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liliacamethyst · 10 months

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Web of Shadow and Light (Part III)

Sequel to Webs of Fate

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 5.2 K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine

Part I Part II Part III

The Spider-HQ echo with an unsettling symphony - a child's piercing cries and the hushed whispers of concern from some of the multiverse's bravest Spider heroes. They stand clustered around the smallest yet most powerful disturbance they've ever encountered - a baby boy. His wails have been echoing through the HQ since Miguel left the room, leaving the baby and dozens of Spider-man behind. Each cry is a call for help that pulls at their hearts, demanding attention, challenging their patience.

After much deliberation and coaxing from the rest, Miguel gave his team an ultimatum - they have until dawn to find an alternative solution, before Gabriel has to be eliminated, before the universe collapses on itself. His voice was a cold whisper when he spoke, "Figure out another way by tomorrow morning, or..." Nobody dares to complete the sentence, not even Miguel, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. And with that Miguel was gone, and the baby immediately started wailing and hasn’t stopped since.

Now Gwen, with her brows knitted in worry, rocks the baby with desperate gentleness. Her blue eyes are bright with unshed tears, a look of sheer helplessness painting her usually confident face. Beside her Peter B. is attempting to cheer Gabriel up but his efforts as pointless as they are endearing. The usually funny and charming Peter B seems to be losing a battle of wits with a one-year-old. It would've been humorous, had the situation been any different.

The sight of the little baby boy weeping his heart out, oblivious to the chaos his presence is causing tugs at their hearts, binding them in a collective resolution - they must protect this child. The shadows and the light, entwined in this web they’ve all been thrown into. And the clock is ticking.

Hobie scoops up the little boy, cradling him close in an attempt to soothe his relentless tears. "See, the cow says muhhhhh," he coos. His tiny cries falter, curiosity momentarily replacing distress. He gazes at Hobie with wide eyes, intrigued by the cool looking man. "And the butterfly," Hobie pauses dramatically, "well, the butterfly don’t say nothin’." He continues his little game, while rocking the baby gently in his arms. "And the pig says-"

Miles chimes in with an eager grin, "Oink, Oink."

"Nah, bruv," Hobie laughs. “The pig says, ‘You have the right to remain silent!’”

Gabriel’s face scrunches up, and the waterworks start again. Hobie chuckles, "Fair enough, little fella. Cops make me wanna cry too."

Meanwhile Jessica Drew, clad in her black and white Spider-Woman outfit, her dark locks cascading around her shoulders, is leaning against the doorframe, half entering the room, her eyebrows raised. "Well? I assume he didn’t stop crying?“

Beside her Peter B. with his shaggy brown hair and five o’ clock beard just shakes his head.

“This is nuts. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is working.“ Gwen states.

In the background, the cries of baby Gabriel cotinue, little fists flailing as he continued his tantrum. Jessica, arching an eyebrow, comments, “He’s still going at it?”

Hobie Brown, just gives her a quick nod. “Oh yeah, the kid has got a set of lungs.”

Suddenly, Pavitr Prabhakar, yelps as a makeshift toy, made out of wood and spiderwebs, hit him square in the forehead. "Ow! And one hell of arm throw."

Methodically, Jessica starts running through a mental checklist. ��Diaper?”

Peter B. Parker nods. “Clean.”

“Food?” Jessica glances at Miles who holds a baby food jar and a bent spoon.

Miles, in his black and red suit, shrugs. “Kept smacking the spoon out my hand.”

“Nap?” Jessica's questions further.

The entire room answer in unison, clearly frustrated “Literally the first thing we tried.”

Pavitr smirkes at them. “Jinx.” But his joke is short-lived as Gabriels screams become even louder.

Gwen, then takes charge, “Ok, we have to do something,” her eyes flicking around the room with determination. She points to Jess, “You have to talk to Miguel. You’ve been around him the longest, maybe you can get through to him.”

Jess looks hesitant but nods.

“And Peter,” Gwen turns to Peter B who’s still juggling items in his hands, to entertain the baby and stop his crying. “Get Mayday’s toys. Maybe the baby’s just bored.”

Peter gives a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”

“And Pav, Hobie,” Gwen instructs, her voice steady. “You need to rally the other Spider-people. We need everyone on board to protect this little guy.”

“Margo, you’re with me, girl. We are paying our old friend Lyla a little surprise visit. Something’s a little fishy with her.” Margo nods eagerly.

As everyone scatters into action, Miles stands there, looking slightly lost and raising his hands. "Hey, guys, you forgot about me! What am I supposed to do? How can I help?" he calls out to the rapidly moving group.

Pav whirls around and points at Miles, "You, take care of the little guy, newbie," he says, as Hobie thrusts the still crying baby into Miles' arms.

"Great," Miles grumbles, balancing Gabriel on his hip and looking down at the squirming bundle of tears.

He starts to bounce up and down gently, trying to imitate what he's seen in movies. The baby continues to cry, unfazed by Miles' efforts.

“Alright buddy, let’s figure this out together. I can swing through New York, so how hard can babysitting be?” Miles whispers to the baby.

Hours drag on and Gabriel's relentless cries continue to echo through the HQ. Despite his earnest attempts, Miles, armed with only his spider powers and limited babysitting experience, is unsuccessful in calming the baby. He’s tried everything he can think of – makinf funny faces, telling funny stories in a soothing tone, gently swinging him back and forth with his web-slinging skills, and even humming a little tune (it was Humble by Kendrick Lamar, but the thought counts, right?). At one point, he even tried to entertain the baby by creating animals out of webbing, but that didn’t work either. The baby is relentless, and his cries only seem to get louder.

In the meantime in Miguel’s office, the echoing cries penetrate through the walls. Migel is sitting behind his desk looking at some documents, while Jess stands in front of him.

“Please, Miguel, it’s a baby boy. How did you imagine doing this, huh?” Jess exclaims, her voice rising. “Did you plan to build some sort of machine to just vaporize him? Or did you think of strangling him with your own bare hands? I know you’re not a monster.” But Miguel's face remains stoic, his eyes never leaving the papers on his desk.

“And look,” Jess continues, pointing vaguely in the direction of where the baby’s cries are coming from, “this baby is already older, and nothing has collapsed yet. The universe is still here.”

“I can’t risk any more lives, Jess,”Miguel responds coldly, finally looking up at her.

“But what if there is another way? We haven’t even tried everything. We have brilliant minds here. Let’s...let’s figure something out that doesn’t involve.. that,” Jess pleads, her voice softening.

Miguel looks at her for a long moment but his expression remains unreadable. The cries of the baby continue to fill the air.

Jess then turns her gaze towards Lyla, , who is stationed nearby, her holographic interface flickering with data. “Lyla, what are the kid’s powers? Run a genetics test, a DNA test. We need something to work with.”

Lyla’s synthetic voice answers in an eerily calm tone, "I have already processed the genetic information, Jessica. Thanks very much, genius. As per my findings, the child’s power attributes remain undefined. In regards to the DNA test..."

Lyla hesitates just a fraction of a second, but enough for Miguel to notice. It's an unexpected response from an AI that's programmed to be efficient and direct. A strange tingle rises within him but he pushes it aside, refocusing on the matter at hand.

“is inconclusive.” Jess squints at Lyla. “Inconclusive? What do you mean? Is he an anomaly or not?”

“He’s an anomaly, certainly. However, the DNA analysis is...complicated,” Lyla maintains her composed tone. “Complicated how?” Jess presses on. “Just...unfamiliar and intermingled genetic markers,” Lyla responds vaguely. “The child is an enigma.”

"Miguel, please" she continues, turning back to Miguel, clearly frustrated with Lyla's vague responses that are not helping her case. Her tone is still serious, "this isn't some variation of a monster, this is a baby."

For a moment, Miguel’s gaze flickers, his usual icy aura briefly wavering. "It doesn't matter," he finally grunts, closing his eyes as if to physically shut out the argument. Jessica's voice turns unexpectedly brittle. "I didn't join the Society to kill innocent kids."

Miguel clenches his jaw hard. "We do what we have to do for the greater good. No exceptions." Jessica takes a deep breath, her next words coming out almost in a whisper. "What if there was my Gerald or a version of your-" she begins, but is quickly cut off.

"DON’T. Don't even go there, Jessica" Miguel growls, his hand forming into a tight fist. "And why the hell is it still crying?"

Jessica's gaze softens slightly. "That child, that little boy, probably misses his parents. Parents who are going through hell right now, searching for their baby." Miguel's fist tightens further, a spark of something, maybe regret, guilt, flashing in his eyes. Jessica presses on trying one last time to convince him. "He was found in 586, right? Maybe we can reconnect with Su-"

"No," Miguel interrupts sharply, his voice a final command. “Until tomorrow morning, Jess,” he finally says in a low voice, putting an end to Jess’ outburst. “That’s all. You can leave now.”

There’s a heavy silence, where the only sound is Gabriel’s distant crying.

Jessica looks at Miguel, her gaze piercing. "Think about what you’re doing, Miguel," she whispers and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.

In the heart of the HQ, Margo sifts through the labyrinth of Lyla's concealed data. She uncovers a file that captures her attention – the baby's DNA results. "There you are," she mutters to herself, an air of triumph in her voice. As she opens the file, her eyes widen in disbelief, "Oh no…“

"What is it, Margo?" Gwen asks making her way over to Margo.

Margo's voice trembles slightly. "So, while looking through the hidden data, I found the baby's... there was a parental match."

Gwen's heart skips a beat. “I knew something was was off with Lyla. Of course she knows more. Well, who are the little guy's parents?"

Margo hesitates, then blurts out, "Miguel and Sunny."

Gwen stops dead in her tracks, her mind reeling. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"The baby's mother is Sunny, and the father is Miguel," Margo reiterates, her voice steady.

Gwen eyes widen. "But... are you sure? I know Sunny's baby. I was there when baby Gabriel was born!“

"Yes, I'm sure. There were two parental matches for the baby in the spider DNA logs:Sun Spider and Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time you saw the baby, Gwen? Babies change quickly at that age." Margo confirms.

"Miguel and Sunny? That's not possible... how have we never noticed that there's something going on between those two?" Gwen's mind whirls with confusion.

"Oh, I noticed," Margo's voice holds a hint of smugness, "The way he was sneaking into her room at night? And the way he looked at her every time she set foot in a room, like a lovesick puppy. It was adorable. Wait, nobody else noticed?"

Gwen splutters, taken aback, "What? No, I... well, he's all 'we need to sacrifice ourselves to protect the multiverse. No more traveling for fun'" she imitates Miguel's voice with a teasing lilt, then she adds, "And Sunnys is literally the personification of a warm embrace."

Gwen's mind whirls but she continues, “ Woah, okay lets focus on the important part. I mean, I knew something was wrong with Lyla, but why... why would she do that?"

"There's more, Gwen," Margo says, her voice shaking slightly. "I found another thing in her data. It's... it's about how she's processing information."

Gwen frowns, "What do you mean?"

Margo takes a deep breath before explaining, "In simple terms, Lyla's been teaching herself new things. She's changing, growing beyond her original programming. Her code is self-evolving."

"And the data about the baby?" Gwen asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Margo sighs, "She's been... twisting it, making the baby seem more dangerous than it actually is."

Gwen's mind reels with this new information, the world around her seeming to tilt. "But why?" she finally manages to ask. "Why would Lyla do this?"

"I don't know, Gwen," Margo admits. "But we need to find out and warn Miguel. And soon."

Meanwhile in Miguels office, the wailing becomes louder, almost as if piercing through the walls, trying to reach something, or someone. Miguel's face betrays his discomfort, as if the cries are tugging at his walls around his heart. There's a weight on his chest, something unidentifiable that makes it hard to breathe.

Suddenly Lyla’s holographic interface hums. She begins to show the outline various strategies for eliminating the child. Her voice, analtytic but almost cheerful, fills the room. “So, we could create a temporal displacement field, effectively erasing the child from existence. Or perhaps expose him to a slow-acting molecular destabilizer..."

