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exhaslo · 1 day

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Over-Time Ch4

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

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"This is the big bad CEO's office," Lyla said with a wide smile as she stood proudly in front of the large set of doors.

Your eyes could only widen as you thought of the man behind those doors. Such a powerful person was able to make Alchemax what it was. This was going to be your future boss. As nervous as you were, you had to make a good first impression!

"Stop scaring the new girl,"

Your ears perked up as you recognized the voice. Your breathing nearly halted as the doors began to open, revealing Miguel.

"Huh? Miguel? Y-You're...You're the C-CEO?"

Your heart stilled for a moment as you recalled everything you had done. Your clumsiness for bumping into the CEO on your interview day, chatting with him so casually in the elevator and showing every form of weakness possible.

As you heart started to gain pace, your chest swelled with regret. It was difficult, but you held back your tears. Noticing the treat on his desk, you immediately bowed your head,

"I-I'm so...so sorry! I-I-"

"There is no need to apologize. It is I who should give my apologies. I was the one who deceived you." Miguel said with a smile.

"Ew, your smiling." Lyla muttered.

As Miguel bickered lowly with Lyla, you still felt your head spinning a mile a minute.

"Anyway-" Miguel gently shoved Lyla to the side, "I was more so enjoying the presence of someone who did not know who I was, which led me to fooling you. For that, I apologize."

"Ah-" You gasped, finally letting yourself breathe, "S-So...was I hired...because of...of my skill or-"

"Duuuuuh, girl. This guy doesn't know the meaning of special treatment. He's just a big oaf." Lyla pitched in with a smug eating grin. Miguel could only grumble to her response,

"Please ignore her statements about me. I look forward to working with you from now on. As you know, Lyla will be going on vacation very soon. During this time she will guide you on everything you will have to do. That is, if you are still willing-"

"Yes! Yes I am!" You nearly shouted before covering your mouth, "S-Sorry, I am. I really want to better...myself and you have given me this um, opportunity."

Glancing up at Miguel, you felt butterflies in your stomach as he smiled towards you.

"I'm glad to hear that." His voice was still so gentle, "Well, I have a meeting I must get ready for. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and we will see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Y-Yes!"

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Miguel was the CEO. Miguel was the CEO. MIGUEL WAS THE CEO OF ALCHEMAX! AND I MADE A FOOL OF MYSELF!

The thoughts raged through your mind as you quietly sat on the bus on your way home. Biting your nail, you tried to calm down, but it was no use. Despite Miguel being so kind to you, you still couldn't stop from recalling your foolishness.

You had to make it up to him.

You HAD too.

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"Why are you being so nice?" Lyla asked once the two entered Miguel's office.

"Am I not human?" Miguel said with a snort, "Is it so wrong of me to treat another with kindness? I am surrounded by selfish fools and greedy bastards every second of the day. It is nice to have a change."

"Yeah, but I really don't want to see her bend over on your desk crying your name out when I come back."

"Lyla!" Miguel felt his cheeks burn, "You know me better than that."

"I do. Which is why I'm totally predicting a few outcomes."

"You have little faith in me,"

Miguel sat at his desk and let out a heavy sigh. As nice as he may have seemed to you, Lyla was not wrong. As a man, Miguel already had a thought, though for a mere second, of you under him. The face you might make when he shoved his dick inside those walls of yours.

"You're totally thinking about it now, gross." Lyla chuckled, "You're lucky she's a quiet one, but....that's also a problem."

Clearing his throat, Miguel rid himself of those naughty thoughts as he listened to Lyla.

"I know. (Y/n) will get eaten alive by my business partners. I'm sure you can find a way to boost her confidence in this short amount of time."

"Against those horny old bastards? Duh," Lyla hummed before plopping herself against Miguel's couch, "It's her I'm more worried about."

"She hasn't-"

"Every women who tries to enter your life has fled because of her. You're lucky I have the biggest pair of balls in his city to even stand a chance against that snake."

"I recall...I wonder if she still has your bite marks-"

"Bitch better! They were sharp and clean from my dental appointment!" Lyla huffed before fixing her hair, "But even so, not even I am capable of preparing someone against her. I fear that your new assistant will be eaten alive."

"Then I'll be the only one of us to have faith in (Y/n)."

"Hm,"

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Miguel inhaled deeply as he stood against his balcony, enjoying the quiet night. It felt strange to not be so stressed out after a long day of work. Taking a sip of his drink, Miguel couldn't help but recall your expression from earlier.

You looked like a deer caught in headlights once Miguel revealed himself. Your face turned bright red and your words fumbling with each other. It was cute. Miguel assumed that you were overthinking and panicked.

But, he still had faith in you. You hadn't made any sort of move to try and win him over yet. Most tend to try and meet with Miguel after hours. Instead, you sent another apology email for your actions and for the salty snack.

"How has such a little mouse survived this long? In this city of predators like myself?"

Humming to the thought, Miguel also recalled that 'snake' that Lyla brought up. All Miguel had to do was hide your existence for the next few months and you'll be fine.

"Hm, but will she be fine against me?"

---------

It was day two of you officially working at Alchemax. Lyla was going to show you the ropes.

However, you had to get Miguel's morning coffee.

"Miguel turns into such a grumpy beast when he doesn't have his coffee. I've already memorized his order, but I wrote it down for you along with the place we get it from. I also put my order on there, and feel free to get yourself something."

"A-Are you sure? This is the company card." You stuttered, feeling a little nervous about a simple coffee run.

"It's Miguel's card and he doesn't mind. Once we've all had our energy, I'll start showing you the first morning tasks."

"Okay,"

You tried to stop shaking as you put the card and paper in your wallet. Hurrying downstairs, you tried to calm down. This was your first unofficial task for Miguel. A simple coffee run. How bad could it really be?

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You shuddered as you stood in front of your old job. Your hands trembling as you held the piece of paper in your hand. You hardly worked this early in the morning, so it would make sense why you never thought of Alchemax workers getting their coffee from here.

Hell, you hardly even noticed how close the two jobs were to one another.

Inhaling deeply, you made your way inside. Sweat rolled down your neck as you saw your old co-workers in the middle of a rush. Each of them yelling out orders and ingredients. As long as they stayed busy and didn't notice you, it would be fine.

"Wel-Oh! (Y/n)! Nice of you to join us."

And there was the hostility.

"What?! She's here?! After she didn't show up for my shift yesterday?!"

"....I....quit...." You whispered, trying to hide behind the line of people waiting for their order.

"Well since you're here, clock in and help us."

"I....can't," You tried to say.

Didn't your manager tell everyone that you quit? You made sure to call them last night to inform them that you weren't going to work there anymore. You quit this toxic job for Alchemax. So why, why is everyone still so harsh?

"(Y/N)! We need the help!" Another coworker yelled out.

You were shaking as everyone started to stare at you. The paper in your hand starting to crumble as you shook. They didn't need your help. You were just going to make a mess with how busy it was. They just wanted to yell at you.

"I-I can't! I'm just here for my new job!" You nearly cried out.

"Tch, what a liar."

And there it was. You lowered your head as the line kept moving. The stares you were getting were intense. Everyone probably thought that you were an asshole. As you waited, you felt your phone buzz.

"H-Hello?" You stuttered.

"Ah! (Y/N)! I hope it isn't too late, could you-"

"(Y/N)! I heard from the others that you refuse to help, especially after not showing up yesterday. We need to have a word in my office." Your morning manager hissed.

"B-But...I-I-"

"It seems busy. I'll text you the item." Lyla said before hanging up.

Oh, how you wanted to cry. What were you to do? You could never stand up to the managers. Why didn't the night manager inform everyone that you quit?

"To. My. Office."

"What seems to be the problem?"

Your breathing hitched as you turned to find Miguel. You couldn't hold back the tears as Miguel placed his hand against your shoulder. It was amazing. Everyone immediately froze as they stared at your new boss. Were you the only one who didn't know that he was the CEO?

"You're-" Your manager snapped out of his shocked state, "I was just going to handle my associate about her teamwork and customer service."

"Your associate?" Miguel scoffed, "From my understanding and resources, she quit your establishment last night. (Y/n) works for me now. If this shop doesn't wish to treat my associates fairly, then Alchemax will gladly take our business elsewhere." Miguel said firmly, motioning you to follow him out.

"I'm sorry, sir! We weren't aware that she quit. Please, allow us to make you your drink on the house-"

"We don't need your charity. Instead, apologize to her."

"S-Sir, I...I really-"

"Don't let them talk down to you as if you're nothing," Miguel whispered in your ear, "You deserve to be treated fairly."

As if something was stuck in your throat, you could only nod towards Miguel. Glancing towards your old manager, you waited for his forced apology. You still didn't like the stares. You knew that you could never come back here after this.

It took a minute, but your old manager finally apologized. Miguel just smirked before walking you out of the shop. Finally feeling like you could breathe, you turned to face Miguel once you were a good distance away.

"I-I'm sorry for causing t-trouble...B-But...How did you know I-I was there?" You asked with a stutter. Miguel removed his hand from your shoulder,

"I normally come in a little late to give Lyla her 'beauty time' as I call it. It also gives her time to get my morning coffee without having to rush. I tend to take this route every now and then and couldn't help but notice you in the café."

"I'm sorry I'm being a burden already," Frowning as you lowered your head, you stared at the crumbled paper in your hand, "I couldn't even get this right-"

"Don't cry," Miguel hushed, lifting your chin, "You can't blame yourself for the foolish acts of others."

"I'm sorry," You whimpered once more. Miguel just let out a soft sigh, wiping a tear away,

"Come. I don't have a meeting for another hour or so. Why don't we spend some time looking for a new coffee shop? I wouldn't want you going back to that hostile place."

Watching Miguel hold his arm out, you sniffed as you calmed down. Lyla said that Miguel was a beast without his coffee, but he was still ever so kind to you. Taking his arm, you gladly took Miguel's offer as you spent some time getting to know your new boss.

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Lyla pouted as she sat in her office, staring at the clock.

"Where the hell is my coffee?"

