinkling in his brow. "Ooh, I don't know—"

"Please," you yelped, hands tugging at his shoulders.

Steve chuckled, pretending to be moved by your ministrations, falling a little closer to your mouth where he pressed a kiss. "If you insist, honey."

The start to his thrusts were slow. Deep and languid, full of sweeping hips and firm arms. And just as you were about to protest, face screwing up with impatience, Steve located a ferocity that had you wailing. Barreling into you, fingers scrunching in your hair to pull by the root and yank aside, bearing your throat and calling to his teeth. They scraped over and sank into the flesh, bursting blood vessels and burning with vivacity. The bed frame clattered into the wall with a thumping melody, and every thrust inched you a little closer to the headboard.

You reached up to find footing, bracing yourself with two hands around the wooden bars of the headboard. Steve slid his hand from your hair to your neck, fingers pressing gently into the column of your throat. Not squeezing, just holding.

"Kiss me," you rasped, feeling the spark of an approaching climax gather in your nerves, rising to the surface.

Steve's mouth moved to yours like a magnet, latching with full lip and licks of tongue. His thumb pressed gently into your chin, tipping your head up. He followed every angle of it, never stopping the furious pace of his hips, every one coming with a prod of his cock at somewhere with tremulous, visceral surges. When you began to vibrate so badly you could barely hold tight around his hips, Steve pressed his fingers a little further into your skin. Enough to cut the pressure in your air stream, suppressing it to just the slightest wheeze.

And as you fluttered around him, Steve's arms grew weak, wobbling with need as he clenched every muscle he could to hold back. He wanted to cum with you.

He didn't have to hold off long—your vision bursted to white, streaked with tears pulled by a high-pitched shrill. The guttural, animalistic sound, and pure, heavenly delirium on your face had him spiraling—freeing himself from your tightly-clenched walls to spill over your stomach, coating it with sticky warmth. Nonsensical babbles slipped from your swollen mouth, low grunts and moans from Steve's. His fingers uncurled from your throat, the other leaving your hair to smooth it down on his way toward the other side of the bed.

When breath returned to an even symphony, and the room resumed to faded, thumping stereo music, you rolled onto your side and stared at the naked, glistening boy.

"You owe me a date, Harrington."

Steve chuckled breathily, tugging you into his side with a lazy push against your back. In the crook of his arm, he popped a kiss on your head.

"More like two."

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vibingpyro · 2 months

Text

Piercings and pretty lips

⚠️ TW ⚠️ : Mentions of piercings, needle and decent in depth process of tongue piercing.

Duck- Affectionate British slang term of affection for another person.

Word Count:2,066

"This would go so much smoother if you stayed still, y'know."

You give an incoherent response as you glare at Hobie through the iridescent light of his bathroom, not that he wouldn't be able to tell the mild impatience in your tone regardless of how unintelligible. Your tongue is pinched carefully between Hobies index and thumb finger, his eyes flickering from yours and back to the extended pink muscle.

Being around Hobie must be an greater influence than what you had expected, as you mentioned thinking about getting an piercing in casual conversation with him while lazing about one slow afternoon at his swaying canal boat home, Hobie had practically perked up like an shark smelling blood in the water at the idea.

How you had convinced Hobie to pierce your tongue in his bathroom of all places though in your eagerness, you aren't too sure but you're certainly not complaining while you sit on the edge of his bathroom counter, Hobie situated between your spread legs to get to properly get a grip on your tongue, seeing if you have the proper anatomy for said piercing.

Hobie hums, tugging just a bit on your tongue between his fingers, testing the elasticity of it ignoring when you grumble at him. "Well, you certainly have the anatomy for it." He says, releasing his pinched fingers from your tongue. You bring your tongue back in your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth to get rid of that odd dry feeling of it being exposed to air for longer than usual.

"Is that a yes, then?" You ask, barely able to contain your excitement at Hobie nod. He leans to the side, one of his hands lightly drums onto your thigh into an practiced rhythm while the other pulls up the tray of sterilized tools he had prepared on the counter for after his inspection of your tongue. Although you're sure he's had it down his throat enough times to know you had the proper anatomy the entire time, but you don't say complain.

"And you're positive you want this, duck?" He says, quirking up one pierced eyebrow at you still drumming his fingers against your thigh, leaning back to fully gauge your reaction. The familiar nickname rolling off of his tongue, you never really did ask why he had started to call you that but it feels too late to ask about it now. You just glare at him and nod, even sticking out your tongue to further solidify your stubborn answer, you feel if you prolong this you might go back on this whole idea. Hobie huffs out an small chuckle as he shakes his head amused by your antics, "Alright, if you're sure.." he murmurs fingers finally resting against your thigh.

He grabs at an thin black marker from his pocket, gently gripping your tongue between his index and thumb finger again his eyes narrowed in focus as he dots right in the middle of your offered tongue. It surprisingly doesn't have an gross taste you note, just a tad bitter. Hobie leans back and releases his hold on your tongue, shuffling to open a drawer beside your calf digging around until grasping at an hand held mirror and holds it up for you to see the dot marked on the pink muscle. "Right 'bout there?" He asks.

You look into the mirror already trusting Hobies judgement and precision, nodding in satisfaction as you deem the placement of the dot acceptable. Hobie nods back, although it's more of an subconscious movement of your own agreement. He places the handheld mirror down beside you on the counter, his warm hand drifting from your thigh to open the sterilized packed needle on the metal tray on your opposite side. He opens the package with quick fingers, likely from practice of piercing his friends over the years and stitching. You feel a hint of nerves buzzing in the pit of your belly, but you trust Hobie explicitly to not screw this up...mostly. But if things were to go wrong, you would have solid blackmail for at least an year you think on the bright side.

Hobie then grabs at an pair of silver long forceps laid on the silver tray next to you, adjusting his hold on them, moving towards your tongue, clamping down on it with an steady grip as he lines up the dot on your tongue with the hole in the forceps. It doesn't feel too uncomfortable just a bit firmer pressure than Hobies fingers, your eyes trailing Hobies fingers as they move deftly into the open package of the piercing needle and picking it up between two fingers.

"Right, on three.." he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours for a moment of mutual understanding, your hands move to grip at the hem of Hobies shirt in preparation for what is more likely going to hurt like an bitch. You close your eyes as Hobie begins to count down, you feel him move just a bit closer his thigh nudging your legs apart just enough to slide a bit further in between them, easily closing most of the space between you. It would be tender how he molds himself to you if it weren't for the giant needle hovering so close to you.

"One...two...three-!" He cuts himself off just as he pushes the needle in through your tongue. Your grip on Hobies shirt tightens instantly as the needle strikes all the way in. You feel saliva build up in your mouth from the sudden sharp pinch, your nose scrunching up as you breathe through the discomfort as you try to keep your tongue still regardless of the forceps doing that perfectly for you.

"There you go, duck...jus' breathe, in and out through your nose." Hobie murmurs soft reassurances as he puts the forceps aside while keeping the needle steady through your tongue while his other hand grabs at the jewelery placed on the side that he had shown you for your possible options of tongue piercings he had kept around in a tiny mint container assuring you they were all sterilized and clean although you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he said it was for in his words 'Mo-mintos' .

You had opted for an an small silver one, it's regular in size and shape but he had said it would look perfect with a sly wink, almost as if knowing something you don't. The last thing Hobie had wanted to do was overwhelm you with a larger piercing you assume.

He slides the jewelery in with ease as he pushes the needle out completely, tossing away the needle efficiently to the trash can in the opposite side of the room before working on screwing in the balls of the silver piercing on each end with quick fingers, unbothered when a bit of saliva and blood runs down over his fingers. You finally peek your eyes open squinting at Hobie through the tears.

Hobie looks up from your now fully pierced tongue, his pupils are a black hole surrounded by his beautifully colored iris as he looks into your eyes. He hums lowly in appreciation, his right hand coming up to wipe away at the saliva and blood dribbling down your chin. "How're you feelin'?" he asks, always attentive. If you weren't so focused on how close he is you can hear the undertone of pride as he speaks.

You slowly bring your tongue back into your mouth, feeling the cold metal of the piercing quickly adjust to the warm temperature of your mouth. The taste of your blood in your mouth isn't unbearable, but the amount of saliva gathering in your mouth is a mild inconvenience as you begin to talk. "I feel fine but it feels weird.." you acknowledge, testingly running it along the roof of your mouth before Hobie can warn you.

You wince immediately feeling as if your tongue were struck by lightning, and Hobie clicks his tongue but his eyes show only concern if not a hint of amusement too. His hands land on your thighs squeezing through the denim of your jeans to try to ground you against the pain buzzing through you. "Ya can't just do that. It's gotta heal." He scolds you giving you an raised eyebrows look, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. But still.

You nod as your eyebrows remain scrunched together, mostly focusing on trying to will the pain away, but ever greatful for Hobies quick thinking of using his hands to squeeze and rub up and down your thighs, the warmth of his large palms through your jeans is hard not to notice. His lovely, talented palms. Good God, now you're blushing. As if the pain wasn't enough to make you want to jump off of a cliff.

If Hobie didn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks he most certainly is almost able to feel it by how close he is. You speak after the pain finally dims, just slightly. "I was curious." Is all you state, beginning to feel your tongue swell around the base of where the piercing is nestled. Hobie snorts, his head rolls down to your shoulder momentarily, resting there as he stills his comforting motions on your thighs. You barely stop the whine coming from your throat as Hobie pulls his hands away, only to stop once they land on your cheeks and he looks back up, meeting your burning gaze.

"You're an dunce. Open up f'me."

You don't even bother to validate that with an verbal response, guessing he wants to see the piercing once more. You oblige and open your mouth, sticking your tongue back out, the shiny metal damp with saliva and hints of blood. Hobie seems to drink the sight in eagerly, his eyes glued to the metal jewelry he had placed there.

"Knew it would look killer, had a bunch'a fun memories with this one.." he murmurs, thumbs rubbing subconsciously at the skin of your cheeks. Memories? Your eyes widen comically, and Hobie chuckles, his eyes unsticking from the piercing to your own wide eyes. "Oh? I didn't mention that this was my starter?" He states noncommittally, as if it were the most causal thing ever. You had known Hobie had his tongue pierced, it was common knowledge, like when he stuck out his tongue in sassy retort during fond arguments, when he made up for those exact arguments..

But this was unexpected on an entire new level. You had his first ever tongue piercing jewelery in your mouth, likely from years ago. You can hardly contain your hands from gripping Hobies shirt tighter, butterflies rushing to life in your belly at the thrilling revelation. Hobie can't help but smile wider at your clearly affected reaction, keeping his hands on your cheeks. "If I didn't know any better, you like that idea.. don't you, duck?" He coos with just the right amount of condescension. His hands going to rest from your cheeks to beside your legs on the counter you're sitting on, eyes half lidded as he memorizes your no doubt flustered face, cheeks aflame and still dumbly sticking out your tongue for him to admire.

You nod, still at a loss for words but bring your tongue back into your mouth, the pain is a dull after thought by the way Hobie is looking at you as if you had given him an perfectly wrapped present has you trying to lean closer to connect your lips to his but he quickly evades it by moving his head beside your ear, clicking his tongue again in disapproval.