"Based on the trial," she continues unfazed by Miguel’s lack of response. "the device should work as intended, wiping out any of its DNA and trace. Be like the anomaly never existed." There's a hint of satisfaction in her words.

Miguel, until now staring blankly at the wall, finally turns towards Lyla, his complexion pale and his eyes wide.

His insides twist painfully, the mere idea of bringing harm to this innocent child becoming now unbearable.

“Stop,” Miguel chokes out.

“Apologies, Miguel. We must consider all options for preserving the multiverse. You out of all people should know that,”Lyla retorts.

But something within Miguel snaps. His ice-cold distant facade crumbles. Rising abruptly, his chair clatters loudly onto the floor.

Without saying another word, he strides out of his office. “Miguel? Are you listening? Where are you going?” Lyla calls after him, but her words are unanswered in the empty room.

Walking down the hallway, Miguel slows down as he passes the room where the infant's cries come from. He pauses when he hears Miles' pleas inside.

“Little dude, if you stop crying promise I’ll get you some cool kicks. Maybe some baby Jordans? Please, please just stop crying,” Miles pleads, his voice sounding desperate and utterly exhausted.

After a moment hesitation, Miguel pushes open the door and steps into the room. His gaze, sterner than ever, as he takes in the scene: Miles looking near defeat, his energy spent trying to soothe the wailing child, his spider suit rumpled and hair disheveled.

"Enough," Miguel comms sharply.

Miles looks up from where he's been pacing with the baby, his eyes wide like he's just been caught stealing cookies from a jar. “You,” Miguel points at Miles, who is holding the still-crying baby. His voice booms with authority. “Put him down”

Miles, slightly dumbfounded, obeys and carefully lays the child down on his makeshift bed. “I need you to return to Earth 586. Get some of his belongings - toys, blankets, anything you can find," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But Miguel--" Miles startsbut gets cut off immediately.

"Now," he says, his red eyes flashing dangerously. Miles opens the portal hastily and disspears to your universe.

The crying has subsided to whimpers, and Miguel finds himself kneeling next to the little one, who reaches out for him. As if on autopilot, Miguel’s hands scoop him up abruptly from the bed.

"Quiet, niño. "Miguel growls at him with a low and threatening tone. "I could just... do it right now." His irritation gets the better of him, and he bares his fangs at the little one. This sight shocks Gabriel into silence for a moment, his big, teary eyes widening at the sight.

But then, to Miguel's surprise, the baby breaks into a fit of giggles, the sound infectious and joyous.

Gabriel suddenly mimics Miguel, baring his own little teeth – two tiny milk teeth and the beginnings of baby fangs peeking from his gums, causing Miguel to stiffen in shock.

Caught off guard Miguel's hold slips and Gabriel lands back on the web-shaped bed with a bounce. The baby's laughter ends abruptly and is replaced once more with tears and cries.

Still in shock, Miguel stumbles back a step, but Gabriel's cries soon pull him back into the present. With a sigh, he picks up the little boy yet again andGabriel immediately snuggles into the crook of Miguel’s neck, his tiny arms winding tightly around his throat. Miguel swallows hard, unsure of what to do next.

Then, almost instinctively, he starts to hum a tune he thought he'd long forgotten. "Tú eres mi sol de la mañana, el sol que brilla..." His voice is barely audible, the words shaky. Gabriel's little body relaxes against him, a content sigh escaping his lips followed by a quiet yawn. He nuzzles closer to Miguel, his tiny breaths falling into sync with the rhythm of the song. "...alegra todo, mi corazón," Miguel coninues softly, his mind flooding with memories. He sees a bright, lively girl with the same curious eyes as the boy in his arms.

"Daddy," Gabriella asks, her large eyes bright with curiosity as she looks up at him, "why do you call me your morning sun? I'm not yellow."

Miguel chuckles at her innocence, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He cradles her against his chest, looking into those eyes so full of wonder. "No, mija" he replies, his voice soft with affection "you're not yellow but you are my sunshine."

"But why?" She wrinkles her little nose, her childish curiosity making Miguel's heart fill up with love.

"Because, mijita," he begins, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, "just like the sun, you light up my world. You chase away the darkness with your laughter and your love. You are warmth, you are joy, and just like the morning sun, you are a new beginning, a promise of a brighter day."

Gabriella blinks up at him, her lips curving into a small, and she hides her smile in the crook of his neck. "I like that, Papi," she whispers, "Sing the song again, please?"

“brilla, conmigo, brilla que brilla, alegrandome esta cancion. Tu eres mi sol de la manana…“

Eyes closed, Miguel draws Gabriel unconsciously closer, his heart full, and for the first time he’s feeling a sense of contentment he hasn't experienced in years.

The moment is shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared, pulling him abruptly out of his peaceful trance.

Peter B is standing in the doorway, arms loaded with various dolls. "Wow, he's finally asleep," he remarks, looking between Miguel and the now sleeping Gabriel with a relieved smile. "I was starting to think that was impossible."

Without responding, or even sparing a glance in Peter's direction, Miguel turns away from the door and heads to the bed. He gently places the sleeping toddler down, pulling a small blanket over him. Once he's confident that Gabriel is settled, Miguel quietly leaves the room, his demeanor as frosty and aloof as ever, making no acknowledgment of Peter's presence.

Peter B is quick on his feet, rushing after Miguel. "I brought him toys from Mayday," he blurts out. "She won't miss them. She's not too good at sharing, but I guess she won’t mind in this case."

Miguel continues his stride, not giving Peter so much as a backward glance. "Que maravilla," he mutters under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring the dismissal, Peter B. reaches out and places a hand on Miguel's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Miguel raises an eyebrow and glances back at him half-heartedly, clearly not interested in a conversation.

Peter takes a moment, his gaze intensifying. "Hey, boss," he begins, his voice shaky yet determined. "We can't let anything happen to this boy, right?"

At Peter's words, Miguel closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Back on Earth 586, you're in the throes of a meltdown. Your little boy, Gabriel, is nowhere to be found. You've scoured the whole city of Nea Yorkey, every nook and cranny you can think of, but there's no trace of him anywhere. Desperation gnaws at your insides, and fury bubbles up, hot and fierce. Your mind is in turmoil, swirling with anger and fear, clouding your ability to think straight. One thing is crystal clear though: whoever dared to touch your child will pay dearly for their actions.

You're frantically trying to find a way to contact anyone from the Spider Society, while simultaneously considering every possible avenue to traverse the multiverse yourself. Alchemax - the multinational conglomerate known for its cutting-edge research and technological advancements - seems to be your only hope. As you're about to make your way there, a sound from Gabriel's room stops you in your tracks.

Your Spider senses, already on high alert due to the unexpected circumstances, seem to kick into overdrive. Every instinct within you screams that something is about to happen. Your heart pounds in your chest like a wild drum as you slowly approach the room.

Meanwhile, in Gabriel's room, Miles is having his own share of troubles. In his haste, he stumbles over a toy car that starts making an assortment of noises and brightly lit animations. "Ah, this stupid toy!" he curses under his breath.

A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he wonders aloud, "Wait, does he need a blanket?" Just as he's about to reach for a small bunny stuffed animal that lay discarded on the floor, an intense blast of sonic energy sweeps across the room.

Caught by surprise, Miles finds himself flung across the room, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Before he can even let out a gasp, a spider web shoots out, pinning him securely against the wall. There he hangs, suspended, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he attempts to comprehend what just happened. Well its safe to say he didn’t saw that coming.

Miles, still stuck against the wall, manages to blurt out, "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" you echo, incredulity lacing your tone. "You break into my son's room and ask me whoI am?"

Your mind races as Miles stammers, "Wait, your son's room? Wait, are you...are you a Spider-person aswell?"

Ignoring his question, you stride towards him, an aura of threat radiating off you. "Stop talking!" you command, "I ask the questions!" In your hand, a ball of solar energy forms, crackling with power and casting a glow across the room.

"Why are you here? Where is my son?" The words are more of a growl than a question, the motherly instincts in you sending waves of danger rippling across the room. "Your son is okay, please don't hurt me!" Miles pleads with a shaky fear laced voice.

Squirmy and visibly frightened, Miles stammers out his confession, "We-we took him...it was our mission... He's an anomaly...we needed to get him out of this universe, send him to his own, so it wouldn’t collapse and interfere with the multiverse...but he doesn't have one, and I'm so sorry..."

His voice dwindles to a murmur, words tumbling over one another in his haste. Amidst his ramblings, your icy inquiry slices through like a blade, "Who instructed you?"

A sharp wince contorts his face, betraying his fear. "Our boss..." he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "Miguel... Miguel O'Hara."

The energy in your hand dissipates, leaving only shock in its place. It's almost too much to take in - the idea that Miguel, your Miguel, could have done something like this. "He's okay, we... we didn't know he was the son of a Spider-woman. I'm Miles Morales, by the way." he introduces himself, attempting to inject some normalcy into the situation.

"I'm Spider-Sun," you respond automatically, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

"Wait … you?" Miles' eyes widen in recognition. "You're Sunny?" When you give a numb nod in response, he continues, "You look more like 'Stormy' if you ask me." Your gaze snaps to Miles, the intensity of your death glare immediately silencing his attempt at humour. "Sorry, sorry," he stammers, raising his hands in surrender. "I just...I've heard Gwen and Peter talk about you."

"They never stop talking about you," Miles continues, trying to regain his composure. "They always say you have such a radiant personality and how much they miss you. They take care of your son, don’t worry. Hes safe for now.”

"What do you mean he's safe 'for now'?" you cut him off abruptly, your voice cold and hard. Miles gulps nervously before responding.

"Eh...we have until morning to find a solution for this...anomaly," he stammers. You interrupt him, seething with a fury that makes him cringe. "My son's name is Gabriel. He is not an 'anomaly'," you spit out the words like they are poison, hating the way they make your sweet little boy sound like some kind of mistake.

"Eh, yes, for Gabriel," Miles corrects hastily, "because, eh... if we don't find an alternative, they need to, eh...eliminate..." He trails off, speaking so quickly and softly that you almost don't catch his last word.

"ELIMINATE?????" You scream and for a split second, Miles is sure he sees your eyes blaze with a terrifying, luminating light.

"We can stop them. We can talk to them and say it's your son," Miles says quickly, desperately hoping to calm you.

"I don't talk. Bring me to my son," you demand. Without wasting another moment, you order him to open the portal. "Y-yes, right away, Sunn... eh, Mrs. Sun, eh... Ma'am," he stammers, visibly trembling under your steely gaze.

It takes him two shaky attempts before he manages to successfully open the portal, his hands still unsteady from the encounter.

Back at the headquarters, Peter chases after Miguel into his office. "Boss, all I'm saying is, what if Lyla is wrong?"

Miguel is pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The weight of the situation is quickly becoming too overwhelming and he feels himself teetering dangerously close to his breaking point.

Just at that moment, Gwen, Pav, Margo and Hobie burst into the office, their faces set withdetermination. "Miguel, there’s something you need to know. Please hear us out. Margo and I, we found something.Lyla is - ," Gwen starts but Miguel is quick to silence her with a raised hand.

Just as Miguel is about to speak, the lights flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the room. Hobie looks around nervously. "Is that eh...normal?"

Peter quirks an eyebrow. "Did you forget to pay the electricity bill?"

The lights flicker even more violently, plunging the room into a dance of shadow and light.

With a violent burst, the door is flung open, and a brilliant surge of light blinds everyone. You stand in the doorway, an ethereal aura glowing around you.

"O'Hara!" Your voice thunders through the room, heavy with wrath and revenge. As Miguel turns around to face the source of the sound, a massive, lightning-tinged sonar blast slams directly into his chest. He's pushed backward, knocked off balance before he can brace himself for the attack. He tries to recoverr, to shift into defense mode but he doesn't get the chance. You're relentless, a solar goddess in human form, hurtling blast after blast at him. Miguel has no time to regain his stance, each attack landing with more force than the last.

