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quaintii · 11 months

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The Prey and the Predator

a/n: first time writing smut, so I am new here! I'll try my best 🪱

Wrd Cnt: I dunno ^-^

Warnings: breeding kink, aftercare, oral, spanking, choking, little bdsm, dom!Miguel, sub!reader, fang kink, size kink, stomach bulge, blood-play, hair pulling, suffocation?, p with plot? prob more. MDNI !

Summary: Miguel has been trying to catch you after you have been messing up with the timeline. You're an obnoxious villain most say. You have quite a hunch on Miguel and you love playing around with him, he caught your eye so attentively and you love seeing him angry. Miguel has had enough with this stubbornness of yours and wants to catch you once and for all to stop messing up his plans.

enjoy <3

This was the 5th time today you've messed with him. Miguel was seriously starting to get fed up with your games. He tried to catch you multiple times but you have an invisibility power. You love treating him like a dog on a leash, always coming towards you. You have messed with many other people before but it hasn't been as much as fun as this, you love seeing him angry. Sometimes you stalk him to see what his plans are. You are always near him, just invisible. Since he lacks Spidey sense it makes things much more easier. But he's very attentive with sound because he has enhanced senses.

"I'm so fucking done with her fucking games and bullshit. She's so fucking annoying. Ya es la quinta vez que ha hecho esto." Miguel said while heavily sighing with irritation. "Si lo vuelve acer.. la voy acer que se arrepienta."

You giggled as you kept rewinding the face that Miguel would do whenever he was pissed. You find him quite interesting that you want to prey on him more and see how far his tolerance limit can go. You quit trying to deny your attraction to him cause god his physique drives you insane. Your body is desperately wanting for his grasp on your throat.

As the next day passes, you decide to continue your daily annoyance in messing up his plans to remove every anomaly in the wrong universe. You follow him around about everywhere when you have nothing better to do. You cause him ton of stress by causing ruckus in many different universes. Thing is, he's starting to catch onto your patterns. Which will soon lead him to finally grab a hold on you.

You fortunately make a 'small' ruckus by causing another anomaly to escape from the HQ. Miguel and other spiders are working on a mission to catch this villain while you stand back watching it like a movie. He already knows it was you because your patterns are always consistent. You rest so carelessly, not worrying about a single thing. Your eyes intoxicatingly staring deep into Miguel. You're basically craving him to the point you touch yourself at the thought of him.

It's midnight by now and you're crouching down on the floor in a abandoned broken down building in a random universe. You just couldn't get the thought of him wandering his hands around your body. Touching every crevice of it. You couldn't hold back anymore and touched your core. Rubbing it with your palms slowly but with a rhythmic pace, you start heavily panting out of frustration as it's not enough for your satisfaction of immense pleasure you desire.

You desperately want more so you remove your pants and pull your red undergarments to the side. Using your slick wetness as lube to rub your clit in slow circles. You roll your head back and you whimper lightly.

You stick your fingers inside your cunt, feeling some relief of pleasure but not enough. You start chasing your high as your mind starts to drift to Miguel pounding you so unrelentingly with no mercy. You start moaning his name as a prayer between gasps. Your stomach starts to feel a tight snap and ecstacy washes over your body. You pant stiffly and rub off your cum on your suit.

"God, I seriously cannot believe I'm doing this...this is so fucking embarrassing for me." You say with an expression of disappointment.

You go a couple of days without messing with Miguel because you just can't seem to control yourself whenever he's near you, even when he doesn't know you're there. So you decide to pay him a visit at the HQ and see what thing you should do today. You're unusually nervous this time, wondering if you'll mess anything up. You feel so incredibly queasy around him now.

As you find a portal, you sneak your way in with your invisibility power. You see Miguel watching and scrolling thru some screens and you just can't stop glaring at him sitting on his desk. You had a sudden urge to just climb on top of him and straddle him with your hips. You started having lewd thoughts and you started having a pool of arousal grow the more you stood there.

Little did you know, Miguel could sniff your wetness. He knew it was you because he remembers your scent. As he scrolls through the perspective cams, he finally shuts them down. He pretends he's not aware you're in the same room with him, in his office. Alone together.

"Didn't figure I'd finally catch you." Miguel said with a sly smirk. "You are such a fucking intolerance that I can't stand, I mean you mess with my missions half of the time..god you're such an annoyance! You know that right?" He said while walking closer towards you.

Until out of nowhere, he immediately uses his red lasso and webs to pin you onto a wall. You audibly gasp because you find this completely unexpected. You quickly start thinking what caused him to find what place you were at. How did he know you were there? This was unusual because other times you were around him, he didn't do anything. But your arousal just began to grow even wetter.

"H-how did you know I was here?!?" You said with worry. "I promise I was just playing around, I didn't mean anything horrible. I p-promise, please don't hurt me!" You beg. You try getting out of his grasp but your hands are winded behind your back. You hate to admit it but you're getting even more turned on by this.

"Ay cariño... podía oler tu excitación..Hueles tan bien..como dulce..por fin te tengo en la palma de mis manos amor.." He says while chuckling lowly.

You were struggling to get out his web, your eyes still on his, watching him creep closer to you second by second. Your heart starts racing so fast when he's above you. Miguel is so much more taller than you. You only understood a bit of Spanish but god did you adore his accent.

"Stay still f'me, mi vida. Vuevles aver me? Ya sé que te encantó haciendo estos juegos, muñeca. Queda quieta..stay still.." Miguel says with a tone of lustfulness.

"Please Miguel, I really meant no harm..please let me go. " You keep babbling incoherent words because the only thing you can focus on is his collarbone, his amazing physique. His biceps flex with every move, god how badly you want him to choke you with his hands. His prominent veins also catch your eyes. You observe every aspect of him especially what's between his thighs.

You hold back a stifled moan just from staring at him. Your mind starts racing with so many ways this could possibly go.

"You shouldn't have messed with me, amor. You should always keep in mind how your actions always come with consequences, right cariño? Y'know.. you really caused me a lot of stress these past few days. It's not so easy catching a dangerous anomaly almost everyday, muneca." He said while his muscles begin to tense. He absolutely loved the way he caged over your small body. He could just eat you right then and there.

"Mejor un sabor de tu coño me hace sentir mejor, bebé." His tone dripping with amusement.

"M-miguel.. I don't think you're thinking straight. Okay! I'm sorry about what I've done, I won't do it ever again!"

"Oh I promise you won't do it ever again. I should teach you a lesson. Will you be a good girl for me?"

You try your best to not give into your deep pleasures, so you continue to put up your arrogant side. "Miguel, you wouldn't dare to touch me because you don't know what horrible things I would do this place! I will ruin you!" You yell with fake confidence.

Miguel chuckles darkly. "Not if I ruin you first cariño. Look how cute you look squirming. I think I would love to keep you around as a stress relief toy, què no? I think you and I would both enjoy that." Miguel finally stands infront of you and crouches to your height.

"mmm, smell so good.. let me fill you up, amor. I could smell you miles away..you're so wet for me. You know you want this."

You try denying it as much as you could, you couldn't believe what Miguel was even uttering. Your brain starts fogging up and you finally give up.

"I-i do Miguel. I crave you. I can't hold myself anymore whenever I see you, I want your cock inside me please Miguel." You beg.

"Such a needy little slut aren't you? You want this cock so bad..don't you?" You nod slowly, biting your lower lip. Miguel finally released you from his webs and you immediately flop to the ground on your hands and knees. You look at him through your lashes.

"You look so pretty on your knees for me, cariño. I should do something with that pretty mouth of yours, que no? " He said with a sneer spreading across his face.

"Please Miguel do anything to me.." You say with a whimper in your voice. You're starting to get impatient and your cunt is now soaking wet, longing for something long and girthy inside of you. Your lips hang open. You stare at his crotch and approach your hands to his bulge. God, he was huge.

He slaps your hands away from approaching him. "Who said you could do that, amor? I'm the one who controls around here. You'll do anything I'll say like a good girl right?" Miguel said while huffing, your position on your knees has him holding every restraint he has left in him. "Si Miguel." You say.

He presses his index finger on your chin, lifting it up to face him. "Remember no teasing cariño, only I do that. Do that and you'll get a punishment." Miguel removed his suit and his physique was even more amazingly sculpted. His boxers were then brought to his knees and his cock sprung free. The brown tip leaking with pre-cum. It's begging to be sucked.

You part your lips open and hold onto his length, both of your hands don't even cover him. You lick his pre-cum from the tip like a kitten. You do circles with your tongue on his tip, making him more sensitive.

Miguel's mind starts fogging up with what many things he wants to do to that pretty little pussy of yours and make you his slut.

You then try taking his length in your warm, silky mouth, his cock twitching, begging for more warmth. As you take half of him in your throat, you bob your head up and down in a rhythmic pace. You stroke the rest of him that doesn't fit inside your mouth. You start moaning and panting when you take him, you try going even deeper. Your throat starts choking.

You then look up at Miguel. He has the most lustful expression you've ever seen. His eyebrows are furrowed together, he's biting his lips. Staring deep into your soul with his crimson eyes.

"Ay muñeca, me haces.. fuck.. sentir mejor.." He said while looking down at your small figure taking his length slowly. Miguel was tired with teasing and was barely holding by a thread from throat fucking your throat.

You release your lips around him to breathe. A string of pre-cum from your lips and his cock made him finally lose it. Miguel couldn't hold himself back anymore. All of his morals go out the window as he violently bucks his hips against your throat. Mounts of tears start to stream down your face as his cock runs so deep and warm down your throat. It hurts as first but it then drives you insane.

The sound of sucking and popping echoes through the room. He's so close, you can feel it. You look up at him, battering your wet lashes at him. Taking him like a good girl, you thought.

His head rolls back and his jaw tightens as he's reaching his limit. Your throat wrapping around his cock made him twitch uncontrollably. Your soft tongue swirling around him also aroused him. Miguel was holding onto the wall to stay still because your throat feels so amazing. He starts wondering how euphoric your pussy must feel.

He then loudly groans and curses in Spanish under his breath as he thrusts one more time down your throat to spread his seed. His cum tastes salty then sweet. It's a treat for you. You drink all of his cum, swirling your tongue around his cock, making sure you take every last droplet.

"Mierda..eres magnífica, ma." He says while heavily panting. "Your throat fits my cock perfectly." Miguel looks at you up and down hungrily. He then grabs your arm and places you on top of his desk. He throws everything on the floor. You're his only focus now.

You're cunt is throbbing for something, it feels so empty. You haven't been able to satisfy yourself so you run your hands to rub your clothed clit but Miguel slaps your ass before you do.

"Only I can do that, mi vida. You can't touch yourself without my permission. Ahora.. quítate la ropa." He said with heavy impatience. The idea aroused you.

You do so, you slowly tease him as you remove your suit. Going from top to bottom. Removing every clothing off your body. Miguel hungrily follows your curves. He eyes you so lustfully. You're now fully naked in front of him. He can't stop staring at your pussy. Miguel's gaze is almost unreadable.

Suddenly, he grabs your throat, almost choking you. You try talking but you just give up because you enjoy this too much to even talk back. "What did I say about teasing me cariño? I thought you were going to be a good slut for me.. y'know I don't wanna play games with you anymore."