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Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla @byjessicalotufo @pigeonmama @k3ythesapphic @acesangels @stealingyourturts @angel-xx-1 @amberbalcom14 @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @oscarissac2099 @keepghostly @zeyzeys-stuff @k3ythesapphic @nightingale1011 @mari0-o @uncle-eggy @safixiovi @flaps200 @dahehow @weirdothatwritess @gerblinradio @electronicchaoschaos @mafiaanomaly @pochapo

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n

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nouverx · 1 month

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Today I offer you Alastor with a little hat. Tomorrow? Who knows

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #wip #medibang #boom get a hat loser #it's the same project wip than the last post btw ahah it must be so confusing out of context #“first he gets bullied then he gets a make over??” yes #he's being thrown around like a barbie doll that's what he deserves

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sysig · 9 months

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Take care of him (Patreon)

#Doodles #Wander Over Yonder #Commander Peepers #Watchdogs #Lord Hater #Wander #He's very important don't you know ♪#I may or may not have been reading sickfics where the Watchdogs take care of Peepers in his moment of weakness hehe #The Watchdogs really swing between brutally competent and hilariously frivolous they have no middle slider haha #I really like them <3 They're such a cute bunch!#Never getting over all the Watchdogs all stuffed into that one carnival ride on Bingleborp lol #So many eyes and all single-seeing there's just something Very about them hm ♪#I can't decide which I like more - the Watchdogs kinda just putting up with Peepers or actually admiring him #I can have both since there's so many! A Peepers fanclub? Haha ♫#I don't think he'd be comfortable with it tho - at times his actions make me wonder if he even considers himself a Watchdog #He does a lot of bullying and gets bullied in return - The Cartoon as an example of the latter haha #He truly is more competent than the average foot soldier which is y'know - why he's a Commander in the first place lol #But to the point of comedy (and yes of course I know it's a comedy show lol) - the divide is very stark! He feels very separated #I like that about him :) He has visual differences and spacial differences - his own room - and competence and just ah! He's interesting!#He rises to meet his desires!! I like him very much ♪♫#More on the sickfic train lol a bit of a role reversal - a careful Hater and a lackadaisical Wander haha #Peepers is so small and breakable in Hater's arms! Treat him gently! Whereas he's barely smaller than Wander lol #Maybe they went out drinking together and he needed to return him to his room haha - so many identical doors #Normally he'd know but it's funnier to drag him around lol #The usual sleepy doodle <3 Gotta do it haha #A couple silly ones - I wanted to try the X eye shape but I didn't want it to stick haha though they do use it when they fall down sometimes #Almost X-shaped when he squints really hard! How cute haha

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months

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It all started with a mouse

For the public domain, time stopped in 1998, when the Sonny Bono Copyright Act froze copyright expirations for 20 years. In 2019, time started again, with a massive crop of works from 1923 returning to the public domain, free for all to use and adapt:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/

No one is better at conveying the power of the public domain than Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle, who run the Duke Center for the Study of the Public Domain. For years leading up to 2019, the pair published an annual roundup of what we would have gotten from the public domain in a universe where the 1998 Act never passed. Since 2019, they've switched to celebrating what we're actually getting each year. Last year's was a banger:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/20/free-for-2023/#oy-canada

But while there's been moderate excitement at the publicdomainification of "Yes, We Have No Bananas," AA Milne's "Now We Are Six," and Sherlock Holmes, the main event that everyone's anticipated arrives on January 1, 2024, when Mickey Mouse enters the public domain.

The first appearance of Mickey Mouse was in 1928's Steamboat Willie. Disney was critical to the lobbying efforts that extended copyright in 1976 and again in 1998, so much so that the 1998 Act is sometimes called the Mickey Mouse Protection Act. Disney and its allies were so effective at securing these regulatory gifts that many people doubted that this day would ever come. Surely Disney would secure another retrospective copyright term extension before Jan 1, 2024. I had long arguments with comrades about this – people like Project Gutenberg founder Michael S Hart (RIP) were fatalistically certain the public domain would never come back.

But they were wrong. The public outrage over copyright term extensions came too late to stave off the slow-motion arson of the 1976 and 1998 Acts, but it was sufficient to keep a third extension away from the USA. Canada wasn't so lucky: Justin Trudeau let Trump bully him into taking 20 years' worth of works out of Canada's public domain in the revised NAFTA agreement, making swathes of works by living Canadian authors illegal at the stroke of a pen, in a gift to the distant descendants of long-dead foreign authors.

Now, with Mickey's liberation bare days away, there's a mounting sense of excitement and unease. Will Mickey actually be free? The answer is a resounding YES! (albeit with a few caveats). In a prelude to this year's public domain roundup, Jennifer Jenkins has published a full and delightful guide to The Mouse and IP from Jan 1 on:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/mickey/

Disney loves the public domain. Its best-loved works, from The Sorcerer's Apprentice to Sleeping Beauty, Pinnocchio to The Little Mermaid, are gorgeous, thoughtful, and lively reworkings of material from the public domain. Disney loves the public domain – we just wish it would share.

Disney loves copyright's other flexibilities, too, like fair use. Walt told the papers that he took his inspiration for Steamboat Willie from Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, making fair use of their performances to imbue Mickey with his mischief and derring do. Disney loves fair use – we just wish it would share.

Disney loves copyright's limitations. Steamboat Willie was inspired by Buster Keaton's silent film Steamboat Bill (titles aren't copyrightable). Disney loves copyright's limitations – we just wish it would share.

As Jenkins writes, Disney's relationship to copyright is wildly contradictory. It's the poster child for the public domain's power as a source of inspiration for worthy (and profitable) new works. It's also the chief villain in the impoverishment and near-extinction of the public domain. Truly, every pirate wants to be an admiral.

Disney's reliance on – and sabotage of – the public domain is ironic. Jenkins compares it to "an oil company relying on solar power to run its rigs." Come January 1, Disney will have to share.

Now, if you've heard anything about this, you've probably been told that Mickey isn't really entering the public domain. Between trademark claims and later copyrightable elements of Mickey's design, Mickey's status will be too complex to understand. That's totally wrong.

Jenkins illustrates the relationship between these three elements in (what else) a Mickey-shaped Venn diagram. Topline: you can use all the elements of Mickey that are present in Steamboat Willie, along with some elements that were added later, provided that you make it clear that your work isn't affiliated with Disney.

Let's unpack that. The copyrightable status of a character used to be vague and complex, but several high-profile cases have brought clarity to the question. The big one is Les Klinger's case against the Arthur Conan Doyle estate over Sherlock Holmes. That case established that when a character appears in both public domain and copyrighted works, the character is in the public domain, and you are "free to copy story elements from the public domain works":

https://freesherlock.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/klinger-order-on-motion-for-summary-judgment-c.pdf

This case was appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, who declined to hear it. It's settled law.

So, which parts of Mickey aren't going into the public domain? Elements that came later: white gloves, color. But that doesn't mean you can't add different gloves, or different colorways. The idea of a eyes with pupils is not copyrightable – only the specific eyes that Disney added.

Other later elements that don't qualify for copyright: a squeaky mouse voice, being adorable, doing jaunty dances, etc. These are all generic characteristics of cartoon mice, and they're free for you to use. Jenkins is more cautious on whether you can give your Mickey red shorts. She judges that "a single, bright, primary color for an article of clothing does not meet the copyrightability threshold" but without settled law, you might wanna change the colors.

But what about trademark? For years, Disney has included a clip from Steamboat Willie at the start of each of its films. Many observers characterized this as a bid to create a de facto perpetual copyright, by making Steamboat Willie inescapably associated with products from Disney, weaving an impassable web of trademark tripwires around it.

But trademark doesn't prevent you from using Steamboat Willie. It only prevents you from misleading consumers "into thinking your work is produced or sponsored by Disney." Trademarks don't expire so long as they're in use, but uses that don't create confusion are fair game under trademark.

Copyrights and trademarks can overlap. Mickey Mouse is a copyrighted character, but he's also an indicator that a product or service is associated with Disney. While Mickey's copyright expires in a couple weeks, his trademark doesn't. What happens to an out-of-copyright work that is still a trademark?

Luckily for us, this is also a thoroughly settled case. As in, this question was resolved in a unanimous 2000 Supreme Court ruling, Dastar v. Twentieth Century Fox. A live trademark does not extend an expired copyright. As the Supremes said:

[This would] create a species of mutant copyright law that limits the public’s federal right to copy and to use expired copyrights.

This elaborates on the Ninth Circuit's 1996 Maljack Prods v Goodtimes Home Video Corp:

[Trademark][ cannot be used to circumvent copyright law. If material covered by copyright law has passed into the public domain, it cannot then be protected by the Lanham Act without rendering the Copyright Act a nullity.

Despite what you might have heard, there is no ambiguity here. Copyrights can't be extended through trademark. Period. Unanimous Supreme Court Decision. Boom. End of story. Done.

But even so, there are trademark considerations in how you use Steamboat Willie after Jan 1, but these considerations are about protecting the public, not Disney shareholders. Your uses can't be misleading. People who buy or view your Steamboat Willie media or products have to be totally clear that your work comes from you, not Disney.

Avoiding confusion will be very hard for some uses, like plush toys, or short idents at the beginning of feature films. For most uses, though, a prominent disclaimer will suffice. The copyright page for my 2003 debut novel Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom contains this disclaimer:

This novel is a work of fiction, set in an imagined future. All the characters and events portrayed in this book, including the imagined future of the Magic Kingdom, are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. The Walt Disney Company has not authorized or endorsed this novel.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250196385/downandoutinthemagickingdom

Here's the Ninth Circuit again:

When a public domain work is copied, along with its title, there is little likelihood of confusion when even the most minimal steps are taken to distinguish the publisher of the original from that of the copy. The public is receiving just what it believes it is receiving—the work with which the title has become associated. The public is not only unharmed, it is unconfused.

Trademark has many exceptions. The First Amendment protects your right to use trademarks in expressive ways, for example, to recreate famous paintings with Barbie dolls:

https://www.copyright.gov/fair-use/summaries/mattel-walkingmountain-9thcir2003.pdf

And then there's "nominative use": it's not a trademark violation to use a trademark to accurately describe a trademarked thing. "We fix iPhones" is not a trademark violation. Neither is 'Works with HP printers.' This goes double for "expressive" uses of trademarks in new works of art:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rogers_v._Grimaldi

What about "dilution"? Trademark protects a small number of superbrands from uses that "impair the distinctiveness or harm the reputation of the famous mark, even when there is no consumer confusion." Jenkins says that the Mickey silhouette and the current Mickey character designs might be entitled to protection from dilution, but Steamboat Willie doesn't make the cut.

Jenkins closes with a celebration of the public domain's ability to inspire new works, like Disney's Three Musketeers, Disney's Christmas Carol, Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Disney's Around the World in 80 Days, Disney's Alice in Wonderland, Disney's Snow White, Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, Disney's Sleeping Beauty, Disney's Cinderella, Disney's Little Mermaid, Disney's Pinocchio, Disney's Huck Finn, Disney's Robin Hood, and Disney's Aladdin. These are some of the best-loved films of the past century, and made Disney a leading example of what talented, creative people can do with the public domain.

As of January 1, Disney will start to be an example of what talented, creative people give back to the public domain, joining Dickens, Dumas, Carroll, Verne, de Villeneuve, the Brothers Grimm, Twain, Hugo, Perrault and Collodi.

Public domain day is 17 days away. Creators of all kinds: start your engines!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

Image: Doo Lee (modified) https://web.law.duke.edu/sites/default/files/images/centers/cspd/pdd2024/mickey/Steamboat-WIllie-Enters-Public-Domain.jpeg

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #copyfight #scotus #mickey mouse #public domain #ip #contract #trademark #tm #jennifer jenkins #copyright #disney #nominative use

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saetoru · 7 months

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Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

#i wasn’t gonna tag this buuuuuuuut….its kinda long so #i was like eh why not #but i’m not like tagging every tag just the main few #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #bully! gojo tag

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coco-loco-nut · 12 days

Text

Iconic

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: you make it your life goal to embarrass Oscar and annoy him, keeping things fun in his life

masterlist

———————————

“He’s so cute,” a girl sighs in the McLaren fan zone.

“He really is,” you smile, leaning against the barrier.

“Oh my god, hi!” the girl gasps, recognizing you from your boyfriend’s Instagram. You haven’t had social media since you were cyber bullied in middle school, so you were a mystery to his fans. It also let you go to fan zone and have fun with them. You also run a fan page for Oscar on Instagram.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I am standing here?” you say, holding a folded poster in one of your hand and an arm full of friendship bracelets that Oscar helped you make.

“Not at all, oh my god. Sorry, it’s just that you are so iconic,” the girl says and you quirk your eyebrow.

“How so?”

“You don’t have social media which is iconic, but all the fans know how nice you are, and you are always hanging out with us here,” one of her friends say, you nod along.

“Of course I would be here, I gotta support Papaya boys,” you smile. “Wanna help me embarrass Osc?” you ask the group around you.

“It would legit be our honor,” the one laughs, you laugh with her.

“Here,” you take off some friendship bracelets and exchange them with the girls.

“You are the best WAG,” another girl says and you blush a little, dutifully putting on each bracelet.

“I really do try. I even run a fan account for Osc,” you laugh, not revealing more than that.

