#I don’t remember when I used to listen to this song?
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❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞
𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒
pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia
summary: a lil workplace visit can’t be that bad, right?
warnings: cussing, links to pinterest. a lil short, sorry!
saint’s team radio 🎀: hiiiii there. thank you for all the love on virgo’s groove, i truly love each and everyone of you! hope you enjoy this, babies!
pls like, comment and reblog!
dividers from @cafekitsune
fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!
renaissance: the series masterlist 🪩
Lewis had missed his wife, terribly so.
Often being reminded by most, that his companion was not next to him as much as she was the last two weeks. He never tired talking about her in any sense and to anyone who would listen. By now, she would’ve spoken about her students or a joke that her friends used to tell as she attended university many years ago. Possibly a song she was thinking about or a candy she tried from the hotel in Miami.
He had missed the bright smile she often displayed at anyone who was open to receiving it or whenever she spoke of her new friends. Lewis had realised she had quite the loud laugh, contradicting her quiet voice, and how she would laugh at his jokes, a quiet wheeze at first then a boisterous laugh following right after. He had also missed how she would slip into one of her many home languages whenever she spoke and how she would derail the conversation to explain every little thing in that specific language.
Surprisingly so, he liked seeing that she was spending his money, even after trying to convince her that it was totally okay. Lewis also liked how she would send little updates on her day just as he did as well, talking about how she’s constantly stopped in the streets for pictures and how shocked she always was that people recognised her.
He also liked the rambles she had whenever they got the chance to facetime. Making her blush at his words was always a sight to see and how she would try do it back but her giggles held her back.
Lewis missed Nadia. A lot.
Sitting in his hotel room in Barcelona, he stared at the suitcases that were waiting right by the door. He checked his carry on once again to check that the little gifts he got her were okay. The specific hoodie he was wearing still had faint scents of her perfume, making Lewis feel giddy to get home. Months ago, he would’ve always said that the world is his home but ever since he met Nadia, he could feel his smile get larger as his thoughts go on.
Managing to get a podium, just as he promised her, he remembered her excitement and astonishment when he explained how many he actually had. She went on to tell him that she’ll make celebratory baked goods for whenever he gets back. Lewis knew that he was distracted when he attended a dinner with some friends after the race, his phone couldn’t be separated from his hands. All that was on his mind was seeing her.
-
“I know we initially removed the second question from the assignment but the board brought it forward that it needs to be done.” As soon as Nadia finished her sentence, her year 12 students groaned loudly.
“It didn’t make sense to me either but because you’re my kiddies, I’ll research when I get home and just get a memo so you don’t have to worry. Even if you all write the same thing, it’s okay.” She assured, walking to her desk after handing out the ‘new’ assignment papers.
“Uh, Ms Brown. You said this can be typed out, right?” A hand that was raised asked. Before the teacher could answer, someone interjected.
“It’s Mrs Hamilton, Tash.” That made a few students laugh. Nadia would never get used to hearing herself being referred to that. Every time she even woke up in that house, it was unbelievable.
With a little chuckle, she put her pen down. “Thank you, Kim. But yes, it needs to be typed out and don’t forget to make a cover, everyone.” Picking up her pen once again, Nadia went on to work on the question that troubled the whole class.
Silence fell and all that was heard was faint music coming from some kid’s headphones as they worked on their assignment or their homework, Nadia never had an issue if they needed to complete other tasks from their other classes.
Glancing at the clock on her desk, there were at least two hours of school left but luckily, she only had a few classes that day and was able to go home early. An empty large mansion but it was home. Craving the vanilla macrons she made yesterday, Nadia was more than excited to get home.
It was also the day that she expected her husband back home from Spain. Mondays usually went slower than the usual but she pushed her excitement to the back of her head as she continued to work. There was still some time left with her favourite class so she relaxed in her seat.
Nadia’s phone kept buzzing with text messages as she typed away on her laptop, sending an apologetic look to the students who’s heads whipped at the distracting sounds. Picking it up, all she saw was messages from Maggie, the school office admin, sending through messages that basically implied that she was shaking, she was excited and constantly repeated ‘girllllll’.
The class was now interested in whatever was going on because Nadia’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was nothing she was aware of unless the principal wanted to talk to her about something but that was even more confusing.
A knock echoed through the classroom and she gave the student closest to the door a signal to open it and he froze at the door, seemingly starstruck. All the kids then leaned outside their desks to see and they began screaming in excitement at whoever was at the door. The figure walked in the door and Nadia’s stomach dropped at the sight.
“Oh my days, Lewis Hamilton is in my class!”
-
After eventually calming down the class who were still shocked and buzzing at the fact that Lewis was there, he offered to take pictures with everyone and even brought them doughnuts that he had left outside the class in hopes to surprise them. He locked eyes with his wife and made his way to her, signalling to the kids that he’d be right back to take pictures.
Nadia threw her arms around his waist as soon as Lewis was close enough, he kissed through her wig then her forehead, completely aware that the kids were watching and recording. “I don’t wanna get fired, Lew.” Nadia spoke, facing away from her students.
“I had a word with the principal, you’re good.” He reassured, patting her back. Winking at her as he went back to the excited kids, she felt the butterflies in her stomach. She also realised how spontaneous he was because he really just showed up to her work like he forgot who he was.
Getting home was a bit of a challenge, the rest of the school caught wind of his appearance and that was a mission in itself. To Nadia’s luck, school was still in session and she could get home early with her husband by her side. The deal was that Lewis would come speak to the kids one day in exchange for his spontaneity.
Climbing out of the Range Rover that she drove herself to school in, Lewis held her hand to the front door where his suitcases were waiting to be let in. It felt all so domestic like they’ve done this a thousand times before, taking off their shoes right by the door and she immediately slipped into her slides. The home smelt like a mixture of her sweet perfume, cookies and the ocean scented incense she bought for the house.
“Welcome home!” Nads turned around after dropping all her things on the kitchen island to throw her arms around his neck for the physical touch they had been waiting for. They melted into the hug, faces digging into each other’s necks, engulfing each other with their warmth. The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity before letting go eventually. “That felt good, wow.” Lewis said, his eyes taking in every part of her face.
He had missed her so much.
“Right? It felt like a month apart. How are you feeling? Spain was something else.” Nadia smiled, still unable to look at him in his eyes. Before he could answer, he knew he couldn’t just outright say anything to her yet. Lewis couldn’t tell her that he’s falling for her so quickly, so much so that he wanted to shout it out to the world. He did that already, the world just doesn’t know that all of this isn’t real.
“I’ve been alright, just wanted to come back home and relax. Getting that podium though,” Lewis breathed out. “Please, you made it look flawless.” Nadia interrupted, with a ‘duh’ expression on her face. He couldn’t help but genuinely smile at that.
She walked further into the kitchen and he followed after her like a puppy, waiting for her to do anything. “I made you vegan vanilla macrons for your podium and my non-vegan ones are in a different lunch box.” Nadia tapped the lunch box labelled ‘vegan’ with her freshly done nails then placed it on the kitchen counter.
“Ohh shit, I forgot I got you something else as well!”
Nadia ran up towards the stairs, spewing out the words as Lewis watched her with a smile on his face, leaning his head on his hand. Deciding to make himself comfortable in the living room, he waited for her.
Quick steps of her sandals echoing throughout the main floor, she came through with a medium sized box in hand, a proud smile on her face as she plopped herself right next to him on the couch. “So. You know how I said that I love sourcing for archives in fashion or the latest pieces that are just tough to find?” Nadia started.
“Yeah…..” Lewis responded with a slight lift of his eyebrow.
“This is a gift I want to give to you since you did so good in Spain but I got it like days before the podium so I had to pray that you did good.” She added, unable to contain her smile as she handed the box to him. Sitting down quite close to each other, she watched as Lewis carefully ripped the gift wrap.
He was smiling before he fully opened his gift. “I can feel you just jumping’ in excitement.” Lewis said, his natural accent and voice coming into light. The same voice he used to when he felt right at home.
Eventually putting all the gift wrap to the side, he faced the box in curiosity, opening it and being prepared to see anything. “You’re joking.” Lewis said in shock, staring at Nadia who’s smile was brighter than the sun itself. “It was tough finding these but I do hope you like them, Lew.” She responded.
“These were made-“ “By Virgil, yep. I knew that you guys had a good friendship so when I came across these, they reminded me of you guys.” She informed and giggled at Lewis constantly looking back and forth at the shoes. The Nike x Louis Vuitton air force one was apart of a collection released in honour of Virgil Abloh, Lewis’ friend and Nadia’s inspiration in the fashion world.
Lewis couldn’t contain himself and stood up abruptly, pulling Nadia with him to wrap his arms around her and give her an even warmer hug. A bit shocked, Nadia quickly recovered and returned the same energy towards him. “Thank you, Nads, truly. Not just for the shoes but just…everything.”
“Anytime, pookie bear.” Nadia moved her head to look directly into his eyes, focusing on every crevice of her face. Looking down at her neck, he caught a glimpse of shining silver jewellery sitting pretty on her neck, only used to seeing gold pieces only.
“Is that 44 on your necklace?” He pointed it out, looking back and forth between her face and her jewellery. “Oh! Yeah, I wanted it to match my ring. The world is getting familiar with this face, might as well add to it.” Nadia said with a smug smile and Lewis had to collect himself but he realised he was right home.
Adding a little chuckle, he lowered his large hands from the middle of her back to her ass then her thighs, getting a yell out of her when she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Wanna get the neighbour familiar with you?” Lewis smirked, licking his lips at the same time.
“Let’s get right to it, Sir.” She responded, giggling as he started rushing to the bedroom, holding onto her tightly as they went up the stairs.