You moan as his grip remains on your stronger and your body hitched as the cold air washes over you. Your nipples are perked up, begging for some attention. "Now let me touch you, princessa." Miguel kneels down and whispers "puta madre, eres una maravilla.." at your cunt. His warm breath makes you twitch. You can't hold back anymore and want some sort of touch. His fingers separate your lips to see your glistening cunt. His dark, crimson eyes bore into yours as he pushed two fingers up your pretty cunt.

"You're so wet... are you that needy for my cock, princessa?" He said while smirking devilsly. Your back immediately arched back when he licked your slick wetness. He licked and sucked softly on your clit. He swirls his tongue around your clit in circles, driving you insane. You desperately want more so you buck your hips against his face and grab onto his hair. Miguel slaps your pussy again. "What did I tell you, princessa, be a good slut for daddy." "No one else will ever suck your pretty pussy this good like me, ma, nobody." You let out a loud moan as he slides in his girthy, scarred fingers inside your plushy, soft walls.

" M-miguel.." a soft whimper fell from your lips as you pull his hair between your thighs. He can't wait to stuff his big cock inside your soft, warm pussy. He wants you to beg for him, ache for him, moan his name like a prayer continuously. He goes a steady pace, sliding his fingers in and out while licking your clit. You feel so amazing, you roll your head and your eyes to the back of your skull as you feel your dirty desires finally being fulfilled. Miguel bit the inside of your thighs with his fangs, marking you his and his only.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your soft, silky walls around his fingers, tightening around him. "Look at your cunt.. fuck cariño, tightening around me like a needy bitch. Hm? Tell me how bad you want my cock, ma. Beg for it."

"P-please Miguel, I want your fucking cock inside of my cunt, make me your slut. Fuck me already please." You say while you mewl and whine as his fingers starts sliding in faster than before, you feel something familiar in your lower abdomen. You feel something coming up and you finally snap. You moan loud throughout your orgasm, your legs start twitching uncontrollably as you tighten your thighs around Miguel's head. "M-miguel please stop!" You whine. You started to feel so overstimulated when Miguel sucks your clit, attentively watching your expressions. You try pushing him off but your strength doesn't budge. You start slightly tearing up as you feel you'll completely crumble to pieces and pass out. Miguel finally stops.

"Todavía quieres que juega con tu coño, ma? Sabes tan rica. Cómo dulce caramelo. Eres mia." He said gruffly. "Look at me, mama." You face your eyes at his, begging him to fuck you without mercy just with your eyes. His cock is twitching and he couldn't hold back no more. "Use your words, ma.. do you want my cock?" He grins. He teased you with his cock as he runs it up and down your slick cunt. "Yes Miguel, ple-", you were cut off as he immediately thrusted into your pussy without warning. You screamed out of immense pleasure. "F-FUCK." You've never felt this full before, he took up all the air in your lungs in a second as he started thrusting hard into your cervix. You were now uncontrollably mewing and whining his name non-stop.

"Such a pretty pussy just for me. All mine..look how your dirty pussy keeps sucking me in, princessa.. mierda.." You try rolling your hips at his dick to receive even more friction but he slaps your ass harshly. Over and over, making you scream. "Que te dije, amor." Miguel keeps staring when his cock enters your pussy deep after each thrust. Your hips feel like completely giving up, if it weren't for him holding onto your hips and waist, you would've fallen by now. Your eyes bore into Miguel's eyes and he does the same. He loved seeing how he made you feel, your facial expressions of gasping and panting.. begging for more, made his dick harden. The skin to skin contact drew you and him insane, he started becoming primal. Animalistic.

He loves how his cock feels balls deep inside your warm walls. Sliding easily in and out. Your eyes couldn't stop rolling back as your hips twitched against his. Miguel then started teasing your perked nipples, that finally received some attention. His mouth sucked on your tits, hungrily. He would softly bite it to get more of a reaction out of you. You were even more turned on as he would rest his neck on your shoulder. Kissing your neck, leaving you with hickeys everywhere. He brought out his fangs to taste you even more.

You yelped when his fangs sunk deep into you skin, you felt so intoxicated by the overwhelming pleasure when he start sucking your blood. Your body was starting to limp. He wouldn't let go of his fast space. He starts grabbing a strong hold of your throat and hair. He wanted you all over his body. He pulls your chest to his chest, reaching more amazing spots.

"M-miguel! Please.. I can't take anymore.. please stop, please Miguel it's too m-much f'me." You feel his bulge stick out of your stomach. You wondered how he even fits inside you. "No muñeca..I know you can take this like a good slut, your pussy wants this. Don't deny it." Miguel pants."M-miguel please!" You whine as it pleasure slowly becomes overwhelming for you. Without having another say, he immediately flips you on your chest on his desk, bringing your ass up and tying your hands behind your back so you wouldn't intefere. You found yourself almost collapsing just to the touch of his body weighing down in yours. "I can do anything I want to you, you're my slut. You're my slut! Say it!" Miguel says while panting as he managed to slam even deeper into your cunt at this angle. He grabs your throat, making you face him. "Dígalo, mi corazón. Say you're my pretty little dirty slut." "M-miguel, I'm your fucking..s-slut." You slur your words as you could barely hold words in your throat. Your moans would pronounce Miguel's name incoherently over and over.

The sounds of moaning and skin slapping against each other echoes throughout the room. "feels s'good fuck..mierda. Look what you do to me." You endlessly mewl and whine and moan loudly as he continues to slam his girthy cock, hitting your g-spot. Your back manages to arch even more. Allowing him to go deeper inside you than you ever imagined was even possible.

His hands travel to your clit, rubbing it so slowly. Your mouth is completely agape, gasping for air. He leaves soft kisses down your spine and you shiver as he marks you again with his fangs on your shoulders. His talons begin to tightly grip your hips. Leaving bruises on it for later. The low growls of his whiny voice caused you clench tighter around his cock, causing him to twitch. You were so close, you felt it and he did too.

"Going to fill this pretty pussy full of my cum, princess. Cum for me cariño, do it for me. Make me feel good. Want your pussy to tighten around me." With those words being said, your legs and pussy spasm uncontrollably around his rough, thick cock.

He continued thrusting a few more times inside you, overstimulating you beyond the edge. Both of your bodies emit groans, growls, gasps, and pleasurable moans. "F-fuck I'm so c-close, baby..god. Mierda, amo tu coño." He finally cums inside your pussy, the overwhelming pleasure makes you faint for a while. Miguel finally pulls out and groans as he sees his semen leak out your pussy. "I want you to be full of me.." He pushed two fingers up your cunt to make sure his cum would stay there. He pumps his cum back into your womb.

You now fall completely unconscious as the overwhelmed pleasure took over you. A couple hours later, you wake up next to Miguel. He was staring at you sleeping. You try getting up but Miguel placed you back down on the bed. "No baby, your body needs to rest. You're tired. If you want anything, just ask me muñeca." He said while smiling. You never saw this caring side of him, you loved it already. "Why were you staring at me sleeping, Miguel?" You said with a raspy voice. "You look angelic all the time, cariño. Even when moaning my name." He said while smirking. You feel your cheeks heating up as you vividly remember everything from last night. It was so intense that your body was so sore. For now, all that mattered is that Miguel is with you, taking care of you.

A/n: THAT WAS A LOT for my first time, hope u guys enjoy :3 translations below!

Translations: "cariño": sweetheart

"Muñeca": doll

"Mierda": fuck

"Princessa"- princess

"Amo tu coño": I love your pussy.

"Dígalo mi corazón": Say it, my love

"Que te dije amor": What did I tell you, love

"Todavía quieres que juega con tu coño, ma? Sabes tan rica. Cómo dulce caramelo. Eres mia" : You still want me to play with your pussy, ma? You taste so good. Like caramel candy. You're mine.

"Puta madre, eres una maravilla." -- Holy shit, you're so amazing.

"Ahora. Quítate la ropa." -- Now. Take off your clothes.

"Ya es la quinta vez que ha hecho esto." - It's already the 5th time she's done this.

"Si lo vuelve acer.. la voy acer que se arrepienta." - If ehe does it again... I'm make her regret.

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #smut #hehe oops #:33333 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #my pookie #Spotify

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hispg · 7 months

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My sweet friend

Pairings: Best friend Leon! x fem! Reader

Wc: 2.2k

Summary: After a party you decided to sleep in your best friend's house, little do you know that sleeping is the last thing that he'll do.

Warnings: Porn without plot, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, dub-con, drunk sex, dirty thoughts, a bit of dirty talk, shameless smut.

He was shirtless, just wearing his sweatpants, all at ease as he waited for the episode to finish.

Another quiet evening in Leon's apartment. He was just lazing around watching some series on TV. It was his day off, so he was making the most of it.

He wasn't one for staying up late, and considering it was already half past ten at night, it was high time he fell asleep.

He was about to doze off on the sofa when he heard the doorbell ring. This puzzled him since he hadn't invited anyone to his apartment that night.

Sleepily, he got up from the sofa and headed for the door. He opened it while rubbing his eyes, not even paying attention to who was waiting for him.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite police officer!" You say in a slightly raspy, slurred voice. You were very loud that night.

He opens his eyes, noticing your figure. He was used to these visits from you. After all, you were best friends, but he'd never seen you so loose like this.

"Uhm, what are you doing here?" The question came quietly from his lips, although he kept a sweet smile for you.

Of course, he heard when you started talking, but paying attention to what you were saying was another story. His eyes traveled down your body, and seeing the way your curves were being hugged by your tight black dress was simply immoral.

He took a deep breath, remembering every detail. It wasn't hard to guess that you were coming from a party, and you looked so beautiful.

"Mhmmm, Leon! Will you let me in?" You whimpered slyly, throwing yourself into his arms.

"Ugh, you stink of alcohol." He grumbles, gently dragging you inside.

All you did was mumble some nonsensical things, which frankly Leon didn't even try to pay attention to. He just dragged you into his room, laying you on the bed.

You needed that, just as you would need him the next day. He swore to God he was trying not to look at you, but the way your curves were so exposed in that dress.

He shouldn't have, but he could already feel his blood pulsing in his lower body. As a precaution, he decided that he would sleep on the sofa for the night until he heard your whimper.

"Am I going to sleep alone? No! What if there's a monster under the bed?" You said in the same drunken, raspy voice. He wondered how much you'd had to drink that night. And for making the situation more amusing somehow, you sat on the bed and pouted at him.

He hides a laugh from you, finding your childish behavior comical, to say the least.

"Ok, I'll sleep here. But if you kick me out of bed, I'll throw you out. Do you hear me?" Leon whispers jokingly, sticking his tongue out at you.

You nod desperately, pulling him into bed with you. He falls onto the bed gently, snuggling into his side.

And once you lay back down on his bed, he can't help but look at you with the most pleading eyes on earth. Even if you're not noticing it, too busy trying to be comfortable on his bed.

But he can't help it. The way your dress always lifts up a bit, threatening to show the curve of your ass. Fuck, too exciting for him not pay attention. He could end this, surely, just putting a blanket over you would solve the problem.

And that's exactly the point, he don't want to solve the problem.

He preferred to stay on his side of the bed, looking at your ass bouncing every time you tried to get on a comfortable position, the way that the dress drawns your curves so damn perfectly.

He swear to God that he's trying to not think about it, but the way that his cock is throbbing on his pants says otherwise. He even grabs a pillow, softly rubbing against his erection, hoping that this helps him to ease a little.