“No way, that’s actually icon behavior,” the first girl says and you grin.

“Want to see the sign?” you ask, excited to show your latest sign off. Oscar tried to look but you refused to even work on it until he left the hotel.

“Yes!” you are quick to unfold the sign. Your neat handwriting carefully placed each letter just large enough so Oscar could read it.

“Omg, I can’t wait to see his reaction,” one of the fans say, the area is brimming full now, ready for the drivers to come out in a couple minutes.

“Make sure you get pictures of his reaction, he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed,” you giggle, getting ready to hold the sign in front of you as Lando walk onto the stage, excited to see what you wrote this time. He reads it and laughs, turning towards where Oscar is entering. You watch his brows furrow as he reads it. Oscar- I want to eat you up like a pastry :). The Australian’s face turns bright red as he laughs and winks at you, trying to hide his awkward embarrassment at the pickup line. It wasn’t your best, but it was the perfect amount of cringe. Lando gives you a thumbs up from the stage.

“You were right, his face was priceless,” the fan says as you watch Oscar push back his mousy brown hair before putting the hat back on. You swear you might be drooling while watching him, but you catch his gaze falling on you too.

“I LOVE YOU OSCAR!” you yell as he waves goodbye to the fans, giving you a wink. You make sure all of your friendship bracelets are given away before thanking the fans for being cool about you chilling with them. You head back to the paddock, scanning your pass, and beelining to the McLaren motorhome.

“Y/n, can I have that sign?” Lando asks and you happily hand it over.

“As long as you don’t use it to steal my man, have at it,” you chuckle as the Brit hugs you in thanks before walking away.

“Eat me like a pastry?” Oscar gives you an amused smile. “You do know my parents watch that, right?” His favorite thing about you his your playfulness, you can be serious when needed, but your teasing and jests keep his life fun.

“Oh, I know, your mom helped me with that one, the fans loved it too,” you laugh. “You did look so hot up there,” you slightly exaggerate checking him out.

“Why don’t we go back to my drivers room and you show me how you’d like to eat me?” Oscar whispers in your ear, trying to seduce you, but you resist.

“Oh, I’d probably start with the thighs, best muscle to fat ratio in my opinion. Hm, now I’m kinda hungry, what is in hospitality?” you ask, moving towards the food area. Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him as he picks you up to carry you to his room.

“Nope, don’t start things you can’t finish,” he says, clearly a little hot and bothered.

“Osc, I’m not a cannibal, I don’t actually eat humans,” you tease, not giving up on what you started. Oscar clearly had a different interpretation, maybe the right one, maybe not.

“Shut up before I make you shut up,” Oscar growls in your ear, quickly turning you on and making you drop the joke.

“Yes, Mister Piastri,” you say, knowing it’s affect on him as he drags you into his room, locking the door behind him. Oscar was a couple minutes late to his meeting, Lando holding back giggles as Oscar walks into the room.

“I see the fans aren’t the only ones who love Y/n,” Lando whispers to Oscar, who shoots him a glare. Meanwhile, you scroll Instagram using your fan page, laughing as some of them post the pic of you and the sign, the comments calling on your to reveal yourself via the fan page. You make a post about it as well just to blend in, thirsting over Oscar as well. You can’t imagine if he ever finds out about the account.

“Good luck, Osc. Drive safe,” you kiss him before he puts his helmet on.

“I am always safe,” he gives you his usual awkward smile, you smile back as he puts his helmet on. He squeezes your hand before walking over to the car. You take a seat in the garage, the headphones unflattering as always.

Your stomach drops as there is a crash late in the race, but you are instantly relieved when you realize that Oscar made in through and no one was hurt. He ends up in P2 for the race and you join the team in celebrating at the podium.

“Thank you for being my number one fan, even when you run a secret fan account,” Oscar hugs you in his drivers room.

“How? What?” you play if off but he just laughs, pulling out his phone.

“My private account follows you,” oscar laughs, and you just stare at him.

“That’s actually you? I thought it was a fan,” you quickly pull out your phone and request to follow his account, which he immediately accepts so that you can see all the cute posts he makes about you.

“Stop, Osc, you’re basically running a fan account for me,” you say, admiring his posts, including one from today of you holding the sign. You quickly type a comment that has the other drivers replying like crazy claiming that they found your secret account.

“You two decent?” Mark Weber’s voice says through the door, after a confirmation from Oscar, he lets himself in.

“Why wouldn’t we be decent, Mark?” you ask from the couch.

“I used to be a driver too, and after your fan zone sign nothing is off the table,” Mark shrugs causing you and Oscar to blush. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you great race, I will see you in a few days,” Mark tells Oscar before leaving the room again. You still aren’t sure how Oscar was able to bag the former F1 driver as his manager. Oscar yawns and you notice how tired he is, sleepy Oscar is your favorite version of Oscar.

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel, first loser,” you tease, helping him gather his things to leave.

“Hey,” he groans at the jab.

“You could be Lando NoWins, my love,” turning your jests onto his teammate.

“That is true,” Oscar yawns, holding your hand as he leads you to his chauffeured car.

“Osc, would you marry me if I was a worm?”

“Who said I’d marry you at all?”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m deleting your fan page,” you pull out your phone. Oscar basically tackles you in the back seat as he lunges for the phone.

“I take it back, I’ll marry you right now if you want,” Oscar pleads.

“Who said I wanted to marry you? Do I look like a worm?” you retort, putting your phone away. Oscar just sighs in defeat.

“God gives is strongest people his greatest challenges, I’m not strong enough for this,” he groans a few seconds later, the tiredness setting in.

“Sorry, baby, I promise you will get unlimited cuddles when we get back to the room,” you smile softly, holding his hand tight.

“I love you,” he whispers, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into your eyes.

“I love you too.”

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #unhinged behavior

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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

bruised knees

words: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of blowjobs, losing virginity, virgin!reader (but fic is not smut), jealous! and overprotective!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, fluffy

rafe has been beyond overprotective of you his whole life. ever since you met in first grade and you let him borrow your brand new crayon box, only for a bully to come up and tug on your pigtails, causing rafe to pause his coloring to shove him away and tell him not to touch you ever again.

you smiled at rafe, the same smile you look at him with now, and he knew he would take care of you no matter what. you hugged him tightly and from that day on always shared your crayons, and everything else you had, with your new best friend.

“ready?” rafe slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards the boat.

“yes!” you squeal, trying to navigate holding your tote bag and backpack at once, when suddenly both are out of your hands as rafe takes them and carries them down the pier.

“rafe, i can carry my own stuff.” you roll your eyes. it's a losing battle, your best friend will always lessen your load, hating seeing you do any sort of physical labor, feeling like that's his job.

“yeah, whatever.” rafe just ignores your argument, it's one he's heard so many times before, yet you make no attempt to take the bags back. “who all did you invite again?” rafe asks as you enter onto the boat, quickly beginning preparations for the day at sea, having gone through the motions so many times, knowing the boat like the back of your hand even though it's the cameron familys.

“uhh, topper, tina, kelce, steph, tiffy and hayden.” you go through the list of names in your head of friends that will be joining you and rafe on the yacht.

“how is tiffy since the break up?” rafe asks, knowing you like to talk while you work, pulling various lines while you straighten up the boat to make it more presentable, going through the motions together, always together.

rafes question launches you into a gossip session with rafe, spilling all the secrets your friends told you at your last hang out, but they know you don't keep anything from rafe, so it's no surprise when he knows as well, not that any of the girls would complain, rafe often takes over the role of protector to your friends as well, caring about who you care about.

“there's hayden!” you call to rafe, pointing down the dock to the parking lot where haydens truck just pulled in, a few minutes earlier than you expected anyone to start arriving.

“great.” rafe mumbles under his breath, making sure you don't hear his upset tone. he liked hayden at first, sharing some common interests (mostly golf), but then hayden got far too touchy with you, his gaze heating when it turned to you in a way that infuriated rafe, and he made sure to show hayden when you weren't around how much it pissed him off.

rafe is probably to credit for you never having a boyfriend for an extended period of time, but he can't help it, you're so perfect and no guy can possibly deserve you, so he has to scare them off before you get too invested and give them all of your attention instead of him.

“hey, heyds.” you greet him with a hug after he makes his way down the pier, making rafe grunts as haydens hand rests a little too low on your back for his liking, making rafes mind reel at the possibility of something going on between the two of you.

your other friends slowly begin to pile onto the boat, steph being the last one to get there as she is notorious for being late, which is why you told her to show up half an hour before everyone else, and somehow still managed to get there last.

“ready for takeoff?” you ask rafe, stepping away to join him at the wheel while your group of friends find places to sit while rafe navigates the boat towards the ocean.

“i am.” rafe nods, having disconnected the last line. no matter what is happening, you always sit next to rafe on the bench as he directs the boat, ready to be his second in command at any moment, even if its just fetching him a drink or checking the water depth.

“i can’t wait to swim.” you say with a sigh, having not gotten out into the water all week, which is rare with how much peace you find in the ocean.

“how about that one sandbar we took wheezie to?” rafe questions, wanting you to decide where he anchors the boat.

“ooh, yes.” you nod.

“she complained to me last night that you weren’t over.” rafe smiles at you when you let out a laugh.

“i don’t spend one friday night and she complains! ugh, i love that girl.” you grin thinking about wheezie, treating her like she’s your own little sister, having known her since she was born.

“you’ll stay tonight, right?” rafe asks, missing you sharing his bed like you do every weekend.

“mhm, i’m not driving home after being out on the boat all day, gonna be so exhausted.” you roll your eyes.

rafe smiles at you, wrapping one arm around his shoulder, leaving him to drive with one hand, but wanting you close to him, secretly hoping hayden would look through the windows from the lower deck and see you all cuddled up into his side.

neither of you have ever broached the topic of taking things beyond just friendship, despite rafe desperately wanting to take things further, he doesn’t want to mess up the one good thing he has in his life. you’re such a source of brightness that when you’re around him he forgets all about his fights with his dad, or issues with barry.

“here.” rafe nods to you, immediately going to drop the anchor, planning to stay in one spot all day.

you help him make sure its secure before moving to the main deck with everyone else. “alright, who is ready to swim?” you shout with glee.

“you know i am.” hayden smirks at you, pulling his shirt off over his head.

“mhm, that’s why i like you, not afraid to get wet.” you say, rafe carefully watching the interaction, unsure if you meant the innuendo or not.

you take your tshirt off as well, tossing it onto the pile that everyone is making on the sofa, revealing swimsuits underneath their clothes. rafe also undresses, but slowly and quietly.

you tug your yoga pants down next, having kicked your shoes off upon entering the boat. you turn towards rafe, always checking in with him, seeking him out amongst the crowd.

rafe smiles at you, his eyes dropping subtly down your body, quickly checking out your pale lilac swimsuit before he sees a different shade of purple, this time blossoming around your knees.

hayden seems to notice too, a smirk growing on his face when he sees the localized bruises.

“what the fuck did you do?” rafe grunts out before he can stop himself and use the calming methods you so carefully taught him.

“what?” hayden turns to look at rafe, but he’s already charging at him. rafe shoves hayden backwards, making him stumble but he manages to maintain his footing.

“rafe, chill!” you shout, grabbing at his arm.

“did he-did you fucking blow him?” rafe questions, pointing to your knees. “how did you get those bruises?” “jesus, rafe!” you take a step back, but don’t drop your grip on his arm, not sure if he would try to pull away. “you seriously ask me that in front of all our friends? for your information i was working out in the garden yesterday and bruised my knees kneeling on the pavers. but thanks for embarrassing me.”

you drop his arm when you feel tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning and sprinting into the interior of the boat.

you throw yourself onto the bed in one of the two bedrooms, hiding your face in the white pillow as you cry.