Gwen makes to step forward, her instincts screaming at her to intervene, but Peter grabs her arm, pulling her back. "That's Sunny," he says, his voice a mixture of awe and concern. Hobie's eyes widen comically. He cocks his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Our Sunny, eh? Blimey, I never knew she had it in her. That rebellious firecracker," he mutters, a distinct note of admiration creeping into his typically laid-back British drawl.

Miles bursts into the room, breathless and disheveled. He stumbles towards Gwen, his voice hurried and concerned, "I tried to stop her, but she was...she was furious. Woahhh, I've never seen Miguel get beaten like this before."

And he wasn't exaggerating. Miguel was fighting back, his fangs bared, his claws out and ready but he was no match for your rage-fueled attacks. You were right up in his face, delivering punch after punch at a brutal pace

"Where's my son, O’Hara? What have you done to him?" you demand, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

At your words, Miguel's movements falter. His defense wavers, and he barely manages to gasp out, "Your son?" He doesn't dodge your next blow, doesn't attempt to shield himself or strike back. Instead, he allows you to continue.

Miguel is shocked. His reflexes kick in as he sees the next punch coming and he grabs your wrist, halting your next powerful punch aimed for his face. He locks eyes with you, his gaze holding an emotion you've never seen in him before. Is it fear? No, it's much deeper, more profound.

As he stares at you, your luminescent eyes gradually lose their fiery intensity, shifting back to their human form.

"I... I didn't know," Miguel stammers, his voice a trembling whisper. "Lo – lo siento. I – I didn’t know.”

His breaths are ragged, and you can see a war waging inside him.

"But...how?How didn’t I know?" His voice is choked, your wrist still securely in his grip. “Your son?” Miguel continues,his voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours and all he sees is raw, untamed anger with an aching pain that pierces his soul.

“Yes, MY son!” your voice echoes through the room like a whip. “Did you think that you could just take him from me? That I wouldn't come for him?”

Miguel’s grip on your wrist loosens as he stumbles back. His heart feels like it’s about to explode as realization dawns on him. The dark curls, the small fangs the baby had bared at him –pieces of a puzzle start falling into place. His own blood runs cold.

“Where is he, Miguel? Where’s myGabriel?” your voice breaks as you say the name, and it feels like another punch to Miguel's gut.

“Gabr...” Miguel chokes. “No... no...”

His voice is barely audible, the air knocked out of him by the significance of the name. His knees buckle, and he falls on the floor. "NO."

“You, who I thought would protect any child, wanted to eliminate my – our – flesh and blood!” Tears, full of anger and hurt, stream down your face, but your voice doesn't waver one bit.

Miguel, still on the floor, looks up at you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear on my life, on Gabriella’s memory. I-I wanted to do the right thing. I- I never, -Lo siento.”

There’s a moment of tense silence as you look down at the shattered man before you,the love of your life, the father of your child, who almost made the most horrifying, unforgivable mistake.

Just then, from another room, the faint sound of a baby's cries pierce through the heavy atmosphere. You abruptly yank your wrist out of his grasp and towards the door to leave.

Your heart clenches as you break into a run, following the pitiful cries. You don’t look back.

Miguel remains on his knees. He doenst follow you, he doesn’t dare to move, anchored by the crushing weight of what he's done, as the sounds of Gabriel's cries fade into the background.

"Gabriel," he whispers, the name escaping his lips like a vow. A promise of redemption. And with that single word, Miguel knows he'll move heaven and earth to protect his child.

Part 4 "Webs of Redemption"

Hello, you wonderful souls! I want to say a big thank you for your patience and kind words about this series. I really appreciate each of your sweet comments and messages – they mean so much to me. Thank you all for the insightful ideas and suggestions you contributed for part 3. I've incorporated as many of your concepts as I could because they're simply brilliant. I'm eager to hear more of your thoughts, criticisms, and proposals for part 4. I also want to give a special thanks to Jess, @wolfjessedragon . Her inspiration and amazing ideas were the driving force behind Part 3, and I couldn't have written it without her! love you guys, keep being awesome!

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roseykat · 8 months

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TITLE: How they are when they eat you out

SUMMARY: OT8 blurb version of the title.

MASTERLIST

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of orgasms, sex positions, again nothing too major.

TAGLIST: @xhakumeix

A/N: here is another spicy blurb/work of mine! Thank you everyone for engaging with my posts, messaging and following! I really appreciate y’all 😭💗 also side note again, I’ll spellcheck this when I get home!

BANG CHAN

Deliberately goes slow. He likes foreplay but also teasing you. Thrives off of feeling your legs shake around his head as he goes down on you. If you can’t handle the overbearing intensity of pleasure, he’ll snake his arms around your thighs, gripping and holding you there to ensure that you will take everything he gives you.

However, Chan is a firm reinforcer of edging and uses his mouth to achieve that. He’ll have you squirming and trembling every single time he brings you to the edge. Whenever you try and inch closer towards his tongue, he’ll pull away, leaving you frustrated and angry. But edging has a high purpose, and that’s to make you cum ten times harder than you usually would.

“I know how much you want to cum right now,” Chan says. “So lie back and let me get you there.”

MINHO

Eats pussy for sport and will make you cum as hard and as fast as possible and as many times as you’ll let him. He’ll tease when he wants but for the most part, he wants to watch you writhe and shake. Hearing you scream out his name is a phenomenon that he can never get over. Minho also likes eating you out in positions that will have you screaming and where you’re bound to cum - literally.

He will have your legs bent at your sides, tied up so you can’t move, and will eat you out for an hour or two, otherwise until you’re crying from how much pleasure you’re in. In those positions, there’s nowhere for you to go or move other than the surface of his hot tongue.

“Like cumming on my mouth don’t you?” Minho asks. “I’ll make you cum again, and again, and again - until you start to forget your name.”

CHANGBIN

Eats it like he means it. Will make you cum more than once with his mouth and won’t settle for anything less. He will have you in tears from how intense the orgasms are that he gives you. It’s a real contrast to how tender and nurturing he is when it comes to taking care of you afterwards. Nonetheless, Changbin will eat you out like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

He doesn’t stop unless you want him to. Sometimes you give him free rein which, in all honesty, is a terrible idea sometimes because Changbin will cease at nothing to make you cum so hard that you start seeing stars. What’s even better is because of his strength, it’s near to impossible to squirm away from his mouth, rendering you to cum hard regardless.

“Look how pretty you are when you cum,” Changbin sigh’s exasperatedly.

HYUNJIN

Is very attentive. Studies every reaction that he brings out of you as soon as his mouth is buried in between your legs. Hyunjin also has the tendency to overstimulate the shit out of you. Half of the time he doesn’t actually mean to. He just gets off on the change in pitch of your moans, how you sometimes go silent when you cum, or when you grip onto his hair as tight as you can.

His method of making you orgasm multiple times ensures that your legs will be shaking and your moans will fill the space around him. The only unfortunate thing for him when it comes to eating you out is that he can’t see your entire body, especially when you cum.

“You’re shaking baby,” Hyunjin points out. “Feels that good, huh?”

JISUNG

Is sloppy, but in the best way possible. He’s unfazed about how wet you are, how much of it gets on his face, if it’s on the bed, the floor, the kitchen counter - whatever. That’s applicable to every situation where he’s eating you out, even when Jisung feels lazy. In saying that, there are two sides to him, and he can go either way; he’ll either eat you out like he’s been deprived of it for months, or if he’s feeling lazy but still wants to go down on you, he’ll eat slowly.

If that’s the case, he will ask you to just sit on his face. It’s convenient for him to lie back and eat you out that way. Hell - he’ll even let you use his face to make yourself cum however many times you want. Jisung will say it so casually that it sometimes turns you on more. Despite him feeling lazy, that doesn’t mean to say that he isn’t into it - he is definitely into it.

“I’m horny as fuck,” Jisung says before smiling. “Sit on my face?”

FELIX

Going down on you is already a task that’s intimate enough as it is, but Felix’s entire aura seems to enhance that even further, to the point where you feel so good that it’s emotional. Almost every time - guaranteed - Felix will interlock his fingers with yours when his head is buried between your legs. He’ll kiss your inner thighs, softly on your clit, delicately sucking and licking to slowly build you up to a peak.

He analyses what you like so well that every time he goes down on you, he makes sure to follow that routine to achieve the same results if not better. It’s almost like one of his games to him, except the rewards are better in every aspect. Lix just wants to make sure you feel good.

“Can never get enough of you,” Felix says. “Wanna make you cum as much as you’ll let me.”

SEUNGMIN

Is a tease. Even during foreplay he’ll edge you with his mouth. He’ll never give you exactly what you want when you want it. If he’s going down on you, and you’re ready to cum, Seungmin will stop right before you start tipping over the edge just so he can fuck you in order to make you cum on his cock instead. Then again, if he feels generous, it’ll be his mouth that makes you cum, especially as a form of reward if you can go a day or two without being an absolute brat.

But that’s the side of Seungmin who likes to be dominant. There’s the other face of the coin where he can be very tender. In those instances when he is going down on you, expect to see a lot more affection from him. He won’t just focus solely on your clit, he’ll go slow, check in on you, and make you cum more than once because he’s also a gentleman.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” says Seungmin. “Nobody else can make you cum the way I do.”

JEONGIN

Knows exactly what he’s doing when it comes to eating you out. Jeongin chooses to go slow whenever he does because of how attentive he is. He wants to make sure that each second his face is buried in between your legs that your body feels good. Every now and then it’s a bit frustrating because all you want to do is just cum as quickly as you can, so as you squirm or grip his hair to try and make him go faster, that’s when he’ll decide to intentionally tease you and go slow.

He likes to hold around your thighs, gently squeezing them to hold you firm around his head. The struggles you have when it comes to putting up with his tongue is next level. He has the technique to make you cum in under a minute minimum. He’s unassuming but he’s just that good at it.

“Can feel your legs shaking,” Jeongin says. “I want to feel them shake even more.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #rosiewritesskz #hyunjin smut #han jisung smut #i.n x reader #i.n smut #bang chan smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #changbin smut #hyunjin x reader #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin x reader #han jisung x reader

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runa-falls · 9 months

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squirting with Miguel ????????

if the question is "can miguel make you squirt?" the answer is yes.

if it's "does miguel try to make you squirt every time you're alone?" the answer is also yes, and that's why you're constantly passing out after your escapades.

short blurb (18+):

the first time it happened was one of the few times he was taking things slow. his thick cock nudged incessantly against your g-spot. he was angled in such a way that any movement would make you whine.

he loves watching himself disappear inside of you, how your slick pussy stretches to its limits just to take him. you writhe as he continues his slow pace, barely shifting his hips to take you to the edge.

regardless of the minimal movement, you could feel something building within you.

it's a pressure in your lower stomach, a tingle that almost makes you think you're going to piss yourself, but it feels so good, you can't stop it. you're literally dripping for him now, coating his cock in viscous lust until it spills onto the mattress below you.

"w-wait miguel," your hand presses against his firm chest, unsure if you want to continue on this path. "something is d-different..."

he can feel it to.

you're fluttering around him, sucking his cock in deeper yet pushing him away. your body can't seem to make its mind up, it's overwhelmed.

"let go, honey, i'm right here."

you're shaking. your back is violently arched as you cry out his name. your eyes roll and your muscles tense as the intense wave of ecstasy moves through you. it genuinely feels like an explosion, a feeling of total release, an escape.

miguel groans when he follows right behind you, pulsing and stuttering as he finishes inside of you. it takes you a moment to catch your breath before you can reopen your eyes.

"look, mi vida, you made a mess of me." he looks at you with a small grin, proud of his work that drips down his chest.