Didn't take long for him to get mad about it, why instead of the pillow, it couldn't be that pretty mouth of yours? That pretty plump, pink lips of yours? Damn, the way that it would fit perfectly around his cock.

Or even better, what if he can use that pretty pussy of yours? He can bet that your pussy it's just pretty as you.

Without even noticing, his hands slipped through his pants, his fingers rubbing the tip of his hard cock. And he can already feel the considerable amount of pre-cum sliding down on this dick, messing his thighs on the process.

When he felt what he was doing, he stopped himself, thinking about how wrong it was. No, it was too dirty to do that while you were beside him.

He breathed heavily, trying to focus on getting his composure back. He got his phone, and started to scroll it, praying that this give him some sleep, so he can just close his eyes and rest, even if he doubt that he's going to be able to sleep this night.

A couple of minutes later, he felt a bit more calm, taking deep breaths and trying his best to not think about you. But when he turned to your side, his mouth fell open, eyes widening at the sight.

There you were, laying on your stomach, your dress was now at your waist, giving him a perfect angle of your bare ass cheeks. His mind goes wild, seeing how round and plump they're.

And then again, he felt his cock hardening, so damn hard that he can see it through the sheets.

"Fuck me.." He murmured, drooling at the magnificent sight of your bare ass.

His hands trembled, and he was willing to at least give a squeeze on that ass, he can't control himself. It was such a hot sin in front of him.

And well, before he even realized his hand was on his cock, palming himself to get some relieve.

His another hand roaming in your arms, gently caressing it. He can't believe how much he gets aroused only by such a simple touch like this. He felt your soft skin under his fingertips, and it was so damn smooth.

You shivered at his touch, even if you were sleeping, just one involuntary action. As if even when you were sleeping, you still wanted his touch.

He couldn't help, letting out a soft whimper while he was jerking off, feeling so excited over you. He can't contain himself, too much for him.

Finally, his hands reached your lower back, and he started to play with the waistband of your panties, wanting to desperately feel what's underneath.

Slipping his hand down further, he gets to touch your ass cheek. Dragging his fingers over it, rubbing and giving little squeezes. Feeling the soft flesh of your ass.

And shit, he felt so turned on by that. Cock twitching and pulsing on his hand, he's sure that once he come, it's going to be a thick,long load. He's more than sure of it.

You stirred, shifting your ass a bit more up, stretching yourself a bit, soon turning back to your normal position.

And then again, Leon whimpered, hand dangerously close to your covered pussy, fingers roaming eagerly your ass, wavering around each centimeter.

That purked little cunt, that he desperately wants to suck and lick until you're begging him to stop. That little cunt that he wants to fuck over and over, and fill it up with his cum.

In an impulsive thought, his hands slide to your already wet folds, not touching it directly. The tip of his indicator finger stroking it above your soaked panties, and he was whining so damn much right now.

He keeps telling himself that this is wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this. But hell, if is this bad, why you're so fucking wet? There is no way that you didn't want this, too.

The way that you started to rub your thighs together, pressing them against each other so tightly. This was the bit of sight that he needed, and well, he would keep going.

He kept stroking his cock with one hand, he was trying his best to not cum that fast, but he can't help it. When he entered his finger on you, feeling your tight wet walls sucking him in, he whined loudly, more than he should.

Words can't describe how relieved he felt knowing that you were a deep sleeper this night, maybe from the tiredness along with the fact that you were a bit drunk. Enough to knock you down on this bed.

Then again he slipped another finger, whimpering at the sensation of your tight little cunt. Wanting so bad that it was his cock instead.

His fingers started to grind you, moving at a slow and steady pace. Feeling your gummy and velvety walls embrace him tightly.

"Mhm.." There it was, your sweet voice moaning at his touch.

You started to stir, drowsy opening your eyes. Your eyes nervously darts around, while Leon look at you with a soft smile, as if he wasn't doing anything. But you could clearly feel how hot it was between your legs, you could feel your fluids dripping down your thighs.

Too bad you were too tired to protest, not that you were against it either. Not least because as soon as you realized what he was doing, you swung your hips towards him, thrusting in a way that made what he was doing easier.

Another sweet whimper escapes his lips, his fingers start to move faster. In and out, curving around and hitting your sweet spots. By then, you were buried in the pillow, letting out sleepy cries and moans, and that made him even hornier.

Just seeing that you accepted him even though you were in such a vulnerable state made him lose his mind easily. And without waiting long, he asked you, "Do you want me to rock you?"

It seemed like an innocent proposal at first, not that you were in the best state of mind.

But all you did was nod, wanting him to rock you to sleep. He quickly withdrew his fingers from you, making you whimper at the emptiness you felt.

He licked his fingers, savoring the taste of your sweet honey. And indeed it was just as he imagined, you were as sweet and delicious as honey.

And then he pulled you to him, your back against his chest, one of his hands finding your hips, pushing them forward a little.

In one swift movement, he shoved his cock into you. With one strong, deep thrust, he was all the way inside you.

Only now did you understand what he meant, it wasn't a proposal to go to sleep.

He was going to rock into you.

"Mhmh, Leon..." You moan softly, your fingers curling into the pillow.

"Shh, I'll put you to sleep." He whispers in a little whimper, feeling overwhelmed by the way your pussy nestled his cock so well.

This was better than you imagined, him thrusting gently while holding you by the waist, moving in and out.

He whimpered so much, it was so good the way your spongy walls gripped him, pulled him in.

The poor thing was so needy that he couldn't stop touching you, kissing your neck, biting and licking the soft skin.

Just as he stroked your clit from time to time, only to feel your little hole clench around him.

"I'm close." You moaned a little louder, your nails sinking into the pillow.

He growled in your ear, squeezing your waist and thrusting in without warning. He knew he was close too, and surely he couldn't wait to come inside you, to fill you with his cum until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to fill you up, until my cum starts leaking out." He murmurs, rocking his hips at an abnormal speed. Moving back and forth without stopping.

"Mhmhmm, ah, ah..." You babble, not even making the effort to speak a single sentence.

"Getting fucking drunk on that cock, aren't you?" He groans, thrusting into your weak spot, making you see stars every time.

Enough for you to fall apart, calling his name again and again, your walls slapping against his cock, spilling everything you had to offer.

That was the last straw for him too, you could feel the first spurts inside you. And just as he imagined, it was a long load, he can see it running down your wet folds. He gives you a satisfied smile, seeing what he's wanted to see for ages.

You were breathing heavily, your lips parted, and your eyes closed. He was almost in the same state, except he was wide awake.

He kisses your cheek, pulling the covers over you both, not even bothering to clean up around here.

"Sleep well, sweetheart." He whispers, tucking you into the same big spoon position.

Giving you a tight hug and light kisses on the neck, and that's how it went until you both fell asleep.

Being honest? He couldn't wait for the next day, because he was going to do it all over again.

Oh, how he would.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon kennedy smut #leon resident evil

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nyxoz · 2 years

Note

I was thinking for a part 2 to the modern day Eddie x reader sexting could be she goes and hangs out with Jackson and Eddie starts sexting her knowing she's over there 👀

thank you so for your request!!! im so mind blown by the love for this fic. i hope you enjoy this part two.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal fingering, P in V sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Best Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Sexting, Swearing, Jealousy, Semi-Public Sex, Unprotected Sex.

Part One

Eddie has been avoiding you.

Well, at least you think he has. He hasn’t contacted you since he said goodbye the night he made you come so hard on your couch you had to lay against him to catch your breath.

You haven’t texted or called him either but that’s not the point. He initiated it. Shouldn’t he be the one to call you?

It’s been three days since that night, which isn’t super long but you and Eddie haven’t gone a day without talking to each other for god knows how long. It’s weird, him not being in your life. Not texting him something stupid or sending him a meme or TikTok you saw. You miss him. But you’re mad at him.

You’re not mad about what happened. You’re mad about how he’s acting (or not acting.). You didn’t expect him to suddenly be your boyfriend or anything, but he could at least fucking text you.

It’s Monday night when you decide to head to Benny's diner alone for dinner.

As you enter the mostly empty diner you see none other than Jackson, sitting alone at a booth lining the window. His head pops up as the bell rings on the door and he’s smiling as he recognises you.

You subtly sigh and smile at him.

“Hey.” He says.

You walk over to where he’s seated, “Hey, Jackson.”

He looks around you like he’s expecting to see someone.

“You eating alone?”

You nod.

“I’d expected Munson to be following behind you like a lost little puppy.” He laughs at his joke. You don’t laugh and he notices calming down his chuckle, “I was just kidding.” He tries to save face.

There’s an awkward silence before he clears his throat.

“How about you take a seat? I’ll buy you dinner.” He asks.

You look at the empty seat across from him and then back at his smiling face. You decide, fuck it, why not? You get a free meal out of it and some okay company.

“Suuure, but I want a milkshake too.” You bargain as you slide into the booth.

He laughs a little, his teeth blindingly white and in full view. “Sure thing, darlin’.”

He keeps smiling at you as you grab at the menu his fingers are fiddling with on the table. Your eyes wander over the page, trying to choose when he starts up that awkward conversation.

“So, Friday night was, like, good.” He says.

You snort, eyes still on the menu. “Good?”

“Hot.” He corrects, “like so hot.”

You finally look up at him after deciding what you want. “I’m glad.”

He laughs, “You’re hard to read.”

Raising a brow and tapping your fingers against the table you smirk slightly. “Am I?”

Jackson leans back further against the booth and runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah, you really are.”

“Alrighty! What can I get you two tonight?” A waitress interrupts your conversation.

You look up at her and see her name tag reads Joan. You and Jackson give your orders to Joan and she grabs your menu before walking back to the counter.

As Jackson asks how your weekend is going, headlights shine into the window as a car parks in front of the diner. You automatically turn to look at the light and as the headlights turn off you see a very familiar green van. Eddie. Of course, he’s here.

You turn back to Jackson and pretend you’re listening to some fishing story he’s telling as you hear the bells of the front door jingle as Eddie enters. You don’t look up at the sound and keep staring head-on at Jackson.

He says something that makes himself laugh and you don’t know quite what it was but you decide to laugh loud and reach a hand forward to touch his arm that’s resting on the tabletop. Eddie walks past just as you do and you can’t help but flick your eyes up at him. He looks at you and then down to where you’re touching Jackson. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s sitting in the booth right behind Jackson, staring directly at you.

Jackson doesn’t seem to notice that Eddie is here, too caught up in your touch and laugh.

“Yeah, so funny right!” He laughs with you.

“Totally.” You smile, staring just past his shoulder into the brown eyes that are staring directly into yours.

Eddie is smirking very subtly at you before he drops his eyes down to the menu.

The next twenty minutes seem to go by uneventfully. You flirt shamelessly with Jackson, but manage to avoid looking at Eddie the entire time. Your food comes out and after you both finish, you decide to split the promised milkshake.

“I gotta say, I’m more of a strawberry milkshake man myself.” Jackson says and you put two straws into the shake.

“People are biased towards vanilla because they think it’s basic, but it’s not! It’s original and iconic. There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla.” You smile at him.

You drop a finger in the whipped cream and bring it up to your mouth, sucking the sweetness off your finger. Your eyes meet with Eddie’s over Jackson’s shoulder.

His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide taking up the chocolate brown you love so much. He’s rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you intently.