“y/n…” rafe says softly. you don’t jump at his voice, you expected him to follow you, but you don’t feel like talking to him.

“please, y/n.” rafe pleads, and you feel his weight dip the bed down as he climbs onto the mattress.

“stop it.” you whine when rafe pulls you into him, but you don’t struggle as he cuddles into you, pressing a kiss against your hair. you’ve cuddled rafe before, of course since you’ve been friends for so long, but never with this little clothing on, and you are very aware of how much of his bare skin is touching yours.

“i didn’t mean to embarrass you, y/n. i just… i just got so angry thinking about you possibly doing anything with hayden. i don’t like him. he’s not good enough for you.”

“why would you even think i would do that though? you know im a virgin.”

the words shock rafe, and you can physically feel him tense up. you pick up your head to look at him, brows furrowed together.

“i-i didn’t know that.” rafe just assumed you lost it to one of your short term boyfriends.

“no… no i would have told you, rafey. you’re my best friend, i… you told me when you lost yours.” you remind rafe of when he was 16 years old and had sex for the first time, calling you only an hour after to confide in you, partly hoping you would get jealous.

“i thought you knew that i wouldn’t want to hear about you sleeping with someone. i guess i just figured you kept it to yourself for my sake.” rafe doesn’t realize the implication of his words as they flow from between his lips.

“why would i?- wait… you like me?” you blink up at him.

rafe pauses. now is as good as time as any, especially with the growing threat of hayden and other guys who aren’t scared of rafe potentially taking you away from him. “yes. i love you. i think i’ve loved you since first grade.” “holy shit, you asshole!” you shout, and it’s not the reaction rafe was expecting as he tenses, waiting for you to run off, or get mad, but instead your shout turns into a laugh, “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!” and then your lips are on his, finally feeling the perfect meld of your mouths together as rafe quickly snaps into action, his lips moving against yours as he cups your face.

“i love you too, in case it wasn’t obvious.” you whisper against his mouth before resuming the kiss.

“thank fuck, i was ready to murder hayden just because i thought you liked him.” rafe laughs, tugging on your waist to bring your bodies even closer together, leaving his large hand resting against your bare back.

“pshht.” you shake your head. “he’s not even half the man you are.”

“holy shit, i love you.” rafe repeats, taking you in for another kiss.

“my friends are never gonna believe that we finally got together.” you giggle. “i think they’ve all placed bets.”

“your friends?” rafe shakes his head. “baby, i think even our parents have.”

“i… i’m really happy we admitted are feelings.” you say shyly, a blush covering your cheeks as you look down, breaking eye contact. “everyone told me that you liked me too but i was too nervous to ruin what we had.”

“hey, it’s okay.” rafe says softly. “we have forever this way.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes again as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head into his bare chest.

“gosh, i can’t wait to go tell everyone.” you admit with a giggle.

“yeah? wanna go get in the water too?” rafe asks, unsure if your friends waiting for your argument to be over to swim.

“hell yeah.” you slide off the bed, rafe taking a minute to check out your body, not hiding his heated gaze as you catch him.

“holy shit, you are checking me out!”

“duh, you’re my girl now.” rafe smirks, also getting off the bed, placing an arm around your shoulder. “gonna give you bruised knees for a different reason, baby.”

“wait, rafe-” you begin, suddenly not feeling like swimming anymore, but he pulls you out onto the deck, seeing all your friends sitting awkwardly on the sofas, waiting for whatever argument to be over with.

“don’t worry baby.” rafe drops his mouth to your ear, making sure your friends can’t hear. “we can talk about that virginity of yours later.” rafe doesn’t give you a second to respond, placing his fingers on your chin and tilting your head towards him to press a kiss to your lips to the chorus of all of your friends letting out woops and claps, along with shouts of “finally!”

“i told you!” tiffy shouts, holding her hand out towards stephanie. “you owe me 20 bucks!”

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msgexymunson · 2 months

Text

Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him?

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl)

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day.

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know.

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview.

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same.

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you.

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing.

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie.

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked.

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities.

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?”

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.”

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face.

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.”

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged.

‘It's nothing, just a dress.”

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back.

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?”

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!”

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience.

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!”

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend.

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?”

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him.

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?”

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh.

“Fifty dollars!”

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air.

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?”

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward.

“One hundred dollars!”

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten.

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels.

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face.

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?”

The man at the back called out, “right here!”

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid.

“One thirty!”

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy.

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him.

He's yours.

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here.

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer.

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand.

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!”

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering.

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you.

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin.

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes.

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?”

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie.

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.”

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him.

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?”

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?”

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down.

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?”

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual.

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her.

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.”

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.”

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone.

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.”

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-”

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared.

“-nevermind. Thank you.”

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves.

��So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?”

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind.

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back.

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.”

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg.

“Woof! Woo-”

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you.

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table.

“What are you doing?”

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie.

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?”

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.

“This isn't a date, Eds.”

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks.

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest.

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes.

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?”

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise.

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation.

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.”

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck.

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.”

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Let's get out of here.”

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences.

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye.

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.”

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours.

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?”

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings.

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee.

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again.

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?”

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.”

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine.

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.”

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety.

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.”

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession.

“Absolutely not.”

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?”

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain.

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.”

“What else would I do?”

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-”

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.”

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.”

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts.

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?”

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.”

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee.

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind.

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.”

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.”

“I dated Wendy to get over you!”

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means.

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip.

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?”

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut.

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side.

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back.

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips.

“I'm in love with you.”

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly.

“Huh?”

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.”

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.”

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge.

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth.

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.”

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss.

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for-

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.”

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life.

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin.

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.”

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor.

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms.

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face.

“You are so beautiful.”

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away.

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned.

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.”

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second.

“Can we go to my bedroom?”

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart.

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties.

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back.

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso.

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are.

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?”

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.”

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least.

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.”

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.”

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away.

“Do I need to put a towel down?”

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.”

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face.

“You want me to stay?”

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.”

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything.

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form.

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.”

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns.

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact.

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck.

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot.

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple.

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.”

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there.

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten.

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment.

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?”

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy.

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.”

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh.

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?”

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard.

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch.

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring.

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling.

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot.

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!”

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to? You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if-

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?”

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question.

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-”

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-”

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.”

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you.

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.”

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips.

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.”

Sweet. You sound sweet.

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment.

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion.

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!”

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair.

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed.

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down.

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?”

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you.

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.”

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear.

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused.

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.”

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.”

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him.

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again.

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.”

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk.

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.”

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince.

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut.

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.”

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-”

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes.

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction.

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?”

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire.

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.”

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in.

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!”

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks.

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.”

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.”

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving.

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head.

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?”

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again.

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.”

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet.

“Eddie, I lo-”

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?”

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him.

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!”

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem.

“Right there princess?”

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan.

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.”

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back.

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily.

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts.

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire.

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.”

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse.

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness.

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.”

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye.

“Eddie, that was perfect.”

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time.

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling.

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.”

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind.

“Right, now, just hang on.”

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat.

“I can change the sheets if you want-”

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.”

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief.

“Eddie? Can I say it now?”

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening.

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.”

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.”

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things fan fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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chrollohearttags · 1 month

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I am salivating at the idea of jock!reiner, who everybody is intimidated by. Not so much because he’s a bully or has a mean streak but his stature. His physique alone is enough to ward off anyone..broad shoulders, six foot four, three hundred and thirty pounds of pure muscle and incredible strength.. but for those who know him, he’s nothing more than a gentle giant. As docile as they come and the sweetest guy you’d ever meet. Some would even describe him as a bit naive or gullible at times. His kindhearted nature, some believed, would be his downfall. Even so, that doesn’t stop the guys he plays football with from watching themselves when they see you come into the room…arm latched onto his as you two navigate through the party his team was hosting that night. A get together for newly recruited first draft picks for the NFL. He was proud to be attending and with the most beautiful woman nonetheless. It was far more laid back, and a pool party nonetheless..so naturally, when you came strutting through the courtyard; white bikini and fishnets covering your decadent skin and curvy frame, a belly button ring glistening from your tummy with your stretch marks on display, curls coiled atop your head, heels strapped around your smooth legs and white toes to match, everyone’s eyes was adverted onto you. As is his. He’s always gushing over his lady and it’s easy to see why. You’re always wearing revealing outfits and dressing provocatively. Titties out, ass always showing and never covering up regardless of the conditions. He never really pays it any mind but it’s not until one day that his friends pose the question: “you don’t have a problem with your girl dressing like that?” And with the widest smirk on his face, your man simply shrugs, and replies just as calmly:

“..not at all.”

mainly because he knows that no matter how many wandering eyes watch you or how many whispers he gets about your appearance…he’s the only one with the honor of getting to strip you out of said ensembles. The only one who gets to grope you from behind with those large hands and circulate his fingers on your clit as he marks your neck with kisses. He’s the one person who can make you come twice in a matter of mere minutes. And he’s certainly the only one with the privilege of getting to glide in between your thighs, bending you over with a hand laced around your throat as your colliding bodies stand before a mirror and his cock thrashing around inside of you..your juices dripping all down his pelvis and shaft as he forces you into an orgasm because the tip of his dick is perfectly stabbing at your sensitive core. “I’m the only one that can make this pussy squirt like this, isn’t that right, baby? The only person who can make you feel this good..” fish hooking those large digits into your mouth as he tugs you back with those plump ass cheeks clapping against him. “Yes daddy, this is your pussy..”

no need to be insecure over what’s rightfully yours <3

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tonycries · 2 months

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Lemme Ride, Baby!

Synopsis. Riding your cocky boyfriend to insanity is not a want, but a need. Especially when he sits there so deliciously arrogant - you just have to break him.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, slight switch! boys, established relationship, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k

A/N. Had this in my drafts for so long.

He sits across from you on the bed. Long legs spread, eyes half-lidded, and kiss-bitten lips turned into an aggravating smirk that makes your dripping cunt clench.

“Good luck lasting more than five seconds, pretty girl.” he drawled lazily, oozing pure cockiness.

So that’s how he’s gonna play, huh?

“Let’s see if you can live up to your own hype, darling.”

“Mhm, I won’t be the one begging for mercy.”

Ah, for the life of him he should’ve known. Should’ve gotten an inkling at the way you sauntered over to him in nothing but a predatory grin. Should’ve begged for mercy at that carnal gleam in your eyes that made blood rush straight to his traitorously hard cock. You wanted to eat him alive.

And he was going to eat his words.

At first, your cocky boyfriend pretended to be unfazed, laying back leisurely on his forearms. But you saw the way his eyes flickered with nervousness when you grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and slammed him onto the mattress. You felt the way his already-throbbing erection twitched so animalistically as you urgently swung a leg over his hips. You knew you had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Let’s hope you can last as long as you talk.”

Bullying his achingly hard cock into your snug cunt, sinking down agonizingly slowly. Relishing the way his eyes roll back in sheer ecstasy as your plushy walls suck him up so desperately. “Fuck, yes. You feel s’amazing wrapped around me. Sure you can handle it all?”

You waste no time.

Abruptly slamming down on his leaking cock. “Ah- Hah-” Your boyfriend’s surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth at a punishing pace.

Pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole. Slick dripping on his length, slamming down down down - his glistening veins massaging that one spot just right. Over and over. Harder. Faster.

The sinful squelches of your cunt filling the heady air of your bedroom. Driving him to insanity.