"miguel..." you're mortified. did you just pee on your boyfriend?

he pulls you closer, "god, that was so hot, baby."

"really?"

"yeah, let's do it again."

#anon #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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tojisun · 3 months

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(this is def inspired by htgawm s4e7 but) simon is totally the type to propose to you in a way that is quite mundane, if not a little unexpected.

thinking about simon taking you out for lunch by the cafe close to your work; you ordered a light lunch, paired it with iced coffee, and simon scrunches his nose in mortification but backs off with a chuckle when you tell him he can’t say shit after ordering steak and paired it with a cup of tea.

and you’re within the moment of recounting your morning, waving your hands around in excitement as you tell him about completing a project given to you by your supervisor, when simon just gets hit with this realization. this feeling that pulses within his heart—“you. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

so, while you’re lost in your story, simon plucks out the discarded straw wrap you tore off for your drink, and hides his hands underneath the table. he twists the paper, makes soft tears to cut it shorter, and pinches the ends so they stick together as best as they can. it’s sloppy but it’s a circle, small enough to fit around your finger.

“so,” you begin, sipping on your coffee. “what’cha hiding under there?”

simon shoots you a cheeky smile. “oh but you’ve seen it, haven’t you, lovie?”

you groan, chucking a balled-up tissue paper his way. “y’r gross.”

“that’s not what you were crying last night,” he playfully snarks back with a quirked up brow. your cheeks burn and you duck down to hide from his knowing gaze, trying desperately to tamp down the laugh that is making your lips twitch.

simon chuckles, shaking his head softly, trying to pretend that his heart isn’t quite literally lodged in his throat right now, before coughing lightly to capture your attention again. you give it to him readily with a small and confused smile dancing on your lips, and your eyes crinkled in the way that makes him swoon.

“si?” you ask, a little worried now that he just sits on in his silence. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” simon replies, a little breathless. “more than ‘okay’, actually. i’m-” he pauses, clearing his throat, his fingers still playing with the straw wrapping.

you watch as he breathes in deeply before his posture straightens and then he is pulling his hand out from under the table. you blink your eyes down to his hand where, pinched between his fingers, is the straw wrapping twisted and pinched to look like a small ring.

“this is a placeholder for the real one, s’just that i’ve always wanted to ask you when the timing is right but every time i’m with you always seemed to be the right time so…”

simon’s eyes are unwavering—they are pools of gentle storms—but you notice the way his hand trembles, taken by tremors that would have made you worry if his words had not seized your beating heart and cradled it with such tenderness that you feel like weeping.

“will you marry me?”

#add this to the ‘‘sun writes ooc!simon’’ list but honestly. i just want him to have a love so gentle so scream at me. i WILL cry about it #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #suns

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wqnwoos · 11 months

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seventeen & touch-starved s/o (hhu ver.)

an / entirely written for a friend of mine but here. also whoever is reading this i love u have a good day 💓💕💖💗💞💘💝💖💞💕💗

vocal unit ver.

SEUNGCHEOL.

bear hugs that are somehow simultaneously gentle but also tight

props his chin on your head/shoulder

murmurs in your ear a couple times to make sure you’re alright

“hello?”

“hi,” you say softly into the phone. “um. it’s me.”

you can hear the smile in your boyfriend’s voice when he replies. “hi, baby. everything okay?”

“yeah!” you respond, too quickly with a voice pitched slightly too high. “everything’s fine! just… gonna go to bed now, i think.”

“i’m on my way home right now.” cheol answers the unasked question with ease. “don’t worry, baby, you’ll get your cuddles.”

which is why he’s unsurprised when you’re waiting by the door the moment he arrives home, clad in your pyjamas with a freshly-washed face, flinging your arms around his neck the moment he crosses the threshold.

WONWOO.

will quite literally let u do anything

most patient man fr

his hands, his hair, his thigh — it’s free real estate (but only for you)

it’s nearing 1 in the morning when you start missing wonwoo’s touch.

he’s not far, just on soonyoung’s couch. dinner had turned quickly into drinking games — you’d sat out, instead volunteering to clean the kitchen with vernon and jihoon. which was nice and fun and whatever, but as you sidle up to where wonwoo’s sitting on the sofa, you feel the sudden intense urge to just… cling.

that’s how you end up next to him, with his large hands in yours, you fiddling with his fingers, tracing his palm lines — comparing hand sizes and stroking his knuckles. he doesn’t even flinch, just listening to jeonghan’s story and nodding in all the right places; at some point, he even raises your joined hands to his lips and brushes a kiss over your knuckles, leaving you blushing with the slightest smirk tilting his lips.

MINGYU.

will drop everything to give you the hugs that you need and deserve (and i mean EVERYTHING)

good luck trying to get him to let go

the things i’d do to be hugged by him… those arms probably feel like the safest place in the world

it’s been one of those days — long and tiring and just wrong. which is why when mingyu hugs you in greeting as you step inside, it takes you all of two seconds to burst into tears.

“baby? are you — oh, sweetheart,” he gasps, as you start to shake into his chest. “don’t cry. c’mere. my baby, what is it? what happened?”

you can’t do anything but blubber helplessly, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest, pressing loving kisses everywhere he can reach. his arms stay around you the entire time, as he guides you to the couch, pulls you into his lap and soothes you with gentle touches and quiet murmurs. before he eventually starts cracking jokes — “i’ll buy out your company and never make you work again, if you want.” — and ordering your favourite takeout.

VERNON.

lets you do anything to him (2)

he’s so funny i feel like sometimes he’s just calling you dude but also he might just come out with the smoothest shit right when you don’t expect it

probably fiddles with your hair when he hold you

“vernon?”

“mm?” he glances up from him phone to find you standing in the doorway of the bedroom with round, pleading eyes. he knows immediately that you want something, and also knows immediately that he’ll grant you whatever it is. he always does, when you look at him like that.

you hesitate. “can i get a hug?”

as if he’d ever deny you that. he slides off the bed in one fluid motion, opening his arms and dropping his phone. “of course. come here.”

about a minute later, he attempts a pull away — you whine and tighten your arms, speaking into his shirt with a muffled plea. “just — a little longer? please?”

“as long as you want. i’ve got all day for you, baby.”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen headcanons #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo comfort #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol comfort #mingyu fluff #mingyu comfort #mingyu x reader #vernon fluff #vernon comfort #vernon x reader

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thejujvtsupost · 7 months

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Suguru Wants A Baby

F!reader holds a friend’s newborn baby, and it took exactly one moment for it to hit Geto. When he saw you holding your friend’s newborn, looking so natural and making silly faces to make the baby laugh, it clicked, he wants a baby with you. Your own little one to nurture and protect.

Notes: fem!reader, breeding kink, soft dom Geto, smut, vaginal sex, oral (f!receiving) and dirty talk. I’m serious this is literally just filthy - more under the cut.

Visiting with your friend who just had a baby boy was the highlight of your week. His little face and tiny feet had you cooing and making faces to keep him laughing.

Geto couldn’t look away from the scene, his pretty wife holding a cute baby so naturally- you didn’t think twice before getting him a bottle and burping him. You were happy to help your friend while her own husband was at work.

And when you were leaving, and you handed the baby back to your friend, your arms felt empty. You schooled your features before anyone could notice your utter disappointment and sadness.

Of course Geto noticed, which only made his thoughts run faster. If you want a baby, and he wants a baby… oh he was determined to give you a family on the spot.

He bided his time, as soon as you got home he would pounce. The car ride home was quiet but he didn’t interrupt your thoughts you were obviously deep into. He was patient, so patient despite his need for you, up until you started crying before you could take your shoes off.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He held you to his chest and you buried your face against it. Shaking your head to deny any problem existing. “C’mon, let me in. I can’t help unless you tell me what happened.”

“‘Want a baby ‘guru, I’m sorry.” Your sniffles were breaking his heart, as if he’d ever want you to apologize for something like that.

He tilted your face up and kissed you, slowly at first until it gave way for his urgency. You had to push him back to breathe, “You okay? Not mad?”

Geto groaned and spoke against your lips, “I’ll give you as many babies as you want, right now. Say the word, please say the word. Tell me you want my babies- our babies.” He was spiraling, unwilling to get distracted by anything other than you.

“‘Need you- want your babies in me.” Your thighs had been clenching from the first urgent kiss for any semblance of relief.

He took his shirt off and threw it behind him. “Jump.”

And you did, your legs around his waist; his hands tearing your shirt over your head and tossed somewhere unknown. Your bra was practically ripped from your body, nothing was going to keep your body hidden from him.

You shrieked and broke your kiss when he tossed you on the bed, he didn’t waste time before getting the rest of your clothes off and diving between your legs like he would die if he waited any longer to taste you.

“Fuck this pussy is so good to me, gonna get you pregnant and keep you that way- cute and round, ‘won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” You don’t know what came over him, but he was eating you out so good and adding his fingers to the mix, playing you like an instrument.

“C’mon need your cock, need you inside of me.” Hips unable to stop moving, your need for him only grew. You were more than wet enough, he typically pulled an orgasm out of you to make sure you wouldn’t feel pain from his considerable length and right now you hated him for it.

He pulled away from your folds and placed a hand on your stomach to hold you still. “Don’t rush me baby, my little pussy needs attention and I’m givin it to her. I’ll take care of you ‘n give you what you need.”

You moaned when he returned to sucking your clit and stroking you from the inside- it hit you so fast. Your orgasm caught you off guard and your legs snapped closed around your husband’s head. Your brain went fuzzy.

“That’s it sweetheart, so good f’me.” Geto took his time and let you come down nice and easy. There were few things he liked seeing more than your blissed out expression.

That’s not enough for him though, you were never left unsatisfied but you were in for a night of orgasm after orgasm. God he wanted to fuck his cum into you, breed you thoroughly until there was no possible way you weren’t pregnant. His pretty little wife round and swollen with their unborn baby- he couldn’t hold back.

Fully covering his body over yours to demand your attention, “How do you want it, how do you want me to breed you?” Your moan at his words was music to his ears.

“Need you deep” you pushed him off of you and flipped to your hands and knees, then arched your back and let your upper body rest on the mattress.

“Oh fuck…” your pink cunt dripping on display for him was too much for him to handle. Geto rushed to get the rest of his clothes off and lined up behind you and slid in.

As slowly as he could at first, he hadn’t stretched you out beforehand. But then you slammed your hips back onto him and- oh god he got so deep inside of you that you saw white. “Please- gimme everything daddy.” You looked back at him with glossy eyes and that was the last thread snapping. He drilled his cock into you with a pace that you didn’t know was achievable, you loved it.

“This what ya wanted baby? You need my cock in this little pussy of yours? Need bred like a good girl?” You wouldn’t be able to hear him over your own sounds if he wasn’t directly in your ear, his large frame dwarfing yours.

You could only nod with a high pitched keen that sounded like fuck me daddy. “Yeah ‘m gonna give ya every drop when this cunt milks me, gonna give ya baby after baby, keep ya pregnant for me. Just gotta stuff you full of my cum, knock you up.”

He’s losing himself in you, he pulls you up to your knees with his arm holding you up, his other hand holding your throat gently. The contrast between his thrusts and the care he put into his hand around your neck, only squeezing the side the tiniest bit to increase your pleasure; it had you fluttering around him.

“Pussy so tight f’me fuck feel me? Put your hand on your stomach, right over your womb m’bout to fill. Thats it, daddy’s so deep inside of you baby.” Pressing down over the bulge of his cock inside of you has you both getting loud in your shared pleasure.

It was over when he got his unoccupied hand down to your clit and rubbed it the way you liked, you tightened around him like a vice, your release squirted out around his cock and he spilled inside of you.

The few thrusts of overstimulation had you clenching tighter until a second mini orgasm followed.