Your eyes flicker back to Jackson and he’s smiling at you softly, a sheepish look on his face. He leans down and takes a sip of the milkshake and groans as he does.

“Okay, you’re right. This is good.”

“See! Nothing wrong with vanilla.” You repeat before taking a sip yourself.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you fish it out as Jackson takes another sip.

Eddie 7:37pm: do that again.

Your eyes flicker up to Eddie and he’s staring at you. You stare back for a few seconds before you look down at your phone and type out a response.

You 7:37pm: Who’s this?

You can be petty.

He responds immediately.

Eddie 7:37pm: bet it doesn’t taste as sweet as you did.

Your cheeks warm at the thought of him licking your arousal off his own fingers and you keep your eyes down on your phone.

You can’t think of a witty reply. So you lock your phone and keep it face up in your lap, before turning back to Jackson.

“See any good movies lately?” You ask lamely, trying to keep the conversation flowing but too preoccupied by Eddie.

Your phone buzzes again and you ignore it.

“Movies?” Jackson chuckles, “Uh not really. I’ve been focusing on fixing up my truck, honestly.”

“Oh really?” You fake interest with a smile.

Your phone buzzes a second time and your eyes can’t help but flicker down.

Eddie 7:38pm: have you been thinking about me?

Eddie 7:39pm: thinking about my fingers fucking you?

You close your eyes to compose yourself as you look back up at Jackson. He’s too interested in talking about his truck to notice you’re not paying him any attention.

Looking down at your lap you read the flood of texts you just received.

Eddie 7:40pm: I’ve been thinking about you.

Eddie 7:40pm: thinking about how you taste.

Eddie 7:40pm: how you felt when you came on my fingers.

Eddie 7:40pm: I know you’d feel fucking unbelievable coming on my cock.

The last message has you squeezing your thighs together. The thought of Eddie’s cock inside you has been on your mind for the past three days. You’ve touched yourself thinking about it, imagining him taking you against your soft sheets, or in his trailer, van, anywhere really.

“What’re you think?” Jackson asks.

You look up fast and blink a few times.

“About what colour to paint my truck? Red or black?” He clarifies.

“Oh, uh, red?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking that too!” He keeps rambling about the truck tyres or engine, you’re not really sure.

Eddie 7:42pm: would you let me finish inside you? I know you’re on the pill.

Eddie 7:42pm: wanna fill you up and watch my cum drip out of you

That’s the nail in the coffin of your patience. You clear your throat and interrupt Jackson.

“Umm, this has been fun or whatever but I actually have to go.” You say standing up. Your eyes look over quickly at Eddie who is watching you as he eats a few fries.

“Oh? I thought we could maybe go back to mine or something.” He smiles up at you hopefully.

You frown apologetically, “Sorry. I’ll see you later?”

He nods, but his expression shows a tad bit of frustration like his night has now been wasted playing nice with you when he couldn’t get anything out of it.

You ignore him and turn to walk towards the bathroom. You pass the counter, and smile at Joan as you go, pushing open the bathroom door and turning into the ladies’ room.

As you enter the end cubicle, you pull out your phone and sit on the closed toilet, going to scroll through Eddie’s messages again. You read each one, feeling your skin warm and your stomach tighten in arousal.

You can’t believe him. After no contact for three days, this is what you get?

The door to the bathroom opens and shuts with a thud. You can hear heavy footsteps walking along the tiled floor, they get louder as they grow closer. You look underneath the cubicle door, seeing familiar dirty converse standing directly in front of it.

Knuckles rap against the wood in a rhythmic fashion.

“Y/N…” Eddie drags out your name.

You stay silent and watch his feet.

“Little pig! Little pig! Let me in.” He sings, a soft chuckle following it.

You stand up, your clothes rustling and echoing in the quiet bathroom. You step forward, reaching for the lock and turning it slowly. Pulling your hand back, the door opens with a creek, Eddie coming into view inch by inch.

He stands there, looking good enough to eat. He’s wearing his usual leather jacket over a black Judas Priest shirt. His black jeans are ripped at the knees.

He smiles brightly at you, creases forming around his mouth and his brown eyes narrowing.

You’re both quiet for a minute, staring at each other. You feel his eyes roaming your body, goosebumps rising on your skin under his gaze.

“Hey.” He says taking a step into the cubicle.

You give him a look of disbelief. After three days that’s all he’s got to say to you.

You push at his chest, “Asshole!”

He sways a little but stands tall.

You push at him again and he grabs at your wrists as they land on his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“You fucking just ghosted me!”

You struggle against his hold but give up after he shows no sign of letting go.

“I know.”

“Why?” You ask defeated.

He brings your hands up to his face and presses kisses on your knuckles. “I’m sorry.” He whispers against the skin, “I got scared, I don’t know, I just freaked out.”

“Why, though?”

He lowers your hands so you’re holding each other down near your waists.

“I thought maybe you didn’t want me that way.”

You scoff, “I literally orgasmed. I wanted it!”

“Yeah, I realise that now. I thought it through.”

“You’re still an asshole.” You smirk.

He grins back and begins slowly stepping forward, pushing you further back into the cubicle. He lets go of your hand to reach behind him and push the door closed, twisting the lock in place.

He stands in front of you and you take one step back, your thighs hitting the edge of the toilet.

“Maybe I can make it up to you?” He asks, titling his head slightly.

“Maybe.”

He crowds against you, grabbing at your waist and moving you against the wall. His face hovers above you, half an inch away, his deep chocolate eyes flickering over your face.

“Or maybe,” you start, “maybe I can catch up with Jackson.” It’s an empty threat but Eddie’s brows frown at the thought.

“No.” He says. His right hand comes up to grab at your chin, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip a little. “You’re mine.”

“Yours?” You whisper.

His thumb presses harder against your lip, pushing upwards and sliding into your mouth.

You drop your jaw, opening your mouth a little wider. Your tongue flattens out for him to glide his thumb along it.

“All mine.” He murmurs.

You suck on his thumb, pressing your tongue up against it and hollowing your cheeks.

“Fuck.” He sighs, eyes transfixed on your mouth.

Slowly, you draw your head back, pulling your mouth off him, the squelch of the suction breaking is loud in the space between you both.

He licks at his lips as he watches the spit glistening on his thumb.

“Did you like my texts?” He asks.

Your head drops back further to thud against the wall, your hair scratches against you as you nod slowly.

“What do you think, hmm?” His hand comes up to your hair line, pushing the strands back in soft strokes. “Would you let me come inside you?”

Your heart jumps at the question. Swallowing down the spit pooling in your mouth, you nod again.

“Gimme your words, baby.” He says.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You huff a little, “Yes, I want you to come inside me.”

His free hand splays against your stomach, inching down to the waistline of your jeans. His skilled fingers pop your button open and push down your zipper, the pads of his fingers landing on the soft cotton of your panties.

Slowly but surely, he works his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, trailing down the top of your cunt and pressing his middle finger in between your slit.

You gasp as his finger circles your clit.

He smiles at your intake of breath and slides another finger alongside the first, gliding them between your folds and lapping up your arousal.

He circles your entrance, before pushing two fingers in.

You squeak as he curls his fingers up, searching for the rough spot inside you that makes you clench around him. You moan out as he continues thrusting his fingers into you.

“Eddie.”

He leans his forehead against yours and keeps fingering you.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t want your fingers.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek, “No?”

You shake your head.

“What do you want?”

His fingers come up to rub your clit some more and you cry out.

“I want...” you trail off as he continues to toy with you.

“Yes?” He asks with a smile, nosing at your cheekbone.

“I want your cock.”

He laughs and his warm breath hits your face.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He pulls his hand out from your underwear, his other hand coming down to your jeans and pushing them down your legs, along with your underwear. You toe off your shoes and slide your jeans and panties off, leaving them on the floor next to the toilet.

You reach forward and grab at Eddie’s belt, unbuckling it and pushing his pants and boxers down over cock. It springs free, hitting his black tee and leaving a spot of precum.

You go to grab at his cock but he grabs at your hand to stop you.

“Wait,” he breathes out, “I wanna…” he looks over your face and then reaches up to take it in his hands, “I wanna kiss you.”

He holds your face so softly in his calloused hands.

You realise, in both these times you’ve been together, you’ve never kissed each other. You’ve never had your lips pressed against his or your tongue in his mouth.

It was a line you both unknowable hadn’t tried to cross. Touching each other was one thing, but kissing felt more personal. Like it could break your friendship if it went wrong.

You look down at his pink lips, wanting nothing more than to touch them with your own.

“Kiss me then.” You whisper.

He takes no time rushing forward and pressing his lips on yours. You inhale against him, breathing him in.

His tongue licks into your mouth, massaging with yours. Your nose rubs against his cheek as you push further against him, wanting to get as close as possible.

Eddie’s hand comes down to grab your left leg, his arm coming up underneath it to hold it up. He pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead against yours and looking down in between you. You both catch your breath and stare down as his other hand reaches for his cock and guides it towards you.

The head of his cock brushes against your folds, lapping your juices. Eddie’s head drops back and he groans out lowley.

“Jesus Christ.”

He lines up at your entrance and looks up at you quickly, watching your reaction as he slides into you. His arm holding your leg up tenses as your heat surrounds him.

Your mouth drops open and your eyes squeeze shut as he pushes all the way in. Your breathing gets heavier as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush with yours.

Eddie leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling out slowly and pushing back in. He keeps a steady slow pace, his free hand holding your hip.

Your leg aches from the stretch of being held up but it’s all forgotten when he starts moving faster. The echo of skin slapping each other can be heard throughout the bathroom, accompanied by your heavy breathing.

He keeps fucking hard and fast. His hand on your waist trails down to your crotch, sliding to your clit. His fingers begin circling the nub in rhythm with his hips.

You let out a moan, “Fuck, fuck, Eddie.”

You feel the warmth in your core starting to unravel, getting closer to your release.

He smiles at you and presses kisses along your jawline.

A thud of a door can be heard in the distance and Eddie’s hips stop their movements, as he listens out for more noise.

The door to the ladies’ bathroom opens and closes and someone walks in and enters the cubicle next to yours. The side of Eddie’s face is pressed against the side of yours, his mouth hovering over your ear.

“Better keep quiet. Don’t wanna get caught, do ya, baby?” He whispers.

His fingers start playing with your clit again, but his hips stay still, keeping his cock deep inside you.

You bite your lip to prevent a moan as he keeps toying relentlessly with your swollen nub.

You can hear the rustling in the next stall and the toilet flushes. The person very slowly makes their way out to wash their hands and it feels like forever until they finally leave the bathroom.

You release a loud breath as the door shuts.

“Oh my god.”

Eddie laughs and brings a hand up to hold your hip as he starts fucking back into you.

He continues pounding into you, his lips pressing all over your face and then landing on your lips. He licks filthily into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

He pulls back slightly, breathing against your mouth. His hips show no sign of slowing down as his hand comes back down to your clit.

“Gonna fill you up.” He says.

You nod at his statement, your noses brushing each other. “I want it.”

His fingers on your clit start rubbing fast and furious, his hips starting to stutter as he gets closer to his orgasm.

Your walls tighten around him and he hisses.

The white heat inside you grows and soon you feel it flowing over. You moan out into his mouth and he breathes it in.

“Fuck! I’m coming, I’m coming.” You cry.

His hips fuck you through your orgasm and he comes undone just after you.