“Oh, god yes- jus’ like that ah fuck fuck fuck…” his low groans come in ragged bursts, cock twitching wildly. A large hand shoots up to clutch your bouncing breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples, the other having a white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

“Give up ye- ah! Hngh, you little fucker-” a moan escapes your lips as he bucks his hips defiantly, chasing his high. Thick tip kissing your cervix so painfully good.

Your hungry eyes bore into his blown-out ones, a defiant glint in them as he still tries to maintain his cool façade. Biting his bottom lip, brows furrowed in heavy concentration as he fights to hold back cumming.

Stubborn bastard.

Several things happen at once.

Your hand shoots out to grip his exposed neck, nails digging into his skin, hard. Almost as hard as you ram down on his cock, sheathing him till his twitching balls smack your ass. Wasting no time once he’s bottomed out. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out.

His pretty lips fall into soft oh. Fucked out, gurgled moans leaving his lips around the hand at his throat. “Oh! Ah! Shit, tha’s right. Take every inch.” And if he thought he was going to pass out before then-

He couldn’t even finish the thought, brain stuck on the way you clamp down so obscenely around him, milking him greedily. Biceps curling, a hand reaches above him to hold onto the headboard - and maybe his sanity.

“Give up yet?” You grind down mercilessly, walls hugging his throbbing erection impossibly tight. Clit rubbing against his toned pelvis. Back and forth and back and forth and- Sloppy, it was so sloppy.

Slick gushing out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “God, fuck- hah. That all you got, pretty girl?.”

Thighs burning, you alternate between torturously slow strokes and frantic bouncing that left you both restless. Hypnotizing rhythm him slowly towards the edge, only to reel him back again.

He will eat his words.

You lose track of time. Maybe it’s been hours - maybe even just a few minutes.

Pulling and pushing. Over and over.

“Ah- Hngh-.” Eyes barely keeping open, torn between the fucking obscene view of your dripping pussy swallowing his cock so greedily and the lustful, power-drunk expression on your face. “Wanna- wanna cum, pretty girl.”

“Then beg for it.”

“No.”

Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead. You watch, cunt fluttering at the fucked-out little smile curling his lips, and the carnal way his neck was leaning into the tight grasp you had around it.

You lean forward, a cruel smile playing on your lips, “Beg for it.” you repeat, voice sultry and dangerous.

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out from where his eyes were scrunched closed. “No.” he whispers, jaw clenched tight.

You press impossibly closer, breasts hot against his sculpted chest, sticky with sweat. Not stopping your maddening rhythm, your breath is hot against his ear, “Beg for it, and I’ll let you cum harder than you ever have before.”

He throws his head back, toes curling into the mattress, and thighs quivering at the way you were using him like nothing more than a toy.

“Please.” he finally breathes, words barely audible over the sloppy slapping of skin on skin.

“Louder.”

“Please, let me cum, pretty girl.” he groans, leaning into the mockingly innocent peck you leave on the tip of his nose.

You reward him, slamming down on his throbbing cock with renewed vigor. Finally giving into the way you were drunk off his cock just as much as he was off your pussy. A hand reaching behind you to massage his balls, feeling the weight on your palm. Tugging on them in a way that has his breath hitching and dick twitching so desperately inside you. Aching for release.

“God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He lets out a guttural moan, thrusting up into you in short, frantic jabs to match your unforgiving cadence. His leaking tip hitting that perfect angle to send sparks flying behind your eyelids.

And you let him, chasing your high as much as his, eyes locked on his greedy gaze.

How long has it even been? All he knows is that fuck if heaven was real then he was there right now, looking at a goddess herself. Ah, close. So close. His thrusts grow jerkier, cock pulsing inside you.

“Cum for me, darling. Fill me up till you’re leaking out of me.”

A sharp whimper of your name and he’s spilling into you. His body bows into yours, thick, hot ropes of his cum that fill your snug cunt. Painting your walls white to match the pleasure that runs down his spine - all the way to his leaking cock. It gushes inside of you, trailing down his sensitive cock to form a creamy ring at his base.

Stars behind his eyes, teeth gritted. He’s heard of orgasms so powerful they take control of one’s body, and right now fuck if this isn’t that then he didn’t know what was.

Nails digging into your hips - keeping you still as he pounds into you, fucking his seed deeper and deeper. Cock throbbing around your quivering walls - overstimulated as you cum around the feeling of him filling you up. Vision blurring, blood roaring in your ears as everything crashes together like a tidal wave.

Before you know it, you’re collapsing onto his heated chest. Limbs tangled and breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breaths.

You can feel his cum leaking out of you, thick and sticky. Pooling between your legs. Stomach feeling so full of him.

“Looks like you talked a lot more shit than you could handle, darling.” you grin, still breathless.

Oh. You shouldn’t have said that.

It was like a flip switched.

Seizing your moment of weakness, rolling over in the blink of an eye. You sink into the now-soaked mattress as his large hands hold a bruising grip on your wrists, pinning them right above your head.

He loomed menacingly over you, low whisper hot against your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

“My turn, pretty girl.”

- GOJO, Choso, OIKAWA, Kuroo, Suna, Tsukishima, ATSUMU, EREN

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

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cupcakeinat0r · 2 months

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Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation, “ungh!”

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

Note

The recruits bully octo baby 😭

I feel like since the baby looks like könig, it’s there way of making fun of könig without being throttled

Like on the off days that reader is out and about with octo baby in her sling and here are all these buff men suddenly circling her and making fun of the baby.

“Damn that’s an ugly baby.”

“Imagine having to go through the pain of pregnancies only to have THAT thing come out of you.”

“You think that’s how the colonel looked like as a baby? No wonder he had to kidnap his wife”

They’re all cackling to themselves as reader just scowls at them, hugging her baby close to her and power walking out of there. I can imagine octo baby looking over her shoulder, staring at them with his feelings hurt: 🥺

Yes! The monster society is literally built on valuing only strength and power, so the weird octobaby won't get any privileges even if it's the colonel's child. If anything, poor thing gets ridiculed even more - with how powerful his father is and how pathetic the octobaby are, it's impossible to escape crude jokes. You hate being around his recruits because of this - they are treating your child like its some crusty dusty ugly dog and not a precious baby that might have a bit of grotesquely mixed features of octopus and a human...you still love it!! You actually stopped going out because of it - whenever you're walking around the base without Konig, it would only lead to soldiers discussing you and your life as a pet and how weird it must be to give birth to such ugly creature. Konig is surprised that you're more homebound now, since you were the one to whine and cry whenever he didn't want to let you go out...and now you ask him to just be in your nest?? With you?? Something is wrong, you look unhappy and angry all the time - and it would be normal if he was the reason for this, but no, he was actually on his best behavior lately. You don't want to share what recruits are talking about because you think he would just take their side - he doesn't like the weird octobaby and you know this, so it's better to not even suggest he'd talk to them...but then you break down anyway because you're scared the octobaby is going to get hurt(( and Konig doesn't understand the issues at first, but then he hears all the stuff that the recruits have been telling you - and it's almost a direct attack at him, for insulting his mate and his baby. His soldiers are making you cry!! He couldn't care less about the baby, but he doesn't want his precious mate so sad. Needless to say that some of the most loud recruits are not returning from patrols...and when you're strolling through the hallways now, no one dares to even look at you or the baby.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #monster!konig

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flowersandbigteeth · 2 months

Note

Would you ever consider doing an Orc royalty arranged marriage? The Orcs have taken over a Human kingdom, because of their low birthrate (and because humans are universal breeders). The Orcs start scanning the Humans in their newly conquered territory for the most genetically compatible mates, which the royalty obviously gets the first pick of because the royal line is seen as the most important. Reader happens to be the most compatible with a member of the nobility, or maybe even the royal family, and so is married off to Orc King/warlord or the Warlord’s son/the crown prince/heir.

Yes! This one was so fun to write ^_^. I had an idea for a reader with a speech disability in my drafts, and this seemed like the perfect scenario to use it. It's a little long and very fluffy. Now that I've done this one, I kind of want to do one about Vola's romance, as well. (how they met, etc.)

Orc King (Golmad) x f reader with speech disability

Word Count: 8k

TW: there is a lot of orc fluff followed by nsfw orc smut, p in v sex, some light violence, bullying by family member, arranged marriage, size difference

“Straighten your back (Y/N),” your mother snapped as she adjusted the obnoxious pink bow on your head. “You must look perfect for the King.��

She wrinkled her nose at you.

“Considering your…deformity…You need to look as pretty as possible, so he won't toss you aside.”

“Oh, shut it, Mauria!” Your father chuckled, taking a thirsty sip of his wine. “A silent wife is a blessing! He’s gonna be thrilled!”

She gave him a withering look before turning back to you and fussing with a lock of hair. Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but as usual, you said nothing.

“Don't make that face, darling, smile!”

You pasted a fake smile on your lips, wishing you could be anywhere else. She licked her thumb and rubbed some stray blush off your cheek before she took a step back, looking you over.

“Wonderful! Like a little doll!”

“Oh look, the future Queen,” your perfect big sister Starla sneered as she wandered to the pile of olives at your father's side, popping one in her mouth. “You sure you don't want to fuck one of the stableboys before that Orc splits you in two? I’d hate for you to die before you have your first orgasm!”

She and your father cackled in laughter, but your mother frowned. Not because she insulted you, but because your mother was the pinnacle of decorum.

“Don't talk like that, Starla. It makes you sound cheap. You're going to be Queen soon. You need to learn grace and discretion.”

She snorted, grabbing your father's goblet of wine and taking a big gulp.

“When I'm Queen, Rotham will defeat all these miserable monsters and put their heads on pikes! Too bad (Y/N) won't live to see it after that awful creature snaps her like a twig!”

Your smile fell, and you looked away. As the oldest daughter, Starla should have been the offering to the King of the Orcs. But Starla was beautiful and brilliant and talented and popular and…blah blah blah. Your parents couldn’t waste her on the insurgent Orc king. The nobles all thought they’d make a comeback, stage a coup, and everything would go back as it should be. Starla would marry the human prince, Rotham, still in hiding, and become the real Queen.

You were the spare, a sacrifice to placate the enemy. Suffering a sickness as a child, your vocal cords were fused. You couldn't speak or make any noise other than whimpers and mewls. The snobby nobles your parents spent time with had labeled you damaged. When they bothered to speak to you, they acted as though you were dim, as well, which you were not. That was the only thing you surpassed Starla at, you were a very fast reader and quite good with math.

When the Orcs overthrew the former King, they said they were looking for fertile human wives. Humans bore children at twice the rate of the Orcs, so they’d taken the kingdom to secure their hold on the region with big, robust families.

You were all required to submit a blood sample to determine if you were compatible, and then you'd be assigned to an Orc husband. Your mother didn't dare submit Starla’s blood. She had to remain untouched for the human prince. So she sent yours and one of the maids. Yours was a match…to the King.

You all turned as an Orc dressed in fine livery appeared at the door.

“The King will see you now,” he said, then turned and left.

“Look how they dress themselves,” Starla whispered. “As if they're civilized! What a joke! He didn't even stay to escort us! Savages.”

Your parents chittered while you sucked in a deep breath. Your mother shoved you through the door, eager to get to the negotiations, her favorite part of any encounter.

“Back straight! Chin up! You are representing our family.”

You stumbled forward, following the direction the Orc butler had gone. You'd been in the castle before, attending court with your parents, but as you stepped into the large hall, you saw it had all changed.

The old tapestries had been torn down, replaced with large pelts of animals you'd never even seen before, their heads preserved and their eyes replaced with glass balls. The old wooden furniture was now twisted iron, probably made by the mountain dwarves, allies of the Orcs. They’d provided most of the weapons that led them to victory. The new flag, green with a bear and an axe pictured in silhouette, was hanging behind his throne.