"Uh-uh, no kissing for three weeks till it heals." He reminds you so quietly into your ear and you feel blood rushing into your hear at his voice so close, so sweetly, but you sink back in disappointment at the mention, new piercing means no kissing after all.

Hobie must sense your disappointment as he gently knocks his head into yours, your disappointing thoughts pushed away as he gathers your full attention, suggesting something even more tempting into your ear. "I never said we couldn't do anything else." He says, nuzzling his head down to your neck, pressing soft kisses and nips to the flesh of your neck. "Just keep those pretty lips to yourself, yeah?"

#hobie brown #astv hobie #hobie spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv hobie #hobart brown #across the spider verse #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader

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erenscoochdestroyerfics · 3 months

Text

Eren x Armin x Reader Friday Night Strip Poker (1)

words: 3.1k

concept: your good friends Eren and Armin are tight as thieves, and one night as you play strip poker, some tension arises and is resolved with another type of group activity...

contains: oral (f/m receiving), slightly sub!armin, slightly dom!eren, slightly domineering reader, threesome (MMF), cucking

y/n uses she/her pronouns and has female anatomy!

artwork does not belong to me, so creds to the artists!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know, you look really nice in that new shirt." Eren smirks.

You are taken aback by Eren's forwardness. You, him, Armin, and Mikasa had shopped in Shiganshina Center yesterday, and you had gotten the shirt from a little boutique. It was a little black ribbed top with grey stitching. I might just have to fuck you right here, Mikasa had said when you stepped out of the dressing room, eliciting hearty laughs from Eren and Armin, and a flustered chuckle from you. There was always a little bit of homoeroticism between you and Mikasa, which is something you decided to put on the back burner when you noticed it a couple weeks before. Besides, she was in a relationship.

It was Friday, and tonight, it was date night for Mikasa and Annie, leaving you, Eren, and Armin to hang out at Eren's apartment in downtown Shiganshina. It was a perfect summer evening; the smell of food floated through Eren's open window from the restaurant below, and the bustle of the street below was faintly audible.

You guys decided to have a game night with some karaoke, and were currently playing Eren's favorite card game, Egyptian Rat-screw, which with these two stubborn boys, gets violent.

A queen of hearts was dealt, then a three of spades, then another queen.

"SANDWICH!" You all yell in unison, slamming your cards down onto the pile. Of course, Eren's card landed first. His fast reflexes were hard to compete with for you and Armin.

"Damn you, Eren!" you yell, and the three of you fall into a heap of laughter.

"More drinks?" Eren offers.

"Such a good host." You tease.

You and Armin sit cross legged watching Eren as he pads across the floor and into the kitchen to pour three glasses of piña colada mixer and add a generous amount of liquor to each.

"Thank you," Armin smiles sweetly as Eren hands him the drink. "My god Eren, bleh." Armin crinkles his nose as he tastes Eren's concoction.

You and Eren laugh softly.

---

Twenty minutes later, the three of you are tipsy messes, with flushed cheeks and easily elicited laughs. There is a warmth in your stomach that usually comes with drinking, which always results in you being a little too flirtatious for your own good. And you had an idea.

"You know what we should play?" You giggle.

"What?" Eren and Armin perk up.

"Strip poker!" You announce, giving jazz hands to accompany your grand idea.

Armin crinkles his nose. "I don't know if thats a good-"

"YES," Eren interrupts, "now THAT sounds like fun!"

"Eren," Armin quickly glances to you before looking back to him, "are you sure this is a good idea-"

"PLEASE pleasepleasepleasepleas-" you playfully beg.

"Yeah, c'mon Arm', it'll be fun." Eren reasons.

"Okay, okay," Armin raises his hands in defeat. "Every time you lose a hand, something comes off, deal?"

"Deal!" You and Eren agree in unison.

You lose the first hand. And the next. Armin loses three in a row, taking off his socks and shirt. Eren loses four, stripping to only his boxers.

The thing is that it was summer, and you had worn sandals to the hangout. You didn't have two buffer losses to be used on your socks, so you were in your bra and underwear. You wish you had worn cuter underwear, but your bralette made your tits look amazing, which you reasoned made up for it.

What you don't notice at that moment is Eren and Armin's frantic exchanged glances, as Armin wiggled around trying to prevent his cock from hardening. He was lucky he still had his pants on, or it would be clear as day.

It could have been the way you were cutely sitting with your legs folded under you and your hands in your lap, accentuating your figure. Or, it could be related to the fact that Armin had harbored a crush on you for years, starting in high school and lasting through college.

All that mattered at that moment, though, was the curve of your supple thighs that Armin and Eren could practically taste, and the upward inflection of your voice when you laughed, which they both had only dreamed of hearing in a less platonic context.

Armin jumped when he looked up from his rearranging of his pants to see you staring right at him.

"Shit, you startled me," his voice grew small.

Your eyes flitted up and down his figure before a huge smile of realization creeped its way onto your face; he was getting hard!

"Armin..." you cooed, voice low and sensual; "are you..." your eyes locked onto his bulge.

"Ummmmm, uh," He stammered. "I'm... I'm sorry." He looked down.

"Don't be," You felt a familiar tingle between your legs. Whether it was flattery or plain old arousal you didn't know, but this intrigued you. More than that- you liked that he was getting hard just by seeing you in your underwear. You wanted him to be all flustered and sensitive by just looking at you; It excited you. Your next thought came bubbling up out of your subconscious like an instinct, and you immediately knew what you had to do next.

You scooted closer to him. "Armin, can I...can I see it?"

How could he resist such a polite request from such a pretty girl?

"What? Um, uh," Armin's face was beet red, and the blush was creeping down his chest. "Uh, like, d'you mean, it it?"

"Your dick." You said plainly, smiling with anticipation.

Eren looked on in entertained awe, not just at the situation, but your sudden boldness. "C'mon Armin, let's see it."

"Uhm," Armin smiled nervously. "Okay, I- I guess," He slipped his pants over his hips and his cock sprang upwards, pulling the fabric of his underwear taut. You smiled wider. He pulled them all the way off and discarded them to the side.

All of that just from seeing you? Your heart swelled with pride. You needed more.

"Can I come closer?" You earnestly awaited a response.

"Uh-" Armin glanced at Eren, before hesitantly nodding. "Mhm".

You crawled the remainder of the distance to him, keeping your eyes locked on his. Once you were in front of him, you folded your legs underneath you and looked at the bulge beneath his underwear. Not many details were visible under the fabric, but one thing was clear: he was big.

"Such a pretty cock," You muttered under your breath.

"Oh fuck," he exhaled; his dick twitching in response to your compliment.

So that's what he was in to. In hindsight, it made total sense.

You laughed sweetly. "So you're into praise, hm?"

Armin was taken aback at how quickly you figured him out, and his blush grew even deeper. "Oh, uh, I mean, I don't really kn-"

"Kiss." Eren interrupted. His voice was commanding and low- this was a side of him you hadn't seen before, but you didn't dislike it.

"Just shut up and kiss already." He cleared his throat.

Although Eren was sat about three feet away from you and Armin, his voice sounded like it was right next to you, which sent a spark of electricity to your lower stomach.

You and Armin glanced at him with surprise initially, before seeing the expression on his face. His cock was semi-hard, and his eyes were dark with lust. You looked back to Armin, whose eyes were already on your face.

You cupped his left cheek and brought your lips forward, stopping just shy of his own before closing your eyes.

A moment later, you felt him tenderly kiss your bottom lip. You reciprocated, beginning to kiss him softly. You climbed onto the edge of his lap, straddling his lower thighs, and wrapped your arms around his neck. A moment later, you felt his tongue; he was hesitant at first, but grew more confident each second that passes.

You groaned lightly.

Kissing Armin felt so fucking good; so much better than you ever would have expected. It's not like he was unattractive by any means whatsoever; in fact, he was an objectively beautiful person. You had thought about him in passing for as long as you could remember; sometimes imagining him late at night when you were alone in your room. You imagined kissing him; feeling him below you; kissing his neck; getting him hard; and making him come. But you could never let it become a full blown crush, because he was your friend. Attraction between friends is normal, you had told yourself. You just need to keep it under control. However well you managed it, you had always felt a twinge of jealously whenever he would hook up with other girls in college.

Now, you were kissing him. In real life. And it was so damn good. He kissed you like his life depended in it; like you were his one true love, and he had waited a century to taste your lips. He kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and it was making you dizzy.

A minute or two later, you were sat further up his thighs than before, your hands were in his hair, and your tongue was in his mouth. His hands moved from your waist to your hips to your thighs as he played with the soft flesh.

You two hear Eren groan, unable to stop himself from audibly expressing his arousal at the sight before him.

"God, you guys, that is so. fucking. hot." Eren breathes.

Armin groans; partially in response to Eren's confession, and partially in response to the fact that you had scooted further up on his lap, to the point where the tip of his dick was pressed nicely onto your clit through the fabric your guys' underwear. You rolled your hips once, pulling another noise from each of you.

It was like that for a little bit; you and Armin swallowing each others little noises as he guided your hips in their steady rotation, while Eren sat to the side, watching slack-jawed as he palmed his dick through his boxers. The little ball of white hot pleasure in your core was starting to increase in intensity with the friction of his cock pressing against you so nicely.

"Wait, we gotta stop, I'm- ah- i'mgonnacuminmypants," Armin manages to say in one breath, the end of which tended towards a whine. He stills your hips with his hands. You stayed on his lap for a second, clinging to him while you caught your breath.

"I guess it's my turn." You hear Eren propose. Always the problem solver.

"C'mere," Eren guides you up off of Armin's lap by your forearms and leads you to his bed. You feel his mattress pressing the back of your legs, and he lays you down gently. "Come sit, Armin."

Armin comes to sit on the bed next to you as Eren climbs on top of you, with his right knee in between your thighs, pressing against you. The friction on your clit as he moves around to settle sends a jolt of electricity from your sternum to in between your legs and makes your vision fuzzy.

"Ah," you moan softly at the stimulation.

"Already?' Eren laughs devilishly. "Armin, you really got her all hot and bothered, huh."

"Uh huh," Armin responds, sounding a bit dazed from the highly aroused state that your make-out session left him in.

"Can I kiss you?" Eren speaks lowly right up against your ear. You can feel the rumble of his chest as he does, sending another dose of arousal to swim around in your lower stomach.

"Please" You lament.

From the moment your lips meet, one thing is clear. Eren Jaeger is a damn good kisser. As a kisser, he is slightly more energetic than Armin, but not at all rough. He takes his time with you, licking and swallowing you up as you come undone beneath him. He makes you go cross eyed and limp with his magic tongue, and you feel close to coming un-fucking-touched.

One of his arms moves from beside your head and cups your waist, squeezing and kneading the skin. His knee between your legs presses so nicely up against your soaking cunt that you could cry. Or die. Or both. All that you know is that you could not possibly feel better than you do in this exact moment.

It is a couple seconds later that you are proven wrong.

"Can I play with your tit?" Eren breathes.

"Mhm" Your saccharine sweet voice slides like velvet past the ears and straight to the cocks of Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert, leaving Armin groaning next to you two as he watches intently.