His come paints your insides, filling you to the brim. He moans out your name, breathing heavy against you. He keeps moving slowly inside you, milking himself dry before slumping against you, his face hiding in your neck.

Your hand comes up to cup his head as you both try to catch your breath.

He gently pulls out of you and you feel his come dripping out of your hole. You grimace at the loss.

He lets down your leg, very slowly and you feel the soreness in your thigh radiate down your leg.

You lean against the wall and watch as he pulls his jeans up. He reaches down and grabs your jeans and panties, handing them to you.

As you slide your pants back on he kisses at your neck and face and you laugh as you awkwardly hop into your clothes.

“Eddie.” You giggle.

He laughs too and holds your hips. He tilts his head as he looks down at you and reaches one of his hands up to push your hair from your face.

“You’re beautiful.” He says it almost accidentally, like he can’t keep the words from spilling out.

You smile up at him. “So are you.”

That makes him smile bright, his eyes creasing at the edges.

You stand there with no shoes on in Benny’s diner’s bathroom and stare up at your best friend.

“Back to yours?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He says before he kisses your forehead.

#modern!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn #oz writes #oz writes eddie munson #nxyoz

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

Note

This is a fandom related thing. I will say that right off the bat, but I needed a few extra opinions on this since it feels like I am alone on this.

AITA for killing off my OC in a group rp?

For some context, I (using the name Snow for myself) joined a group rp with some other people where we would come up with a plot together. Everyone would be using original characters (OCs) It was agreed that the things that happened would be voted on, but people were not allowed to control what other people did with their OCs. It is the whole "my oc, my rules" thing. For those who don't get it, it basically means that since the oc is yours, only you get to decide what happens to them.

To the story. I had plans I wanted to do with my OC. I wrote her to be someone who was secretly working for the villains and was only tricking the others into thinking she was their friend. The only other people who were aware of this were the moderators, and they had approved of it.

What was the problem then you may be wondering? Well the problem was that another member, I'll just call them Star, had said that they had gotten an emotional attachment to my OC. Which I personally found weird, so I typically tried not to be stuck alone with them.

When it came to reveal the plot twist with my oc, Star had a freak out upon finding out. They started crying and complaining that it wasn't right to do that and they could not picture "their" emotional support character doing that. The other members decided to comfort Star. They always sided with Star and acted like they were oh so special. The others were saying that this was all just a joke and that it wasn't actually going to happen. "It is just a joke right, Snow?" they had said.

And I replied with. "No. It's not a joke. My oc has been working with the villains the whole time."

Star's response was to have a meltdown over it, saying that I was out to hurt them and ruin their day. So I ended up getting a message from the moderators asking me to change my OC's backstory as to not upset Star further. They ended up telling Star that it would be changed to just having my OC be mind controlled the whole time.

This was not something I agreed with, but I pretended to play along begrudgingly. I hated that the group decided to treat my OC like she belonged to Star. But I played along and came up with my own idea. There was a plot point that came up in the rp that would have someone die off, so I took it as my opportunity to kill off my own OC. If I wasn't allowed to do what I had planned for her initially, then she wasn't going to stick around anymore.

After I killed her off, Star logged off and vanished for an entire 3 days. All the other members constantly messaged them to try and get a response from her, but they did not answer until they returned. When they logged on, they said that they had to a panic attack over what had happened and felt hurt that I would do that.

I just responded with "my oc, my rules. I quit this group." Then I quickly went through and deleted every little bit of information I had shared about my OC with that group before leaving their discord. After, I got a lot of messages from all the members, about sending the information so that Star could continue playing with my OC since she was their comfort character and it wasn't fair I was doing this to them especially after their panic attack. I said no and blocked everyone who had asked me that.

Sure I feel bad that they had a panic attack, but I felt betrayed that everyone else was willing to bend the rules for them and allow them to control my OC. Even if I no longer use said OC, I still wouldn't let them have her. This is still my property and I stand by the "my oc, my rules" thing.

So AITA for killing off my OC?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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xmalereader · 6 months

Text

Simon Riley x Hybrid! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

—

Authors Note: I’m back! I want to start off by saying thank you everyone for being patient with me and for 8k followers! I know this shot isn’t long and pretty short, but I will be working on more soon. Unfortunately, at this time I am in my Hybrid era phase for some reason ( ◠‿◠ ) sooo don’t judge me. Also the beautiful artwork below belongs to @ave661 all credit goes to them please follow them because their work is amazing!

Summary: Simon finally gets to retire and get the peace that he finally needs in life, only for Laswell to convince him to take home a hybrid companion back home as company.

Warnings: Fluff, simple plot, hybrid dog reader, Simon is a softy, nightmares, mentions of service dog, military, history, short story, animal features and characteristics.

Word Count: 1.3K

—

Simon wasn’t one for retirement.

His whole life he thought that he would be protecting people until the day that he is shot dead in the field.

Only to end up retiring.

He wasn’t retiring because of his age, no. He was retiring for being tired of having to see so much pain and bloodshed, seeing it when he was only a child and going into adulthood something that he never stopped hearing or seeing in his life. He reached a point where he no longer wanted to deal with this blood shed and finally be able to sit back without having to worry about someone trying to kill him.

When Simon made the decision of leaving the special forces he knew it was the right choice that he ended up surprising Price. The same man that he met when he first joined the military, befriending the older man and trusting him with his life. He expected Price to reject his retirement request only for the man to give him his approval on the spot, knowing Simon well enough to know that he needed this break. This peace in his life.

When news spread that ‘Ghost’ was officially retiring it shocked the whole base to know that the most dangerous and intimidating man that the know will be leaving his military life behind for something normal. Price had helped him find a remote place for him to stay in the meantime until he decided to either leave and find somewhere else to call home or perhaps stay at the small house that Price was able to find him.

Simon thought that it would be an easy start until Laswell recommended that he get himself a ‘service dog’ or a ‘companion’ to keep him company. He was against the idea of having someone or something living in the same place as him and so soon, but Laswell had insisted to give it a try in order to have some company around in case he ever felt too isolated from society. Which he later caves into Laswells offer and agrees to have a companion of his own.

Simon expected someone that Laswell and Price knew that had the balls to stay with him until he got adjusted to having a normal life, only to come face to face with a very rare and calm German Shepherd Hybrid.

Simon had heard about Hybrids co existing with society, living their lives hiding from the others due to them being so different from others. It wasn’t until laws were established back in 2010 for Hybrids to be able to live a life like humans; getting jobs, owning homes and property along with getting an education. That didn’t mean that they were entirely free.

Hybrids still had their own set of strict rules. Any hybrid who showed signs of aggression towards a human would be locked away, still keeping them in check for years knowing that they didn’t have total control of their own biology, but after years the laws changed either getting harsher or lighter for them to cope with, reaching a point where hybrids were reaching extinction.

Many were taken, sold to black markets, slavery, or even used for their unique features caused many to go into hiding again or to slowly die off. Very few were protected, but in the end they all died.

The hybrid that Simon took with him wasn’t like the ones that he would see in public.

He was quiet and respectful of his boundaries, never doing anything that Simon didn’t like. He was technically a ‘service dog’ from what Laswell said, trained by her own special team and her wife in order to have Y/n help soldiers with trauma or perhaps those who feared being alone and in need of a friend.

Expect Simons situation was different, Y/n wasn’t just there to keep him company for a short period of time. Instead he was their permanently.

It took Simon some time to adjust to the hybrids existence whenever he woke up in the mornings only to come downstairs to see the hybrid cooking him breakfast other times he would find him outside tending to the ruined gardens, keeping himself busy while Simon focused on his own thing.

The two didn’t really converse with each other until two months into living together. It was the night that Y/n was woken up by the sound of Simons thrashing and heavy breathing that alerted him to rush into Simon’s room. He can smell the sweat and anxiety off of him along with hearing his soft murmurs, clearly showing signs of a nightmare.

When Y/n first met Simon he promised the man that he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like and kept well to his promise until now. His own instincts were going off and couldn’t stand to the side and watch the man deal with his nightmare. So, he did the only thing he knew what to do.

Y/n had crawled into Simons bed, lying down in the empty spot next to him and moving himself closer to the bigger man, head against his chest as his ears lower in worry when he hears how fast his heart is beating. “Simon…” He whispers in a soft tone, glancing up at the man in distraught. “I’m here Simon, you’re not alone.” He adds on, keeping his head against his chest while his tail brushed up against his hip, causing a small gasp to escape his lips when he feels Simons hand take hold of his tail in his sleep. The soft fur on his tail quickly relaxing the man as his heavy breathing decreases.

The hybrid ears perk up as he listens to his heart beat, hearing it slow down to a proper rate. He stays in this position for the rest of the night without another nightmare occurring.

When Simon woke up that morning he was shocked to find Y/n in bed with him, curled up close to his chest. The warmth of the others mans body heat brings him a sense of comfort, instead of getting out of bed and waking up the hybrid he instead stays in bed a little longer, watching the other man sleep against him.

Simon hated the idea of having company for his first few weeks of retirement, but after getting used to Y/n’s presences in his life their are current things that Simon had grown adjusted to in his every day life. The smell of breakfast being made every morning by the hybrid became a familiar routine, finding the man on his hands and knees while he tends to the backyard digging up a few holes in order to plant new flowers or perhaps some fruit.

Simon favorite part of their day together was sitting outside on the porch as they watched the horizon. Simon would notice the way that Y/n’s ears would twitch as he listens to his surroundings taking in the familiar noise that he hears every morning. The way that his tail would wag whenever he sees kids running down the street with their bikes or scooters in hand, hearing as they would argue with each other and laugh.

The image alone brought a small smile to Simons lips.

Their bonded deepened with time to the point that the two were having regular day to day conversations. Y/n was no longer the closed off and shy hybrid that would be cautious when speaking with Simon and instead became someone who wasn’t afraid to speak up for himself or to be selfish every once an while.

Simon could say that he was grateful for Laswell convincing him to bring Y/n into his life, having him as a company whenever he came home or when the two would go out to run some simple errands, granting Simon the domestic life that he craved for whenever he was on missions and he finally has it

#Simon Riley x male reader #hybrid male reader #male reader #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #Simon Riley x reader #retirement #simon riley mw2 #simon riley imagine #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost cod

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eveningepiphany · 8 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

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moonlight-prose · 1 year

Text

DEVOTION

a/n: this is just pure filth. literally no plot, but it was needed at this point. i've been back on my moon knight shit for awhile now and am working on several fics for them in the new year. so please enjoy the small interlude of smut before i get back to my regularly scheduled angst. (also yes this gif was necessary). everyone thank dia for dropping some of the best lines in this fic. her mind is unmatched.

co-conspirator/writer: @softanon🖤 (this is literally just the conversation we had word for word)

summary: marc needed to relax, but things don't go as you expect them to.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: marc spector x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, filth, p in v sex, gratuitous oral (m receiving), bondage, slight dom!marc, rough sex, cum eating, cumplay, biting, edging.

“You’re meant to be relaxing,” you said, watching as Marc paced around the living room for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I am.”

You scoffed, setting your glass of water down. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep going.”

He didn’t find your comment amusing, opting to ignore you in favor of doing another lap. After days of donning his suit and title as Moon Knight, you asked him to stay home. To relax with you until the next day where his routine would start all over again. Except you never accounted for the fact that relaxing was not a term Marc understood well. In fact, you were fifty percent sure that he didn’t know what it meant in the first place, constantly exerting himself in favor of actually resting.