Orcs lined the gallery, laughing and chattering, but they all fell silent as you entered. You took a thick breath, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other and ignore their curious eyes.

You heard Starla snort behind you as if this was all hilarious. Her disdain made you lift your chin. You would not go to the King as her joke.

Your first glimpse of your future husband from across the long hall made your eyes widen. Even from far away, he was massive. He must have been nine or ten feet tall and wide as an Ox.

On his broad shoulders, he wore a thick fur stole over a neat indigo shirt lined with the same cream fur. His thick legs were tucked in matching navy pants and imposing black boots. His outfit was surprisingly human. Behind him, massive shining weapons were arranged on a stand, just within arm's reach.

When you arrived at the end of the carpet leading you to him, you curtsied as you'd been taught.

You couldn't greet him verbally, so you waited for your mother to present you.

“Your majesty!” She crooned. “Please let me present my lovely daughter (Y/N), your perfect blood match!”

You tried not to tremble in front of him, but this close, he was so very large! His gold eyes passed over you, cool as cold metal. You’d never seen an Orc close-up before, and everyone had told you they were ugly, but the King in front of you was…not. No, he didn't look human, but his jaw was thick and sharp, and his eyes were a beautiful, rich color, like the setting sun.

Thick black hair fell over one shoulder, shaved to the skin on one side. A full bottom lip wrapped around large tusks that were more exciting than unappealing. His skin was flawless, olive green that reminded you of a mossy forest. Everything about his countenance screamed royalty, though he didn't wear a crown like a human King, his head tipped up, unafraid and confident. Instead, a chunky gold chain link necklace hung around his neck, with a large diamond set at the center, identifying him as the regent.

Your breath became labored as the reality that he would soon be your husband set in. You had no idea how you could be compatible. He was almost twice your height!

The King nodded for your mother to go on.

“Unfortunately, my dear daughter suffered a sickness in her youth that stole her voice, but she's otherwise healthy, untouched, and fertile. Fit for a crea- King.”

The casual discussion of your sexual history in front of a hundred-odd strangers made you blush and dip the chin you'd been trying so hard to keep up. Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, and you hurriedly wiped it away, probably smearing blush across your cheek. Behind you, your sister snickered.

You peered back up at the King, wondering if he was disappointed. His eyes darted to her, and his frown deepened before they returned to you. Your heart sank, assuming he was comparing you to your stunning sister. Instead, he did the last thing you expected. He signed to you.

“Is your family always this tiresome?”

You released an audible gasp, one of the few sounds you could make, but signed back. Learning to read sign language was something your parents and sister never bothered to do. You’d learned from the kind chaplain at the church, one of the few places your mother allowed you to go alone. He thought you ought to have a way to communicate that didn’t involve scribbling notes on paper—your parents and pretty much everyone else preferred to communicate at you, not with you.

“I'm sorry if they displease you, Your Majesty.”

A wide smile spread on his lips as he signed back.

“You are incredibly polite for the daughter of such fools.”

You giggled, and your parent’s wide eyes danced between you.

“You don't have to see them again if you'd rather not.”

At that, your breath caught in your throat, and you chose your next thought carefully.

“Please don't kill them, Your Majesty.”

That drew a deep chuckle from his throat. It was rich and smooth, like chocolate.

“Since you asked so politely….but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

You gave him a tight nod, unsure if he was joking or not.

Your mother, not appreciating being out of the loop, cleared her throat.

“Since the two of you seem to be getting along so…familiarly…there's only the matter of the reward you promised. Of course, considering the status of the match, (Y/N) being the Queen and all…we expect a significant...investment.”

The Orcs promised to compensate every family for whichever daughter they took. It was the only way they could get the citizenry not to revolt at every turn. Making each daughter valuable in gold appealed to their sensibilities, especially after the draining war. A thick eyebrow shot up on the King’s face, and your mother continued with her pitch.

“You wouldn't want the family of the Queen living in squalor. Not because we are greedy, of course. Never that. We are incredibly humble. But we lost a great deal of our fortune during the war. What would the citizens think? You don't want them assuming you scraped some farm girl from the manure pile. We are a noble family and must exude a certain level of status, don't you agree? Especially considering her condition.”

Your eyes widened that your mother would be so bold, but his eyes shifted to her and narrowed. He rolled a finger in her direction, signaling her to go on.

“What exactly do you mean about her condition?”

Seeing an opening, your mother gave him a genteel smile.

“Well, we understand that (Y/N) will never take an active role in your rule- Her value lies in the heirs she can produce.”

“And isn't that a blessing?” Your father piped in. “A pretty little quiet wife is preferable, no? Worth twice a chatty wench!”

Your mother shot him a look, and swatted him.

“I'm just saying…” he muttered before she went on.

“What I mean is…people will assume things about her. Due to our status, the nobles all know she’s…not all there. I don't know how it is for Orcs, but the court here is…discerning.”

She turned to Starla.

“If my other daughter had been at all match, we would have sent her since she's a far superior candidate for Queen. Pity it didn't work out that way. In any case, I'm only thinking of your image.”

He glanced at you, signing.

“Are you sure about keeping them alive? I’m growing tired of this nattering, aren’t you?”

You giggled again, your mother shooting you a look full of vinegar.

“Killing them is probably not a good plan. My mother is made of tough stuff…I'm sure she’ll return as a noisy wraith and torment you about your posture,” you signed back.

He let out a roll of laughter, crooking his finger at you. Blushing, your eyebrows rose, but you took slow steps towards him. When you were within grabbing reach, he snapped you up and settled you on his lap. He was very warm compared to the lofty, cool hall and smelled like ginger and leather. You couldn’t help but stroke the shiny black hair that fell on your side of his shoulder. You didn’t mean to be so curious, but you’d never seen an Orc up close, and he was quite the specimen. His skin was smooth and velvety to the touch. Without thinking, you poked one of his tusks with your finger. He flashed you a smile, amused at your interest, before he returned to your mother.

“Since you are all so thoughtfully concerned with my image, it would be best to make you at home here, in the castle. You can get a taste of Orc society. You won't need any gold here. All your needs will be provided for.”

Your mouth fell open, trying to read his thoughts, but he only smirked at you.

“How…kind, your majesty,” your mother said, ever the diplomat.

Starla was not happy and stomped her foot.

“Mother! You can’t be serious! I can't be seen with these savages! Rotham will think I've been touched by beasts!”

Your hand clapped over your mouth, never thinking clever Starla would say something so brash.

The King’s face turned severe. His easy smile had tricked you into thinking he was a gentle giant, but his business face was terrifying. You were thankful it wasn't directed at you.

“Rotham? Our enemy's son, leading a band of traitorous supporters? Are you saying you are harboring a fugitive and dare to show your face in my court?”

Starla backpedaled as quickly as she could.

“Of course not, Your Majesty, it's…it’s…another Rotham…a man from the village…a…butcher.”

He relaxed. Which was odd to you because you knew he didn't believe her lie.

“Good. He should be pleased he has a chance with the Queen’s sister. You can invite him to dinner if you like.”

Starla’s face blanched, but she nodded obediently. He waved at one of the Orcs standing to the side.

“Show them to their quarters. We will convene for a meal to welcome our new Queen shortly.”

When they were gone, the King turned his attention back to you.

“Would you like the chef to prepare something special for your first dinner in the castle?”

You had no idea what to say. No one had ever asked your preference or opinion on anything.

“We should eat what is traditional. You are welcoming me into your family, Your Majesty. I’d like to know more about your customs.”

Though he seemed satisfied with your answer, he waved a dismissive hand at you.

“Don't call me Your Majesty. We're meant to be married. My name is Golmad.”

He fingerspelled the letters, then showed you the sign he used for it– the gestures for gold and bear, together. You returned the sign you used for your own name.

“May I ask a question, Golmad?”

“Anything. I don't want you to fear me, (Y/N).”

You organized your thoughts for a moment before you formulated your question.

“Why do you know sign language? I can hear; you could speak if it is easier.”

He looked you over, his expression warm.

“I learned for you. I wanted to speak to you in your language. I knew you were for me long before you took the test– over a year ago. The test is for your human sensibilities. Your people don't rely on instinct. Demanding the test makes it something they can understand. I know by scent your sister is compatible, as well. But I don't desire her.”

Your eyebrows popped up at that admission, and your heart thumped in your chest. You never expected such care from a battle-hardened Orc king.

“But how? I've never seen you before!”

He smirked.

“We Orcs are stealthier than you humans know. It's in our nature to hunt our match.”

You frowned, a vicious thought pricking your mind.

“Did you pick me because I'm silent?”

His eyes narrowed, but the expression they held was not cruel.

“You are not silent. You speak differently, but you are not a doll without thoughts. Your mother is wrong. You are the best candidate to be Queen. If I had chosen your sister, do you think she would have appeared before me as you did?”

He patted your chest, not to fondle you, but over your heart.

“You are a survivor, brave, and virtuous. I trust you at my side.”

You gasped, feeling more seen than ever before, but also the weight of the responsibilities on your shoulders.

“Now, we must prepare you for Orc society.”

He tugged the big bow on your head, tossing it on the floor when he'd pulled it loose.

“An Orc Queen will not be dressed like a puppy.”

A smile spread across his lips, and he stood, so large he could carry you with very little effort. As you passed the Orcs lining the hall, they bowed to the two of you, giving you the first taste of what it meant to be Queen.

The bedroom he brought you to was very different from a human King’s bedroom. It had more plants than furniture, large leafy vegetation planted in a generous selection of iron pots. His bed reminded you of a nest, a wide pallet layered with thick furs in colors ranging from white to rust red to pitch black. There wasn't a spot you could stand in the room where a weapon was not in reach. Axes and swords were mounted on the walls, and iron stands on the floor. Daggers of varying sizes seemed splayed haphazardly on every horizontal surface.

Golmad set you down and began stripping off the clothes he wore. Your cheeks burned as he revealed thick muscle after thick muscle, but you were also a bit frightened. Was he going to take you now? His eyes met yours, which had to be as large as saucers.

“I only wore this to speak with your parents. There is wisdom in accommodating humans occasionally. They see us as monsters. Dressing like them makes them more comfortable, but now that you are mine, they will need to grow accustomed to our culture.”

You nodded, forcing your mouth closed, and he stopped undressing when he got to his pants. The bulky planes of his chest were plenty of eye candy. You weren't sure if you were ready for the rest.

He let out a loud call, and two Orc women appeared at the door, holding folded stacks of fur and leather.

“These are my sisters Vola and Cayenne. Don't mind their doting. Orc families are very affectionate.”

They gave you a polite bow.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” they signed together after they’d deposited the fabrics on a table. When Golmad stepped out of the way, they circled you with big smiles, patting your hair and pinching your cheeks as if you were a new kitten.

“She’s so cute!”

“I didn't believe she would be so tiny, but look at her. Precious!”

Cayenne spun you around, examining your form. You weren’t exactly tiny in human terms, but compared to them, you were short stack.

“We must choose something daring!”

Vola nodded.

“Like a little wildcat!”

You signed to Golmad, a little surprised at their sweetness. They even learned sign language for you!

“The nobleman said the Orc women resent us and that they'll rip us to bits for stealing their men.”

He chuckled.

“That's nothing but propaganda. They want babies just as much as the males. A stout, fertile, submissive human husband is ideal for caring for their pups. Your people are obsessed with the purity of their women. We never had to organize a silly test for the males. The Orcesses just bop their mate on the head and drag him home.”

He gave you a conspiratorial grin, his gold eyes glittering.