-
lewishamilton
lewishamilton a week filled with love and joy. canada, here we come ~
tagged: @/nadiahamilton
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nadiahamilton i look too good 🤭
lewishamilton you always do
nadiahamilton omg STAWWP 🥹
user dawg this is so unfair, you don’t get it
fencer my best friends 🥹
liked by lewishamilton
user mother and father
kehlani sleep with one eye open, mister
lewishamilton it’s sir
kehlani i’m still taking your wife, leprechaun 🫵🏽
user seeing you two in Canada!!
user this man is too gone, bridgerton level simp
user well duh, if you were with Nadia, you’d be too
lewishamilton this is true, she hung up the moon and the stars
user OOOOHHHHHH LEWISSSSSS 🙂↕️
chunks your home is so beautiful, thanks champ 🫡
user lewis is friends with the beta squad????
user they’re nadia’s friends
louisvuitton hope you loved your gift! 🤍
lewishamilton it was gifted by Nads so it was the best 🫶🏽
user you guys are so cute, it HURTS
canadagrandprix thee it couple
mercedesamgf1 has more stories about Nadia than the Spanish gp, we have to respect it
badgalriri got a problem? 🤨
user they got Riri clocking they asses 😭😭😭
nadiahamilton
nadiahamilton i’m the cooler one
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tyla you’re the coolest of them all 😝
nadiahamilton love you always!!
nellarose_ that french vanilla cake you made? signing you up for masterchef rn!
nadiahamilton girl pls 😭
user you guys remember when the wags called her tinkerbell? she literally is tinkerbell in real life 😭
user and she smells like money and sweet flowers ‼️
nataliatheedon come back to America rn
nadiahamilton canada’s the best i can do 😣
user i feel like a certain canadian rapper is gonna show up lol
user i’m from toronto and there’s a rumour that lewis’ people are blocking off that rapper from getting near nadia because he keeps reposting her pics lollllll
user no ways lewis actually has shooters???
user he’s Lewis, what did you expect? 😭
zendaya mother graced us with her presence once again
nadiahamilton love you Z 😚
louisvuitton 🤍🤍
sza hand in marriage?
lilymhe omg hiii, let’s redo monaco?
lewishamilton hi sweetheart
nadiahamilton hi my love
user PARENTS
saint’s notes 🪩: heyyyy babies! this is one is quite short lol but i hope you enjoyed! love u all 😚 also noticed the colour schemes for their insta posts? 🫡
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#saint writes#renaissance: the series#lewis hamilton x black reader#lewis hamilton x oc#lewis hamilton fanfics#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton fic#lewis hamilton x reader#x black oc#f1 x oc#f1 x black!reader#f1 imagine
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Chapter 10: But It's Been Promised To Another
Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy?
Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Party, Semi-Public Sex, Quickies, Unsafe Sex, Tags Updated Per Chapter
Author's Note: for once i've got nothing to say. hope you enjoy!
Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay@nn-hh192 @photo1030 @just-pure-trash @julialoopeezz
Chapter List
For the first time during your entire marriage, you were excited for Hans to return home.
Not because you wanted to see him but because it meant that you were one step closer to seeing Arthur at the party. Your back ached from sleeping on the couch as you reached for the now-dry bedding on the line, a hole in your heart that grew each time Arthur left.
As you walked back into the house with an armful of laundry, you heard the unmistakable noise of wheels rolling over the dirt path. Excitement bubbled through you, and you ran inside and up the stairs. You got to work quickly, refitting the bed with its sheets, pretending to act surprised when you heard Hans knock lightly at the bedroom door.
Spinning around, you were nearly caught off guard by how disheveled he looked, as if he had run his hands through his hair countless times on the ride home. You don’t think you’d ever seen him like this, and the fake smile you’d plastered on fell. “Hans?” You asked cautiously, honestly a bit concerned. “Everything alright?”
His mouth formed the words, but no noise came out. Instead, he just sighed, an even faker smile than yours appearing beneath his beard. “I’m fine,” was all he said before backing up, no doubt retreating to his office. “Just… work. Nothing you need to bother yourself with.”
“But-” You didn’t even get a word out before he disappeared from the doorway. You heard the sound of keys rattling as he pulled them out of his jacket pocket, and you turned back to your work.
A thought flashed in your mind, making you halt, listening intently for your husband. You remember that the office was unlocked, having no way to lock it after you and Arthur’s exploration. And when you heard the keys stop jingling, you knew he noticed it, too. He always locked his office, even after two years together.
You waited with bated breath, expecting to hear heavy footsteps return to the bedroom. Your relief was immeasurable when he just continued into the office, hearing the door click as it shut instead. You were in the clear for now.
During the rest of the time in the bedroom, you expected Hans to appear at any second, angrily shouting at you. But as the minutes crawled by and you were only met with the sounds of fabric rustling, you relaxed.
Eventually, the bed was back to its original shape, and you left the room, passing Hans’ office as you headed downstairs. Much to your pleasure, the rest of the day was spent in solitude, but Hans did finally leave his office for dinner.
You had no idea how to approach asking him about the party, never having asked him before. You stared holes into your plate until you gathered enough courage to speak. “Are we going to Mr. Bronte’s party tomorrow?”
Hans stopped mid-bite, taken aback by your question. “I know you just got home,” you stammered, “but I would like to go. If that’s alright?”
When a minute passed with just silence, you mentally chastised yourself. But you couldn’t hide the smile on your face when he finally spoke. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go,” he murmured. “Is it tomorrow?”
“I know it’s a quick turnaround-”
“We’re going.” He cut you off. “There’s some people I need to talk to, anyway.”
You hoped you didn’t look too relieved. “Thank you.”
He merely waved your words off, going straight back to his food.
The following twenty-four hours went by incredibly slowly, making you fidgety. But eventually, night came around, and you eagerly got dressed. The marks on your body were still very evident, so you went with a high-neck party dress, a dusty blush color, with skirts that ended at your ankles. Slipping on matching gloves and shoes, you decided to keep your hair down in case the dress didn’t cover everything.
The carriage ride there was, as always, awkward and tense. You fidgeted with your silk gloves, having to expel your excitement somehow. You had no idea if Arthur was actually going to be here tonight, but you certainly hoped.
After a tortuous thirty minutes, the carriage finally halted in front of a grand house on the outskirts of Saint Denis, a home you’d come to know quite well over the past two years. You flashed a practiced smile to the gentleman who opened the carriage door, taking his hand as he helped you out. Hans got out on the other side, meeting you as you stood at the entrance, saying a small thank-you to the man who helped you.
After being asked for any weapons, Hans extended an arm to you, which you took, linking your arms together. He nodded to the servants before walking up the stairs, you by his side. Even you had to admit that the two of you looked like the definition of high-class, regal even. With your well-crafted dress and his well-fitted tuxedo, the two of you certainly made a sight. If you weren’t already so well-known, you were confident you’d be the talk of the town now if the various heads that turned towards you as you entered the party told you anything.
Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing heart and pulled up the mask you’d created over the past two years. The two of you had barely gotten down the stairs of the porch before people were talking to you. Well, to Hans, more specifically. They treated you like an accessory, and you couldn’t be more glad now. You had no desire to talk to these people with their fake niceties and shallow words. You only wanted to speak to one person right now, and you scanned the crowd for his rugged face.
You prayed that you didn’t look too disappointed when your search bore no results and focused your attention on the conversation before you. You merely caught snip-its, something about the tobacco fields of the Braithwaites. You didn’t really care, though, so you let yourself zone out.
The first hour of the party went similarly, accompanying Hans as he talked to other men. Occasionally, someone would extend a compliment your way, and you’d bat your lashes and thank them, but that would be it. They wouldn’t ask about your opinion on the matter they were discussing or if you had any advice or comments. Additionally, not one person asked you how you were doing, so you drowned your loneliness in glasses of very delicious champagne.
And when this hour went by, and you didn’t see Arthur, or any of the Van Der Linde gang for that matter, you were kicking yourself for being so eager to go to the party. It was exhausting, participating in an environment that treated you like you didn’t exist, a mere accessory for your husband.
Your disappointment ceased to exist, though, when a familiar silver-haired man passed you, shooting you a double-take as he did. A small smile graced his lips, and he nodded politely at you, which you returned. A larger, brown-haired man accompanied him and nodded to you as well. Hans was too caught up in his current conversation to notice, and after you leaned and whispered that you would be right back, you untangled your arm from his and made your way to the duo.
“Enjoying the party, Mrs. Kerrigan?” You heard Hosea ask, bowing his head slightly.
“With the current company, yes,” you chuckled. “How are you, Hosea?”
“Irritated because I have to spend my night with these buffoons,” he muttered so only you could hear. “No offense to you, miss.”
“None taken. And you, Bill? Are you well?”
If he was surprised you remembered who he was, he didn’t show. “Can’t say I disagree with Hosea.”
“Me neither. If I’ve gotta be in one more conversation where people act like I don’t exist, I’m gonna lose it,” you sighed. “But that’s a far more difficult issue to resolve. What brings you to party tonight, gentlemen?”
At this point, Bill excused himself from the conversation, nodding politely before entering the crowd. “Dutch wants us to scope out some jobs while getting into the pocket of Angelo Bronte.”
“You’ve got quite the task before you, then.” Hosea shook his head. “I take it you don’t like it?”
“Nothing good comes from getting close to authority. You don’t need me to tell you that. From what I’ve heard, you know much about our recent relationships with certain figures.” An image of Leigh Gray flashed in your mind, and you nodded.
“But that’s enough talk like that for tonight. You don’t have to trouble yourself with our matters, but we do appreciate it. Besides, there’s been a certain someone who’s been looking for you since the moment we arrived.” Hosea’s eyes flicked to something above and behind you with a knowing expression.