With his free hand, Eren cups your tit, massaging it and swiping his finger over your hard nipple through the thin fabric of your bralette. The sensation has you squirming and writhing beneath him, as he dips down to kiss your neck. He kisses down your neck, to your chest. Then your navel, to your belly button, to your lower stomach, before stopping.

"Can I go down on you?" Eren almost whines, his voice heavy with arousal.

"Oh god yes, please." You feel like you will explode if you are not touched soon.

"Armin, kiss her and play with her tit, hm?" Eren positions himself right in front of your pussy, placing your thighs on his shoulders. He presses his nose to the wet spot on the fabric of your underwear and inhales, before groaning and releasing a string of curses under his breath. God, you smell so fucking good, he whispers before beginning to practically make out with your throbbing cunt through your underwear.

"Oh- my- god!" You moan loudly in response to Eren hungrily licking at you. You vaguely sense Armin lean over you to kiss you, more sloppily now than before, as one of his hands snakes underneath your bra to play with your nipple.

"Let's get these off, hm?" You hear Eren say. You lift your hips in response as he slides the lime green underwear down your legs.

Armin's relentless swiping of your nipple has you dripping, and his lips on yours are making a wet, sloppy kissing noise. Which sends electricity straight to Eren's dick.

Eren runs his hands up your calf and pushes your leg up and out, kissing the crook of your knee as he does so. He squeezes the flesh of your thigh for a second, slowly making his way higher, before settling into the same position he was in before, with your legs over his shoulders and his face sitting pretty between your thighs. Armin had stopped kissing you to begin licking at your right nipple, while continuing to palm the left, giving you a clear view of Eren as he gazed at your cunt, slack jawed and breathing heavy.

Me mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, something involving pretty and god and so fucking wet. He rested his head onto your left thigh like a pillow, while reaching out with his free hand to brush his fingers along the length of your outer labia. There was stubble, since you hadn't shaved since a couple of days prior, which heightened your sensitivity to the dragging of his fingers.

You were a moaning mess at this point; Armin's relentless stimulation of your nipples and Eren's teasing right next to where you needed him most had you choking back sobs of desperation.

"Eren, please!" You whined. You needed him to touch you and you needed it now.

You heard him chuckle and were about to reiterate before feeling him lick up through your folds, starting below your entrance and landing on top of your clit.

"You're so fucking wet," he mumbled, before beginning to lick at your clit. And it felt so indescribably amazing. You felt like you were on top of the world. On top of the universe even; you felt so good and full of white hot pleasure that you would burst if you didn't start to give some of it back. So thats what you did.

With your left hand buried in Eren's hair, your right was free to give some release to the trembling blonde boy hovering over your chest who was groaning at this point. You snaked your hand in between your bodies and down his torso until you felt him, rock fucking hard, beneath your palm.

As your hand made contact with the head of his cock he gasped, shock reverberating through his whole body. This was such a strong reaction from the smallest of touches. Seeing hearing and feeling how badly he needed you had you visibly smiling.

You began to sloppily jerk him off, and he was a blubbering mess, completely unable to do anything other than fuck himself sloppily into your hand.

Eren seemed to take notice of the blonde's reaction, quickening his tongues pace. You felt the tip of his middle finger dip into you shallowly, teasing for a moment, before going deeper. Once his knuckles were flush with your hips, he began tapping the sensitive place on your upper walls. White hot pleasure flooded your veins. This was so much better than when you did it yourself- he could reach deeper than you could, and was hitting the spot so perfectly that you knew you wouldn't last for more than a minute like this.

Everything became too much- the color in the room increased in saturation, the cacophony of sound around you- from the two boys, Eren's AC, and the street outside- became a symphony. The heat in your core climbed and climbed until it reached its peak.

You cried out in ecstasy as you came, with Eren groaning into the space between your thighs in response the sweet sound of your moans, and Armin letting some whines out as well.

You felt Armin tense up and come as well from the increased stimulation from your shifting around.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your legs and torso spasmed as you rode out the high- with the help of Eren, who never faltered. As the waves of pleasure began to grow less intense and further apart, Eren dipped his head up to look at your face. He looked so pretty like that, with messy hair and his mouth and nose covered in your release.

He laughed, surprised at your tear ridden cheeks. "So you're a crier huh? Or was it just that good?"

"I don't usually cry," you lament, out of breath.

Eren smiled to himself at your indirect compliment.

You turned your head to look at Armin, who had slumped down onto your shoulder.

"Was that good, Armin?" You lightly patted the top of his head.

"M-hm." He nodded lightly.

Eren sat back onto his calves, which revealed his still rock hard cock pulling the fabric of his boxers taut.

"We gotta do something about that, huh?" You quipped.

"We don't have to, its okay-" he began.

"I want to." You gazed at him through your eyelashes.

"She's right, Eren." Armin piped in. "Let us help you."

You and Armin shared a knowing glance, before sitting up.

"This is going to be a long night isn't it." Eren muttered darkly.

"Yes it is." You said as you climbed onto his lap, with Armin close behind you to watch.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: Okay this was a little rushed towards the end, but it was getting way too long for one part, so I guess this is part one of the Eren x Armin x Reader Friday night fun one shot!!

Also the use of Arm as a nickname for Armin is so unserious but I thought it was hilarious.

Anywaysss hope u like!

#eren x reader #attack on titan #armin x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #eren x armin #eren x armin x reader #eren smut #armin smut

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xxelleswrittingxx · 1 year

Text

A Curious Predator

Warnings: non-con smut, somnophilia, NeytirixHuman!reader, AFAB!reader

Synopsis: Reader is lost in the Pandoran forest and Neytiri stalks her, but with this being her first time meeting a human and seeing that the reader is asleep, she grows curious about their anatomy.

AN: This is my first time writing a fic so critical feedback is appreciated, I'm thinking of writing a part 2 so let me know if you have any ideas!

Eclipse had started and the temperature was beginning to drop. Y/N found this to be a relief from the hot humidity that clung to their skin. Countless hours of searching for the route back to their comrades meant exhaustion and sticky clothes.

Doctor L/N was a scientist working on Pandora. This was the second time they had ventured out into the forest with other co-workers in hopes of samples and field experience, only this was the first time getting lost. The search for the next undiscovered fungi lead them astray, in their own world of passion for work.

The unfaithful com-call screwed them over, a limited range would only get you so far in the vast forests of Pandora. After realisation of having to stick out the night, Y/N decided to set up camp. A groove between the roots of a large tree would do, but the shelter only helped a bit to ease the fear of Pandoran predators that would be lurking. That, and the knife strapped to their shorts.

The stress of the last few hours was setting in and Y/N couldn't hold back the sleep that drooped their eyes. Neon vegetation and the soft chirping of nightlife soothed them to sleep.

Neytiri felt wide awake though.

The excitement of hunting down new prey never seemed to grow predictable. She noticed your blundering over fallen branches a while ago and knew of her duty to put a stop to you wandering close to home tree. So she followed from above.

That's why the smirk crept onto her lips when she saw you falling asleep. This was easier than she could have predicted. Not that she expected much difficulty, with you being a sky person she knew of the advantages she had over you. Not only her physical capabilities but her knowledge and experience of hunting in the forest. She almost pitied you. So small and dumb, unable to prevent yourself from giving in to sleep, leaving yourself vulnerable.

She decided to get a closer look. The view she's had of you from up in the trees allowed for her to go unnoticed, but now with you unconscious she needn't worry. Curiosity seems to have gotten the best of her. She drops down to the next branch. A soft purple glow illuminates your silhouette. You seem so different from the Navi, more curves and less skin to see with the heavy looking garments you wear.

She wants a closer look. Thoughts seem to be rushing through her mind. How she shouldn't get closer, but what's the harm if nobody knows?

And so she crawls down a few more branches. Now laying across the one that hangs directly above you. Neytiri's yellow eyes graze across you harsher. She's never been this close to a human before.

She takes in all the new details. Soft skin without markings, a tank top and shorts that cover so much, heavy boots, and a tube that sits below your nose and behind your ears. Her gaze follows it down your neck, chest, and waist to where it connects to the Exo pack clipped to your waistband. Above it is a sliver of skin that peaks out between your clothes. She feels an urge to touch it, and this bothers her. She feels guilty about wanting to get this close to the human. Again her curiosity gets the best of her.

Neytiri slips around the thick branch until she can hang above you by her hands. She drops down onto the ground you lay on. With her large feet on either side of your waist, the only evidence of her disturbance is the purple moss that glows beneath her weight.

Her head tilts at the sight of you, not even a twitch at the new presence. You have no clue about the danger you could be in. Neytiri considers that she could eliminate you here, now, and move on to go home. Let her parents know about her success in protecting the clan from a sky person.

But she can't bring herself to, not with your soft features that seem to draw her in. Before she realizes it she's knelt above you. Her blue digits graze down the bridge of your nose, so different from her. She tilts her head towards the side of yours to see your profile. Your nose bridge protrudes out... and she wants to keep looking. She wants to see what else is different.

She runs her finger over your lips next. So big compared to them. She can't fathom how much bigger she is. How she could overpower you so easily, and this sparks something inside of her. A deep tingling inside her stomach. Neytiri blames this on her heat that should be coming soon.

Neytiri ponders over your mouth, she lifts the corner of your top lip and looks at the tiny teeth you have. Blunt with small fangs. She smiles at the cuteness. But this time you twitch and stretch your head away from the invasive hands.

She waits for you to settle into your new position and moves on downwards. Your exposed neck is enticing and she leans close to take a whiff. The scent is exhilarating. It tingles in her nose to the back of her head and down her spine to the tip of her arched tail. She breathes in deeply again, but then she feels her mouth water...

Oh Eywa, how she feels the urge to taste your flesh.

Neytiri flinches away at these thoughts. She knows she should stop here but she can't. Instead, she moves lower. One of your arms is across your waist, the other is up by your head. Your chest is left exposed and the cool air is evaporating the sweat off your skin.

Peaked nipples catch the Navi's attention. She runs her finger around the bud and a soft intake of breath makes her ears twitch. She flinches away again, but this time in fear that you've woken up. Neytiri knew she should have stopped, stupid!

Your exhaustion was greater than expected, you were still deep under. Neytiri has another intake of scent and is drawn in once again. Blue digits are back on the peaks straining against cotton. Gentle circles are drawn around it. Your steady breath starts to grow heavier at the new stimulation and Neytiri picks up on this. Does the tiny human enjoy this? Her lips part at this and the digits move onto the second breast. A little rougher results in soft twitches.

The Navi picks up on the shift in scent, a little bit muskier, almost spicy. She rolls the bud between callused digits and ears perk at the soft mewl it receives. Her lips part into a soft gasp and the smirk makes its way back again.

How could you enjoy this so much? She doesn't understand, can touching your breasts feel that good? So with one hand on your small body, the other goes to touch her own. Eyes trained on your expression she feels herself start to reflect it.

Heavy breathing. Twitches. Soft mewls.

She wants to see more. Big hands grasp your shirt and slowly draw it up to your neck. Neytiri scootches down your body so she can lean towards your chest. Her hot breath precedes her wet tongue that slips over your pebbled nipple, big eyes stare up to take in your reaction. The breast against Neytiri's mouth pushes up as your chest expands with a quick gasp of air. She likes the reaction so she continues the motion of licking over you, switching from left to right and back again. Trying to pull more from you.