‘S’good for me sweetheart, so good.” You’re not sure when or how it happened but you were laying on your side with your back against his chest, him still inside of you with his hand rubbing along your slightly bloated stomach. You let yourself be lulled into a nap from the post orgasm haze. Suguru sounded way too smug when he praised you.

Maybe you’d go again when you wake up- if you weren’t too sore that is…

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

#geto suguru #suguru smut #no use of y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk geto #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto x reader #getou suguru smut #geto smut #jjk x you #jujutsu geto #f reader #fem reader #smut

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old-lorarri · 5 months

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꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐋𝐍𝟒 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ a new music video and talk of a possible new couple sends flames though the internet but what if they have it wrong? ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ lando norris x fem! singer! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ author note . . . ❨ loved this idea so so much and Sabrina’s new music vid kinda slayed though idk about the whole church thing tbh so enjoy! ❩

❨ taglist | masterlist ❩

yourinstgaram

liked by milomanheim landonorris 96,278,091 others

yourinstagram i’m soooo sorry for your loss😊

thank u to this outstanding crew for executing the camp of my dreams so much love to you all

_miabarnes bennncareyyy rennapilar milomanheim kalikennedy daniellepriano ronnie_hart alfredoflores

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user MOTHER?!?!?!?

user woof woof

user god I can't wait for the music vid I KNOW ITS GONNA BE GOOOOD

user something is purring rn and it fs ain't a cat

user she when she looks sexy even though she is covered in blood

user the bi in me is SHAKING

milomanheim Would die 4 u fr ⤷ yourinstagram 😘 ⤷ user QUEEN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? ⤷ user MILO YOURE SO REALLLL ⤷ user u guys should work together again that was hot ⤷ user WOLD DIE 4 BOTH FR ⤷ user i’m so obsessed with this duo ⤷ user totally support this couple ⤷ user RIGHT THEY WOULD BE THE IT COUPLE ⤷ user You literally died by taking a picture of her butt... 😂

user god is a women

user a classic Y/N w

user lando creeping in the likes...always knew my twink had good taste

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youinstagram . 15hrs ago

seen by landonorris milomanheim 75,981,236 others

milomanheim

liked by yourinstagram olivarodrigo 67,289,376 others

milomanheim FEATHER VID 2NITE !!

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user The way she pulls all the hot Disney dudes 😩

user Telling my kids this is rapunzel and flynn rider

user Somebody husband him up already ⤷ user hey yourinstgram.... ⤷ user LMFAO ⤷ user facts.

user i was NOT expecting this duoooo

user slayed his twenty seconds screen time

user I need a movie or show with y’all as the main leads

user you being sneaky on TikTok

user MILO & Y/N? THIS IS A DREAM😍

user MY 2 FAV PEOPLE TOGHETWR WHAT

user ATE IT UP, down , and out

user im gonna cry lol

user am i tweaking

user my dream team

user im barking omfg the bi panic

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user MY RAPUNZEL AND FLYN

user I don’t know who I want more omg so hot

user It the pull for me

user I don’t know who I want to be more Milo or Y/N

user this duo i physically cant

user my biggest flex is that I was a Y/N L/N fan since 2015

user When I tell you my jaw dropped after seeing Milo

user you’re both so fineee! my flynn and rapunzel fr 😫

user WAIT THATS HIM HE SO FINE

user So u and milo…🤭

user I love how Milo had to put down his snacks first 🤣

user my bisexualness is coming out i can’t tell who i want more

user thoughts: she’s CONSISTENTLY BEEN THE MOMENT

user Feather music video is literally a masterpiece 🛐 thank you mother Sabrina

user OBSESSED IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT!!!

user They need to be in a rom com

user is it too soon to say parents?

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MILO :) hey Y/N just wanted to say thank you so much again for having me in your music video loved every second of it but there is another reason I texted I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner sometime in the future?

Y/N :) hate to break it to you buddy she is taken by me

MILO :) omg.... please don't run me over with your mclaren

Y/N :) i'll think about it now shhhh Y/N is asleep

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1 charles_leclerc 67,298,734 others

landonorris best disguise is ever (who is asleep on top of me rn)

coments have been disabed

─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Could you pls do a Sabrina carpenter FC were the reader made the song feathers and people saying how reader and milo should date but she is secretly in a relationship with lando and he gets jealous and takes charge.

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amuseoffyre · 9 months

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I’m emotionally ruined by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t broken out of his heavenly conditioning. He still loves doing good. He gets happy when people tell him he’s an angel and says “it’s nice to tell people about the good things you’ve done now that I’m not reporting to Heaven”. He will literally put himself in harm’s way to make sure he does the Good and Right thing.

It can’t be understated how much Heaven’s influence still impacts on him. Aziraphale has been created, ordained and conditioned to believe it and he can’t just switch it off or walk away. Crowley didn’t get the choice. He was Fallen. He was kicked out and - as per the rules of toxic and terrifying cults - Aziraphale was always told for centuries and millennia, Falling was the worst thing that could happen. If you’re bad, you’ll be forced out. If you’re bad, you’re not one of Us. You’re one of Them.

When he did something he perceived as Right (ie. saving innocent children from death), but knew it wasn’t what Heaven intended, he broke down. Crowley found him a crying, shaking wreck afterwards because he was so convinced he was Evil. He was so convinced he was going to be dragged to Hell and that he was now a demon because he did one thing that saved some children but because it wasn’t a specific directive, it was Bad.

It shapes so much about him and it’s why the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it. He’s happy and excited and he’s doing his human-life things and having a lovely time, but he’s also constantly stressed because of the Need To Do Good. From the moment Gabriel turns up, he’s a nervous wreck and is trying to hide it by Doing Good, by Solving the Problem, by Fixing Things, by being so active and reactive rather than letting himself think about it. It’s a sign of exactly how frantic he is that he starts giving away his books and letting humans touch them.

Watch his face when the Archangels show up unexpectedly: that isn’t joy. That’s blind terror. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing in Heaven’s eyes, even though he made the active choice to do so because it was the Right thing to do. He’s a Guardian and he will protect, but he is so very afraid of the repercussions, even now.

At the end of S1, Crowley said “they’re gearing up for the big one” so Aziraphale’s not oblivious. He knows a big one is coming. He knows something worse than the Antichrist will be on its way. And he’s trying so hard to pretend that everything is normal and fine and if he ignores all the looming bad stuff, it won’t happen. If we don’t say anything about it, nothing has to change.

But then the changes come knocking at his door holding a box and the choice is gone. He can keep trying to blinker himself to it, but then there are angels and demons in the bookshop and he’s had to use his halo and everything is falling apart.

So when he realises that he can get himself into a position where he can guarantee those repercussions won’t happen to Crowley? He will absolutely take it. He says himself “I don’t want to go back to Heaven”, but the instant the Metatron offers him a free pass for Crowley, to take Crowley out of both Heaven and Hell’s sightlines, to keep him safe (Another bee inside the hive, if you will), no wonder he grabs it with both hands.

The tragedy is that Crowley thinks that when they saved the world together, that was the end of Heaven’s influence in Aziraphale. When he was cast out the split between him and Heaven was sharp and clean. He doesn’t - he can’t - understand how deeply it has tangled around Aziraphale. It’s built into Aziraphale’s entire being and unravelling it isn’t that simple. Aziraphale’s trauma is a horrible, terrible Gordian knot and Crowley can’t understand that he couldn’t simply cut through it, because that’s just not how Aziraphale works.

#good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens #good omens spoilers #gos2 #go s2

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darkbluekies · 8 months

Note

i have been DREAMING of a silas torture scene!!! i have literally read, re-read, and re-re-read every word you’ve ever written about that man .. you have no IDEA how much I am going to eat up his torture story 🤭🤭 thank you for feeding us!!! <3<3

In the basement

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you find yourself in Silas' basement once again and he decides to try a new torture technique — which backfires.

Warnings: torture, violence, mentions of starvation, manipulation burning, boiling water, mentions of cuts, mentions of sawing off people's limbs, ripping out teeth and nails, blood, beating, (let me know if you find more, I have been editing and rewriting so much that I've forgotten what is in the story at this point)

Word count: 3.5k

You lift your head when you can hear footsteps coming towards you. The mumble of Silas men greeting someone is all you need to know who’s here to see you.

“There we have them”, Silas snickers and clicks his tongue amusedly. He’s acting as if he’s talking to a child. “Are we ready to act like a big girl/boy again?”

You glare up at him, where he stands with his hands in his front pockets. If you could, you’d tackle him until he hits his head, but your ankles are chained to the cold floor.

“I fucking hate you”, you mutter coldly.

“Oh, do you now?” he chuckles cockily and grabs your chin firmly, tilting it up to look at him.

Your neck gets strained beyond its limits. Silas is tall and refuses to crouch down to make it easier for you to look up at him.

"Still disobeying?" he asks. "I thought you'd be good by now. I miss you, little thing. I want to have you back in my arms. Who am I supposed to hug at night?"

"Hug a cactus", you spit. "Suits your pleasant personality-"

Silas chuckles and grabs a fistful of your hair. He sinks down in front of you and forces you to look at him. Your eyes widen in fear and your scalp burns at his fingertips. You can feel your heart beat harshly in your chest. Suddenly, you remember why you've been afraid of him before — why his techniques always work. You seem to forget the basement when you've been let out, everything turning into a blur. All you remember is that you do not want to go back. But somehow, you always manage to.

"You don't want me to be nice, do you?" he asks you. "Want me to break that pretty little head until you're bleeding, hm?"

You shake your head quickly. Suddenly, you've figuratively your tongue — and if you're not careful you'll soon literally lose it.

Silas lets go of your hair and stands up. You keep your head down.

“Hm, what should we do to teach you a lesson?” Silas thinks out loud and takes a hold of your hand. “Should we … break some fingers?”

You shake your head quickly and try to take your hand back. Silas holds it tightly and brings out a lighter from his pocket. You panic and try to rip your hand out of his iron grip. Silas traps you against the wall with his knee and elbow keeping you in place. He shifts his bodyweight onto you and traps your arm onto the wall by securing your wrist to the surface. With his other hand, he brings out his lighter. You squirm desperately under him.

“Alright, I’m not going to break your pretty fingers”, he says. “You need them to please me.”

“Please, please, don’t!” you screech and try to kick him. “Silas, don’t!”

He lights it.

“Do you know how my heart feels right now, Y/N?” he asks calmly. “It’s burning. I think it’s only fair for you to feel it too, to understand how hurt I feel.”

He moves the flame to your arm, holding it under your skin. You cry out in pain and apply more force to your wiggling. A stance of burning flesh reaches your nose. Silas holds the flame for a good thirty seconds before removing it. He brushes some soot off of your arm and bends down to kiss it. He moves on to your next arm, then your waist. You finally manage to pull your arms free and push him away. You try to sink down on the floor, but he lifts you up by your shoulders.

“I need you to stand up for me”, Silas says. “Still with me?”

Your face scrunches up in pain. Silas shakes you carefully.

“Still with me, baby?” he asks in a loving voice that doesn’t match his manners.

You nod weakly. Silas smiles slightly and places you back at the wall. Your poor legs are still cuffed and feeling like jelly. Silas chuckles.

He looks over his shoulder as two of his men come in with four buckets of water. You stare at them with wide eyes. This is new.

“You know I can’t hurt you”, Silas says and walks over to the buckets.

“Can’t hurt me?” you repeat in disbelief and show your arms full of cuts and bruises. “You’ve burned me! You’ve cut me!”

“You should see what he does to people he doesn’t like”, one of his men smirks.

“Don’t talk to them”, Silas warns him and grabs the man by his collar. “Or you’ll get to taste what I do to those I don’t like.”

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir.”