Containing your eagerness, you turned, following the direction of his gaze. You couldn’t help your grin as your gaze landed on the porch. Standing by each other, deep in conversation, was Dutch and Bronte, cigars dangling from their lips as they spoke. And beside them, an almost outsider in the conversation, much like you’d been the entire night, was Arthur Morgan.
His attention was very clearly far from the conversation, as his blue eyes were firmly planted on you, and even from this distance, you could see his smile, slightly obscured by a cigar. He looked even better than you imagined in a tux, black material clinging to his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Before you began to stare, you tore your gaze away, ignoring the heat on your cheeks.
“How’re things with my husband,” you muttered, leaning into Hosea so only he could hear your words.
“We’ve been meaning to talk to him,” Hosea admitted.
“Well, let me introduce you.” Straightening, you cast one final glance at Arthur as you wove between the crowds, Hosea hot on your heels. Arthur leaned over to murmur something to Dutch, but his eyes still never left you, even as Hosea gestured to him.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d bewitched him,” Hosea teased, making you laugh.
“It certainly does feel that way, doesn’t it?” You laughed back, sobering when you saw Hans out of the corner of your eye. He was still deep in conversation, and you shot Hosea an apologetic look as you returned to your spot on Hans’ arm. You now had your back to Arthur, but you could still feel his gaze.
Hans only talked for a few moments before his acquaintances dispersed. “Dear, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” you murmured, angling your head to Hosea. Like a flipped switch, Hosea dropped the casual attitude he’d had with you and had switched to one of pure professionalism and suaveness. You knew he had a silver tongue, but it was astounding to see it in action.
“Hosea Matthews, how do you do, sir?” Hosea extended a hand, which your husband shook eagerly.
“A pleasure, Mr. Matthews. The name’s Hans Kerrigan and it appears you’ve already met my wife,” he glanced down at you momentarily.
You shot Hosea a tight-lipped smile, and you shook his hand as well. Hosea went straight into business, talking about how he was the head of some new security agency in New Austin, something you knew damn well didn’t exist. But Hans was falling into his trap, which made you nearly laugh. Hans seemed almost to light up when Hosea mentioned security, so you knew the first part of their plan had succeeded. So that’s why he had come home looking so stressed: they had wreaked havoc on his business.
The two men continued to talk for a long while, and you fought the urge to look behind you, knowing once you did, you wouldn’t be able to look away. Hosea’s eyes flicked behind you and Hans before raising his brows at you with a ghost of a smirk. “Here, let me introduce you to two of my compatriots.”
You bit your lips to stop a smile as Dutch and Arthur slid in beside Hosea. Recognition flashed across Hans’ features as he looked at the two new men. “I believe we’ve already had the pleasure. You’re the deputies from Rhodes, right?”
Dutch shot you a look, and you mouthed he doesn’t know back, and your words relieved the black-haired man. “That’s right, Mr. Kerrigan.”
“Good evening, Mr. Van Der Linde,” you greeted him warmly as Hans shook his hand before turning to Arthur. God, keeping your composure was so much more challenging than you thought it would be as you finally looked at him. There he was, the man who had stolen your heart, who had seen you at your most vulnerable, and you had to act like you didn’t want to jump into his arms right there. “It’s Mr. Marston, right?”
Hosea coughed, a poorly hidden chuckle, and even Dutch had to look away before he burst into a laugh. Biting your cheek, you watched Arthur almost look offended, shaking his head slightly. “It’s Morgan, ma’am,” he muttered, extending a hand to you.
“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Morgan,” you gasped while shaking his hand. Barely contained desire flashed across his face as his hand encompassed yours, a hefty sigh moving his chest. You pulled away before the handshake became too long, your hand returning to rest by your side. Arthur simply nodded, stepping back until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Hosea, letting the conversation continue.
As the four men spoke, you found yourself unable to resist the urge any longer, and you let your eyes wander to him. Every time you did, his attention would focus on you, even if he was in the middle of talking. Hans was none the wiser, chatting with the men as if they were long-lost friends.
You found yourself bored, and some part of you wanted to see how far you could push Arthur in public. It started subtly, letting your eyes trail over his body shamelessly, unseen by the other conversation members. Arthur caught it, though, and every time you did it, you watched his body stiffen.
It grew less subtle, running your hands along your neck, both of you knowing what lay beneath the cloth covering it. A slight wince of pain left you as you rubbed a particularly sore spot, and Arthur quickly hid his balled-up hands behind his back, rocking on his heels slowly.
Grabbing a flute of champagne, you took a sip, letting out a content noise as the bubbly drink hit your mouth. When you pulled the glass down, a droplet spilled over the edge, and it began to run down the side of the glass. Without thinking, you ran your tongue along the glass, collecting the droplet before it hit your hand. It had been a complete accident, but even so, it finally broke Arthur.
Arthur muttered something to Hosea before breaking away from the group, an unspoken command in his eyes as he walked away. As he passed, you could tell he wanted to reach out and touch you, but he refrained. Subtle glancing over your shoulder, you watched Arthur climb the porch stairs, disappearing into Bronte’s house.
You waited a few moments before excusing yourself and taking a different path to the house, discarding the glass along the way. It was easy to slip away, to be unnoticed by the crowds, and sneak along the high hedge bushes; eventually, you made your way inside. It was staggeringly quieter in the house, the party chatter now silenced, and all you could hear was the click of your heels and quickened breaths.
You luckily met with no servants as you glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Arthur went. Walking further in, you ended up on one of the hallways, doors lining each side. You didn’t pay them much mind, but you wished you did when you felt yourself dragged into one, a large hand grasping your wrist.
Your cry of alarm was muffled by a palm over your mouth, and you nearly bit down until you heard Arthur's drawl. Pressed up against your back, you felt him lean down to your ear, making you shiver. “Were you noticed?” He asked, his voice quiet.
Unable to speak still, you shook your head. “Good,” he muttered before he spun you around to face him. Lips replaced his palm, the force of the kiss nearly baking you up against the door. Your gloved hands tangled in his hair, meeting the desperation of the kiss, pulling him as close as you could to his body.
“God, I need ya,” you heard him groan.
“You’ve got me, Arthur.”
“We’ve gotta be quick, darlin’.” You felt his hands run down your body, grasping the backs of your thighs. It took little urging from you to wrap your legs around his body, and he carried you further into the room. You had no idea what kind of room you were in, as the curtains had been drawn shut, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. But dust tickled your nose, and you knew you probably wouldn’t expect anyone to come in soon.
Still, Arthur was able to navigate the room with ease, and you felt him ease you back down onto a wooden surface. Papers pressed against your back, and you realized you were in an office of sorts, and Arthur had just laid you down on a desk. “D’you know how hard it’s been to keep my eyes off you tonight?” Arthur asked, making you laugh softly.
“I didn’t think you were tryin’,” you joked.
“It’s hard to when I just wanna rip this dress off of ya.” Hands braced on either side of your head, and even though you couldn’t see, you knew his face was inches from yours. “And then you decide to tease me. It took everythin’ in me not to take ya right there,” his voice had turned into a growl.
“Arthur-”
“Roll over.” His weight left your body, and you heard the unmistakable sound of his belt buckle as he undid it. Your head spun as excitement and arousal made your body buzz, and you were almost grateful for the dark so that Arthur couldn’t see how eagerly you complied.
Your feet were barely on the ground as you rested your upper body on the desk, your forearms holding you up. Your breath caught when you felt the skirt of your dress lift, the material ticking your skin as it brushed against it. Arthur had the skirt in a fist at your hip, his other hand trailing over your ass, running his fingers along the edge of your undergarments. “You’ve gotta look so beautiful, bent over like this,” he whispered in the dark.
“We’ll just have to do it again.”
“Oh, gladly.”
Cold air hit your center as Arthur tugged the garment down, letting it pool at your ankles. You knew neither had time to build things up, but you were still surprised when you felt him press into you. You must’ve made some noise as he eased in, as one of his hands wrapped around to cover your mouth.
“Gotta be quiet, darlin’,” he whispered, a slight strain in his voice.
You nodded, stifling your noises as best you could. You were thankful that Arthur kept his hand over your mouth, as you doubted you’d be able to continue to stifle them for long.
When Arthur’s hips became flush with yours, you both sighed softly, the stretch of him a familiar ache. He leaned forward, and you felt the lightest kiss placed between your clothed shoulders. That was all the warning you got before he was setting a viscous pace, the buckle of his belt hitting your skin with every snap of his hips. Muffled noises spilled from behind Arthur’s hand, a mix of praises and moans and his name.
You were thankful that the desk he currently had you bent over was sturdy, the soft groan of wood instead of loud creaks, and it remained in its place as he moved. Even through the silk gloves, your nails dug into the skin of your palms as you tried and failed to make as little noise as possible. It proved to be an impossible task with how desperately he was fucking you, hitting all the right spots inside of you. You could do nothing but let your eyes flutter close as pleasure caressed your body, and you could feel your eventual release begin to grow.
The sound of laughter outside made your eyes shoot open, and in a moment of panic, you tried to get up. Arthur was having none of it, and he used his body weight to keep you pinned to the desk. “Now ya really gotta be quiet,” his voice came out breathy, unfaltering in his movements. “Unless ya want everyone to see you like this.”
You’re not sure why you reacted the way you did, but the idea made you shudder, and Arthur felt it in more ways than one. “Oh, you’d like that?” He asked, a hint of disbelief in his words. Your cheeks burned, shame and embarrassment and excitement making your body warm. “You want everyone to see the respectable Mrs. Kerrigan bent over a desk, fallin’ apart just for me?” You barely heard his words, but you found yourself nodding anyway. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s a sight only I get to see.”
Current circumstances notwithstanding, you would’ve commented that he couldn’t see you right now. But your comment faded in your mind as soon as it came, and you just sighed against his palm.