I have a surprise for you at dinner. I think you’ll find it quite funny.

You blinked, absorbing that fact, but decided to tuck it away for now and focus on what was happening in front of you.

“It was kind of your sisters to learn sign language.”

He looked slightly bashful at that comment, his green cheeks burning a bit darker.

“Everyone is required to learn. Your staff will speak to you in your own language, not at you. Though I initially ordered it to accommodate you, we've since found tremendous value in practicing the skill.“

You didn't have time to think much more about it as the Orcesses started stripping your heavy dress off. Your cheeks burned as Golmad’s eyes roved over your bare skin, an appreciative glint in them.

Vola wrapped a soft, asymmetrical skirt of spotted fur around your waist, and Cayenne pulled a leather crop top over your breasts. Then she secured a thick belt on top of your hips. She turned and started picking up and putting down daggers. Once she’d decided on the right one, she sheathed it in its stop at your side.

“This one is perfect for you,” she explained—”light and sharp. You don't need might to wield a blade. Only speed and endurance.”

She patted it.

“We’ll help you train. Every Orc does morning training together before breakfast. We are a communal people. Training is another way to reinforce community. We hash out our disagreements on the training mat, and by the time we sit for our meal we are all on the same page. Our strength is not just our size. We win wars because our bonds are unbreakable.”

You nodded, feeling very special to be trusted with their secrets.

They finished the outfit with fur-lined boots and a diamond necklace matching Golmad’s. Cayenne produced a makeup stick, drawing a long line across your nose from one cheek to the other and vertical lines from the center of your eyes down to your chin.

“This is traditional for the Queen. We don’t wear crowns like your people. These markings identify your position at special events. When you are officially married, there will be tattoos and you won’t need the makeup anymore.”

You blinked at her, wondering what your mother would say to that. An Orc appeared in the doorway, not dressed in human clothes. Instead, he wore leather pants, and was shirtless with an axe strapped to his back.

He spoke as he signed, showing his respect for you.

“Dinner is ready, Your Majesty.”

You swallowed deeply as you were about to meet your future subjects, wearing less clothing than you’d ever worn in public before. Your arms and stomach were bare, as well as one leg where the skirt split. Golmad scooped you up and plopped you on his shoulder as he carried you to the dinner hall. You could hear the raucous laughter of Orcs celebrating, but when you walked through the door, all were silent and bowed in unison.

It was difficult to find them amid the massive Orcs, but you finally spotted your family seated at the long table at the right of the King and Queen’s seats. Starla was dressed to impress in a low-cut gown emphasizing her assets, though she looked disgusted at the Orcs around her. When your mother caught sight of you, her mouth opened, and she covered it in horror as if they’d done something terrible to you.

Golmad waved a hand, and the Orcs all took their seats at the table. As he got comfortable, arranging you on his lap, his sister Vola sat down with a familiar man on her lap.

“Rotham?!” your sister screeched. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

You felt Golmad’s body shudder underneath you as he chuckled. Vola shot a glare at Starla, petting Rotham’s head. His cheeks darkened just a bit, but he snuggled against her ample breasts.

“Don’t speak so familiarly with my mate,” Vola spat.

Starla’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head.

“Rotham, how could you? We were supposed to be married! I was supposed to be Queen! How can you lay with that…monster?! What about your people? YOUR COUNTRY?”

The table had grown silent as everyone watched the drama play out.

“Vola is my mate,” Rotham said, looking down his nose at her. “I love her! Why would I want to sit on a throne waiting for someone pretending to be my friend to stab me in the back and fuck my wife when I can stay cozy and safe tending Vola’s hearth?”

He shook his head as if he were knocking something unpleasant out of it.

“Why do I have to be King, anyway?! Just because I'm a man? You know what, Starla? You've never once asked what I wanted! Do you realize that? You don't care about what I want, only that I fulfill what fantasy you have about conquering the Orcs and obtaining a sparkly trinket. You'd be happy to stand on the sidelines like a swooning maiden, spending money you haven't earned on meaningless crap, while I risk my life and limbs for a battle I don't even care about!”

Starla looked incensed, shocked, and confused by his position.

“But she's a monster, Rotham. The enemy!”

His brow drew and jabbed a finger at her.

“Don’t you dare call my mate a monster; she is no enemy! It’s cruel and disrespectful. Vola loves me for me! She likes my cooking! She kisses me when I get hurt! She listens to my fears and helps me accomplish my goals! My goals! Not a bunch of spoiled noble's goals.

I'm warning you, don't provoke her. I don’t love you, but I don’t want to see you harmed, either.”

His smile met Vola’s before his eyes dipped to her body, looking quite pleased with his wife.

Starla stood up, knocking over her chair as her sense dissolved with her dream of becoming Queen. The real Starla came out, the snotty girl who used to throw tantrums when she didn’t get a toy she wanted at the Goddesses’ Supper.

“Kissing your boo-boos like a sniveling child? Chasing frivolous goals? What the fuck are you talking about? You are royalty! You have a responsibility to the country! To me! What could possibly be more appealing than being the King?”

Rotham huffed.

“I want to be a baker! That's all I ever wanted to do, and because I was born my father's child, I never even had the option to try. My parents planned out my life, then advisors, then generals, and even you. I could never do what I wanted. I was scolded if I ever went near the kitchen, even to bake in my spare time! It was hell!”

Starla snorted.

“A baker?! That's work for common folk! It's beneath you! You’re throwing away the crown to bake cookies?! That’s pathetic! Stop this nonsense right now!”

Vola growled.

“Do not speak to my mate that way. Rotham deserves to be as free as any of us. He's an excellent baker. You're just sour he's not putting himself in harm's way to elevate your status!”

Starla's eyes narrowed on Vola.

“How dare you think, you, a filthy beast, are worthy of a Prince?! MY PRINCE?! You’re nothing but an ugly ogre!”

You felt the tension rise as every Orc leaned in, watching what would happen next. Vola gave her a cool smile.

“Do you mean to challenge me for my mate, little girl?”

“He’s not your mate! He’s mine! MINE!”

Golmad held up a hand.

“The human has declared an official challenge for Vola’s mate. Take her to the ring.”

Starla screamed as an Orc picked her up and awkwardly carried her out of the room. Everyone else at the table followed, including your parents, whispering between each other.

The battle ring was a simple dirt circle with thick ropes marking its outline. By the time you and Golmad arrived, Starla had been placed in the center, and someone had armed her with a thin rapier, probably the only weapon in the arsenal against the wall she could lift.

You could see the terror on her face when Vola set Rotham down next to you and entered the ring, cracking her knuckles.

“Wait! Wait! This is madness!” Starla screamed, realizing there was no chance she would win this fight.

Golmad waved her screams away.

“In our tradition, a mate challenge is binding. You should not have spoken so carelessly if you did not want to fight. You must follow through. Prepare yourself! Begin!”

Your heart raced, wondering if you should do something to save your sister. Golmad caught your worried expression and signed to you with a small smile.

“She won’t kill her. Death’s not necessary to teach her a lesson.”

You let out a breath of relief, leaning into Golmad’s warm body. The two competitors circled one another…rather, Vola circled Starla, and Starla looked for an exit. The Orcs packed tightly around the ring, and there was no gap to escape. When she realized there was no way out, she raised her weapon with two hands as best as possible.

“Stay back, beast! I’ll cut you!”

Vola laughed, darting forward so fast she was only a green blur. You heard a crack, and Starla smacked the dirt, blood spraying across her pretty dress. Mercifully, Vola didn’t knock her out. Starla’s whining voice drifted up from the ground.

“My nose! She broke my fucking nose!”

Vola snatched her weapon up and pointed the blade at her throat.

“Do you concede?”

Starla’s eyes got big. She focused on the tip of the rapier and nodded.

To make her point, Vola adjusted her grip and stabbed the sword into the ground next to Starla’s head. A clump of her hair fluttered to the ground beside her.

Leaning in so close to her that their noses almost touched, Vola pinned her with an icy glare.

“The next time you raise your voice to my mate, I will not miss, little girl.”

Golmad lifted a hand, ending the fight.

“Vola has defended her claim! To dinner!”

The Orcs cheered, but Rotham cheered the loudest. When she returned to him, he squeezed her biceps, looking up at her with stars in his eyes.

“You're so strong! You were fast, too, like a beautiful bolt of lightning!”

“Rotham, please…” Starla whimpered from the dirt, hoping to get sympathy from him.

He only frowned and turned away. Vola scooped him up, swinging him around while she kissed him.

“I'll always protect you and your honor, my darling,” she said. “To my dying breath.”

They and the other Orcs piled out of the room, leaving your parents to help Starla with her bloody nose. As Golmad carried you out, you heard them speaking to her as your mother helped her to her feet.

“Don’t be difficult, Starla. We need to return to the table. Buck up.”

“Are you insane? My nose is broken, and I’m covered in blood! I’m not going back there!”

For once, you heard your father sound stern.

“You got yourself into this foolishness, Starla. If Rotham is not leading a rebellion, we must find favor with our new King. We cannot be absent from (Y/N)’s dinner. It would be disrespectful, and we don't have the money to live up to the standards we're used to without her grace! Living here is our best option. I’m not going to be tossed on the street to defend your ego.”

When Golmad set you on his lap at the head of the table, Starla sulkily took her place beside your mother, a napkin on her nose to slow the bleeding. When she did look up from her plate, it was to glare across the table at Vola and Rotham, caught up in their own banter between lovers.

Golmad cleared his throat to call everyone to attention, and the noise quickly quieted.

He signed as he spoke, so everyone could understand.

“We come together for this meal to welcome my lovely Queen (Y/N) to our fold!”

He glanced down at your parents, his face a bit smug.

“Family and community are a core value of our kind. I also welcome (Y/N)’s parents and sister to our castle. Please do your best to help them grow accustomed to our traditions.

This night marks a step forward in the blending of human and Orc society, and as I have found my match, I wish you all your own mates so that, from the wounds of war, another generation of both our peoples can flourish! Let’s enjoy the bounty of this land together!”

That was the end of the speech, as Orcs carried out massive dishes of roasted meat, vegetables, and golden-crusted pies and arranged them on the table.

Happy Orcs were loud and raucous, apparently enjoying giving toasts. Everyone guzzled ale as they tipped their glasses to speeches of triumphs in war, hunting their new mates, and lots of well wishes to your future children.

Numerous Orcs lined up to kiss your hand and declare their devotion to your protection. Meanwhile, your parents focused their energy on courting Golmad’s favor, complimenting the food, the music, and whatever else they could think of that might endear them to him. Your mother even gave you a tight compliment on your skirt.

While you tried to focus on greeting your subjects, your mind wandered to the warm body underneath you. Golmad’s firm, barrel chest brushed your arm with every deep breath. The bulging muscles of his thigh were like sitting on a stone chair covered in bulky leather, but those features aside, your absolute favorite part of his physique was his husky stomach. It was firm and toned from daily training but thick from eating well. Leaning into it was quite comfortable and cozy.

Everything about him was so big, including the enormous shaft, you could feel at your back. Maybe it was the wine, but your initial fear of it had slowly changed to curious interest as the night progressed. What would it be like? How would it feel inside of you? What would it taste like? The lewd thoughts were incredibly distracting. You found yourself wiggling your bottom to brush it without thinking. Every time you did, you felt a low rumble in his chest no one else could hear above the merrymaking.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked when there was finally a break in the production, and you could speak.

You nodded and gave him a wan smile.

“Your court is delightful. It's just…

When you paused his focus on you became intense.

What's wrong? You can tell me, I won't be offended.”

You looked over the celebration, considering how your day played out compared to what you expected.