Silas lets him go and grabs one of the buckets. He walks back to you where you stand against the wall. You want to sink into it. With your eyes glued onto the bucket, you open your mouth to ask what he’s going to do but you don’t have time to do so before he throws it at you. You hide your face with your arms and scream. Boiling hot water crashes against your body. Your dirty clothes stick onto you and quickly grow cold. You breathe heavily and look at Silas in shock and pain. He has already turned around to get the next bucket. Suddenly, everything’s ice cold and you scream again. Somehow, it’s worse this time. The quick temperature change feels like sharp needles penetrating your skin. You’re sure that Silas’ men upstairs can hear you by now.

You shake your head in desperation as you see Silas pick up the next bucket.

“Silas, please-”, you cry out.

“You caused this yourself, Y/N”, Silas reminds you. “You have one simple rule: do not leave me. And what did you do?”

You stay quiet. He throws the next buckets full of water. Scorching hot. You scream even louder and start to sob.

“What did you do?” Silas asks testingly and walks over to the last bucket.

“I-I tried to run away!” you cry out and hug your shaking body.

“And?”

He picks up the next bucket.

“I talked to a cop!” you sob and press yourself closer to the cement wall. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do that again! Please don’t hurt me anymore! Please, Silas, I-I’ll do anything!”

Silas scoffs. “You wanted to leave me, get me in trouble and destroy everything I’ve built up these last ten years! And I’m just supposed to … forgive you?”

You sob. You know how proud Silas is of his imperium. He's spent the last ten years building it to become the most fearless and powerful criminal in the country. You just wanted him to feel as helpless as you do.

Silas throws the last bucket at you and an icy waterfall greets you. One last scream leaves your panicked body. You sink down in a curled up ball as you hug your body, trying to keep some kind of warmth and shield. You sob and whimper with your head full of fear and nerve system confused. Silas throws the plastic bucket to the side and walks over to you. He sinks down in front of your body and grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, like he did before.

“What do I need to do to make you obedient?” he asks. “Do I need to kill everyone to make you stay with me?”

“Please …”, you plead through hammering teeth. “Please don’t, please-”

He hushes and cups your cold, wet cheeks.

“You only need me anyway”, he says softly. “All those other people — your family, your friends — they don’t care about you like I do, do they? They just pretend to spare your feelings. Have they even tried to find you? Or help you? They’re probably going on with their lives the same, as if nothing has changed, in this precise moment.”

“You don’t know that”, you whisper and sniffle.

“I do know. I have been watching them.” Silas moves closer to you. “If they really cared about you, they’d tell you when you did something wrong, and then help you fix it. That's what families do, they help you become a better version of yourself. They wouldn’t lie and let you destroy and embarrass yourself. The reason I put you down here, Y/N, is because you're my family, someone I care very much about. I have to teach you a lesson to make sure that you don’t do anything dumb. You’re a danger to yourself. You need me to take care of you, to teach you what is right and wrong.” He caresses your cheeks. “If only you didn’t do such stupid things I wouldn’t have to do these hurtful things. You know I love you.”

You sob and look down.

"Say it back, Y/N", he urges you. "Say that you love me."

"I … I love you", you mumble.

"Good girl/boy."

Silas warm lips presses a hard kiss to your forehead before standing up. You sit frozen while he walks up the stairs.

Silas leaves you alone for another twenty four hours before he walks down again, to see if you’ve broken yet. If you haven’t, he’s going to take your clothes and carve in his name in your leg to force you to see his name every time you open your eyes. He sees you curled up in a ball in the corner of the dark, cold basement. You’re not moving.

“Are you sleeping, baby?” he smirks. “Rise and shine, we have work to do! We’re not done yet.”

You don’t move. You must be weak from hunger.

“If you act well today, I might get you something to eat”, he smiles and walks over to you. “Would you like that?”

He’s much, much nicer to you than to the other people who have the displeasure of ending up in his basement. He would never talk to them as sweetly as he does to you, never negotiate with them like this. He would never change his torture methods to be nicer to anyone else but you.

“Y/N.”

You don’t give him any attention. Silas rolls his eyes and grabs your hair to turn your face to him. You moan out a weak painful sound. Something’s wrong, Silas can tell that. He sinks down in front of you and presses his hand to your forehead.

Shit.

Silas can feel how his heart skips a beat. He should have realized that you would have gotten sick if he left you in this cold basement in your ice cold, soaked clothes and hair. He gulps and cups your cheeks.

“Are you awake?” he asks quickly. “Baby, look at me.”

You open your eyes slowly and look at him with dull, glossy eyes. Silas looks over his shoulder, towards the stairs.

“Get me the keys to the cuffs!” he roars.

He turns back to you and hastily brushes the hair out of your face.

“Hold out, darling”, he says softly. “You’ll be taken care of as soon as I get the key.”

You cough out a weak sound that seem to come from deep inside of you. Silas helps you by patting your back.

A woman comes down and gives Silas’ his keys. He hurries to uncuff your ankles and pick your warm, limp body up in his arms. He hurries up the basement stairs and then up the next stairs to your bedroom. He takes your cold clothes off of you and gives you new, dry ones. His sweatpants, his t-shirt. You black out right away. He takes the time to take care of your older cuts and your newer burns before tucking you in bed. Silas watches you with a burning gaze. He clenches his jaw before walking out of the room. His second in command stands downstairs.

"You", he says angrily.

"Yes, boss?" he asks and looks up from his phone. "What can I help you with?"

"Go up to the bedroom and watch over Y/N. I don't want them to be alone."

"Sure, but what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to work a bit. I need to get my mind on other things."

"I will watch them for you."

"Thank you." He grabs his shoulder. "You know the rules. Recite them."

"I will not talk to them if not necessary. I will not answer any questions and I will not touch them if not necessary. I will let you know right away if something is wrong.”

Silas nods and walks away. He walks into his office and sits down behind his desk. Although he tries to concentrate on paperwork, anger is boiling through his veins. He doesn’t know what he’s angry at — himself, you or his men. Himself for forgetting that you could get extremely sick, his men for not warning him … or you for getting out of your punishment before he had gotten to the point he wanted. He tells himself that this sudden sickness is a part of your punishment, but it doesn’t help his racing heart.

Silas pours himself a glass of brandy, in hopes to calm his nerves. The liquid burns down his throat and warms up his body, but it doesn’t help. Before he can stop himself, he throws the glass as hard as he can against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces. The door opens quickly.

“Boss, what’s wrong?” one of his men asks.

“Get me someone I can mangle or else I’ll go insane”, Silas breathes out through gritted teeth. “Take someone from the street if you have to — just bring me someone I can kill.”

You open your eyes and feel how a lump has grown in your throat. You try to cough and rip your entire vocal chords with it. A cough attack erupts from deep inside your stomach. Every cough hurts worse than the one before and every breath in feels as dry as an ocean.

“Oh, careful”, a voice says and helps you sit up. He holds a glass of water to your lips. “Drink up.”

You recognize the man beside you. Silas’ second in command? Where’s Silas?

“You’re awake”, he states and stands up from his chair after putting down the glass. ��I’ll go get the boss-”

You panic and shake your head.

“Please stay.” You’re caught by surprise that your voice comes out as nasally and thick as it does, although it shouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. “Don’t get him.”

“I have rules to follow.”

“I have to ask you something first.”

The second in command sighs and turns his head over his shoulder to look at you. He looks tired, but you can’t let him leave until you’ve had your question answered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m not allowed to answer your questions”, he says.

“I really need an answer”, you plead.

“Silas will answer-”

“I don’t want his answer. He’ll lie to me. Please.”

He sighs and turns to you with his arms crossed over his muscular chest. “Let me hear the question first.”

“What do Silas do to the people he doesn’t like?”

Silas runs his hand through his sweaty hair. The man in front of him cries out. Silas has continued to throw punch after punch, using this strange man as a boxing doll. His fists are sore and bloody. Sweat drips down his back. The man in front of him has gotten his teeth pulled out with pliers, his hair has gotten cut down to his bleeding roots and nails have been ripped off. Silas had forgotten to gag him at first but the second the first loud scream exited the man's body, all he could see in front of him was your terrified eyes waking up to it.

"Boss, Y/N’s awake", a voice behind him says. Second in command.

"Fuck, I'm all bloody", Silas mutters and looks down at his black jeans and shirt that he's pulled the sleeves up on. "I can’t go up like this. Get me a washcloth."

The second in command drowns a cloth in a bucket of water. Silas uses it to scrub his arms, neck and face while walking up to you. When he opens the door, he finds you sitting up in bed, hugging your knees close to your chest.

"Hi, baby, how are you feeling?" he asks and sits down on the side of the bed.

Your eyes scan hum warily, stopping at his arms. Traces of blood can still be visible in the hair strands. Silas pulls down his sleeves.

"Don't worry about that", he says with an embarrassed smile. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"It hurts."

Silas reaches out to caress your cheek, but you flinch away. He frowns.

"I'm not going to hurt you anymore", he says carefully.

“Why are you bloody?” you whisper. “What have you done?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Why do you have to like me? Why do I have to go through this?”

You start to ramble for yourself and Silas hushes loudly.

“You’re not making any sense, little thing”, he says. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

“Why do you do those things to people?” you almost hyperventilate before starting to cough.

Tears flow down your cheeks. You’re absolutely hysteric. Silas freezes. You know something.

“Why do I do what?” he asks quickly, grabbing your shoulders tightly. “Did someone tell you anything? What did they say?”

You sob and shake your head.

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me what someone has put in your head-”, Silas says sternly.

“You saw off people’s limbs!” you sob. “You … y-you-”

“Y/N, enough. Who told you?”

You don’t answer. Another cough attack erupts. Silas starts to get annoyed.

“Y/N, who told you?” he asks through gritted teeth. “If you’re trying to hide someone, I’m throwing you back into the basement right away, with a fever or not.”

You sigh and glance up at him in pure fear. “Your second in command …”

“That motherfucker-”

Silas lets go off your shoulders and fly up from the bed. He can’t help but feel a deep ache in his heart. His second in command has been with him since he started his ‘organization’ — he’s been with him through thick and thin, had his back through everything. Him, out of anyone, knows the rules better. Silas trusts him to keep an eye on you alone, knowing that he would never betray him … or at least believing that.

He grabs his second in command and throws him against the wall.

“Traitor!” Silas growls. “You told them?!”

“They said that they had to know!” the second in command answered loudly, defending himself. “They wanted to know if you really love them! They wanted to know if you really were softer on them than others! They thought you’d lie if they asked you! I did you a fucking favour!”

They meet eyes for a few seconds before Silas curses and lets him go. He backs away, running his hand through his black hair.

“Silas, I didn’t do anything to betray you”, the second in command says calmly. “I answered Y/N’s question in your favor. If I didn’t, they’d be even more wary of you.”

Silas doesn’t answer. His head and his heart are battling.

He notices how you’re sitting at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing, coughing into your arm. You’ve dragged yourself out of bed to stop him, but you couldn’t get far enough before your weak, aching body betrayed you.

“Y/N, what are you doing out of bed?!” Silas says sternly. “You need to rest!”

He runs up the stairs and picks you up. You’re tucked in again.

“If you leave the bed again, I’ll have to cuff you”, he says carefully. “I don’t want you running around — especially when you’re sick.”

You’re very familiar with the chains that he uses to keep you in bed. Silas climbs sinto bed and sits on top of your legs to make sure you stay in place.

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to me”, he says and cups your cheeks. “I could never do those things to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“You hurt me”, you remind him through sobs. “Even if it wasn’t as bad as you do to others, you still hurt me!”

“You know I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to make sure you don’t do stupid things like this — asking my men about my work. You know better than this and I know that. That’s why I’m helping you get back on the right track. If I don’t, you become like this, all frantic and scared. Why don’t you just let me protect you? Aren’t you tired of getting your heart in trouble? I know you are, baby …”

You sob which to him seems to be all the answers he needs.

“Trust me”, Silas says. “Trust that I know what’s best for you and you will never have to feel this kind of pain and fear again, okay?”

You can feel how your body starts to relax against your will. Silas wipes your tears and kisses your forehead.