Thankfully, the sound of laughter and voices receded, and in the back of your mind, you felt relief. But you hardly recognized it, especially when you felt his hand sneak between your thighs and begin to rub at your clit. The movement of his fingers, just like his hips, was quick and hurried, and you found yourself rapidly approaching your release.
Praises spilled from his lips and into your ear, which was all you needed to reach your end. Your knees buckled as you came, your entire body being held up by the desk as pleasure washed over you. Your head spun, both from your release and the lack of oxygen, and Arthur seemed to realize this as you felt him pull his hand away. As quietly as you could, you sucked in air as Arthur chased his own release, fingers digging into his hips.
Even though you were drunk on lust, you knew the implications of your following words as you uttered them. “Inside, Arthur,” you gasped, voice scratchy. His pace faltered, and you knew that he heard you. “I wanna feel you for the rest of the night.”
“Oh, fuck…” You felt his head rest between your shoulders, and you felt his warm breath through the material of your dress. You didn’t have to see him to know he was biting down harshly on his lip to keep himself quiet, but a small groan did leave him as he came. Warmth spread through your lower body, making you gasp quietly.
He took a few moments to catch his breath before easing off and out of you. You had no idea where he went, so you jumped when you felt his fingers brushing up your legs, securing your undergarments back on your body. He rubbed your back as he brought your skirt back down, almost like he was thanking you.
Using the desk for support, you turned around, making a small noise when you felt his release spill from you. Hands grasped your waist, and you were being tugged into a surprisingly gentle kiss from Arthur. Your arms went around his neck, holding him close.
“I missed you,” you heard him murmur when he pulled away, head resting against yours.
“I missed you too.” It felt too simple of a response to encompass just how deeply you did miss him, but it would have to do.
“You look beautiful tonight.” You smiled at the sincerity in his voice.
“You clean up well yourself, Mr. Morgan.”
“I thought it was Mr. Marston.” He still sounded irked by your comment, which made you laugh.
“You have to admit, it was kind of funny.”
“Dutch and Hosea certainly seemed to think so.”
You hummed. “They seemed to be goin’ a good job buttering up Hans.”
He scoffed. “They didn’t have to try that hard. He’s almost a bit too eager.”
“D’you think he knows?”
“Doubt it. He’s desperate, and we just offered him the perfect solution.”
“I’m glad everything’s working out, then.”
“We’ve got some good scores lined up, too. We’re plannin’ on hittin’ the bank in town soon,” you fought back the dread that made you feel, “which should hopefully give us enough money to get the law off us and to… to start a new life.” Arthur sighed, and he seemed nervous. “Darlin’, would-”
A loud booming sound rocked the room, making you both jump apart. Bright flashes of color poured in from between the curtains, and you laughed in relief. “Fireworks,” you murmured, a bit amazed by the vibrant colors.
The flashes of light allowed you to see Arthur a bit, and he deflated a bit. “We should probably get back to the party.”
You frowned. “Already?”
“As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the night here, every minute of you bein’ gone raises suspicion.”
You hated how right he was. “Fine,” you sighed, your frown deepening when Arthur stepped away, your hands falling to your sides. But it seemed that he, too, couldn’t be away for long because you felt him grab one of your hands as he led you to the door, thumb tracing mindless patterns into your skin. Loud booms continued to rattle the building, and as you stepped outside, you heard the excitement from the crowds.
When Arthur opened it, the beam of light that hit your eyes made you squint, and you watched as he made sure the hallway was clear before leading you out. He dropped your hand, not before pressing a kiss to the back of it, and he turned to face you. You had to bite back a laugh when you saw the disarray his hair was in, and you ushered him to bend down. Your gloves just created static, and fixing it took more effort than it should have. His eyes never left yours as you worked, a soft smile tugging his lips, which you returned.
“There you go,” you murmured. “Perfect, as always.”
A light dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks as he stood upright. “Thank you, darlin’.”
“How do I look?”
Blue eyes roamed your body, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. “Words can’t do it justice, darlin’.” That certainly wasn’t what you asked, but you weren’t complaining. Not when he stared at you like you were Venus in the flesh, and you ducked your head. “But you look… put together.”
You certainly didn’t feel put together, but you trusted Arthur’s word. “You were sayin’ somethin’ earlier, before the fireworks.”
“It ain’t important,” Arthur quickly deflected, and you frowned, not liking that he was keeping something from you. “But that reminds me…” You watched Arthur reach inside his jacket, pulling out a small envelope. “A letter arrived for ya yesterday.”
“Is… is it from-”
“It is.” A fond smile appeared on his face at the sheer delight you radiated, and you took the letter he presented to you with shaky hands. Your name was written across the front in your mother's handwriting, and you chuckled in disbelief.
You caught Arthur off guard when you nearly tackled him in a hug, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. Cautiously, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, you felt his hand settle on your back, the other holding the back of your head, cradling you to his body. “Thank you, Arthur,” you murmured, your words muffled by his suit jacket. Taking a deep breath, you smelled tobacco and gunpowder. It seemed no amount of dolling up could change that.
“You don’t gotta thank me.”
You ignored him. “I owe you for this.”
Footsteps echoed across the room, forcing you two to pull apart. Even though every part of you screamed to rip the letter open, you knew you weren’t in the suitable space to do it. Carefully, you folded the letter, which was already relatively small, to begin with, and you tucked it into the palm of your glove, hidden away for now. “I’ll read it when I get home.”
There was a respectable amount of space between your bodies now, and you hated it. You both tensed as the footsteps grew closer, and you both flashed polite smiles to the guests who passed. They didn’t seem to recognize you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “We… we should probably head back to the party.”
Arthur hesitantly nodded. “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of here. I’ll meet ya out there.”
“Up to no good, are we?”
His responding smirk said all you needed to know. “Go before someone comes lookin’.” Shaking your head lightly, you shot him one last smile before walking past him. You weren’t surprised when you felt him grab your hand, rolling your eyes affectionately.
“Arthur…” Your words were cut off when he brought your hand up to his lips, the pure adoration in his eyes making you gasp. When he placed three kisses in rapid succession on your knuckles, it took every ounce of willpower not to drag him back into that room. You both knew what he meant by those three kisses, something he had yet to say. But it was a start.
Your heart hammered in your chest as he dropped your hand and took a few steps back, creating a sense of finality in the conversation. “I’ll see ya out there, darlin’.”
“You better,” you muttered before backing up, not wanting to turn away from him just yet. But as you turned out of the hallway, you lost sight of him, so you faced forward. Walking back to the party alone, you blushed when you felt the remnants of him between your legs, reminding you of what had just transpired.
No one looked as you descended the porch stairs, everyone too distracted by the fireworks show. You were easily able to sneak back to your spot next to Hans, who, too, was also transfixed by the show. He merely nodded your way when you linked your arms, apparently not even fazed by your disappearance.
Hosea and Dutch were still standing by Hans; their backs turned as they watched the show. You watched as the older man leaned into the other, whispering something to him. You could not distinguish what he said, but Dutch laughed, clapping Hosea on the back.
The show lasted about five more minutes, and even though the sight was incredible, you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it. How could you, when Arthur occupied every corner of your mind? How could you, when the letter in your glove burned your skin?
The man plaguing your thoughts returned shortly after, and the disbelieving look that Hosea gave him made you nearly laugh. When Arthur stood by his side, he also leaned into him, and even though you couldn’t see Arthur’s face, you knew he was either blushing or scoffing based on how he shook his head.
Hans right returned to business mode, wrapping up the discussion with Dutch and Hosea. You’re not sure how much time passed as you spaced out a bit, but suddenly, the two men were wishing you a good night. “Have a good night, gentlemen,” you nodded to them before directing your attention to Arthur. “You as well, Mr. Morgan.”
Your eyes followed the group until they were long gone, fighting the hitch in your breath when Arthur glanced over his shoulder right at the last moment. The longing was evident on his face, but it was broken when Bill made some comment, and you figured that the other three men were laughing at Arthur’s expense.
You and Hans stayed at the party until late in the night, when exhaustion pulled at your already aching muscles, and your feet felt like lead in your shoes. You nearly sagged in relief when Hans led you to the front of the house, calling for your carriage.
You almost immediately excused yourself to the bedroom when you got home, nearly running into the attached bathroom and locking the door. The idea of washing up was the last thing on your mind as you tore off your glove, the letter falling into the sink as you did. Some ink from the envelope had stained your skin, but you didn’t care.
The sound of paper ripping filled the room. Your hands were sweaty as you held the letter up, and tears formed in your eyes as you read the words in your mother’s handwriting.
My beautiful daughter,
You have no idea how happy it makes my heart to hear from you. The house has become joyless without you in it. How I long to hear your laughter fill it.
I must admit, I never expected to hear from you again, but how glad I am that my expectations were wrong. After you ran off, I thought we’d never hear from you again. But it seems you’ve done well for yourself. Seeing a different last name was a bit of a shock, but how glad I am that you’ve found someone to marry! All I hope is that they treat you well and that you’re happy.
I must stop by and see you! Perhaps bring a few of your siblings. Oh, how they have missed you! Do let your husband know to expect a visit from us soon!
Much love,
Irene
Happiness quickly wore off as the contents of the second paragraph hit you. Confusion made your brow furrow, and you grasped the counter edge for stability. She thought you ran off? Did your father not tell anyone about the marriage he had set up for you? Why was he lying to the rest of your family?
But then another realization hit you, one that made the tears in your eyes finally fall. You were going to see your family again.
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan smut
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Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy
Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader
Summary: Tim recruits you to aid in a Metro op. When you ignore his direct orders, you dare him to arrest you, but you have a request.
Warnings: this is pure fluff and banter!! the song reference part is a teeny bit suggestive I guess, but it's completely clean/sfw as always!
Word Count: 1.5k+ words
Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
cop cuties, cute and on duty. navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up. arrest me, but make it sexy.