Each sound sends jolts through her body. She feels the need to rub her thighs together but can't with you between them. This must be her heat starting.

Looking further down your body, Neytiri sets her sight on your shorts. Her head tilts as she wonders if there is also different or the same. And so she gets to work with the task of undoing the tiny button and zipper, she's never worked these before and struggles with her lack of knowledge and large hands.

Finally, the button is undone, but she fears she may have jostled you too much. You stretch in your sleep again, but the Navi isn't as worried as before, she suspects that you must be dehydrated or have heat stroke from how deep of a slumber you seem to be under.

CLICK CLICK CLICK

The teeth of your zipper come undone one by one and Neytiris perked ears take in each sound.

She thinks of pulling down your shorts but instead decides to slip her fingers in. She really doesn't know what to do if you wake up in the middle of this, but she trusts her instincts.

Her fingers brush past a soft patch of hair and into a pool of wetness. Her jaw drops and she truly understands your reaction to her touch. With a shift of her hips, she realizes that she's just as bad as you.

Her fingers continue their exploration and she feels the bundle of nerves at the crest of your folds. She smirks as she recognizes the similar anatomy and decides to circle it, a touch she has experienced herself when she is in the midst of her heat.

Heavier mewls escape your lips and Neytiri is trained on the way your brows furrow. Soft rubbing turns harder and your hips twitch. Cobalt nostrils twitch to take in the heavy musk that is filling the air, she recognizes her own scent mixing with your own and it satisfies a feral part inside of her. Fingers dip further down and she feels your tiny opening with her fingers, could you take them, she wonders? Maybe one...her palm rubs your clit and she circles her middle finger around your opening. Hips buck up into her and she slips the tip in.

You're so tight that she worries she will rip you, but from your expression she reads that all you feel is pleasure, and so she continues on. Slick noises come from inside your shorts and Neytiri feels her clit throb. Eywa, she watches your face and wishes that she could have those pretty eyes on her. Wishes to know what colour they are. Wishes to hear you beg.

She works soft but steady and feels you tighten on her. You're close. Head turned into the glowing moss and breathing heaving, the peak is right there.

Just as you're about to come, Neytiri leans in close to rub her nose and cheek all over you. Your body tenses and soft moans fall from your lips. The Pandoran feels satisfied with the reaction to her touch and how your scent is now mixed with hers. She slips her fingers out of your shorts and into her mouth. Ears flicked back and tail swishing she savours the taste of you.

She does your shorts up and allows your breathing to return to normal. Satisfied for now she climbs back up the tree to continue watching you.

The curiosity that got her into this whole situation is not satisfied, if anything it has grown stronger. Neytiri wants to know what colour your eyes are. What you sound like when you beg. She knows she will figure this out eventually. But for now she will watch until you wake up.

#avatar #neytiri #atwow #neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #avatar smut #wlw smut

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illiterateaffairs · 11 months

Text

DISTRACTIONS V | A SLIGHT MALFUNCTION

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 5,901

summary: afc richmond is off to amsterdam for an exhibition match, but the problem with going on a trip with the team is that jamie is on the team. poor guy just wants to know what he did wrong.

A/N: if someone is out of character in this chapter, no they aren’t. pretend i’m a perfect writer!

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

So you’re definitely screwed - and not in a fun way.

The evening when Jamie came over to share pizza and watch Grey’s Anatomy with you ended with him spending the night. It was the first time he did so without sex being involved. The worst part was that you initiated it. You both let time get away from you - and Jamie became very invested in Meredith and Derek’s tumultuous relationship - so you told him he could crash since it was so late. You’d offered timidly, fearing he’d think it was weird since this wasn’t your usual routine. But he didn’t even hesitate in agreeing, and you didn’t turn him away when he followed you to your bedroom.

Something shifted between the two of you after that. You actually felt like the friends part of your friends with benefits situation carried more weight. Now when he came over, instead of immediately jumping each other’s bones, you shared a meal, watched a show, or even played a game after Jamie noticed the few board games you had stowed away in your closet.

And you talked more, too. He started telling you stories about his family; how close he and his mom were, and the strained relationship between him and his father. He never went into much detail, but you could gather that his dad was definitely not a great person. You liked that he trusted you enough, though, to let you in on even a tiny bit of his struggles. It made you understand him better. Naturally, you also started sharing more with him, such as how lost you felt before coming to the U.K. You’d confided in him about the lack of friends you had back in Chicago, since Mason practically isolated you from the world outside of his own, and how insecure that made you. “Well, now you’ve got a whole football club who’d do just about anything for you,” he’d whispered, gently running a finger across your cheek as the two of you laid in bed.

At one point you almost told him a funny story about your childhood that involved Ted, but you bit your tongue and gave your uncle a fake name. Jamie cackled, though, as you described your Uncle Steve’s attempt at helping you with a science fair project that ended with baking soda shooting out of your fake volcano and into his eye. When you caught yourself musing that Jamie’s laugh must be the greatest sound in the whole world, you knew you were in trouble.

You were fucking screwed. You and Jamie agreed: no feelings. The second one of you felt weird or that you didn’t want casual sex anymore, you’d stop. You never discussed what would happen if one of you felt more, because it seemed implausible. Yet, here you were.

The obvious solution was to call it off. Jamie probably wouldn’t care. On to the next. But the selfish part of you couldn’t do it. He was just so cute and sweet and he made you feel good. And not just in bed - in general. When you were around him, you felt confident and happy and safe. Mason, at least towards the end, made you feel anxious and inept and small.

Maybe that was why you were feeling so over attached. You were used to the bare minimum from a guy, that now that a decent one was showing you attention and kindness, you were obsessing over him.

But Jamie wasn’t just decent, he was…Jamie. And despite every bone in your body telling you not to, you really liked him.

So, over the course of the last few days, you did what any reasonable person would do: ignore the problem until it just goes away. Unfortunately, the problem was Jamie and he was a little hard to ignore, since you worked with him. But you did your best to put some distance between the two of you. When he wanted to come over, you told him you had plans with Sam or Keeley. When he wanted to sneak away to your office, you told him Rebecca needed you. When he showed up at your flat with takeout from the Chinese restaurant you’d offhandedly mentioned loving once, to which he remembered, you fucked him on the couch and ate cold lo mein afterwards. But that was your only moment of weakness.

You told yourself you couldn’t avoid him forever; just long enough for your feelings to dissipate. You were just in some sort of honeymoon phase, and once the novelty of him wears off, you can be normal about everything, until you both inevitably get bored of each other and move on. It was never meant to last forever.

You have to ignore the way your heart aches at that thought.

It’s because of your fool proof plan to get over Jamie that you decide not to attend Richmond’s exhibition match in Amsterdam this weekend. Something you hadn’t told Jamie, or anyone for that matter. Which is why you’re starting to feel particularly awkward as Ted sits across from you at your desk and goes on and on about the trip.

“I was thinking when we get there, we could grab breakfast and sight-see for a bit before the game. Maybe Beard will tag along. What do you think?”

You’re pushing a piece of chicken around your plate absentmindedly when Ted looks up at you, and furrows his brows.

“What’s wrong, Kiddo?” he asks, setting his own plate onto your desk.

You look up, with wide eyes, “Who, me? Nothings wrong. I’m great! Fucking fantastic.”

He tilts his head, fixing you a look.

Your shoulders drop as you sigh, “I just…don’t think I’m going to go to Amsterdam this weekend.”

Ted’s eyes widen in shock, “What? Why not? I thought you’d be excited! New country, new adventures. You know, Amsterdam is one step closer to Iceland.”

You huff out a laugh as you rub your temple. “I know, and I do want to. I’ve just been feeling kind of run down lately. I feel like life's been kind of go, go, go since I got here. Which has been great! But it’s catching up with me and I think I just need to unwind for a weekend by myself.”

While this isn’t exactly the truth, life has been a bit hectic, so you hope he buys it. Ted nods thoughtfully, as though he wants to ask more, but accepts your answer.

This time you tilt your head and give him a pointed look, “What?”

“Nothing,” Ted’s quick to respond, “What you said makes sense. I guess I just haven’t checked in on how you’ve been coping with everything. You’ve seemed so happy since you’ve been here. You and Sam seem to get along real well, and Rebecca always sings your praises. But you are thousands of miles away from the only home you’ve ever known. Heck, I’ve been here for almost three years, and I still sometimes wake in a cold sweat craving barbeque sauce.” Ted smiles when you giggle. “All I’m saying is it's okay to miss home; to miss your parents, even to miss he-who-shall-no be named.”

You're surprised when, despite Ted avoiding his name, the allusion to Mason doesn’t make your head spin. You snort, “Well, while I do miss my dads and deep dish pizza, I can assure you I do not miss Voldemort.”

Ted hums, “That’s good.”

“You’re right, though. I honestly have really loved my life here these past few months, but I think I made myself skip the part where I processed all the changes. So, I think some time to just be will be good for me.”

“I think so, too,” he nods, “But the team and I sure will miss you this weekend.”

You don’t have time to bask in the sentiment when a knock comes through your office door. Before you can respond, the door opens to reveal Jamie.

You swear time stops for a second, as Jamie looks from you to Ted, and Ted looks from Jamie to you. You just blink, practically staring into the abyss. You know Jamie is scrambling for an excuse as to why he’s here, as you try to rationalize why either one of them is in your office. Thankfully, Ted has more than one brain cell and is able to play it cool.

“Hey, Jamie, what brings you here?” Ted greets cheerfully.

“I’m, uh, here to ask if I can see the videos we got today at practice.” Jamie makes up and you’re almost proud, “I have to make sure my public image is maintained.”

“Yes, he’s very stringent about that.” You add on, giving Ted a playful eye roll about Jamie’s ‘antics’, and he’s none the wiser. Ted gives you an amused smile.

The older man gets up and starts gathering trash into the takeout bag to dispose of. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for dinner, Kiddo. Don’t tell Roy, but this is why you’re my favorite coworker.” Ted turns to you in the doorway and winks from behind Jamie. He pats the younger man on the shoulder, and as he leaves, shouts back, “Good night, you two.”

Jamie shuts the door behind him, “Do you have dinner with Ted often?”

You shrug, “Sometimes.”

Jamie nods, and you’re relieved neither of them were suspicious of anything. You’re still overwhelmed by the two of them crossing paths like that, that you’re late to processing that you and Jamie are alone in your dimly lit office which is exactly the type of situation you’re trying to avoid. However, Jamie doesn’t initiate anything like you’d expected. Instead, he flops down into the chair across from you, almost dejectedly. He beats you to the punch before you can ask.

“Why aren’t you coming to Amsterdam?”

That takes you aback, “You heard that?” You glance briefly in the direction Ted disappeared in, “Did you hear anything else?”

“No,” Jamie frowns, “I got here right when Ted said the team would miss you.”

You hold back a relieved sigh.

“We will miss you, by the way,” Jamie adds, “Me especially.”

Your stomach flutters. What the hell did that mean?

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Jamie nods, “Hotels are the best places to have sneaky sex.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, honestly grateful he’d snapped you out of your stupor.

“Sure they are. Especially when you’re sharing a room with one of your teammates.”