“My pretty, little baby”, he whispers comfortingly. “Everything will be okay. As long as I'm here, nothing will ever happen to you. I'll make sure of it, I'll help you.”

You sob and close your eyes. Once again, he wins.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere oc

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gimmethatagustd · 2 months

Text

wanna stream a porno | kth

At this point, attempting to deny that you have feelings for Taehyung is laughable. Even his subscribers can sense the chemistry between the two of you.

○ Pairing: Dom!Taehyung x Sub!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Frenemies to lovers, sex work, fluff (?), smut

○ Word Count: 4,846

○ Warnings: Sex work (cam), MC uses they/them pronouns, Tae refers to MC as bunny and bun - aka rope bunny which is the term for the person being tied up in a shibari scene, bdsm, bondage, impact play, spanking, use of degrading language - that isn't actually meant to be mean, voyeurism, exhibition kink, Tae makes MC call him daddy so they won't dox him lmfao but it's not a kink - he's doing it as a joke to tease MC, blow job, vaginal fingering, sex toys, crying during sex, subspace/dropping, unprotected vaginal sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, implied aftercare

○ Notes: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, BESTIES 🫦 I hope you enjoy the final installment of The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles! Photographer Tae will be missed 💔 I definitely did not proofread this, so abandon all hope, ye who enter! My brain is literally broken.

○ Post Date: February 14, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? One Of The Girls (Sped Up) - The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depp

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

“Too tight?” Taehyung murmurs against the curve of your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

It’s embarrassing how your body reacts to the sound of his low, velvety voice. You'd snorted when Taehyung first told you that people on the internet paid money to listen to his dirty talk and watch him jerk off. There was no fucking way; he had to be lying. You’d been sure of it.

But now…

Taehyung reaches around your body and tugs on the rope he’s just tied your wrists with. It looks rough, black, and twisted but smooth as it rubs against your skin when you move.

You shiver and shake your head, forgetting what you’d discussed earlier in the day until it’s too late. The smack to your ass stings, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any sound.

“What did I tell you, bun?” Taehyung asks softly, running his palm across the skin he just smacked. He squeezes your asscheek and jiggles it before removing his hand.

“I have to use my words,” you speak up like he told you to, even though your voice is hoarse with desire and nervousness. Because, fuck, are you nervous.

“Mhmm…” Taehyung hums in agreement, though he sounds distracted.

You can’t see him from where you kneel on the floor in his bedroom, but you can feel it when he gets up. If you wanted to, you could twist around to face him. It would be difficult, though, with how much of your body is tied up.

Taehyung spent at least twenty minutes carefully weaving intricate patterns against your naked skin, crossing the rope in what almost looks like a star formation across your back that wraps around to the front of your body, keeping your arms tied to your sides and your hands bound in front of you. The rope cages your chest like a harness and extends down to wrap around your legs, forcing you into a kneeling position and making you unable to straighten your legs.

It took you three weeks of practicing before Taehyung could fully tie you up without you going into a panic attack.

“It’s not too tight,” you announce after clearing your throat.

You watch as Taehyung circles your body until he stands in front of you. He reaches out to flick his middle finger against the underside of your chin, prompting you to tilt your head back to look up at him.

“My little rope bunny looks so pretty, all tied up for me,” Taehyung says with a sparkling grin that makes your whole body flush with heat.

“I want to tell you off so badly right now,” you hiss through gritted teeth. Your frustration only makes Taehyung’s grin widen.

“I bet you do. It’s a shame you can’t, but rules are rules.” Taehyung shrugs, not at all nonchalant in his mocking tone.

You close your eyes as he trails his finger down your throat and past your collarbones until he reaches one of your nipples. Usually, it would take more than a gentle brush of a fingertip against your nipple for you to feel aroused, but there’s something about being tied up that has heightened your senses. Every minor touch has your nerves sparking and fraying at the ends. Taehyung isn’t even doing anything, and you’re already wet and aching.

“Taehyung,” you do your best to sound steady and fail.

“Let me fix the cameras and figure out what I’m gonna wear, okay? I’ll be quick; I promise.”

Taehyung rearranged all the furniture in his bedroom to leave an open spot in the corner of the room where he set up cameras and photography lighting. His laptop rests on an end table nearby, the screen showing a mirrored image of you kneeling on the floor on a pale pink silk sheet, fluffy pillows surrounding you in a half-circle. It’s all very Y2K, softcore aesthetic – not what you’d expect from Taehyung. His followers are mostly young women, though, and he says he likes to play up his soft side for them.

It sounds ridiculous, but there’s something about being tied up in such a gentle environment that’s making your pussy throb.

Taehyung is quick, as he promised. He returns, shirtless and wearing a pair of black joggers to match the black rope wrapped around your body. You drag your eyes over his torso, admiring the flat plane of his abdomen and the swell of his pecs. Smooth – it’s the best word to describe Taehyung. His voice, body, and charisma when he murmurs sweet seductions in your ear are always so smooth.

When he catches you staring, Taehyung winks at you. It makes you flustered despite your desire to remain neutral, and you quickly look down to find something else to focus your attention on. In Taehyung’s hands is a long, rectangular purple box. He sets it down next to you on the floor and opens the lid.

You gasp when you see what’s inside.

“Taehyung…”

“It’s for later. Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung says softly, pressing his index finger against your parted lips to quiet you.

On instinct, you close your lips around Taehyung’s finger and suck it gently, swirling your tongue around it. Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed for a few seconds until he pulls his hand away.

“You’re such a slut.”

“Fuck you.”

You can’t help but grin when Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you. He’s an idiot, but you love it. You love him, maybe. To be determined.

Or never. Never is also fine.

“So… what the fuck is gonna happen now? I’m starting to cramp,” you complain as Taehyung messes around with his laptop.

“What?” Taehyung spins around quickly, nearly sending one of his floor lamps crashing when his elbow collides with the stand. “You’re in pain? Where? Let me loosen–”

“Oh my god, Taehyung, I’m fine. I just don’t feel like kneeling naked on the fucking floor while you dick around!”

With a snort, Taehyung turns his back on you.

“I’m just trying to take care of my little movie star, alright?”

The nickname, if that’s what you can even call it, makes your stomach flutter. It doesn’t matter that you’re trying your best to stay unaffected by Taehyung’s bullshit; Taehyung has you under his spell like he always does.

“I know what to say…” you insist with a pout, flexing your fingers. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good…”

It’s elementary, but all the prep Taehyung made you do leading up to this moment showed you how important having a system is, be it a random safe word or the colors. What you don’t want to tell Taehyung is how comforting the rope is. You don’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that you like being restrained. It’s like a tight embrace, and the rope causes goosebumps to spread across your body when its silkiness rubs against your skin every time you shift positions.

Watching you over his shoulder, Taehyung calls you softly, “I’m going to start the session if that’s okay?”

You nod, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you hear the little pings from Taehyung’s laptop, indicating that people are paying to join the livestream. It’s still shocking that Taehyung has such a large following. However, it makes sense now that he has been so interested in erotic photography and film for his projects as a university student studying art. Funny how your roommate, Hoseok, never bothered to tell you that his friend does amateur porn – though Taehyung was quick to make it clear that he has never had anyone else on his stream before you.

You’re special.

You wonder who might be sitting on the other end, paying to watch Taehyung pleasure himself every Wednesday night.

“It’s hump day,” Taehyung had said with an exasperated sigh when you’d asked why he chose Wednesdays, as if you were the stupidest person on the planet for asking such a question.

The worst part is wondering if someone watching Taehyung’s stream will recognize you. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from showing his face, but he’d offered you a mask or only to use camera angles that wouldn’t expose your identity. You’d turned down both offers, though you can’t remember why. You can’t remember much of anything, your mind going blank the moment Taehyung addresses the anonymous subscribers waiting for porn.

“Hey everyone, it’s nice to see you all again this week,” Taehyung greets his followers with a deeper and richer voice than you’ve ever heard him use. It makes your body tingle. “For those of you following me on my socials or who joined last week, you’ll know I promised to do something special for Valentine’s Day, right?”

You can’t see the laptop screen; Taehyung is standing in front of it. He’s also blocking the camera, so the people logged into the session can’t see you yet.

“I have a special guest,” Taehyung shifts to the side so you’re in view, “This is Bunny, and it’s their first time on camera like this, so please be kind.”

Unsure of what to do, you wave your fingers in a greeting, unable to do much else since you’re all tied up. It must be enough because Taehyung smiles when he looks at you, and you feel your face heat up from the gentle gesture.

Luckily, Taehyung’s attention quickly returns to the livestream chat. Apparently, Jimin is hanging out in his bedroom, moderating the chat to ensure no one posts anything inappropriate. Knowing Jimin will be watching excites you a little bit.

“Ah, no, we’re not dating,” Taehyung chuckles, and it’s strange to be able to say that you know Taehyung well enough to know that this laughter isn’t genuine. “Don’t get any ideas, though. Trust me. Our little bun might look harmless, but it’s a ruse.”

You can’t help but snort. You’d think Taehyung is stalling, but you’ve learned that his subscribers expect a sort of parasocial relationship with him. He usually warms up by feeding into that. As weirdly cute as it is, your nerves are making you impatient.

“Even though it’s my bun’s first time, I don’t think we need to take it easy on them,” Taehyung smirks into the camera, and more pings ring through the bedroom.

Each ping indicates that the livestream viewers are leaving messages in the chat and sending Taehyung money to request specific actions – actions he refuses to tell you about because that would ruin all the fun.

“Hmm…” Taehyung murmurs, eyes dragging from the streaming platform’s chat feature to you, wrapped up like a pretty present for him. The look is weighty and dark, which Taehyung has never had while looking at you.

Suddenly embarrassed, you drop your gaze as Taehyung approaches where you kneel.

“Are you ready, bun?” Taehyung’s question is softer than the look he gives you.

You nod in return and hope your nerves aren’t visible to Taehyung’s loyal fans. It would suck to fuck this up for him, as much as he annoys you. Admittedly, ever since that impromptu threesome with Jimin, Taehyung has been acting different around you. He’s been almost… sweet.

Taehyung takes out a black, wide-end riding crop from the purple box. He hits the palm of his hand with it a few times as though testing it out. He looks good, the muscles in his biceps shifting and bulging every time he winds up to flick the crop. Your entire body shudders when his dark eyes flit down to meet yours.

“How many times do I have to tell you to speak up, hm?”

Taehyung falls into character quicker than you expect. It gives you whiplash watching him push back his hair, now a light minty color that looks pretty against the pink surrounding you, his gaze an oppressive force crushing you harder than the rope ever could. Your attention briefly falls on the laptop when a few pings ring out.

What if people don’t like you? What if you don’t do well? You’d agreed to do this because Taehyung wanted to expand his portfolio, just like every other time you agreed to spend time with him. You both know that isn’t why you’re here, even if neither of you want to say it out loud.

“Bun.” Using the flat end of the crop, Taehyung lifts your chin to look at him instead of the laptop. “Don’t think about them. Just focus on me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Taehyung drags the crop down your chest, tapping lightly at your tits to watch them bounce against the black rope. Goosebumps rush across your skin like waves in the wake of the crop’s path down your body.

“How many should I give you?”

You blink a few times, eyes suddenly bleary as you watch Taehyung walk around to stand behind you. The camera captures your side profile, allowing viewers to see you and Taehyung clearly. Despite Taehyung’s reassuring words, it’s hard not to think about the anonymous people watching Taehyung caress your body.

“How many what?” Your breath hitches when Taehyung’s hand replaces the crop to run up the length of your spine until he reaches the back of your neck.

“For your punishment, bun. How many hits do you deserve?” Taehyung asks, his voice with a deep timbre. “Lean forward.”