You’ve been a patrol cop since you completed your rookie training with Tim Bradford. Throughout the last few years of working alone, you’ve trusted him enough to ask for advice, offer to work for him and reach out when he was injured. Most cops don’t stay close to their TO, but Tim was always more than that. Somehow, against his will, you think, you and Tim became friends. He knew from the beginning of your training that you were going to be a great cop, which is why he decided to recruit you for a new job.
“Officer,” Tim greets as you walk into Wade’s office.
“Sergeant,” you reply. “I take it I’m here to see you and not be yelled at by Grey.”
“Why do you need to be yelled at?” Tim asks, raising his brows as he crosses his arms.
“Absolutely nothing, sir.”
“Sure. Metro is working a forgery operation, and we need an extra set of hands. I think you’re the right cop for this job.”
“You do?” you ask, suspicious of why he chose you over the hundreds of other choices.
“Yes. But you get to decide. Do you want to join the team and complete your first Metro op?”
“Yes, sir,” you agree. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You still have to prove that I’m right,” Tim reminds you. “Gear up, we’re leaving in ten.”
You nod before you exit the office. Working with Tim is something that you’re used to, but not in a Metro team.
“Get to the corner,” Tim orders.
You stay in place, watching the forger. He’s in plain view, waiting for something and checking his watch every minute or so. That makes him dangerous and reckless. The overview that Tim gave you and the Metro squad at the station didn’t place the suspect outside of his studio.
“Corner, now,” Tim repeats.
“He’s outside,” you radio.
“And you’re not in position.”
You huff and move your hand off of your radio. There’s no chance of catching this guy if you move from your current position. Tim is still going off the original, incorrect intel. Not to mention, moving could spook him and ruin this operation.
Tim says your last name over the radio, and you wait for him to continue. “Get in position.”
“There’s no point,” you argue.
Tim radios for someone else to cover his position as he moves toward you. His approach is nearly silent, but as he squats beside you, you don’t look over at him.
“You have to follow my orders out here,” he reprimands quietly.
“Even if they’re stupid orders?” you reply without looking away from the suspect.
“That’s not your call. This isn’t rookie training where you get input because you’re learning. You do what I say or you’re off my team.”
“I understand that.”
“Then get in your position at the corner,” he orders again.
You don’t listen but remain quiet rather than argue with him again. Tim sighs beside you and clenches his jaw.
“Do you remember where you’re supposed to be?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” you answer.
“Then get into that position and be ready for the next phase of this op.”
“No, Sergeant Bradford.”
Tim looks at the side of your face. He’s had enough of you acting like a partner who can argue with him. As much as he trusts you, you’re still his subordinate and this is unacceptable, especially in the middle of a Metro operation. Leading Metro is the most rewarding yet challenging position he has had as a cop, and he won’t let you compromise his position or the trust his team has in him.
“You know I can still make arrests, right?” Tim asks harshly.
You raise your brows and turn toward him to snap, “So, what; are you gonna arrest me? For what?”
“For disobeying direct orders! I can arrest you now and put you on desk duty and break room fridge refills for the rest of the month.”
You look back at the suspect before you stand. Tim follows your movement, and you lean toward him to push your finger against his chest.
As you crowd him, you dare, “Arrest me, Officer Bradford. But make it sexy.”
Tim looks between your eyes before he grabs your right shoulder. He spins you quickly and pushes you against the cinder block wall behind you. He wraps one hand around both of your wrists behind your back as his other hand rests against your hip, just above your holster.
“You want to say that again?” Tim asks.
“Not that I expect you to know what a real Degas looks like, Officer,” you taunt loudly, “but the gallery you just destroyed is worth more than your life!”
“What are you doing?” Tim whispers in your ear.
“Go with it,” you request.
“Excuse me!” the suspect calls as he approaches you and Tim. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m an art connoisseur, of sorts. What seems to be the problem?”
Tim pulls his handcuffs from his belt and puts them loosely around your wrists. He pulls you away from the wall and against his side as he turns to face the art forger.
“This woman is an art forger,” Tim answers. “So, unless you purchased a Degas painting from her, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“I fear that’s impossible,” the man replies. “Degas is nearly impossible to forge. The paint age and brush strokes are dead giveaways.”
“Spoken like a true enjoyer,” you say.
“Shut up,” Tim demands. “Sir, if you’d like to have your art checked by our experts, I’d be happy to make that call for you.”
You nod, a small movement you hope will make the man trust you. The art experts know his signature, so if they can get a look at his work, Tim’s work will be done, and another forger will be behind bars. The crime itself seems too white-collar for Tim’s skills, but a successful arrest is a successful arrest.
“I would appreciate that, Officer,” the man answers. “I can give you access to my collection now.”
Tim radios for the art experts waiting nearby to come in. He keeps a hand around your wrist, his pinky occasionally brushing between your skin and the metal cuff. After the experts enter the warehouse, it only takes two minutes before they radio to Tim that they have the evidence they need.
“You’re in luck, sir,” Tim tells the suspect. “Looks like the only forgeries in there are yours.”
Tim moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls your handcuffs from your belt.
“You’re under arrest for art forgery, possession of stolen goods, and unlawful sale of property,” Tim says as he secures your handcuffs onto the suspect.
Another Metro officer rushes past you and takes the man from Tim to lead him to a waiting patrol car. Tim turns to face you and pulls a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket before he puts them on.
“You’re welcome,” you tell him.
“There are better ways to tell your superior officer that a different approach may be better,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ignoring orders isn’t it.”
“You weren’t listening!”
“I listened at the end. You did well, but don’t ever do that again.”
You smile and step forward until you nearly hit Tim’s folded arms. “Scared I’ll take your job?”
“You are stubborn, uncompromising, and have no respect for authority,” Tim lists. “My position is safe from you.”
You tilt your head to the side and shrug. Tim radios a code 4, then walks away.
“Are you going to take these cuffs off?” you call after him.
Tim turns and stops a step away from you.
“You’re the one that wanted to be arrested,” he replies. He shrugs and asks, “Was that sexy enough?”
“I mean, yeah, it worked,” you answer. “But defying your orders got you the arrest, so…”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Tim begins.
He continues reciting your Miranda rights as he leads you to his car. His hand trails down your right arm as he puts you in the backseat. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, you realize that the handcuff on your right wrist is loose enough you can get your hand through.
“Defying direct orders is wrong,” you muse. “What if I start a verbal flirtation while you take me to your station?”
“I will arrest you,” Tim threatens.
“With what cuffs?” you ask, spinning his on your finger. “You gave yours away and took mine.”
Tim shakes his head and pulls over. He opens the back door, and you hand him his handcuffs as you climb out.
“If I had to get arrested, I’m glad it was with you,” you say before you round the back of the car to get in the passenger seat.
“I was considering mentioning you for a Metro promotion,” Tim begins as he drives back onto the road. “But after that stunt today…”
“You’ll never see me the same?” you guess.
Tim looks over at you, though you can’t see his eyes past his aviators.
“Something like that,” he murmurs.
“You liked it,” you accuse playfully. “Admit it.”
Tim adjusts his sunglasses and says, “Maybe.”
#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x you#tim bradford x y/n#tim bradford x fem!reader#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford fic#tim bradford#the rookie x reader#the rookie abc#fem!reader#requests#hanna writes✯
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Stand by You by Rachel Platten
Omg I remember this song 😭
#I’m singing along while I play it#🥰🥰🥰#I don’t remember when I used to listen to this song?#but I do fully remember it#it’s one of those feel good songs#I’m always a sucker for a motivational song with clapping/a cappella-ish part#excuse my lack of music knowledge I’m blanking on what it’s called when it’s just clapping/drums or beats#not acoustic or a capella bahhh idk but you know what I meann#this song#and uhhh let me think#rise up#and a few others just bring me so much joy and comfort and motivation#thank you for reminding me of this song 🫶#anon me a song to listen to#ask#anon
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pain don’t hurt the same, i know.
the lane i travel feels alone,
but i’m moving till my legs give out
and i see my tears melt in the snow,
but i don’t wanna cry.
i don’t wanna cry anymore.
i wanna feel alive. 
i don’t even wanna die anymore.