“Well, I could get us our own room. A private suite. Maybe with a jacuzzi tub.” Jamie reaches across the table, taking your hand and rubbing it gently with his thumb. “That is, if you come with us this weekend.

You stare longingly at your intertwined fingers and he almost has you. Luckily, you have a miniscule shred of willpower left.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” you reluctantly pull your hand from his, “I really need to stay in Richmond this weekend. I need some time to relax.”

“Well, I could help you do that,” Jamie scoffs.

“Jamie, please.”

You must give away how desperate you are in your tone, because Jamie’s playful expression changes to concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks, “Did something happen?”

“No,” you shake your head aggressively, “I promise. I just want some alone time. I feel like my social battery just needs to recharge, you know?”

After a moment, Jamie still looks unsure, but nods. You think he’s going to say something else, before he’s standing up.

“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”

You nod, and then throw him an encouraging smile, “Break a leg this weekend.”

Jamie’s face scrunches in confusion as he juts back, “What?”

You squint, “You’ve never heard that saying?” he shakes his head, “It means good luck.”

“Why the fuck would breaking a leg be good luck?”

You stare at him for a few seconds before frowning, “I don’t actually know.”

He shakes his head and continues to the doorway, giving you one last look as he wishes you a goodnight and disappears from view.

Sourly, you realize this was the first time he hasn’t offered to drive you home since you’ve met. Maybe that was for the best.

Jamie Tartt doesn’t yearn.

He’s liked plenty of women. He’s even loved a couple of them. But he doesn’t obsess over them.

You’re different, though. Apparently.

As soon as he left your office after finding out you weren’t coming to Amsterdam, he couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. It really wasn’t a big deal. It was two days. You weren’t even a couple. And yet, the idea of being apart for that long made his chest hurt. What the fuck was that about?

He’d been having confusing feelings a lot recently when it came to you. The two of you are closer than ever, bonding over little things between really, really great sex. At the same time, he felt like you were pulling away, and he couldn’t understand why. He thought you were having fun together. It really seemed like you enjoyed yourself, whether the two of you were just hanging out, or participating in your more extracurricular activities. But maybe you were getting tired of it. Maybe you were getting tired of him.

Shit. What did he do wrong?

And why does it bother him so much?

It was all your fault, really.

You with your kind heart and sweet compliments, which didn’t feel earned but he appreciated. You with your safe and comfortable embraces. You with your absolutely addictive laugh, that he’d jump through hoops to hear over and over again. You with your fucking eyes and the way you touch him during nights together, making him feel so wanted. You’ve gotten him accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that he’s never experienced before, so now he wasn’t sure how to go back to before you started hooking up. Maybe that was what unnerved him. He was afraid if you stopped the benefits, the friendship would also stop, too. A little bit was about missing the sex, but mostly he’d miss you.

God, how you’ve ruined him.

Now here he was, surrounded by his teammates, in one of the greatest cities in the world, as they all mourned yet another loss. Despite how soul crushing these consecutive losses have been, Jamie finds himself more upset by the fact that he can’t see you tonight. With that thought propelling him, he jogs out of the locker room and finds an empty hallway to call you in. He doesn’t care if this makes him seem weird or desperate. He just wants to hear your voice.

“Hey, Jamie,” your soft voice answers after two rings. He clocks that you still sound a bit off, but it soothes him nonetheless, “I saw the game. I’m sorry.”

He manages to laugh, “Why are you watching football when you’re supposed to be relaxing?”

He smiles when he hears your own laugh through the phone, “I can multitask.”

There’s a beat of silence before you continue, “How’re you feeling? How’s the rest of the team?”

“Everyone’s miserable,” Jamie says point blankly.

“Wow, no hesitation there.”

“Yeah,” Jamie chuckles dryly, “Wish you were here, though.”

He listens intently as you sharply inhale. When you don’t respond after a few seconds, he calls out your name.

“Hey, Jamie, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner and if I don’t hurry, half of it is going to boil over. I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Tell the team hi for me.”

Before Jamie can even say goodbye, you’ve hung up. That doesn’t sit well with him. Not just because you ended the call so abruptly, but because he knew you really only cooked when you were anxious. Something was definitely up. Even if it had nothing to do with him, he finds himself wishing you’d at least want to confide in him.

Later that day, when the team has boarded the bus, the morale is criminally low. It’s so bad that it has Ted Lasso declaring that he’s revoking curfew and encouraging everyone to pull an all-nighter in Amsterdam. Suddenly, Jamie’s mood is boosted for the first time all week. A night of debauchery with his teammates was the perfect thing to get his mind off of their losing streak and you. Unfortunately, Roy has his own shit going on and decides that he needs to take it out on Jamie, by forcing him into an all night training session. Despite the disappointment, Jamie will take a distraction in any form at this point.

So, he plasters on a smile and forces Roy on a running tour of Amsterdam. By nightfall, he’s annoyed the grumpy coach into admitting, one, that he’s never seen a windmill and doesn’t believe they exist, and two, that he doesn’t know how to ride a bike.

Naturally this leads to Jamie teaching Roy how to do exactly that. After a series of attempts that are simultaneously humorous, frustrating, and endearing, Roy successfully manages to stay upright, and the two of them bike off in search of a windmill.

For some reason, Jamie finds it in himself to apologize to Roy for making fun of him earlier. He’s also surprising himself when he tells Roy about his childhood visits to Amsterdam. The first involves a suppressed memory of his father taking him to lose his virginity, and the second with his mother, that he actually looks back on fondly. He’s never told anyone about either of these trips - even you.

He supposes Roy could sense this, when he makes an admission of his own; that he’d been taking his anger out on Jamie because he’d found out Keeley has a new girlfriend. That’s all Roy says on the matter and Jamie doesn’t push him for more.

Not long after that, they finally make it to a windmill. Jamie genuinely smiles, taking it as a win when Roy appears mildly happy. If Jamie could tell his childhood self he’s staring at a windmill in Amsterdam with his hero, that kid would probably shit himself. Now Jamie’s just happy they get along at all.

Maybe it's because of the bond they seemed to forge that night, or maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but as they start biking back, Jamie finds himself confiding in Roy about something else.

“Hey, can I get your opinion on something?” Roy doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no, so Jamie continues, “I’ve been sleeping with this girl-”

Roy groans.

“I know, just hear me out. We’ve been hooking up for a while now, and it's just casual, which is great, but recently she’s been acting weird. I think she’s making up excuses not to see me and it bothers me that she’s not telling me what’s bothering her. But we’re not in a relationship, so why should I care? I mean, I do care. Like, if she’s upset I want to know so I can help fix it. But I care as a friend, ya know? I guess what I’m trying to figure out is how to ask her what’s been going on, without fucking up our situation and making her think I like her more than I do,” Jamie explains in a rush.

Roy discreetly rolls his eyes, “Well, it does sound like you fucking like her.”

“What?” Jamie almost veers off the road, “I do not!”

“Yeah, you definitely do.”

“No, we’re just friends who occasionally have sex,” Jamie states firmly.

“Alright, so if she told you she wanted to stop?”

Jamie hesitates, but eventually responds assuredly, “I’d respect her wishes.”

“And if she wanted to start seeing someone else?”

Jamie’s expression becomes pained.

Roy chuckles as he shakes his head, “I fucking told you.”

Jamie sighs, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to…like her.” I promised myself. This was not the time for Jamie to spiral, but now his heart was racing. He knew he was too attached to you, but liking you? Romantically? And all it took was Roy fucking Kent to point out the obvious for it to sink in.

“Well, tough shit,” his coach scoffs, “You like her, so what? You think she doesn’t like you? She must if she’s been putting up with you for however long.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jamie rolls his eyes, “And I have no idea how she feels, but that’s not what freaks me out. Its if she does feel the same way, it’ll be real, and when I inevitably fuck it up, I…I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve never met someone like her, and the last thing I want to do is mess things up like I always do.”

“So instead of the risk of potentially getting hurt down the line, you’d rather knowingly hurt yourself now by pretending like you don’t have feelings at all and hope they’ll go away?”

Jamie glances at Roy briefly before letting out a humorless laugh, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Roy nods ruefully, “Yeah. I know a thing or two about that.”

Jamie sits with Roy’s admission. He assumes it's in reference to his breakup with Keeley, and he’s seen how he’s handled that. Maybe he should tell you, and maybe you’d live happily ever after. But there was still a chance you didn’t have the same feelings, especially with how you were seemingly avoiding him. That didn’t really give him a vote of confidence. After a few moments, Jamie’s brought out of his thoughts when Roy surprises him by saying your name.

“It's her isn’t it,” Roy asks, “She’s the girl you’ve been seeing?”

Jamie narrows his eyes, wanting to deny it, but not seeing the point, “How’d you know?”

Roy shrugs, “You’ve just seemed…,” it nearly pains him to say, “Happier, since she’s been around.”

Jamie’s eyes soften, but then turns mischevious. He practically smirks despite the weight of this conversation, “You obsessed with me or something, coach?”

Roy grunts, “Shut the fuck up.”

“I have been, though,” Jamie admits, “Happier. Like I said, I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s so smart and funny, and so goddamn nice, despite some of the shit she’s been through. No matter how hard I try, I don’t think I’ll ever deserve her.”

Roy takes in Jamie’s words thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

Jamie chances a glance at Roy, surprised by his words.

“You’re a good guy, Jamie. And she’d be lucky to have you.”

Jamie tries not to be touched by Roy’s compliment, but a small smile finds its way on his face. Not many people have said this about him - he’s not even sure he believes it himself. He doesn’t know how to respond to convey his appreciation, so he just softly says, “Thanks.”

Roy looks over to Jamie and gives him a meaningful nod. “But if you tell anyone I said any of this I’ll fucking deny it.”

Jamie manages a laugh. “Aye aye, coach.”

Despite his insecurities, Roy’s belief in him is almost enough encouragement to want to tell you everything and see where it goes. You had been putting up with him - to borrow Roy’s words. More than that, up until recently, he felt the two of you growing even closer, so there could be a chance it was because you were starting to develop feelings for him, too. He was inclined to believe it was all in his head, but maybe he should start looking at the glass half full instead of completely empty.

While he definitely wouldn’t be professing his feelings to you right away, he was allowing himself to feel something akin to hope.

Wow. Losing an exhibition match, bonding with Roy Kent, and denying but eventually accepting his feelings for you all in one night. When in Amsterdam.

The pair continue to bike down the street in comfortable silence. That is until Roy accidentally veers off the road into the woods.

“Fuck!”

Back in Richmond, you’re doing a horrible job of getting your mind off of Jamie.

You started your evening by watching their match, which definitely defeated half the purpose of not going with them to Amsterdam, but you used wanting to support the team as an excuse. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Jamie, though, so by the time the game was ending, you were knee deep in making a whole-ass lasagna you definitely couldn’t eat by yourself. After their unfortunate loss, you sent Sam an apologetic text with a lot of emojis. What you weren’t expecting was Jamie to call you, and you felt like not answering would be rude. You thought you could handle a friendly conversation, but then he was saying something about missing you and you were panicking and hanging up before you could process what you were doing.