Eventually your patience would run out—you knew that much. So, when he decided to turn around one more time, heading straight for the kitchen only to do exactly what he’d been doing for the past twenty minutes, you snapped. Getting up from where you sat, you reached for his arm, gripping it so tight he froze midstep. Normally you held a tight reign over your emotions, never allowing them to slip free. You just couldn’t handle seeing him unable to do the one thing you wanted for him.

“Please sit down before I tie you to the chair.”

If he wasn’t listening to you before, he was now. “Tie me to the chair?”

“Yes…” The incredulous expression he wore faded, a new one taking over. One you’d seen before. His lips curved upwards, eyes lighting up as he took in the sight of you slightly frazzled and on edge.

“You want to try?” His smile widened and you couldn’t decide between kissing him or actually going through with what you planned.

Tying him to a chair shouldn’t have been too difficult. Sure, he possessed immense strength and powers, but you had one thing over him he never saw coming. You smiled, tilting your chin up—the defiance burning in your eyes—and you saw him waver. You watched his eyes dilate, his chest heaving as he inhaled a sharp breath. He was captivated by you, a sight he’d never tire of seeing. Which made tricking him easier for you than even he anticipated.

“I really do Spector,” you breathed, emphasizing his last name in the way you knew he liked.

He liked knowing that he was what you wanted. That while you loved Steven and Jake as much as him, it was Marc that met you first. Marc that made your head spin in that first kiss, brought your walls down with a single look, and captured your heart with his gentle touch. He belonged to you. He knew that from day one.

Tugging on his shirt, you pulled him towards you, capturing his lips in a kiss that melted him. You’d always say kissing Marc was entirely different from kissing Steven. Where Steven hesitated, Marc took, he devoured you—leaving nothing behind. He yanked you closer, his tongue sliding against yours as you breathed a heady moan into his mouth. Marc would never tire of your taste, always craving the flavor of your favorite tea on your tongue, the slight mint of your toothpaste.

All that together mixed with the perfume he bought you and suddenly he was at your mercy.

He stumbled, feeling you push against him until eventually somehow you ended up in the bedroom. Kissing you stopped time; everything ceased to exist except you. You and your soft hands and warm skin. He moaned, palms sliding up into your t-shirt, delighted to find out that you had forgone wearing a bra today. That combined with the fact that it was his t-shirt you wore made his head spin even more. He was throbbing in his sweatpants, his heart racing so fast he was certain you could hear it.

One last push sent him tumbling into the overpriced desk chair you bought him (well technically Steven but sharing was a part of the deal), followed by you climbing on top of him. He didn’t care where he sat, couldn’t even coherently tell you with confidence where he was. All his brain let him comprehend was your tongue that slid along his, your hands that tugged off his shirt before they reached behind him for something.

By the time he realized what exactly you were doing it was too late. He pulled back, accidentally nipping too hard on your bottom lip, as you finished adjusting the leather belt that was wrapped around his wrists. Binding them together.

His eyes flew open to see your pleased smile as you adjusted your spot in his lap. Purposely grinding down on his hard cock to hear that soft grunt you loved. Normally it was you at his mercy, willingly complying to everything he wanted. But to finally be helpless to you (or as helpless as he could be with superpowers), made his whole body heat up. His cock throbbed when you licked along the prominent vein in his neck. A gasp leaving his lips at your touch.

“Relax,” you murmured, pulling away from his head that tilted up towards yours in an effort to catch your lips in a kiss.

“Baby c’mon,” he replied, his words tinged with a pleading tone he’d never used before.

He watched your eyes light up, your smile deepening at the sound of him begging and he knew he was done for. He’d give you anything to get you to look at him like that again. The unfocused look in his eyes told you exactly what he was feeling. After all, he’d seen the same look in your eyes each time he gave you an orgasm so intense it caused your brain to short circuit.

Not feeling the need to respond, you slid out of his lap until your knees hit the floor—his leg parting unconsciously to give you room. The sight caused his mouth to part, his chest heaving with every breath he took. Marc wanted to render you incapable of speech. He wanted to watch you fall apart in his arms while you came on his cock. He wanted you, and he tugged on the tight bind the belt had on his wrists.

Your eyes snapping up to meet his gaze with a glare stopped his movements.

“I said you need to relax,” you sniped, hands sliding up his thighs and stopping right below the waistband of his sweats.

“Let me fuck you and I will,” he replied, grinning breathlessly at the sight of your eyes unfocusing for a moment. “This was fun, but I promise I’ll relax much more if you—”

The words died on his tongue as his breath was punched out of his chest, a groan ripping from his throat. Marc’s head fell back against the chair the second you pulled his sweatpants down and took his cock into your mouth. There was no warning, no foreplay where you stroked him until he was a mess in your hands. Somehow that made all of this hotter. You wanted him to relax your way by giving him this.

He gasped when you pulled back only to engulf him in the wet heat of your mouth again. His gaze fell back down to you and he had to refrain from cumming then and there. Your eyes were glassy with tears, spit trailing down your chin as you came up for air every now and then. Marc was leaking, practically dripping down your palm and that somehow made all of this worse. Yet he silently begged you to keep going. The taste of him was salty and intoxicating, causing you to moan with each spurt of precum that landed on your tongue.

Licking at the head of his cock you watched his mouth fall open, a whiny breathless moan hitting your ears. His hips jolted with each lap of your tongue, a broken please falling from his lips. Pumping the rest of him steadily you watched him grow closer to the edge. Each drag of your lips along his cock—tongue pressed to the thick vein that ran beneath it—dragged him towards a climax that would leave him incoherent. He could practically taste it on the back of his tongue.

“Fuck baby,” he gasped, his head tilting back as his hips attempted to thrust up into your mouth. “I’m—shit—‘m gonna cum.”

He felt the familiar tug in his stomach and right as you sunk down lower on his cock, taking him into your throat with a muffled moan, he knew he was done for. A shout left his lips, but was cut off suddenly, the feeling now fading. He whined, eyes focusing on you sitting back on your heels with a shit eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck?” he whined. “Why…why did you stop?”

Pressing your head down on his thigh you watched his cock jolt from your close proximity. “You wouldn’t listen when I said you needed to relax.”

“So you decide to edge me?” he asked, trying not to snap at you.

You giggled, kissing his clothed thigh. “Had to make sure you were paying attention.”

If he wasn’t so keyed up he would have melted from that sound alone, but his body was thrumming with the loss of an orgasm. His arousal now spread like liquid fire through his veins. He wanted to cum. No fuck that. He needed to cum. Tugging on his restraints again, he felt tempted to summon up a part of the suit—just to break himself free. But you blowing air on his cock, your hand wrapping around him again, silenced that thought immediately.

“Are you going to relax now honey?”

He’d do whatever the fuck you wanted. “Yes,” he breathed, watching wide eyed as you wrapped your already swollen lips around his head.

A shiver wracked his whole body at the soft kitten licks you were giving him, his eyes threatening to close.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

The words didn’t even register in his mind before he nodded frantically, his hips pushing up into your mouth when you took more of him.

“Yes,” he panted, his hands tightening into fists. “I’ll—oh fuckfuckfuck baby that’s so fucking perfect. You’re perfect.”

The words were falling out of his mouth faster than he anticipated, his head now empty of only one thought. How it felt when your cheeks hollowed, tongue licking at his slit each time you pulled up. The pressure was building once more. Blinding pleasure spreading through his body at a rapid pace as you built and built his orgasm. For a moment he forgot that you had pulled away before—he allowed himself to relish in what was to come.

Only for it to fade away once again.

He cried out as if in pain, his cock throbbing so painfully that he was sure you saw it. It was red, leaking, and begging to be put back in your mouth. Yet you still shifted back to where you were before. Only this time you didn’t wear a grin; your eyes were dazed, watching the drop of precum slip down to his balls. Your chest was heaving with each breath and you had half a mind to let him finish. To finally indulge yourself in the taste of his spend.

However, you were too fucking stubborn to give in now.

“Fuck please,” he begged, desperate for some reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure.

But then he saw it. The sinful mischief in your eyes that had his toes curling. Marc knew what he was in for whenever you looked at him like that. The last time he had almost cum in his pants from the sight of you in lingerie so see through you might as well have been standing before him completely bare. His breath caught in his throat, your name a moaned prayer falling from his lips.

“Marc,” you teased, finger trailing down his cock lightly to watch it jump. “You’re so pretty like this.”

“Yeah?” he asked, trying to keep hold of the thin strand of control he had left. “I’m even prettier when I cum.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew he had you in his hold. Or at least that’s what he thought. You tutted, pulling away entirely before once again taking him into your mouth. His whole body jolted as if he was electrified, the blinding pleasure he sought now being shoved his way as you doubled down. The wet sounds of you pumping his cock filled the room, combining with his whimpers and moans. He couldn’t tell up from down, whether he was on the precipice of cumming or being torn away from it even further.

You moaned, your hips rolling forward into nothing, and that nearly sent him over the edge. Tears tracked down your cheeks, spit now spilling down your throat. He had never seen a sight so beautiful before. You tightened your grip, sucking the head of his cock into your mouth, and he cried out—his balls drawing up so tightly it was accompanied by a slight sting of pain.

“Fuck!” he shouted, hips jolting up and causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat.

He was right there.

Then as it did before…the feeling began to fade.

You practically heard his control break in half, his head snapping up—eyes meeting yours with a hardened expression you’d only seen him wear when he was fighting. The black of his pupil began to glow white, the familiar wrappings now trailing up his arms as you heard the belt snap, clattering to the ground.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

His gaze held you in place as you tried to scramble back on the floor to somehow escape the consequences of your actions. A guttural growl tore from his chest, his now bare hand latching onto your leg and yanking you back until you were spread out on the floor underneath him. Pulling at your shorts, he managed to get them down to your ankles, allowing you to make the final choice and kick them off all the way.

“Marc,” you started, the remainder of your sentence dying on your tongue as he fixed you with a glare.

“No,” he spit out. “You wanted me to relax. So I’m going to relax.”

There was no room for you to argue. Not that you wanted to either way.

Hoisting your leg over his shoulder, he gave you no warning as he lined up his cock and pushed into you in one thrust. You cried out, fingers searching for purchase on his forearms as he pulled back until just the tip remained inside of you. His hips shoved forward, filling you up until you were barely able to breathe. This wasn’t him tenderly making love to you, this was him chasing his release while breaking you apart beneath him.

“Ah—Fuck! Marc, r-right there.” Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut when he sped up, his pace brutal and unforgiving.

Fingers wrapped around your chin, gripping tight in order to tilt your head towards him. “I want you to look at me,” he rasped, his voice deeper than before. “Can you do that baby? Can you be good for me?”

Your words being thrown back at you sent a thrill shooting through your body—your pussy clenching down around him. He groaned, hips ramming into yours with a fervor that mimicked your own. While you liked being in control, seeing him like this, fully ripped apart from your actions, was far more appealing. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth parting as he unexpectedly dropped his weight on you, striking against that spot that made you see white.

Choking out a sob, you dug your nails into his bare back to find something to ground yourself. You were drowning in him and he loved it. His lips slotted messily against yours, spit trailing down your chin, and he moaned when he tasted himself on your tongue. Marc no longer had control of his actions, too desperate for a release that had been out off for far too long. Yet you loved it all the same.