/ly
#1 800 logic#yall I used to sob to this song#the mv got me so bad#now it’s just a huge comfort cause I remember how I felt when I use to listen to it#and I don’t wanna feel like that again but#sometimes it’s nice to visit#lyrics
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when you can never forget… _(:3 」∠)_
#mad cringe 3am rant incoming pls stand by—#…so i found my enstars screenshots from 2018 and i don’t even remember half of them happening h e l p#there’s stuff like spamming for repayment fes event nazuna niichan till i had 0 dia left…#…and making ship birthday board things for the 2019 birthday events. i made leokasa and subahokke ones s o bs#and i think i saw a makoizu ss from the librarian event? the outfit + blushing seaweed head sure looks like it’s from that event#(tfw you’re the only one shipping this problematic ship lmao)#also speaking of enstars hi are there any other hokke recasting rejectors out there👀👀👀#hokke’s current va has been voicing him for much longer than his previous va ever did and i *still* can’t get used to his ‘new’ voice lmao#i remember benching his 5☆ so fast the moment i heard his ‘new’ voice post-recasting. sad times. initial hokke was my first 5☆ too…#but the most cringe memory i have of enstars is… downloading it thinking it was a haikyuu game bc subaru lowkey looks like hinata.#in my defence i couldn’t read japanese back then ok. i was so confused when they told me to pick an idol unit bc ‘where my volleyboys at???’#i really should’ve realised something was up when i saw hokke (or as i thought he was back then: haru from the swimming anime) appear smh#it took me like 2 months to get through the tutorial bc i was so confused. 0/10 experience; should’ve quit enstars on the first uninstall#but lmao i still have the og enstars app unupdated on my old phone. it still has the dumb 4th anni thing on the icon. time flies…#and well if you read this for some reason or other… go listen to ‘crush of judgement’ or ‘sei shounen yuugi’👀 they’re the best songs (imo)#also nazuna niichan is the bestest boy and prettiest boy and the cutest boy and have you seen his frozen ice card it’s so cute and aaaaaaa—#also now that that’s done can i talk about my 3.5 year long love live phase—#ok i think i got enough cringe out of my system for now.#tune in in a few hours for (maybe) more cringe tag blubbering about shin jidai this time (provided my dvd comes in today dhl p l s—)#it is suiyoubi my dudes#inedible blubbering
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so the issue with having a turbulent relationship with someone is that when things are good and you’re in sync it’s like you’re one person and you love the same things and do things together but when things are bad those same things become unbearable and you no longer have access to things you love because to love them is to love that person and you don’t want to so you pretend they don’t exist and in doing so deny yourself another thing that makes you happy
#yeh vaada raha is on and that’s me and my moms dumb messing around when I was a kid song and I wanna be able to listen to it without feeling#sick. i wanna stop sacrificing things I love bc the other person who loves them isn’t good for me#it’s not just her. i don’t let myself make any of the 100s of jokes me and ex best friend used to make daily bc I don’t see her anymore#i changed the way I talk so I dont have to admit that I miss a person who was in my life for as long as I can remember and then one day left#lol you need therapy so bad#let’s do get help#zh.txt#also just. don’t be like this. find a way to be normal about things and you won’t have this issue.#i mean my bad for being a child in an abusive home should have been normal about it
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Normalize making pmvs based off days you’ve had two years ago
#okay so story/background idk#this is based off the time a few novembers ago me and my family moved my grandmother into assisted living#she’s been suffering from dementia for a really long time and it got to a point where we had to change#her living arrangement in the nursing home#it’s a really weird feeling because how she is right now is the way I’ve known and remembered her for most of my life#and both versions of my grandmother my parents bring up all the time#it’s a weird experience to be compared to her a lot and have them worry about her a lot and expect you to feel the exact same when all you#go off are what other people say#and vauge memories of your early childhood#and her belongings#it’s not that I don’t love my grandmother it’s just feels like I’m mourning a person I never properly knew#idk I hope this pmv communicates that.#if not idc it was still fun to do.#black dog isn’t even my fav ajj song I was just listening to it a lot during that time#everything featured in the drawings of her home are things she owned irl#she used to collect little pig sculptures :)
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MY EDGY SIXTH GRADE COPING MECHANISM SONG WAS WRITTEN BY A FEMALE PSYCH WARD ABUSE SURVIVOR WHO MADE A LOT OF FEMINIST ART ABOUT HER EXPERIENCE AS A PSYCH ABUSE SURVIVOR SAY WHAT—
#Tw caps#this song is called if I burn and it’s great#when I was ten years old I used to go down to this park by my house and sit on a bench as I listened to it and stared blankly at the sky#And I would think about I wanted to go back to the psychiatric ward and kill every doctor there#and then set the building on fire so nothing could ever happen there again#I don’t think I remembered why I was angry at them because I think those memories were still buried pretty deep at that point#Anyway#Ava has thoughts#tw psychiatric abuse#tw psych ward
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and all of a sudden I’m remembering the nights I played outside of the apartment in San Diego
#there are certain songs that cause me to remember things I have forgotten about#i love it when songs do this because then it gives me a soft reminder that these memories are still there#I just don’t think of them much and also because I have a hard time remembering things#but sometimes there are certain songs that trigger these memories to reappear#this certain song I’m listening to is allowing me to remember the days I would stay at San Diego with my aunt in her apartment#I remember the nights we would come back to the apartment late because we’d always go somewhere and I remember hearing the crickets#and seeing the clear night sky with no cloud#my cousin and I would walk around during the night just being kids#I remember the days where my brother would come and bring his Playstation and he would play games and I’d watch him play#I miss that apartment she used to stayed in.. but ever since she moved out it hasn’t been the same#there’s something about the nights in San Diego#I thinks it’s the night sky and the people who are awake during that time#San Diego will forever be a second home to me#haha I even remember the days where we would walk to the nearby store because it was walking distance#I remember driving to her apartment after leaving the apartment and going to a few stores real quick#i can’t remember it all but I remember I was once there#alex talks#alex’s diary
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genuine question does anyone have any tips on how to manage prolonged constant extreme anxiety? like the kind where u have to always stay distracted bc any second alone with ur thoughts will send u into a nauseous pit. the kind that makes it so u never get a restful sleep and u never have an appetite and ur hands are always shaking and ur muscles are painfully tense. anyone know uh…… what i can do about that
(i don’t have insurance atm and my medical anxiety is far too high to get anything prescribed atm so i need things that i can do on my own other than breathing and i’m sick of reading articles)
#it feels like it did when my mom was sick and i couldn’t think about anything else for months#except my mom ISN’T sick anymore. so there’s no one reason i can point to#it’s just always there. my stomach hurts my jaw hurts my body hurts#i can do things to stay distracted but when the night rolls back around i feel like i’m trapped in a haunted house#i’m just so tired i wanna cry about it. i want to relax so bad. i want to feel okay and safe and rested SO FUCKING BAD#i didn’t used to be like this i hatehatehate it i don’t wanna be like this or feel like this anymore#not to mention my sister has such high anxiety rn too that even if i’m distracting my own brain she can pull me back into it with hers#how do i exist without being endlessly terrified of everything that could happen to anyone at any time?#without the constant painful awareness of every tick of every second passing by?#im like this close to a meltdown at all times. i’d rather be apathetic than this it’s breaking my bones#i’m physically safe in that i want to remind anyone reading this that i have never been yk. suicidal or anything it’s not like that at all.#i want to be here i’m just SCARED sgajshsnd i’m just shaky and tired and tense and aaaaaaaaa#i need help. idek what that means i just need someone else to tell me it’s gonna be okay#(@ the friends that DO tell me that every day. i love u so much i appreciate u so much. i wish my body would remember it)#i put my feet in grass today and touched a tree and made tea and cleaned the house and it helped a little. it did.#but i just feel like everything takes this constant conscious effort and it’s soooo tiringgggggg i just want to rest#i want to let someone else control my brain for a while#sigh#okay i’m done i just needed to scream about it for a moment#there are places to go and things to paint and songs to listen to#i will keep going. even scared. i just wish i were less scared.
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tswift rereleasing speak now just unlocked a memory in me that for christmas of 2010 my parents had gotten my aunt & uncle the speak now cd as a gift i think perhaps w another cd or two but anyway i was 10 at the time & i just remember that i kept like staring at the cd from where my mom was keeping it bc i thought she looked so pretty on the cover 😭 like i would pick up the cd and look at it like hm this is so interesting…….cannot imagine how my 10 yr old self would have reacted to the new cover i prob would’ve been like “mom can girls like other girls?” 😭😭
#michelle speaks#i literally remember my aunt & uncle opening the gift and being like haha taylor swift :) bc i was laser eye staring at the cover lmfao#i was reminded of this bc i wanted to hear the updated versions of the couple of songs i used to listen to from that album#when i was like 13 bc i don’t think ive listened to any of those songs in yrs……#but as i was listening i was like wait let me enlarge the album cover actually so i can look at her ❤️#and i was like omg……..just like when i was 10 👁️👁️#i remembered before the giving them the cd as a present but i forgot abt my obsessive staring at it lmao…….#i think that’s why i remembered so well that they got them that cd. bc i’m p sure there was others & i do not remember them at ALL#anyway i had an awful day but that brought me a moment of joy. thank u to my 10 yr old self for being so lesbian 🤩#but like lol. when i was 12 and got an ipod tswift was like one of the first artists i looked up bc i remembered her from that lol#i was like w/o ever listening to her music i love taylor swift i have to buy her music rn lol. & i know it was 2012 bc it was right when#she was releasing singles from red. i bought the single versions of the promo songs and i went thru the album & chose which songs to buy#the day it came out lmao……i didn’t have a lot of money on itunes so i had to be picky u know…..i think that’s why the only tswift songs#i never deleted off my itunes were 3 red songs lmao……special to me 🤩
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just sat here thinking abt how you insisted you had no feelings for me but the night before i left nyc you held me for hours and hours
#i feel weirdly empty abt the whole thing#but i feel saddest when i remember that we didn’t speak much at all#we were just listening to music#and you were playing piano along w the song on my leg#in that moment i could feel everything you felt.#you loved me and you couldn’t admit it and everything fell apart#i hate that i miss you#i hate that i don’t want to be touched anymore at all#for fear someone else will use me the way you did#REAL EMO HOURS LADS
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Steve’s never had anyone show any genuine interest in the things he likes. Robin rolls her eyes when he brings up sports or silly movies that don’t have a bigger plot or character work. Even though she played soccer, she doesn’t care about it in the same way that Steve cares about basketball or football.
The kids make fun of everything from his taste in music to his choice in snacks for movie nights. Mike calls him a little housewife for baking one time and he never shows up with cookies again. They’re never intentionally mean spirited, or at least he doesn’t think so. He knows he can give as good as he gets when it comes to catty, sarcastic comments, but he tries to steer clear of personal attacks on someone’s identity these days. He learned that lesson with Jonathan.
But even before the party came along, it was like that. His parents never stuck around long enough to find out what he was up to, never attending a game or meet, and certainly in the dark about what he might be up to outside of school. Tommy only ever cared about himself and Carol, only following Steve around for clout, popularity by association. If he asked him right now, he’d bet a lot of money that Tommy doesn’t even remember his favorite food or the movie he used to watch when he was sick. There was a point where he thought he could share things with him. Until he realized mid ramble about sports cars that Tommy wasn’t even listening to him. He was staring at Carol and nodding along with a vacant expression.