You knew your tactics of avoiding him wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do. You just were not a confrontational person, and even though Jamie would most likely be cool with, well, cooling things off, you didn’t know how to express that to him. Jamie didn’t seem like the type to be angry at you for just asking for what you wanted, or try to convince you to change your mind, like someone else you once knew, but past circumstances clouded your brain, making it more difficult to try.

So for now, you’d try to find the space to let any feelings go away on their own. Because that will definitely work.

After over-indulging in homemade Italian food, you try to get invested in some good old TV. You try watching something new, not having had time to binge watch as of late, but you couldn’t focus on the plot enough to get invested. So, you tried watching Grey’s Anatomy, per usual, but even the iconic Cristina Yang wasn’t enough to keep your mind off of Jamie. As a last ditch effort, you threw on a trashy reality show but of course that reminded you of Jamie.

Giving up on television altogether, you decide to Facetime your dads and catch up with them. Admittedly, you hadn’t had the chance to have a long conversation with them in a few weeks, only speaking to them briefly over text or quick calls between work and football matches. You were instantly comforted once their faces filled your phone screen, and you vowed never to go this long without speaking to them.

Dad and Pops take turns filling you in on their life in Kansas, from work woes to neighborhood gossip. They also tell you about going to Henry’s soccer games and how well he’s been doing. It warms your heart that he’s most likely taken up this sport in honor of his dad. They also inquire about how work has been going for you (”it’s still really great!”) and whether there’s anything else of note to share (”nope!”). You wonder if they can sense the nervous energy radiating off of you through the phone.

Then they ask you if you’ve been writing at all. For some reason this catches you off guard. It was as if you’ve never heard of the concept. When you first got to England, you’d try so hard to write during your off time. Rebecca has even encouraged you to do so when things were light at work. However, writer’s block was still plaguing you. And recently, all of your free time was taken up by team outings, dinners with Ted, and being with Jamie. But here you are, free from all of those things for the first time in weeks.

After talking to your dads for nearly an hour, ending with a promise to do this more often, you’re hanging up and running for your laptop. You plop down on the couch and pull up a blank word document. To no surprise, you stare at the blank page for five minutes when no ideas come to mind. Normally, this would segue into you opening Google News to see if any little piece of media struck inspiration. When you do this, the first article you see is about AFC Richmond facing another defeat.

You groan, closing the browser immediately. When you’re face to face with the empty page again, you aggressively smash your computer keyboard.

Fuck Jamie Tartt.

For some reason, typing the words out on the page made you feel a tiny bit better, so you keep going.

Fuck him and his stupidly attractive face and his dumb, endearing jokes. Fuck him and his ability to invade my every thought, and the way he somehow knows exactly what to say to make me feel better when I’m sad. Fuck him and his surprising thoughtfulness and his sense of humor that perfectly complements my own. Fuck him for being so good at fucking me, that he’s probably ruined me for anyone else. Fuck. Jamie. Tartt.

You stare at your stream of consciousness thoughtfully. It was like you were making a pro-con list where every con was just a pro you didn’t want to be true. These were all things that drove you nuts about Jamie - the way he became such a light in your life without you giving him permission to. He was supposed to be a safe choice because he was so unsafe. His reputation was bullshit. He wasn’t just someone you fooled around with until you got bored, or he did. He was someone you could see yourself being with forever without growing tired of him.

Okay, avoiding him definitely wasn’t enough while these intrusive thoughts were circling your brain.

You reread the words on your screen one last time, as your hand hovers over the backspace. Before you click it, you find yourself amused by your chaotic ramblings. You even find yourself thinking…this would be a very intriguing first line of a book.

It would take some fine tuning and obviously a name-change, but if you’d picked up a book and this was the opening sentence, you’d absolutely need to know more.

Running with this thought, you start tweaking your words, while you simultaneously try to envision a circumstance for this story outside of your own.

A friends with benefits storyline would be a little too on the nose, but enemies to lovers is always a good trope. Maybe after this first line, you could jump back in time, making readers wait until the book was halfway through to learn the context for this angry thought.

Suddenly, you’re taking all your ideas and running with them. You switch between writing paragraphs, to writing ideas, outlining scenes, and jotting down incoherent thoughts that you’re not sure fit, but could honestly be enough of a thought-starter for a whole other story. No matter how it all fits together, you’re pretty dead set on a romantic comedy angle. You wonder why you hadn’t had the idea for one before, considering it was one of your favorite genres as a consumer. It probably has nothing to do with the lack of romantic-comedy-energy from your last relationship. And certainly there’s no correlation to being able to write one now with the current situation you were in.

Before you know it, it's the middle of the night and you’ve been writing for hours. You’re not sure any of its good, but its something. The one thing you know, as your eyes begin to droop, is that you’re not going to write anything of substance while your energy is sufficiently drained.

You force yourself off the couch, managing to plug your computer in, before you crash on your bed. The next time your eyes open, its 9AM, and with barely seven hours of rest, you feel too wired to go back to sleep, anxious to start writing again. So, you put on a pot of coffee and fire up your laptop. You’re relieved you’d had enough of a brain at 3AM to save your document.

You spend the whole day writing, only stopping for snacks and bathroom breaks. You only become aware of what time it is when someone pounds on your door as the afternoon turns to evening. You hastily save your word doc before sliding over to the door. You should be surprised that Jamie occupies the other side, but you really weren’t. What surprised you was how much he looked like a zombie.

“Jamie?” you arch your eyebrow, as you move out of the way so he can cross the threshold, shutting the door in his wake, “Everything okay?”

“Guess what,” he says with a dopey smile on his face, “Ted let us stay up all night, so I taught Roy how to ride a bike and we saw a windmill.”

Part of you wants to laugh, but the rest of you is just really confused.

“Wait, you didn’t sleep last night?”

“Mhmm,” he nods once.

“God, you should be passed out at home right now. Why are you here?” Your eyes widen, “Don’t tell me you drove in this condition.”

“I ordered an Uber,” he explains sleepily as he takes your hand and tugs you to your bedroom.

Despite your plan to disengage in sexual activities - and all activities - with him, you don’t bother arguing knowing this wasn’t going anywhere while he was this tired. Still, you curse yourself for finding a sleep deprived Jamie very adorable.

You giggle as he plops down onto your bed face first. He manages to hold onto your hand as you stare down at him from beside the bed.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jamie just mumbles incoherently into your mattress. Giving up entirely, you go to fold the comforter over him, having not bothered to make your bed this morning. “While you are welcome to nap here, I’m sure your fancy bed at home would be much more comfortable.”

As you begin to tuck him in, he turns over suddenly, and pulls you onto the bed beside him.

“Yeah, but you’re not there and I wanted to see you,” he mumbles tiredly, his eyes fluttering up and down slowly.

You allow yourself to bask in this moment, with your face a few inches from his. Sitting up slightly, you gently trace your fingers over his eyelids, coaxing him to sleep.

“Well, now that you’ve seen me, you can close your eyes and get some rest,” you whisper. His face nuzzles against your hand a little before he settles into your pillow.

He mumbles something else, but then you’re pretty sure he’s fully passed out.

Sighing, you push yourself up and out of the bed. Per usual, he doesn’t stir at the movement, nor when you shut the bedroom door as you head back to the living room.

Once you’re alone and back on the couch, you let out a long sigh and rub your face. He does not make it easy, does he?

Even as warmth spreads across your face, Jamie’s words about wanting to see you echoing in your head, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. If you really wanted to get rid of the feelings you had for Jamie - feelings that were rapidly increasing by the second - you couldn’t avoid him forever.

You were going to have to end your “relationship”.

Suddenly, you’ve lost the motivation to continue writing a romantic comedy for the rest of the night. It was fun while it lasted.

You’re not sure you mean your sudden ability to write again or something else.

A/N: well that’s no good! lol, this was the hardest chapter to do, i rewrote some of it several times, so please let me know what you think of it!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @a-sweet-little-fangirl @scaramou @beardsplitter @gcidrvsh @ringpopdust @marveltg365 @optimisticsandwichgladiator it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #distractions series

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noowayybroo · 6 months

Text

Give the dog a bone😏(Part 1) (SFW)

Characters: Dogman!Leon Kennedy, GN!Reader (Part 2 will be NSFW F! Reader)

hi ik we're all a bit horny and busy here! We on that grind (in more ways than one!) so I'm trying to keep the story short and sweet I LOVE YOU ALL

Warnings: FIRST PART IS SFW AND GN! READER AND IG SOME FLUFF OR A WEIRD STORY?? PART PART 2 WILL BE Smut and NSFW, Leon and reader are initially friends / colleagues. Set after RE4. Lazy writing because I'm too busy and hate writing no cap. dogman anatomy. Hunnigan exists but is irrelevant.

Irrelevant blabbering that you don't have to read: That title is NOT from The Squeeze's "Cool For Cats" Hi guys! Guess who's a university student now! And guess who's unbelievably even MORE busy than they were when they actually stopped writing fics. It's me! Thank you SO SO MUCH for the well wishes and kind words and general love and support I recieved, even when my blog was dead to the world. It means the world. This fic idea has been gnawing at my insides, as has the shame and guilt that has come with wanting to write it. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being here, you rock! you slap! I love you! And I'm still making stuff on Etsy if you're interested (shameful plug, sorry.)

It'd been entire weeks since Leon had embarked on his mission in Spain. Whilst this didn't sound like a lot, his trips usually took a few days, and were packed with back and forth correspondence (via Hunnigan, of course.) The last time you'd heard from possibly him was a few days ago, when late at night you'd received a message on your personal phone.

"Hey, It's me, I'm coming home." - Unknown Number - 22:34 pm.

Your heart sang. After apparent radio silence for days (unless they were keeping you in the dark) it had to be him. He had to be coming home. You were excited, glad and thrilled all at once. You hadn't lost your friend. Yet, at least.

Days passed. Worry seeped back in. It gnawed at the corner of your mind as you replied to the number for the fourth time, hoping SOMEONE would reply. You wanted to run the number by someone in your team, maybe they could find out where it was from, but then again, you wanted to respect Leon's privacy.

6 days had passed since that message. 6 whole days... Was it actually Leon who'd messaged you? On a particularly drizzly Wednesday afternoon, you sat at your desk fiddling in a vain attempt to rid yourself of your guilt and anxiety. Perhaps Leon needed your help. Maybe, you should stop being so selfish and show the higherups that message. Maybe it wasn't him... Maybe that message wasn't even for you. Maybe someone else needed someone else's help.

Frustrated, you sigh and throw your head back. The ceiling is plain, it's calm. A soft grey, just like the sky outside. And the mundane-ness of it all somehow distracts you. Leon's just a friend, nothing more. He sits next to you in your office, so what? It's not like you're going to get married. He goes on these missions all the time. He'll be fine.

You lower your gaze back to your desk. At least you would, if it weren't snagged by the sheepish figure standing in the doorway to your joint office. There he stood, Leon Kennedy, in the flesh. Bandaged heavily, but he stood there. He was dressed strangely. He wore a hoodie, choosing to keep the hood up, and baggy sweat-pants. His sleeves were far down, covering almost his entire arm, and his mouth was awkwardly screwed shut as if he were worried to open it.