“You’re dripping for me,” he murmured, fingers dropping to swipe through your folds and press against your clit. “Did you like sucking my cock that much? Hm?”

His words barely registered in your mind before your whole body tightened. A breathless grunt was punched out of him as your pussy clamped down around his cock, your orgasm nearing with each stunted thrust of his hips. You keened in his arms, your head falling back—mouth dropping open—and he almost gave in entirely. If there’s one thing Marc loved more than anything else, it was seeing you fall apart on his cock. Tonight however he would deprive himself of that experience.

Because his stubbornness outweighed yours every time.

“No!” you gasped, head shooting up as he pulled away entirely. The pleasure began to melt from your body, leaving you feeling empty and hot. “Please. Marc, please. I want to cum. I’ll be good for you. I promise—” You were babbling, saying anything to finally make him give in, but deep down you knew this was his own form of payback.

“I know baby,” he breathed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

His hands gripped your hips, turning your body with practiced ease and pulling you to your knees. Your chest was against the floor, head turned and cheek pressed down to see what he was doing. Although you knew what he was doing.

Marc got to his knees, gripping his cock to slide against your dripping folds before finally pressing into you again. This way he sunk into you deeper, hitting spots that made your toes curl before he even began to move. You moaned, pushing back until his hips met your ass, smiling at the sound he let out. Both of you may be stubborn as hell, but when it came to this—being so full of him that you would feel it for days to come—you finally relented.

Pressing a wet kiss to your spine, he started the previous pace from before. He shoved sounds you didn’t even know you could make from your chest with each thrust, as pleasure streaked down your spine. You felt the way he stuttered when your walls began to tighten around him again; knew that he was on the very precipice of cumming. With a shaky hand you began to touch yourself, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts—causing your pussy to clamp down even tighter.

“Fuck,” he grunted, fingers digging in painfully into the skin of your hips. “I fucking love you.”

You cried out unabashedly, uncaring if the neighbors heard you. “Marc!”

“Yeah?” His hand gripped the back of your neck, using the leverage to push you back onto his cock. “I’m the one making you feel good.”

He felt it before you did, the familiar tightening of his lower abdomen, his cock throbbing as the orgasm began to wash over him and he tried to stave off. Just a bit longer to finally give you what he denied you. Baring his teeth, he fought against the sensations, forcing himself to be edged one more time. Fuck, even now you still held a tight grip around him, still the one in complete control and he loved it. That alone made him nearly fall off the edge of the cliff.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, getting ready to pull out and spill over your ass as he usually did. Your hand digging into his hips stopped him.

“Cum inside me please,” you whimpered, tears tracked down your cheeks from the amount of pleasure wracking your body.

“What?” His eyes went wide.

A slow smile crept up your lips, eyes lighting up with the same mischief as before. “I want you to cum inside me.”

Marc wasn’t sure he heard you correctly, but his body was already working towards exactly that. His right hand slapped against the floor beside your head, forehead dropping to press against your temple as he gasped for any amount of air.

“Gods. Fuck.” he grunted, hand reaching up to grip your chin—meeting your lips in a messy kiss.

“No gods,” you hummed. “Just me.”

He felt your hand dig into his hair, holding him close to you as his hips rutted into you in sloppy strokes. Each drag of his cock along your walls sent you even higher—the echo of your slick and skin slapping against skin became a filthy symphony to your cries of pleasure.

“Cum for me gorgeous,” you breathed, watching his face contort, eyebrows pulling together.

His mind went blank, vision blacking out and body going taut. Euphoric pleasure ran through every inch of his body as he finally let himself go. A cry of your name was muffled into your shoulder, arms giving out while his whole body shook from the waves of mind numbing bliss that filled him. He spurted into you, filling you until some began to spill out and drip down his balls, and you begged for more.

The breath caught in your throat when he broke for you—his cock pulsing inside of your wet heat. You wanted to shout, tell him how much you ached for him, how much you belonged to him, but the words were stuck in your throat. He hadn’t made you cum, but somehow you were flying just as high as he was. Unable to form a coherent thought.

Your walls clenched around him when he finally caught his breath and pulled out slowly. A trail of his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

Whimpering, you tried to fight off the urge to finish yourself off, because if there’s one thing you knew about Marc it was that he refused to let sex end until you finished. That still didn’t stop your eyes from shutting when your body practically shook from the overstimulation of being edged yet again. He heard you though…loud and clear.

“Oh baby,” he breathed, hand running gently up your thigh.

“Please…” You were silenced by his hands sliding up to your ass, spreading you for his eyes to see.

“Look at you.” His fingers swiped through his cum that steadily dripped out of you. Only to drag it towards your clit that pulsed with need. “Beautiful.”

Gasping, you pushed back onto his fingers, desperate for any amount of attention he gave you. But soon it wasn’t enough. Your body was so worked up that his fingers alone couldn’t bring you to that edge and he knew it. You sobbed his name when he pulled away, nearly on the verge of bursting into tears. Only for your back to bow, a moan ripping from your throat, when his mouth sealed over your pussy.

“Fuck!” Your nails scratched along the floor, legs shaking as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

He moaned against you, the vibrations going straight through you and causing your toes to curl. It wouldn’t take long at all for you to violently fall over the edge. Which is why he sped up. Slipping two fingers into your pussy, he sought out the spot that would send you to the quick end. Each swipe of his tongue forced a moan from your chest—the breath leaving your lungs faster than you could keep it.

Marc was licking you clean of the mess he made and that single though alone paired with his fingers striking gold finished you off. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as your body convulsed with the power of your orgasm.

For a moment you lost all sense. The blood rushing through your ears and white flashing behind your tightly shut eyes. But when you came to you found Marc still going. Drinking down every last drop of you and him combined with a fucked out dazed look in his eyes. You knew if you didn’t stop him now he’d continue until you were unraveling beneath him, but your legs were already shaking from the strain of being on them.

“Wait,” you panted, hand shooting out to grip on his wrist. “I-I can’t.”

His teeth sunk into the skin of your ass in response. “You taste so good.”

That brought a smile to your face. “You don’t taste so bad yourself, Spector.”

Gently, he turned you until you were laying flat on your back, his chest pressed to yours as he laid over you. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, tongue sliding along yours. You moaned at the combined taste of you and him. It made your head spin.

Exhaustion riddled your body and you could see that it was the same for him. Tomorrow he’d have to go back to being Moon Knight; somehow having to find a way to sleep in between giving Jake and Steven the body. But tonight…right now, he was yours. Yours to love, yours to care for. So, you pulled him closer, your leg slinging over his bare hip as you kissed him languidly—relishing in the closeness.

#marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector #marc spector smut #moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight smut #my writing #posting this unhinged and unedited #fuck it #we live and die by the pen

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popopretty · 1 year

Text

BSD Chapter 107

"In the Narrow Room" - Part 3.1

We got a rather long chapter this month and the plot is progressing! Asagiri is always so unpredictable and I love it so much.

Please note that I don't speak English nor Japanese as a native language and I am also super excited about the chapter so I may make mistakes here and there. Please have mercy on me ;_;

SPOILERS AHEAD

After hearing Teruko talk about the true purpose of The Decays of Angel, Atsushi's head becomes confused with all the thoughts of what is right or wrong. He wishes someone could answer all of his questions. He remembers how Dazai used to show up in his thought when he struggles, and wonder why this time he cannot hear Dazai's voice anymore.

He stops at the foot of the tower and notices Aya and Bram there. He tries to go and rescue them, but it turns out to be a trap, with Akutaga jumps out to attack him.

Sigma is finding his way in the prison after escaping from the elevator. He thinks about what happened. He remembers Dazai checking the elevator before getting on it, and realizes that Dazai already knew the elevator was dangerous from the beginning, and he probably just got on it because it is what needs to be done to save the Agency. Sigma also recalls Dazai's expression underwater, he wonders if its the face when Dazai realized that the elevator was going to fall, and that's why Dazai acted the way he did. Sigma wants to run away by himself because he thinks an ordinary person like him cannot do anything. He then found a paper on the floor. It is written in Russian, that says "Save me" (Notes: The original text is just "Please save", it is not clear who it is telling him to save)

Back to Atsushi and Akutagawa. Atsushi still doesn't understand what is happening. He tries to fight back and realizes that Akutagawa is not using his ability to guard himself. Akutagawa instead sucks the blood from his own hand to heal his wound. He doesn't try to cover himself because he can regenerate like that, and it means unless Atsushi kills him, there will be no way to stop him. Atsushi tries to tell him to stop, hoping his consciousness is still there, and that he still wants to ask Akutagawa why he saved his life that time.

In Mersault, Dazai is seen dragging himself and leaning against the wall, covered in blood with his legs broken. He looks up to the surveillance camera and tells Fyodor to put an end to his pain cuz it hurts so bad. Fyodor gladly accepts and sends Chuuya to finish him. Suddenly Sigma enters the room and shoots Fyodor in the shoulder, telling him to stop attacking Dazai. Sigma says he is there cuz he has promised Dazai to touch Fyodor to read his scheme in the airport. Fyodor asks why Sigma has to keep the promise with Dazai, which surprises Sigma himself. Fyodor then proceeds to say that Dazai has manipulated Sigma the whole time, and that normally Sigma is not that kind of a reckless person. He explains that at first, Sigma only wanted a "home" so he would not get used by anyone. But after watching Dazai, Sigma has come to realize that a lonely "home" is not enough. He has started to want not a place, but trust, a relationship where people rely on others without borrowing or trading anything. In other words, he has started to want to become a member of the ADA. Yet, Fyodor adds, it is not Sigma's own thought, but the trick Dazai uses to tamper with his heart.

Sigma thinks back of what Dazai has told him, and still decides to point the gun at Fyodor. Because even if it is a trick, Dazai has paid a big price for it, and accepting a customer's bet is the casino's way. He says he knows Fyodor is trying to manipulate him too, to cause distrust towards Dazai and makes him drop the gun. Sigma then adds that Dazai has won this manipulating competition.

According to the fact that Fyodor has to try to talk him into lower the gun, Sigma concludes that he has no other backup. He tells Fyodor he is going to touch him and read his information, but before that he wants Fyodor to tell him what his ability is, cuz its dangerous to touch someone whose ability might be activated by contact. In the last frame, Sigma changes the question from "What is your ability" to "What the hell are you?"

The chapter ends here. Next chapter will be out on June 2, 2023 (Japan time). Thank you for reading till the end!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd spoilers #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoevsky #sigma #spoilers #summary

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luna-lovegreat · 4 months

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It's all "links meet aus" and "zeldas meet aus", but where's my "companions meet aus"?

I wanna see midna bash fi and navis heads together for annoying her

I mean can you imagine the sheer chaos of all the Zelda companions meeting and going on a journey together? They're all companions/guides! One of thems a talking hat for hylias sake how are they supposed to take initiative?

I think it'd be like Lu where they all just meet up, but can you imagine the chain just somehow finds out this happened (and twilight is just like guys I am so sorry about midna) (but they're also really oddly touched that all their friends met each other too)

Pretty sure midna would be the sort of leader, since the last time she was in a foreign world she just found the nearest dude and started ordering him around. By like halfway through twilight princess she was literally asking LINK to accompany her to get what she needed.