So he stopped sharing. Stopped caring if people knew anything about him because they never asked. People always made assumptions about him anyway. The girls he slept with only wanted one thing. The kids were happy to let him chauffeur them around with no questions asked. Robin was the only one he let in, the only one that cared about digging deeper. But, and she never said in so many words, he could tell that she thought his interests were mundane, and clearly not something that sparked any enthusiasm from her. She couldn’t even keep up with the girls he slept with, giving him the same bored stare as Tommy.
Even now, after a few years, Steve’s reminded that they never would have become friends if not for trauma and the secret inner workings of the Russian’s within Hawkins. He’s lucky to have her, but he doesn’t think she ever would’ve chosen this, chosen him. And that’s fine. He’s used to not being chosen. His parents didn’t choose him when they started leaving him alone at age 12. Tommy and Carol chose each other and the reign of a new king when Steve fell from his throne. Nancy chose Jonathan.
He doesn’t think he has a lot to offer.
Well, at least until Eddie comes along. He’s taken by surprise when Eddie asks after the song that’s playing in his car. He’d assumed Eddie only liked metal music, and yeah he pokes fun at the genre of music Steve seems to stick to, begging him to give metal a shot, but he doesn’t say a word about how lame it is. When they’re having a movie night, Eddie notices that Steve gravitates towards coke and brings him one without Steve asking.
After Eddie sees his bedroom, Steve gets a pack of hot wheels for Christmas. Eddie jokes that he should give one to each of the kids as their new ride, since they seem to be ungrateful little twerps. Steve places them right under his posters on his dresser and Eddie grins at them every time he comes over. They lay in bed and pretend to drive them on the ceiling like they’re kids again. It shakes something loose in Steve’s chest.
Eddie hates sports, but he invites Steve over on Mondays, when Wayne is perched in his chair for football. He quietly works on his campaigns while Steve and Wayne watch the games. Eddie somehow worms his way into Steve’s heart, digging deeper and deeper with each new thing, like he wants to know more. Steve’s history is a minefield, but Eddie expertly navigates through it, leaving who they were behind, building something new together. Steve’s already halfway in love with him before he even realizes that Eddie is something that he likes.
He expects to freak out a bit more, but who is going to stop him? Who is going to care if he wants to be with this boy? He’s spent so long ignoring parts of himself for others that he wants to cherish this fragile thing, to cradle it in his hands, make sure no one can ruin it for him. When he kisses Eddie, it feels like coming home, like he’s finally found that place he’s been searching for his whole life. It’s a kind of devotion that Steve’s not used to, born of love and not obsession or jealousy or anger.
He’s not sure he deserves it, but he’ll do everything in his power to keep it.
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Closer by NIN
This is part two for Nasty
Summary: You and Miguel have been finding things out about each other through your music choices.
TW: When I say that this one is rough, I mean that this type of sex could get you arrested. I'd bail him out. biting, scratching, dacrophilia, p in v, breeding kink, honestly just everything.
Miguel was panting a bit, rolling off of your body as you both came down from your high together. It had been a few weeks since he listened to that damn song you loved and found out about what you liked in bed, fully using this to his advantage and constantly making you a squirming mess underneath him.
His eyes stared at the ceiling with a smile on his lips, then closing them for a second before feeling you shift beside him in his bed. He felt your breast press onto his chest as you laid on top of him and his hands slid to hold your waist, peaking open one eye at your smirking face.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, mamacita?” He questioned, tapping his fingers into your skin a bit as you rested your chin on his pecks. You could feel his heartbeat becoming normal again after your rigorous rounds.
“I’m just wondering what your turn ons are? What makes you insatiable and want more?” You go on and on as he just chuckles, brushing some of the hair from your face as you stare at him with your big doe eyes, filled with curiosity.
“You, mi amor.” He answers and closes his eyes again, pulling you tight to him as he rolls onto his side and pecks your forehead. “Now we need to sleep, we have an early debriefing tomorrow.” He mumbled and you pouted a bit, pushing out your bottom lip even though his eyes were closed.
You maniacally rubbed your hand against his still half-hard cock and his grunted, grabbing your wrist quickly to stop you. “Bebe.” His tone had shifted to authoritarian fast and you let out a ‘hmph.’
“One more, papi, please. One more round and I’ll sleep like a baby.” You begged and his eyes opened as an amused grin fell on his full lips. “I promise.” You finished and he yanked one of your legs around his hips, burying his face into your neck.
“I can’t so no to my precious girl.” he nipped as you giggled, and you both continued once more, before falling asleep.
The next day, Miguel was exhausted. One more round turned into three more rounds and then sex on the bathroom floor, in his kitchen, and giving him head in his elevator.
So you could say it was definitely worth it to him.
You brought out a sexual prince in him, someone caring and full of sweet, buttery smooth words that made your panties a swimming pool in the middle of July. And he was always welcome to dive in.
“Wow. That’s a new record.” Jess spoke and you looked around, confused. “The hickeys, I mean.” She points to your neck and you immediately close the mask of your suit to avoid her scrutiny any more. She laughed lightly, “don’t be like that, remember that I’m technically the one who led him to give you said hickeys.” She prompts and sits, leaning on your desk. “So I’m guessing it’s all going good?”
“Better than good, Jess. He’s- he’s like a God in bed.”
“Wow. He must really be into it.”
“What do you mean?” You asked, now scrunching your brows together.
“Well, listen- he’s an attractive guy, and you’re not the only person with eyes at the HQ. He’s slept with a few in the past before he met you, but it was always a one-and-done thing, so I’m just impressed that he’s opened up about what he’s into.”
And then you sunk down in your seat. “What… he’s into?” You questioned.
“Well, yeah. You two always do what you both want, right? He used to complain about how vanilla most people were, so you must be doing something right.” She stands again and walks off.
Leaving you alone to your thoughts. What… he wanted? You assumed that he was into what you were into, since you’d found him jerking off to exactly the things you’d wanted to hear, especially after that song-
The song!
Oh, Jess and her big mouth probably told him about your love for that song! You blushed in embarrassment as you thought about him submitting to what you wanted.
You didn’t want him to only focus on your turn ons, you wanted compromise and to share his darker fantasies. Isn’t that what a relationship was?
“Lyla,” you called out and found the little AI pop up in front of you. “I need to know what sexual interests Miguel has.” The orange hologram sputtered a cough for a second while you rolled your eyes at her overdramatic display. “Lyla, you don’t even breathe.”
“If I did, I'd be gasping in shock and clutching my pearls.” She shot back and you just sighed in defeat. “Besides, those files aren’t accessible to just anyone. You need permission from Miguel or me.” She folded her arms.
“Wait- permission? Like… his passcode?” You blurted out with hopes and Lyla nodded.
“Well, yes, but-“
“Thanks Lyla.” You cut her off and hurried to his office, ignoring the hologram calling back to you. Your steps finally made it to the dark office Miguel used, more like a workshop for a robotics technician, but you didn’t dare correct him when it came to the Society.
“Miguelito?” You called out, testing out a theory. When silence was your only companion in the room, you smiled and continued your plans. 'Perfect!' You cheered to yourself and hopped to swing onto his platform.
The screens were much higher than you could see or reach, so you jumped up to sit on his desk and tap along the floating screens. You found what you were looking for after a minute, being greeted by Lyla once more.
“You know, he’ll be made when he finds out.” She announced and you shrugged.
“Not if I put what I find to good use.” You answered and the AI pretended to wretch, feigning nausea.
“Gross. Hold on, if it’s that important to you, I might be able to bypass the code. But I’ll deny ever being here if you throw me under the bus.” Lyla answered and tapped something, then letting you watch the code fill itself.
“This is his porn history. He doesn’t know I can see it, and I’m happy he doesn’t because that conversation would be really weird.” She pops a few screens, but most of them are just…
“Is this... my social media?” You wobbled on the desk for a second from leaning back in shock.
“Yeah, it tends to get him going pretty easily. Sometimes he listens to certain music, too.” She adds and you look directly at her, making her sigh and hold her glasses in disappointment. “I hate that I’m enabling you.”
“Don’t stop now.” You demand and she lets his playlist pop up, one titled after you.
Most of the songs seem to be very lovey dovey- and that’s when you find it.
“Nine inch nails…?” Your surprise was evident as you read the band name once more. “I listened to this band in high school.”
“So did he. Believe it or not, he was a little rebellious in high school. I think it was the daddy issues.” Lyla tapped the song and the strange sounds from the song played heavily.
“Thanks Lyla!” You tapped her away and ran from his desk, trying to make it as though you had never been there. Your mistake.
That night, you began playing the song while cooking and tried to focus on the lyrics.
“You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you
You let me complicate you”
Your jaw dropped, listening to the words. Oh.
The song exuded dominance and power, something very Miguel. But you didn’t think he could be so… rough. Of course he could be rough, the man had fangs and claws, but you thought he was much more into sentimental experiences, making love and such. You didn't realize he wanted to fuck.
Pressing your palms flat into the counter, you'd long forgotten your meal when the chorus bursts through your speakers.
“I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God”
Your knees became jelly as you imagined him saying thing these things to you, gravel voice smirking as you fall to the ground before him and worship him like he deserves- like he would demand.
“you tear down my reason
(Help me) it's your sex I can smell
(Help me) you make me perfect
Help me become somebody else”
You could feel the desperation in the reverb of the songs drums. It’s no wonder he always inhales so deeply when he eats you out, he’s letting his animalistic instincts take over. He’s technically part spider, which is inherently an animal. He literally needs to fuck you like an animal to feel his whole DNA’s satisfaction.
“I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God”
You breath hitches and you hear the door close, your head shooting up as you can hear the sound of his boots coming closer, spider senses tingling from behind you.