“A lot has happened today…between the meeting and the fight…I'm a little tired, to be honest. I want to keep up with your people…but…”

His gold eyes gleamed with predatory interest, making heat swell in your core.

“I have a remedy for that. Orc celebrations take a bit of time to get used to. They'll all be up till dawn.”

He stood before you could ask anything more, willing the Orcs to quiet down.

“My Queen and I will retire for the evening! Enjoy the food and drink. Show our guests how Orcs celebrate!”

A happy cry rang out, and the party started again as Golmad carried you out of the room. Your heartbeat thumped in your chest, realizing this was the first time the two of you would be alone for any length of time. He was so large he could do anything to you, and that thought had become far more exciting than frightening.

When you arrived at his bedroom, he gently set you down on a table and turned his attention to starting a fire in the fireplace to warm the cool room.

You swung your legs over the edge of the tall table, watching the muscles in his back flex as he loaded the hearth with logs. When he turned, he pulled off his boots and tucked them in a corner. Finally, he approached you, his footsteps silent for someone so large. His eyes moved over your body as if deciding what part to engage first.

“Do you think a back rub would help you relax? It’s been an eventful day.”

You nodded, your heart skipping at the thought of his big hands on you. He tugged your boots off and set them next to his before settling the two of you on his bed, with you on his lap.

You let out a long moan as his thick fingers pressed gently into the tense knots in your shoulder. His breath fanned across the nape of your neck, causing a pleasurable shiver to snake up your spine. Since his hands were busy, he spoked to you, his head dipping close to your ear.

“I didn’t have a moment to tell you how beautiful you looked, today. In your human clothes, but especially so in ours.”

You hummed a thank you, a sizzling tingle vibrating in your ear. As his thumbs slid down the curve of your waist, you realized he could circle both hands around your middle. His thumbs worked the knots away, but his other fingers smoothed over your bare skin.

He seemed to get distracted by your arms, shifting his attention to one. He measured the diameter of your wrist with his thumb and forefinger.

“You are delicate. I feel fortunate to have someone so sweet to protect and love.”

At the word love, your cheeks burned, and you let out a quick mewl. You heard him chuckle behind you. He spun you around to face him, putting his hand lightly around your neck. Your breath came short, and your eyes widened at him, not sure what he was doing.

“You are a precious blessing. I’ll never hurt you, (Y/N). If something hurts, pinch me, and I’ll know to stop, okay?”

You nodded, relaxing just slightly. With his other hand, he tipped your head to the side, and the fingers around your neck massaged the muscles that had gotten tight from gritting your teeth. Your eyelashes fluttered as all of the tension slipped away. When you opened them again, Golmad’s eyes met yours, flickering as if they were lit from within and drawing you forward.

He loosened his grip on your neck, and you pushed yourself up on your knees, pressing your small hands into his chest as you leaned up to him.

For a moment, he looked surprised, but his eyes tracked yours as you looked over his features, pulled to his nicely shaped lips. He seemed to have no intention to push you to be intimate with him, but he was to be your husband. You were curious about him. You sucked in a quick breath before you tipped your head forward and brushed your lips against his. That’s what a wife was supposed to do, no?

He let out a deep, rumbling grumble you felt between your legs. His big hand swept you up by the small of your back, while the other cradled your face. The next time your lips came together was a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand wrapped around his tusk, sliding over the smooth surface as you explored with your lips.

You’d never kissed before, so you weren’t entirely sure what to do beyond the first taste. Pulling back you looked at him through the veil of your lashes, cheeks burning and lips swollen.

“Was that good?” You asked.

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he gave you a gentle nod.

“Is this your first time kissing?”

You looked away, embarrassed at your inexperience, but a thick finger pushed your chin back in his direction.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I assumed the “untouched” bit of your mother’s introduction was a production. I mean…look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

You frowned, and he looked contrite.

“I didn’t mean…to question your purity…I only meant-”

He huffed, and you were surprised to see a confident Orc King flustered by you. When his gaze met yours, it was open and vulnerable.

“You’re so much smaller than me. I don’t want to scare you.”

You searched his face for a moment.

“You don’t scare me. I want to please you. Will you show me how?”

His cheeks darkened to a rich forest, and his mouth fell open. You watched his pupils widen, and he nodded, eyes drifting over your body. You pushed yourself up on your knees, kissing him again, hoping to encourage whatever might come next. He groaned, thick hands wrapping around your waist.

Feeling bolder, you let your hands move over his bare shoulders and gently trace every plane of his chest. He shuddered when your fingers slipped over a nipple, so you tried it again, earning you another rich groan. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting you for the first time, and he hummed into your mouth.

Beneath you, the shaft you’d already thought felt large suddenly got much firmer and larger. Curious, you gingerly let your fingers slip down his chest, palming him through his pants. A deep rumble vibrated his chest, and you mewled as he suddenly flipped you under him. You looked up at his massive body looming over you, panting.

His eyes ate up your skin, glowing with appreciation. A fingertip traced your collarbone down the V of the little crop top you wore. It took only a flick of his fingers to rip it in half. You gasped, chest heaving. He met your gaze, searching for any indication you didn’t want him to go on.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded quickly, your nipples pebbling now exposed to the air. He smirked, dipping his head to press a kiss into the top of one breast and then the other before he moved lower. Pleasure you weren’t used to was intoxicating as he licked and sucked your nipples. Your breaths were heaving, and your thoughts scrambled.

Though thick, his fingers were nimble, unbuckling the belt at your waist and stripping the skirt off you.

Instinctively, you looked away, never having been so exposed in your life. A grunt brought your eyes back to him, and Galmod squeezed your cheek before he spoke.

“It’s my job to please you. May I?”

Your nod was far more enthusiastic than you intended, and he grinned. A thumb teased a nipple, while his thick tongue traced your slit. A breathy mewl slipped out, and he glanced up without pulling away. His gaze was intent. Every hunting instinct he possessed focused on making sure you were enjoying what he had to give you. His tongue dipped inside of you the first time anything or anyone had touched you there. Your back arched, and your eyelashes fluttered. Your hand instinctively clutched his hair, your hips bucking into his mouth as wetness flooded your channel.

He chuckled, the added sensation making you whimper. Though your flavor was appealing, Golmad had a second reason for filling you with his tongue. He also stretched you, preparing you to take something much larger. When you were eagerly rocking your hips to create more friction, he slipped out of you, turning his attention to your clit. Your irises crossed, your first real orgasm exploding between your legs and shooting through every nerve in your body. You were practically drooling as he slipped two fingers inside, bringing you right back where you started, needy and wanting.

He stopped for a moment, cupping your chin to get your attention.

“Do you want more?”

Your fingers were shaking as you responded.

“Yes…please?”

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing you deeply before he rocked back on his knees.

“It will hurt for just a second, then it will feel good…but if you want me to stop, just pinch me. I’ll stop.”

You nodded quickly, wiggling your hips to entice him. You wanted whatever he planned on next. His gaze was ravenous, and you could tell staying in control of his instincts was work, but you trusted him, which made no sense since you'd only met. Something about him made you feel safe and protected, maybe the way he seemed so worried about hurting you.

Your eyes popped as he slipped out of his pants. A thick cock bobbed in front of him. You’d never seen something so viscerally sexy, his bulky green body hovering over you, a thick hand fisting a massive shaft. A zip of sheer excitement made you quake. You felt a little mad. His cock had to be too big for you, but you wanted more than anything to take it. A fresh wave of slick leaked from inside of your spasming cunt.

Your legs looked tiny in his hands as he spread them. He rubbed the large, round head of his cock against your slit, watching you whimper and beg for him with your eyes.

Entering you maddeningly slow, you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. It felt good, the strain feeling more decadent than painful. There was no way you could fit his entire length inside, but he didn't seem concerned, gripping the base for more control. His fingers circled your clit, and you hardly felt a slight pinch through a veil of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled you completely.

When your gazes met, you could see the concentration on his face, his brow drawn, and his jaw locked. You nodded to him, asking him to go on, telling him that you wanted it.

Pulling back, his hips snapped forward pushing a high-pitched mewl past your lips. He watched you, looking for any pain, but whatever he saw just egged him on. The concerned expression melted to a smug smirk, and he picked up the pace, heavy thrusts jerking your body against the soft furs.

His long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place while his strokes grew more intense.

“That’s it, you can take it,” he groaned, his husky voice tickling your ears.

You were amazed at your own body, your slippery fluids coating his shaft and allowing him to grind in and out of you despite his size. Though you could feel the strength in his hands, he only applied light pressure to your throat, making your heart skip. He could crush you easily, yet despite the rapture in his eyes, he held you like a baby dove.

The tension in your thighs relaxed, your legs opening for him far wider than you even knew they could to accommodate his big body.

The room filled with the sound of your sweet mewls and his guttural grunts.

“So good,” he drawled, words slurring. “You were made for me.”

You wanted to sign, “you, as well,” but your brain was mush.

His cock battered you in just the right spot, while his free hand never left your clit, pinching and circling it until your eyes crossed and you were drooling. You soared, high on his musky scent, your body sparkling in ways you’d never felt before. Pleasure licked the tips of your nerves, zipping up and down your spine like lightning bolts. The only thing you could do was hold on tight to the hand circling your throat, your nails digging into the sinewy flesh.

Your mother had made it seem like sex was a chore a wife did to please her husband and keep him from messing around. You had no idea it could be like this. Golmmad’s gold eyse lit as your wet cunt spasmed around him. A wet rush of bliss washed over you like the tide tugging you under. Your scream pierced the heady air as you reached your peak, spongey walls sucking him deeper.

It was one thing to cum underneath him, but the look on his face as your body clamped around him, wet slick coating his cock, was sheer euphoria. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as he roared his finale. Making a large, powerful Orc king fall apart made you feel powerful and desirable in a way you’d never been allowed to feel before. It was a high that couldn’t be matched. You wanted to do this again and again until neither of you could walk or think.

You felt his shaft grow impossibly harder, twitching inside you as he emptied himself into you in searing ropes. The ragged, stiff thrusts to seek his pleasure pulled another lingering orgasm from your pussy. You felt tears slipping down your cheeks as he slammed his hips into yours one last time.

For a moment, the two of you just panted together, his head dipping down just an inch or so above yours. You felt a thick thumb trace your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“I-I didn’t hurt you?” he whispered, and you forced your eyes open so he wouldn’t panic.

A small smile and a slight jerk of your head told him no, you were just fine. He peeled himself off of you, sinking down into his bed and pulling you onto his lap. His fingers played lazily in your hair as he caught his breath.

“What do you think?” he asked, his tone raw and vulnerable.

You propped your head on one fist, elbows resting on his chest, while you wound a lock of dark hair around a finger, thinking of how to answer him. You felt his breath halt, waiting eagerly for your answer. Finally, you pulled your legs under you, sitting cross-legged on top of him so you could use your hands.

“Can we do that again in the morning?”

His eyebrows jumped before his lips stretched into a broad smile, responding with his free hands.

“Of course, as many times as you like.”

You grinned and yawned, plastering your body on top of his. His warmth sunk into your bones, and sleep came easily. The last thing you felt before you dozed off was his hand stroking your hair as he muttered thanks to the goddess for bringing you to him.

1K notes · View notes

princessofmarvel · 9 months

Text

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids.

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on.

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone. He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her.

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes.

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up.

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much.

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt. Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke.

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up.

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed.

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one.

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this”

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.”

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away.

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came.

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him.

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more.

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.”

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?”

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest.

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time.

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close.

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.”

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left.

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly.

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan.

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada.

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in.

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious.

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered.

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.”

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out.

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man.

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour.

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising.

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison.

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face.

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.”

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled.

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following.

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes.

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”

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