Taehyung squeezes the back of your neck and pushes, forcing your upper body down a bit further while you stay kneeling. Lifting the crop, he smacks your ass three times in quick succession, each hit a sharp sting that makes your body jolt.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you struggle to keep your balance. “Is that really necessary?”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, and even though you can’t see him, you’re sure he has an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

“Count them,” he murmurs loud enough for the stream to pick up.

It’s strange how pliant you become with each hit. Something about the pain zaps something in your brain, sending your nervous system haywire until the stings turn into pleasure. Taehyung focuses each hit on the same spot until your skin becomes tender, but he doesn’t stop until your entire body shakes.

“T-twenty,” you count with a shudder, tears lining your eyelashes and fingers squeezing the ropes on your chest to give you something to hold onto, though it does nothing to ground.

“Very good.” It’s a simple statement, but Taehyung’s praise does something to you. Either that or it’s the feeling of the crop being dragged over your sore asscheek to dip inward.

You gasp when Taehyung pushes the crop through your pussy, spreading your lips open and running the crop along your folds. You’re soaking wet and on edge from him spanking you, so the glide is easy for Taehyung as he begins rubbing your clit. The crop is warm from your body heat, and though the shape is sharp and angular, any amount of stimulation feels good.

“Please,” you beg, bending forward further to expose more of your pussy.

The ropes around your legs keep your thighs spread, putting you on display for easy access. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure your arousal glistens in the bright lighting, and you can feel your juices leak down your folds.

Taehyung runs his thumb through your pussy lips, swishing your arousal around, dragging up and down your clit before he eventually sinks his index and middle fingers into your pussy.

His name almost slips out when your thighs begin to shake. You want to call out his name and beg him to fuck you, even though everything in you doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction. It’s just too good, and you haven’t fucked since that time with Jimin. Taehyung said it would be better that way to help with your nerves, but now you’re feeling desperate, and you hate the feeling of needing to be filled.

“Fuck, look at you. You like being tied up like this, don’t you?” Taehyung smirks when he tosses the crop to the side and uses his other hand to stimulate your clit while he continues fucking you with his fingers.

You moan loudly, completely forgetting about the people watching Taehyung getting on his knees to finger you, twisting each time he pulls out, just to plunge back in and press downward to stimulate your front wall.

Remembering the rules, you swallow your pride and do what Taehyung wants.

“Yes, daddy.”

It’s humiliating to call Taehyung that. You hate it, but you can’t say his real name on air, and this was what he’d told you to call him – or else you’d be punished. He won’t let you cum if you don’t behave. Though you can’t deny how good Taehyung sounds when he groans at the name, nor how good it feels when he speeds up his fingers.

“Say it again,” Taehyung murmurs, leaning forward to press his bare chest to your back so he can reach your ear. “Baby, say it again.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck.”

Grabbing your hips, Taehyung yanks you back so he can switch places with you, now kneeling in front of you. Being on this side gives him a better view of the livestream chat. Whatever he finds there makes him smile, something lopsided and suspicious.

“They do have a pretty pussy, don’t they?” Taehyung grins into the camera, reaching forward to cup your pussy. He crowds your space, forcing your face against his crotch when he leans in.

Despite how embarrassing the action is, you mouth at the bulge in his joggers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, knowing Taehyung might scold you but uncaring. “Fuck me already.”

A slap to your tender ass makes you cry out in pain.

“Our friends think I need to do something about your bratty mouth, bun,” Taehyung points out with his arms crossed against his firm chest. “They’re right, of course. You’ve always been so bratty with me.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss quietly, both hoping no one hears you and also that they will.

“You’re cute when you’re acting like a slutty little bitch.”

Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek and turns to the box that had held the riding crop. The insults scratch some itch in the back of your brain, and your pussy betrays you by pulsing with need.

From the box, Taehyung pulls out a pink cordless wand vibrator. The head is smooth and fat, the rest of the wand sleek like Taehyung’s fingers as they grip around the handle. Anticipation burns in the pit of your stomach while you wait for Taehyung to turn the wand on and press it against your swollen, neglected clit.

Instead, once the wand is on, Taehyung presses against the bulge in his joggers.

“Oh my god,” you moan as Taehyung drags the wand up his cock until he reaches the head. He circles it slowly, hips subtly thrust forward.

It makes sense that people pay to watch Taehyung masturbate. He’s pretty when he does it, staring directly into your eyes as he whimpers, breathy and sweet.

Each of his little moans makes you wetter, and your body continues to tremble with need. It’s so unbelievably hot how he tilts his head back, exposing the V of his jaw and his Adam’s apple, bobbing each time he swallows.

“Do you think I’m pretty, bun?” Taehyung smirks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he finally removes the wand from his clothed cock. It’s hard to see the wet patch in his clothes from how dark the material is, but you know it’s there.

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper as Taehyung grabs a hold of your jaw and gives you a quick but firm squeeze that pushes your cheeks inward.

“I know you do.”

Letting go of your face, Taehyung hooks his thumbs in his joggers and pulls down far enough to take out his cock. It bobs and hangs heavy in front of your face, close enough that the tip brushes your cheek and smears precum across your face.

“Be a good bun and suck my cock, yeah?”

Not needing to be told twice, you lean forward to lap at the precum dribbling from Taehyung’s slit, making him groan. His body trembles slightly as you suck him into your mouth, and it feels good to know you’re not the only one affected.

Reaching for the wand again, Taehyung runs the tip along his shaft as you suckle the head of his cock. You can feel the vibrations in your mouth, and the sensation seems to travel down the rest of your body as your pussy pulses.

“Fuck,” Taehyung moans, throwing his head back as you take more of his cock down your throat. “Don’t go any faster. Keep it nice and slow.”

He only lets you suck him off for a bit longer, just enough to get his cock nice and wet from gagging around him. Then he tugs on your ropes, pulling you off of his cock as you gasp for air.

“You okay?” Taehyung brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, wiping away spit and precum, you’re sure. It’s disgusting, but he’s so gentle when he does it that your face grows hot.

“I’m fine.”

“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. Been thinking about it for weeks.”

It isn’t until Taehyung cradles the side of your face and slots his lips with yours that you realize you haven’t even kissed. You usually don’t, too caught up in the carnal need to consume each other in other ways.

But kissing Taehyung feels good.

He holds you gently as your lips glide together, Taehyung tasting himself on your tongue and moaning into your mouth when he does. You pant against each other in between kisses, Taehyung using the opportunity to bite and suck on your bottom lip until you’re pushing yourself against him, seeking more. You just want to be close, closer.

“Turn around,” he breathes against your spit-slicked lips. It isn’t easy, but he helps you move until you’re facing away from him.

Without being told, you begin to lower your upper body onto the floor, but Taehyung stops you with an arm around your chest.

“Wait.” It’s spoken against your ear, his breath hot like your core as it pulses when you realize what Taehyung is doing.

He turns on the wand to the lowest vibration setting and carefully slips it through the rope wrapped around your hips. Placement presses the head of the wand directly to your clit.

“I can’t,” you squeak, hunching over as the subtle vibrations ripple through you. Normally, the setting would be too low to get you off quickly, but Taehyung has been edging you this whole time.

“It’s okay if you cum, baby. I wanna see how many times I can make you cum.”

Taehyung bites the curve of your ear before shoving the middle of your back until your upper body rests on the floor and your ass is in the air. He’s gentle when he presses his cock against your entrance, the glide easy from how sloppy wet you are. You can hear him bottom out, the sound of your arousal gushing around his cock with each wet slap of his thighs against yours as he thrusts in and out of you.

It only takes three deep strokes before you cum, pussy fluttering around Taehyung’s cock and your body shaking underneath him. The ropes prevent you from wriggling and writhing, and the vibrator on your clit prolongs your orgasm. You feel like it never ends, just wave after wave of pleasure, making your body lock up.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Tae-” You’re cut off by Taehyung’s hand slapped across your mouth.

“Behave, bun,” he growls, never letting up his pace despite how violently your body reacts to the prolonged orgasm.

Grabbing the rope tied around your back, Taehyung pulls on it, forcing you to rock back and forth on his cock at the pace he wants. You’re so wet that he slips in and out of you with wet squelches loud enough to be heard by all his subscribers.

“Oh my god,” you moan as your body rocks against the pretty sheets and fluffy pink pillows. It helps stop you from chafing against the floor, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is how good Taehyung feels, his cock filling you up and his hands tightening the hold the ropes have on the most sensitive parts of your body.

“God, you’re always so fucking creamy,” Taehyung groans, slapping your ass to watch it jiggle on his cock.

You feel another orgasm ripple through you, having barely recovered from the other one. Taehyung fucks you through it still and then fucks you through the next one.

By the time you’ve cum for the fourth time, tears stream down your face.

“Please,” you sob, the buzz of the vibrator and Taehyung’s moans flooding your brain until there’s nothing left.

“One more, bun,” Taehyung grunts as he reaches over to pull the wand out of the ropes. He tosses it to the side and replaces it with his fingers, rubbing quick circles over your clit. “Come on, give me one more so we can finish together.”

The remaining pressure inside of you bursts the moment Taehyung starts playing with your clit. You feel your pussy gush around his cock as you cum even more than before, so much that you can feel it leak down your thighs and soak the bed sheet below you.

A flurry of pings reminds you that you’re on camera. You can barely think straight long enough to understand what that means when Taehyung lets out a broken moan behind you.

“Oh fuck, you just squirted, fuck baby, why are you so hot.” Taehyung’s grip on your hips hurts when he finally cums, still thrusting even when you’ve both been pushed beyond overstimulation.

When he finally pulls out, you sag to the floor. Your entire body aches from being tied up and pounded into, not to mention how sore your ass and clit are from the constant stimulation.

“You’re trying to kill me,” you accuse weakly as Taehyung takes a deep breath, head thrown back, chest sweaty. He’s still wearing his joggers, and his soft cock hangs over the waistband, shiny with cum.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, running a hand over his face, “Alright, that’s, that’s all for today.” He crawls over to the laptop and gives the camera a salute. “See you all next week, assuming I’ve recovered.”

The final pings ring out from the laptop before Taehyung snaps it shut and falls back on his butt. He finally tucks his cock back in his pants and turns to where you lie, weak on the floor.

“Shit, let me get you out of this.”

You’re in a haze, something floaty and free, like a cloud, and Taehyung caresses your wispy body as he unwraps you. Your head lulls to the side, and you let Taehyung lift your limbs and shift your body until he’s finished with all the ropes.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Content. Satiated. Happy. In love.

“Tired,” you mumble as you stare up at Taehyung. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are a soft pink, youthful, and pretty.

“We can take a bath and then go to bed. You’ll stay over?” His voice is a hopeful lilt when he asks, and your stomach flutters.

“Yes, daddy.”

Taehyung’s mouth morphs into that lopsided grin you pretend to hate so much.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I hate you,” you spit out, but Taehyung kisses you before you can pout more.

It’s a slow kiss, far too gentle for what you’ve all just finished doing. Taehyung sighs into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it, though his lips glide languidly rather than rushed with need like they had before.

You slip your arms around his broad shoulders and appreciate the stretch of being free from your restraints.

“You did so well, seriously. I’m really proud of you. You were so sexy and, fuck. I’m…” Taehyung trails off as he helps you stand up, keeping you cradled against his body when you start to sway. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and find no bratty comeback, only a flood of happiness that nearly chokes you.

“Maybe we can do it again if you wanna,” you offer with your lips against his neck. His skin is salty with sweat, but you flick your tongue against him anyway, just to make him squirm.

Taehyung pulls back slightly to stare at you. “For real?”

“If you keep asking, I might change my mind!”

You try to wiggle out of Taehyung’s arms, but he keeps you close. It’s fine; you don’t really want to be anywhere else but here, pressed against Taehyung’s broad frame, blanketed by his gentle attention.

Even if he is annoying.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #the wannabe photographer chronicles #wsap #jai writes #gimmethatagustd

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theragethatisdesire · 11 months

Text

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes.

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

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