“So… the scent of your wet pussy was all over my desk when I got back from Peter's universe… want to tell me why?” He inquired and you wanted to answer, but the hand sliding up your body and the thoughts plaguing your mind from the still-playing song we’re holding your tongue hostage. “No answer? My good girl always answers me, what's wrong? His gentle kisses land on the slope of your neck and you give him more access by tilting your head.
“What if I don’t want to be a 'good girl' tonight? What if…” he freezes and starts to put everything together. You snuck into his office, this song, your pheromones filling the room.
“What if what?” He growls and you practically cum at the sound of his aggravated voice hissing at you.
“What if… I want you to do what the song says… and fuck me like an animal.”
His brain drowns in conflicted emotions. He wants nothing more to practically maim your skin with his claws and teeth, fucking you so roughly that you beg him to stop and take a break, plead for him to breed you like a whore, to hear you crying from how hard he’s going, how bad it hurts and amazing it feels. He wants to see you wake up with a limp in your walk and a belly full of his potential children.
But then he also doesn’t want to scare you away. He doesn’t want you to be forced to do those things just because you want him to finish, to feel satisfaction. He’s more than satisfied with you, loves the sex you two have, he doesn’t need-
The words fly through his head, but everything stops when you roughly grab his cock through his suit and get onto your knees before him.
“Mi corazón… you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He encourages you to stand up again, to stop asking for this, but you bury your face into the fabric and breathe in deeply.
“Please, I need it in my mouth. I want you to fuck my mouth.” You beg and who is he to deny such a gorgeous request when he can see your fat tits practically spilling from the keyhole of your spider suit from this angle.
“Fuck. Fine.” He says through gritted teeth and yanks your head backwards by your hair, disabling his suit completely as his cock pops out and smacks you a bit. He likes the sounds, likes the view of his face smothering precum across your cheeks and lips. And he wants more. “You like the idea of me suffocating you on my cock, forcing myself down your throat for you to suck?” He slaps his hard dick across your face and because of the weight and width, it actually kinda stings. “That’s it, my little slut… so horny just for me, so hungry to take my dick.” He roughly grabs your face and forces your mouth open, smushing your cheeks in his large hands and tapping his tip on your tongue. “Open wide and stick out that tongue.” He commands and you comply, tongue out and mouth open for him.
He slams into your mouth until you can’t take much more, still missing a few inches of him. “Relax your throat, or I’ll fuck it so hard that you’ll be forced to.” He threatens and you try to lessen your muscles tightening. Pulling your hair into his body until your nose is smashed against his pelvis, dark happy trail against your lips.
The gagging makes him practically cum then and there, but he won’t let this end just yet. No, he needs to enjoy this more. unbeknownst to him, you were on the verges of an orgasm just from him fucking into the back of your throat one time. You hand slides down to touch your clit and rub yourself in gentle circles.
Sliding out, he rams his cock back into your waiting cavern and begins a relentless speed, shoving himself further and further each time until he can see the bulge of his dick in your esophagus. His head falls back and his fingers tighten in your hair, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as he brutalizes your throat and refuses to stop. His hand pins your head between the countertop of the kitchen and his postponing hips, refusing to stop until he feels your nails on one hand digging into his thighs and making him almost cum. You groan on his dick and he realizes that sound, he knows that's a signal that you've just finished with your own hand. He yanks himself out and starts fisting his cock fast as you cough and gasp for air, tears still forming mascara tracks down your cheeks.
He bends down and hurls you over his shoulder, then throwing you onto the ground of the living room and making you do a split on your back, blushing at how exposed he had you. Three sharp claws formed from his fingers and he shredded the hips of your suit, bending down to your tits and latching the top in his mouth so when he turned his head, the rip was loud and your nipples were open to the cold air.
“You’re going to lay here and take my cock until the only words you know how to say are ‘Miguel please fuck me.’ And I’m not stopping until you pass out from exhaustion.” He declares and puts the tip of his dick in your entrance, not even wasting a second and thrusting into you completely, making a scream tear through your throat in pain as he once again found your hair and thrusted. The lack of accommodation made you tighter than you’d ever felt, jerking hips his harder as your hand fell onto his abs to push him away, hiccups coming from your lips as the pain begins to grow at how hard he could go.
“That’s it, shut the fuck up and take this cock. Cry about it, try to get away, but I’ll pull you back and fuck. You. Harder.” He rammed his hips into yours to punctuate every word of the end of the sentence. “I’ll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to get up for work tomorrow.” He says as he pounds his tip into your cervix, most definitely bruised and possibly hurt worse. But god, did it feel good, watching him get so crazy, so psychotically obsessed with you.
“Migu-el!” Your words get broken up with as I should have been gone.
“That’s it, my little bitch in heat, I’ll fuck you so hard, your entire bottom half with be black and blue.” He grunted and groaned, starting to feel like an animal on the discovery channel, then bending down and biting into your skin hard. Blood drew at the little punctures and he continued to bite deep, painful marks all over, looking like you were stung by a bunch of bees. His hands slid up your back and you felt the claws in his fingers latch onto you, scrapping across your smooth body and forming bloodied lines and marks of what looked like pure aggression, but if only everyone who saw them knows…
You were fucking loving this.
Your body looked like an anomaly mission gone wrong; dark, scattered bruises that looked like they’d take weeks to heal, punctures all over your body like you were a piece of cheese, and red scraps like you’d tumbled into a bed of razors. All done by Miguel and his primal needs, and you’d let him do it again and again as long as he used his cock to completely pummel your insides.
“F-fuck me, please, Miguel…” you gasped and choked out as his eyes blared red like sirens on a cop car, heaving and large above you. You orgasm around him and he makes a sound as if he’s a roaring lion.
“That’s it, ask me to destroy this slutty pussy, to breed you, to own you.” His words come out in an octave you didn’t know he could reach and your back arches, keeping his dick in you as he flips you over.
Like a battering ram in and out of your pussy, he holds your arms and yanks your body back and forth on his cock like his own life sized pocket pussy. “Perfect little cocksleeve, letting me use her body like a fuckin whore. Only mine, no one else can touch you, mine.” he grunts and growls as he attacks your back again, wet lines of him basically slobbering all over you like a dog. He humps into you at a dizzying speed and you cum again, the searing burn of a too-fast orgasm swimming through your belly as he smiles and ruts upward, bullying your g-spot more and more.
“One more, you can do one more, right?” He insists and makes sharp, hard movements against that spot. You weep louder as the lewd sounds of your wet pussy sucking him in and milking him dry echo around the room. Miguel moves to web together your arms behind your back, holding them now with one hand and grasping the back of your neck like a handle with the other, smashing his hips into your suffocating insides. "I'm not asking, you will give me one more, I want to feel your cunt clamp down on me again and try to suck the cum out of my cock."
Everything becomes white noise as another painful and overwhelming orgasm wracks though your body, making you jerk and shutter wildly as he holds you in his control and rides you through it.
“That’s it, you’re my fucktoy, my personal little cunt for me to ruin and get pregnant. Gonna be all knocked up, gonna let me cum in you and fill you up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck this cunt for the rest of my fuckin life.” His words send him tumbling into his own climax, shooting his seed so deep inside you that you swear it’s gonna spill out of your mouth. Miguel’s dick is so deeply buried within you as he cums that your legs shake and the muscles cramp, dropping below him. You’re completely fucked out, everything feeling like an irritation to your bloody, bruised skin.
And the look on Miguel’s face is heartbreaking once he looks at you. Yes, it makes his dick hard again, but it makes his mind unravel into panic. He needs to apologize. How could he mark you up like this, damage you like this? He never should have let go, never should have-
“Wanna go again?” You mumble out and give him a little smirk. And he completely malfunctions.
“You… enjoyed that?”
“Are you joking? That was the most amazing sex of my entire life. We can do the sweet sappy stuff I taught you some other time, now abuse my cunt with your cock again please.” You beg and Miguel thinks he’s gonna lose his mind.
You will be the death of him, and as he plunges into your hole once more, propping a pillow under your hips, he thinks about what type of sex playlist you two are gonna make together.
#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara#miguel smut#atsv miguel
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it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩
⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader
⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI
⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)
⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz
⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.
The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot.
“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”
You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack.
Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.
You were exhausted.
You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves.
You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure.
"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"
In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that.
The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you.
You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before.
"Why are you here?"
The question makes him sit up.
“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”
You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.
“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy. He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now.
You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.
“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.
“You walked out on me!”
“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.”
Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.
He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.
“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname.
Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him.
“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return.
“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.”
The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.
You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you.
“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek.
You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you.
You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain.
He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only.
Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin.
“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.
“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?”
Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed.
"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail.
"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”
To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten?
Isn’t what you have pure love?
A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”
You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation.
It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in.
“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.
You feel so dizzy you think you might explode.
Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room.
Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch.
He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone.
He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight.
It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding.
Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.
He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.
It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with.
“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare.
He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers.
You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him.
Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his.
He’s always been yours without any reservations.
“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like.
You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress.
You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that.
He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.
“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.”
Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure.
“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure.
He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?”
He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon.
You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right.
He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist.
“You’re ready.”
Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole.
Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.
“Always take me so well, angel.”
He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him.
“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?”
You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell.
He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.
“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly.
“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?”
He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again.
A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.
“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”
Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.
“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own.
He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper.
Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword.
“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!”
Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust.
“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.”
You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line.
Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.”
“Say it.”
“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now.
You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum.
Your fate’s been sealed.
He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out.
Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind.
Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.
He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing.
The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that.
He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires.
It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you.
a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now
tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe
#i do not wish to be perceived#yuuta x reader#yuuta x you#yuuta x y/n#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta okkotsu x you#yuta x reader#yuta x you#yuta x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#/dubcon tw#/noncon tw#/babytrapping tw#/yandere tw#/stalking tw#/possessiveness tw#kat’s writing#kat’s demon time
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