His eyes dance around the room, shyly greeting the few people who'd stayed late to meet deadlines, which you just so happened to be one of (the worry had been killing your productivity.) Once they land on yours, he gives a soft smile and stumbles forward a little, letting go of the doorway which he clung to so tightly. He looked so... sick.

More than concerned, you stand to meet him, arms gently wrapping around him as he just about stops himself from falling into you by grabbing the desk. He's warm, so warm, shivering slightly, and he smells good, to your relief and surprise. You figure he must have returned from his mission a while ago. He had time to clean, apparently, but not to rest. Dark bags lined his bright eyes, cuts and bruises adorned his pale face.

You're in too much awe and shock to even feel the tears pricking your eyes, but you sigh into him in response, hugging him close, relieved. He returns the gesture, head falling into your shoulder as he lets out a deep sigh, far too content to take note of the many eyes on you now. You, however, are very aware, and promptly pull away, but not before registering the deep breath Leon takes in as his head rests by your neck.

Somewhat reddened, you offer him his chair, and he obediently sits with haste. His cool blue eyes never leave you as you sit before him, his throat bobbing in anticipation.

"I've missed you" he rasps, entirely undeterred by the few eyes that still linger, for some reason finding this interaction more thrilling than their stacks of paper. You certainly believe his words. Leon's eyes are wide, pupils blown as if he's trying to take in as much of you as possible. Perhaps he's just glad to be alive, you think. Whilst you're shy, you must admit that that hug was wonderful. And you'd maybe want it to last longer or go further if prying eyes weren't laser focused on you.

"I've missed you too" you breathe, still in disbelief. "when did you get back??" In response, Leon tells you (in quiet whisper) about his whereabouts. He doesn't go into much detail at all, but you learn that he's been to Spain, and actually got back from Spain 5 days ago. Since he got back, he was actually being held in a Government facility, where they ran tests on him and 'made sure it was safe for me to see you all.'

He swallows again.

Concern fills you: Why wouldn't it be safe? What happened to him out there that he doesn't want to tell you? Is he actually alright? And most importantly...

"Why are you dressed like that?" you giggle, trying to curve your overt frown. Your eyes drift over his toned form briefly as he sits before you, comfortably manspreading and leaning oh-so-slightly into your space. You weren't trying to check him out. He was your friend. However, despite the baggy clothing doing its best to deter your sights, you couldn't help but take in his plump thighs and toned arms. His large hands flex as he runs them through his fringe a few times, clearing it from his eyes. He lets out a deep exhale.

"It's... a long story." He huffs, seemingly not too eager to show and tell. You return his huff, slightly tempered this time, eyes drifting up to the hood he wore. He catches your gaze and narrows his eyes, a playful warning. Although you didn't dare go into detail, Leon could tell you'd worried about him and eagerly awaited his return. He knew he meant a lot to you, and you to him (though he wasn't sure if you were aware of that.) He knew you were worried about the tests, and he knew your sudden playful persona was in spite of every other emotion he'd guiltily put you through.

That being said, he wasn't able to match your mischievous guise as your hand slowly and gently raises up to touch his hood. A strong hand grabs your wrist, gentle yet firm. He doesn't hurt you at all, yet you find yourself unable to move. His expression grows serious.

"Y/N. The hood's gonna stay on, alright?" He asks softly, eyes easing a little as he takes in your startled expression. You falter, becoming a little upset. You just wanted to mess around. You couldn't do that either? He senses the change in mood. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he says quickly, shaking his head as he lets go of your arm "I know, I'm gonna have to take it off at some point. Look, there's something... Something's happening to me, alright??" He whispers softly into your ear "Can you get off work now?"

To your relief, you're not sure when, but everyone seems to have looked away by now. Shakily, you nod, and after packing up and signing out of your PC, you and Leon leave the building. It's a nice walk, despite the rain, fended off by an umbrella he'd borrowed from the station. Your talk is pleasant, beating around the topic of his strange dress until a strong arm reaches in front of you, gently pushing ajar the door to your local Coffee Place. It's a nice, simple Cafe that you and Leon frequented on your ways home, especially on drizzly days like this.

Shaking off his umbrella, Leon follows you inside to the booth you usually sit at together. Many hours were spent here chit-chatting, sometimes alone and sometimes with other co-workers and friends. You'd discuss playful topics, the workload, things about the boss you didn't want anyone to hear. It was also here that Leon would gossip to you and only you about his 'confidential' missions, purely because you'd earned that trust.

It was here that he was about to tell you his new secret.

You both enjoyed this place because it was often empty. It's not that the service was poor, quite the opposite. The empty, quiet air allowed orders to swiftly be taken and fulfilled. The servers were polite, and you always got to sit at your special booth. You hid away from the outside world together drinking anything from coffee to bubble tea, and trusting the staff to give you both that ...platonic space.

Once your drinks were ordered, you and Leon got to talking.

"Listen, Y/N, I can tell you now." His eyes are wide, genuine, dancing between your own and your hands, as if he'd like to take them in his own. However, he refrains. Whatever's on his mind, it must be special. Too special for your ears, then.

"Leon... It's alright, you don't have to, please-"

"No, I want to tell you, it's alright. Everyone's going to find out anyway" he's serious, his leg gently bouncing under the table in anticipation "You can tell people, they'll know, it's fine, I just don't want to scare you."

"Scare me??" You couldn't believe your ears. If this was something public, then surely it couldn't be so bad. Why was he scared to tell you... Unless... was it that thing Hunnigan let slip? The virus... thing? You lean in, whispering as quietly as you can, almost only mouthing it to him "Leon... that... parasite.... Did it get you?"

His face drops. His mouth hangs open and he stares in disbelief for a while. You were right. Your face falls too. Was he dying?

"Leon- Are you Okay, I-" You begin to stammer, beyond horrified. You desperately try to form the words. What do you ask him? What do you say?

Once he comes to, he quickly shakes his head, gently taking your hands in his now, firmly, comforting you. "Wait. Wait please listen, yes Y/N, yes it did get me. But I'm okay. I'm fine... It's gone."

What? It was gone?? Well now you're back at stage one.... What was the issue?

"I did get infected by the parasite, but there was a scientist there, and he saved me... But there were these, look, don't be scared please, they tested me, I'm not gonna hurt you..." he eyes you, and when you don't seem to show any protest, he continues under his breath, voice thick and shaky.

"There were these dogs... Infected dogs... and one of them bit me."

Leon leans back and releases your hands just as the waitress comes by to hand you both your order. She smiles and leaves, and hesitantly, Leon's hands find his way up to his hood. Removing it reveals two large, houndish ears that flip upwards as his hood relieves them. They twitch, angling themselves towards you. Furry, soft and golden, they're... adorable. They look so... real.

Once again, you're left speechless. What can you say? Leon's now... a werewolf? A dog??

You knew this change was brought on by some kind of parasite, a virus that controlled the body and mind. You knew it was able to give its victims an inhumane strength, and somewhat invincibility... You knew whatever did this to Leon made him dangerous.

And yet, like a fool, you trusted him, the victim.

That's all Leon was now, a host for this virus, probably, and for some reason, you took his human side not wanting to hurt you as justification for trusting his infected self completely.

Leon continued to explain some of his symptoms. He ranted and whimpered about how he's losing his mind, how he can smell, hear and taste so much better than ever. He described how you can't see it but how his tongue has even changed. How his ears are growing each day, how his teeth are getting sharper. He tells you about how he's growing a tail, how his nails grow faster...

But you? You're lost to the world in your own sense of deep thought. You trusted Leon, you'd already made peace with it completely. You weren't scared of him at all, although you were a little afraid THAT you weren't scared of him. You knew you certainly should have been. Now, all you were trying to figure out was what exactly was happening to Leon. Spacing out completely, his words simply merged with your own thoughts, and you began to wonder what other dog features he'd have. You wondered if he was more hairy, if he'd grow claws. You wondered if his personality had changed. You remembered the way he sniffed you when you met...

But to Leon you looked terrified, and it made him panic. Waving his hand in front of your face and taking both of your hands in one of his large ones when that didn't work. Leon has to further stand up and lean over you, face close to yours to get you to snap out of it and focus back onto him again. Seeing you smile back at him shyly, apologising for spacing out has him giving the most over-the-top, faint and relieved smile you've seen. He looks exhausted, as if that little lack of communication aged him a hundred years.

Once your mind is collected, you sigh, addressing him "Leon, I trust you, I believe you, I'm not scared. I'm just... curious, you know?" you chuckle awkwardly, hoping you hadn't offended him, but as you speak to him, he softens, melting at your comforting words. His ears begin to droop and a braindead smile begins to form at his lips as he eyes you dreamily, relieved.

"...Curious?" he whispers, and it doesn't go past you how he cocks his head to the side like a puppy hearing a new noise. His ears prick up a little, his mouth slightly ajar "What's up? What do you want to know?" he mutters eagerly. It's as if he'd never anticipated you being so calm about the situation, and now he was entirely unprepared.

"Well..." You laugh, "Do you feel any... different?" you muse, glancing from his face, entirely enthralled by you, up to his ears which twitch and flap every time your mouth opens.

"V-very..." he mumbles shyly, staring down at the table "L-like I said I can smell really well... and I'm always warm... My hearing is better... T-there's more but like... well... it's... it's personal." he chokes out.

Oh, so it was like that, was it? Interesting... You could tell by his burning red cheeks and avoiding eyes that he wasn't too comfortable, and so, again, you decided to try and reassure him. You quite liked how easy it was to read Leon now. Taking his hands in your suddenly, you delighted in how his ears perked before drooping again as you gently massaged his hands with your thumbs. His eyes almost closed as he swooned before you, leaning back slightly as if about to collapse.

"It's alright, Leon, I trust you, and I believe you. I know you're in there" you giggle, taking a chance at reaching up and gently patting his head softly. To your surprise, Leon melts further before you, leaning forward into your touch as his eyes close and he props himself up with his forearms, still nestling his large hands in your left one subconsciously. He sighs deeply through his nose as he listens to your words "If anyone's got a problem with you at work, they can go through me, alright?"

Leon's eyes flutter open as you withdraw your hand. Smiling at you warmly, he seems thrilled to simply gaze at you. "Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot to me" he whispers, leaving you grateful that he didn't cockily challenge your ability to do as you'd promised. It seemed that whatever had overtaken him had simply decimated his ability to argue with or criticise you.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you giggling together, discussing what you'd been doing in his absence. Leon told you about the president's daughter. He described the different creatures he fought and survived. He told you how much he'd missed your friendship and how gutted he had been to lose contact with Hunnigan. And he divulged to you how glad he was to be back with you all, his 'pack'.

Completing your walk home, which Leon insisted on accompanying you for (you imagined he was still fearing detachment), he ducked into your home to show you his tail. Awkwardly untucking it from his sweats - soft, fluffy and wagging with a mind of its own. You noted how it stayed firmly between his legs once he first revealed it, matching his flattened ears upon first showing you, but once your face lit up and you reached out to touch it, it began to wag uncontrollably. Like his ears, his tail was golden, sandy and beautiful.

Leon could tell you enjoyed what you could see, or at least that you weren't terrified, and that was enough for him.

Well, you never thought your colleague would magically become... a dog... However, you weren't necessarily against the change, you ponder as you shut the door after him after reminding him to use his umbrella to keep himself dry on the walk home. The question was, did you still crush on him, just as you'd done when he left for Spain?

Yes.

Yes you did.

Over the next few weeks, you bonded more and more with Leon over his new predicament. You'd kept his trust. In fact, he began to confide more in you. He pursued you more often. He walked you home more and told you more about his new life.

...You were sometimes reminded that he could probably smell you, which was uncomfortable, but he was kind enough to stay silent on the matter, and that felt good.

Unexpected by Leon, dog-anatomy or not, he was still regarded as a hero in the office. People treated him well, aside from some comments by jealous newbies, who were often laughed out of the room by Leon's work-mates. Especially you. You were always there for him as he re-adjusted to office life, and as he learned about his new self. That deeper connection is probably what made him hesitate to leave you one evening outside your door.

You could tell what he was thinking.

You didn't want to say goodbye either.

And so, you invited him inside.

OK I HAVE TO APOLOGISE FOR THE BAD WRITING IT'S 3AM I CAN'T LIE MY BRAIN ISNT WORKING SORRY. Thanks for reading this, I'll try and write the smut as quickly as possible. Please bare with :sob: thanks for reading this ily

#resident evil #re leon #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #re4 leon #resident evil leon #dogman leon #puppy leon kennedy #fanfiction #fanfic #resident evil 2 #re 4 remake #re 4 leon

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mistypsych · 7 months

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 8

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after not writing anything at all. Please keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty at times. Comments and thoughts are well appreciated. Don’t hesitate to ask questions, state your thoughts for me to post up and have me add you to the tag list!

Sorry it took me a while to post this chapter. It isn’t too long but I didn’t want to leave you all hanging without anything. I had a lot of things to handle - family visit threw the holidays as well as I met someone and got into a relationship - first time since a couple years. Work has also been busy so I hope you guys will forgive my absence! I will try and post more frequently now! Please comment. Your words always are motivating!

The dead toned beep of the ended phone call rang in your ears mercilessly. Taking a couple seconds to compose yourself after Yoongis brutal truth, you looked at the mirror and took in a deep, sharp breath. Shaking your head, you grabbed at the bridge of your nose. This was all getting chaotic and you did not like that fact at all.

You’ve always lead a quite composed life. Yes your work was complicated and very intense at times but outside of that you lead a peaceful life up until now. Up until you got dragged into this fucking mess by your best friend. Up until you found out your fiancé was a liar and cheater. Up until you screwed Agust-D, or should you say - it was more like he screwed you.

Walking into the hot shower you tried to get rid of all those invasive thoughts. Your brain kept playing scenes of the black eyed gangsters lips attacking all of your skin, all of those sensitive parts, all the places that mattered. Your hands wiped down your face as if trying to toss off all the images together with the water droplets. This was not going to be an easy task. Sleeping with the long haired brunette just made your already complicated situation even more messed up.

Once you were wiping your body off with the soft towel you let out yet again another frustrated sigh. Knowing you had to get out of the bathroom and face Hoseok angered you. All you wanted to do was punch him in the face and break his perfect little nose. The vision of having to keep this relationship going for the greater good and to put his ass behind bars wasn’t in any way ideal for you. But it had to be done. You knew in the long run this was they only thing that would make up for all the heartache he put you threw.

You let your still wet hair drop on your shoulders. Wrapping yourself up in a comfortable bathrobe you walked out hesitantly. The smell of freshly made breakfast, deliciously tickled your nostrils. Well at least he was good for some things - you muttered soundlessly to yourself.

Stepping in the kitchen you saw the cheater himself hovering over some pans, while humming some tune. You used to love this view, you used to watch him quietly with a big smile on your face. These gestured used to matter. Now all they did was poke a deep hole in your heart. You could not help but feel as if dead inside towards the one you thought you’d end up spending your life with.

As if on queue Hoseok turned to you with a plated meal and a sweet smile on his face.

“Sit love” he said with a hum while placing the dish on the table. You felt you stomach clench while you braved yourself to put on the best fake loving face you could. “Thanks… hun…” you said a bit hesitantly, what he picked up right away.

Sighing loudly he looked at you with sad eyes and said “Hey… I know lately it has been rough… and I work a lot… and I don’t give you the attention you deserve. But that will change soon babe, I promise…” he whispered while leaning down to kiss your temple.

It took all of your impulse control not to push away from him. Forcing yourself to take the kiss you said quietly “Yea… it has been rough…”. After your words fell, he gave you a worried look. Knowing you well he decided not to continue this topic. Instead he gave you another peck and told you to eat up while he makes coffee.

Your eyes turned to the back of his head as he brewed the caffeinated liquid. You wished you could burn a hole in his skull, purely by your gaze. Giving up on that ridiculous thought, you focused on your food. You had to eat. You had work this afternoon. You didn’t want to feel weak and tired. Work was about the only thing that still made sense in your life. All the rest seemed to be going down in flames.

Once your fiancé put a cup in front of you, you gladly grabbed at it. Keeping yourself occupied and your mouth full was the best option to avoid senseless talk. You were only willing to answer what you had planned for the day. You really didn’t want to force the conversation. Thankfully Hobi seemed to think all the tension was coming from his lack of time and his hectic work schedule. Who were you to correct him? Even if you wanted you couldn’t. You had a deal with Jimin. The vision of the cheating bastard in front of you, being set behind bars was the only thing that kept you sane.

When you finished up your meal, you decided to do the dishes. You didn’t want to seem too upset. It was a usual with the two of you. When one cooked the other took care of the dishes. The brainless action made you zone out. The bubbles on your hand felt oddly relaxing. As you were about to calm down from all the anger your felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist.

You took in a sharp breath and get tense right away. It was something you could not control. It was just a natural reaction of your body to the touch of someone who you saw as a traitor. “Are you that displeased with me?” he asked, his lips almost touching your ear. Anxiety was attacking your nerve system mercilessly. You had to swallow the big ball that formed in your throat before you spoke “It just had been very awkward between us… that’s all…”.

Shaking his head slightly he kept on hugging you “I know baby… and I wanna fix it… you know what they say… good sex can cure many arguments…” hearing those words you felt your stomach flip. The last thing you were feeling up to was going to bed with this asshole. But did you have much choice? This was your thing. You guys used to use the act of desire take over you when in disputes. You didn’t want to raise red flags and have him suspicious of your behavior. There was so much at stake.

An idea popped in your head. You could use the fact he clearly wanted to sway you, please you. This was your way to get threw this. Turning around slowly you gave him a dark smile. Your brain automatically switching to imagine someone else was standing in front of you. “Is that so? You want to fix the situation?” you asked with a deeper voice and he nodded in agreement.

“Then get on your knees and please me. Since you didn’t have time to give me attention lately… today will be all about me…” you voice was sultry and tainted with a darkness you never let out yet. Hoseok was clearly taken aback for a second, completely not expecting such a thing from you. But you were right, he did want to sway your mood. So he smiled gently while dropping down slowly to his knees.

His long fingers grabbed at your shorts and pulled them down. You closed your eyes imagining it was those digits covered in rings doing this to you. At this moment you were great full for having a good imagination. You needed it to survive this, to take pleasure from it.

When you felt the hot breath hit your core, you bit down on your lip, visioning it was the dark haired mobster in front of you. The image of Agust-D on his knees made you soaked in seconds. “God you’re getting wet…” Jung gasped, his voice distracting you a bit, so you shushed him with a “Get to it then…”.

Once you felt his tongue on your clit you almost jumped. The next movements and sucking making you almost moan Yoongis name. He was right. You would be thinking of him… fuck you were already and this was the only thing making you enjoy the moment. It didn’t take you long to jump over the edge. Biting down on your tongue you made sure to not scream the name of another.

Luckily for you, your fiancé was so out of it all and happy with himself, he believed everything between you was ok for now. The fact he had to head out to work soon, was just the cherry on top of the cake. You on the other hand had time to get ready for the afternoon and think about how Yoongi read right threw you. His words from your last phone call echoed in your brain. Shaking your head you mumbled to yourself - Stop. This needs to stop. I am just gonna use what happened to imagine things, to survive around Hoseok as long as I need to.

The little pep talk was supposed to set you straight. You decided you would never give into temptation again. You’d never jump into the arms of a gangster. You couldn’t. He was bad news. Or maybe bad news was him. It was hard to decided which of the two was correct. But the fact was - this man was danger and it was best to stir clear of him. So that is what you planned on doing.

Work was going well for you even tho you didn’t get to have the shift with your friend. But maybe that was better. That way you could focus on the job and not risk falling into discussing the whole gang situation. Your phone was silent as well. No messages from you soon to be ex. No one to bother your. No one to disturb your flow.

You were telling lucky to have a couple of light surgeries scheduled. They were just basic procedures. You did not need to think too much about what you were doing. You were great full that you enjoyed your job. That it was left undisturbed. That it could be your anchor to sanity. You could lose yourself in it. Forget about all the other chaos. Just be present in the moment. Just focus on your hand work, on what needed to be done. Nothing else mattered then and there.

The wrecked mood from the morning switched to a content and relaxed on. The evening was nice. You decided you’d take a walk home. You lived not too far away. Some exercise would do you well. Taking out your phone you thought for a moment and texted Jungkook. You wanted to check if maybe he was out drinking in some of the bars close by. You’d gladly join him then.

While walking and awaiting and answer from your coworker, your turned into one of the allies to take a shortcut. It was still not that late and usually the are was safe. All seemed to be the same this time. That was until a black SUV appeared at the other end. Stopping in your tracks you felt the flight or fight mode sweep over your body.

Clenching your hands on the purse strap you were thinking on what to do. Once the doors of the car opened, you were ready to run. But suddenly the well known gravely voice hit the air.

“Didn’t your parents teach you allies tend to be dangerous?” he chuckled a bit at his own words clearly enjoying he gave you a scare.

Your feet became heavy. It was as if the got cemented to the ground. A shiver ran over your spine. Standing there you stared as the brunet slowly made his way to you. The heels of his elegant shoes clicking over the ground. The sound bounced off the bricked walls. It all seemed just like in the movies. The hunter walking over to his helpless prey.

As he came close he tossed the end of his cigaret to the grown and blew out the last smoke your way. You felt your knees becoming weak. This guys was something else. Everything about him was screaming danger, but somehow you couldn’t move, you couldn’t run, you just stood there, your eyes glued to him.

“I told you we’d meet again Y/N… and you owe me a morning…” clearing your throat you finally spoke “Do I? I don’t recall anything about spending the mornings with you in our agreement…” the words made him leans his head back and laugh. “What a mouth you have…” he spat out and grabbed your face with his hand. Pushing down on your cheeks. His black eyes piercing right threw your soul. “I have better use for it then starting up discussions…” his voice was low and coated with something you could not put your finger on. Was it desire?

The next thing you knew, you were pinned to the cold wall, his face inches from yours. As you were about to speak, he silenced you with his lips.

tags: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16 @missusally-blog @honsoolgloss @nochuel @kaitieskidmore1 @starrlo0ver @geek-lara-nerd @jwnghyuns @xyahrinx @acquiescence804 @prettytaesworld @i-have-three-feelings @citypop-princess

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