But like. 90% of the group would be fairies. Which can't heal. One is a talking hat who just needs a head? He can't go on midnas cause she throws him off with her magic hair, poor ezlo is just trying to keep up.

They also have these weird green shadows who come around? They don't talk, but there's a rock, a fish, a bird, and a lady who just appear and stab things and shoot wind water fire and lightning.

Also midnas really confused why wolf link just shows up and kills things every now and then (from botw amibo)

Fi is the one who can talk to Hylia and awaken memories and get guidance and information or whatever, but she only does this by ballerina dancing and the others are always pissed at her anyways "WE DONT KNOW WHAT BATTERIES ARE OR A WII REMOTE WILL YOU PLEASE GO BACK IN SWORD FORM ALREADY" "I detect there is a 90% chance you need a key to open this door" "wow. Your perception is unparalleled fi."

Also there's a boat. A boat. Who is also good at taking charging since he's a king, which causes some friction between him and midna, since she has to grab him by her hair to move him half the time.

And with the fairies. Again. They all offer advice mainly. And with the fairies a lot of their main role is speaking and getting attention and pitching in? They come on an intersection and there's a chorus of bells all shouting the same directions. Ezlo is trying to cover the kings ears from his place on the boats head

Also there's this ghost/spirit of Zelda that everyone just feels REALLY strong loyalty to. But she's just like this kid who wants her body back?! They try to protect her but she can turn into a purple knight and stab things so there's that. I think there's also some animal companions from ooa/oos so.

Side quests are nonexistent they don't care about a village or gathering frogs for a kid they are there to save the world on a mission linear plot it is

And it's interesting because you have so many of them who just vanish and then appear to give loud advice. All at once. And the fighting skills basically fall to those weird green shadows that shoot various elements and fight and randomly disappear. Midna and spirit Zelda can fight, and Fi can too (kind of like how she fights as a sword in hyrule warriors). Also up to you if midna is drop dead gorgeous or devilish imp.

By the end they find whatever enemy so they can go back and midna is so pissed by this point that she hears the word "batteries" from Fi and goes full on fused shadow and just obliterates the jerk

***I have not played all the games so do not know or understand all of the companions and probably got some stuff wrong

Bonus: there is a child in a village named Link who does not have the spirit of the hero. He is stalked for three days until Fi decides his vibes are off and they all stop telling him he's the chosen one

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mixelation · 3 months

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reborn au plot.... stuff. has plasticity spoilers. also canon characters die!

i said this recently, but i don't have much in the way of an overarching story after tori's, like, 17. part of this is just that i haven't made some major decisions about the premise (like what orochimaru is up to) and part of it is that...... what problems would even challenge these characters. like we have a bunch of weird interpersonal shenanigans but like obviously one appeal of this au is giving tori opportunities for Feats.

so i decided on a Feat.

i think as an ongoing looming threat, i might have some petty proxy war stuff going on. no one wants to reignite a multi-nation shinobi war, but everyone is scrambling to grab things for themselves, especially since konoha just like.... stole from iwa??? ame burned down half of kusa? oto-nin are just? in the wind???? someone probably hires orochimaru. people are out trying to snatch jinchuriki left and right.

so i was thinking thusly: one of the bigger nations captures fuu for the seven tails. ame sends an akatsuki pair which includes tori. somehow, the situation goes completely to shit. multiple nations are involved. the seven tails is released, killing fuu. everyone wants this weapon and they don't care if they had to kill a young girl to get it.

akatsuki's solution is that they should simply control all weapons. tori knows this will fall apart. she also knows that, even if she wrestles the raging seven-tails into a container and gets around the multiple nation's people ALSO vying to capture it for themselves, and she takes it back to konoha, this also solves nothing. and so she thinks: if no one can resist the temptation of a weapon, then i will remove the weapon.

this is the part that's a pretty big plasticity spoiler, but also a few people guessed it so i don't mind sharing. basically, the shinigami doesn't like tori because he can't have her. she's a weird, foreign thing that shouldn't be there. functionally, she can't die. she can be irreparably maimed, so she still has a healthy fear of most life-and-death situations, but she technically can't die. (she's unsure if this still applies in this universe in the earlier parts, but we'll let her figure it out eventually.)

the side-effect of this is that she has more bullshitty leeway with summoning the shinigami than other people. it can't take her soul so it will take things around her more indiscriminately, so she's not going to use it if her allies are around. but if she's fed up and doesn't care if everyone dies? fuck it, we're going to kill the tailed beast itself.

i want how this to be accomplished to be kind of metal and/or gross. you know that scene in plasticity where tori is simultaneously herself AND the shinigami and she's confused? like that but they're eating the seven-tails.

tori comes to later and the whole battlefield is dead, from the shinobi to the plants and wildlife. whatever other akatsuki was with her is either some probationary schmuck, a canon character who got separated, or hidan-but-he's-not-revived-yet (i'm leaning towards this last one). at first i was like "how does she explain she killed a tailed beast" to other people but THEN i decided

tori realizes she's done something she should not have been able to do. she's just created another weapon people will want to use. so she gets up and goes home, and she lies.

the seven tails killed everyone and ran off. yes, even the forest. even the little bugs in the trees. the soil is irradiated. i guess it was pissed off. how did i live? aren't i a barrier specialist..........?

and then of course everyone goes out looking for the tailed beast. like, you can't just have a wild bijuu running around!! but they can't find it. it's nowhere. it will never be found because it no longer exists.

probably at some point she'll tell someone, most likely itachi and/or deidara. hidan might confront her about it. but i just love the idea of her getting a major feat and then immediately denying it.

also she may or may not decide to repeat the experiment

#reborn au #here you get every thought that comes into my head for this au #even the ones that would be huge spoilers for other story concepts lol

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skyeslittlecorner · 3 months

Note

can you post some photos on chapter five? ive been struggling to get to it and im impatient if ykwim 😭😭

Don't worry anon, I got you covered! Let's break this chapter for three parts - one for story and for one for both H-scenes. There are a lot of things to look forward to~

Warning: HEAVY SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. In fact, I'll try to shorten the whole thing and focus on plot-relevant facts, so for those who want to go through chapter 5 on their own, come back when you're done! (Or just skip to h-scene, they are marked.)

Ch5 - STORY

First, I would like to warn that my opinion about it may be unpopular. As someone who hadn't paid much attention to Hades before, I fell in love with it after this episode. I adore ch5. A lot of people hate these boys to the core for what they did, and I understand and respect their opinion, but I'm with Hades here. I would love to analyze their behavior in more detail, but we don't have time for that today.

Summarizing this chapter is going to be hard because a lot of things happened. Let's go!

We start by going down a slide sponsored by Leviathan and his Lovecraftian friends (TM). But worry not! It seems we have friends even in the realm of death. Say hello to grandpa!

We talk a little, being in a questionable mood. Well, who wouldn't be? But we have the opportunity to know Solomon better, and I'm getting to understand why all devils love him. By the way, it turns out that we are his last descendant.

Sorry Solomon, you're still a peepaw.

He also advises us not to be afraid of Leviathan and not to be submissive to him, and then in a brilliant way he sends us back to the world of the living. Of course, our beautiful king is delighted.

We take Grandpa's advice to heart and finally stand up to Levi. He's surprised, but he doesn't try to kill us again (for now). We witness him hanging one of his subjects, who dared to ask about an accident from 311 years ago.

Fun fact. Devils must have much stronger spines. Do you know how people used to die by hanging? The first methods involved cutting off oxygen, but later they involved into breaking the cervical spine and this was considered a standard hanging execution. Leviathan must be gentle (how bad it sounds in this context), he could kill instantly with a loop like that.

Back to the point. We find out that we also have a noose around our neck, and Leviathan makes use of it. We're hanging, but we finally begin to meet Leviathan's nobles one by one.

Glasyal plots (and ends up hanging for it), Foras argues with him, along the way we learn that Leviathan needs us in his plan, and, you know, maybe killing us isn't the smartest thing he can do. Only Barbatos realizes that maybe it's a good idea to stop hanging us like wet laundry. He's the only one so openly nice to us.

Remember that.

Another fun fact, our MC is of medium height (~160 cm I guess). Leviathan is 187cm, Foras should be similar. I only noticed this because I myself am 180 cm so they are not so strappingly tall for me.

Foras wants to take us away from Levi and explain everything calmly, but the king does not agree. We learn that the guys know where the seed from the Tree of Knowledge is. We're supposed to go with them, and we have about a 50/50 chance of survival. Also, we have the opportunity to see a very rare phenomenon, a joking Leviathan.

Sweetie.

Colossally shortening the rest, the cavalry arrives! You didn't have to. I haven't had time to fuck them yet.

And this cavalry is very much at odds with the nobles of Hades. Most of the time is them arguing. Fortunately, they didn't kill each other…

...because Barbie decided to kill us.

Barbatos is poisoning us to force Bimet and Valefor to join the plan. While we are unconscious, we have flashes of Leviathan's past, which is too sad to analyze considering that we are about to jump to hot scenes now. Besides, most of us already know what this is about. Experience it for yourself. Really. We also learn that not only angels experimented on children, and a little about Mammon's childhood.

In the end, we learn that in Ch6 we must visit the abandoned laboratory in Tartaros, where the seed from the tree of knowledge should be, because as Solomon's descendants, we may be the only ones who will not be killed by it.

Ch5 - VALEFOR H-SCENE

(I really wanted to post CG from Valefor's scene here, but I don't know if Tumblr will block it.)

TIME FOR DESSERT!

Bimet is the first to realize that we lack devil energy. He wants to take care of it, but Valefor brushes him off, sends him to scout, and overall Bimet is our wingman, what a bro lol

Since we are away from Satan and Gehenna, we cannot summon Minhyeok's room. MC thinks she's outgrown it anyway. So we can count on the next scenes to be more and more creative.

It all starts with us telling Valefor that he reminds us of Mammon. And what a beast it brings out of him.

And he loves it.

...aaand then, someone wants to interrupt. Bimet informs us about this and goes to chase them out. Valefor stands with us at the door to see if anyone else is coming. Yes. Naked. With us. In us.

Fortunately, no one catches us and after the entire session we fall asleep in our knight's arms.

I really would like to do more screenshots, but tumblr is blocked… and there's one more part to come.

Ch5 - LEVIATHAN H-SCENE

At least you look beautiful and the platform won't block you.

And here's what I love the most. It was sick. I'd love to experience it again.

I would love to make a whole post ONLY about this and just leave the screenshots.

We are in Leviathan's office, and he interrogates us when we feel like we are lacking devil energy. We want to go to Bimet, but do you think our jealous king will allow it? Oh no no no. And of course, his hands land on our chin and then our neck. He doesn't like our hickeys.

We start asking him valid questions like "why are you jealous of us if you hate us?" So he silences us with a kiss. A deep, suffocating kiss. This is also how Leviathan discovers that we gain their energy through "intercourse with the devil".

And how can I not fall in love with this idiot.

The conversation that follows gives us some light on his approach to sex and to relationships in general. Which is… sad. It fits him perfectly, but it's sad. And I would also like to analyze this someday, this character is beautiful and how he's written is even more beautiful, especially from writer's point of view. He does not want the admiration of his people or the hatred of angels. The only thing he can believe and consider to be sincere is that someone's dislike. This is something that might actually turn him on.

At first he rules, he asks questions and he hangs us. And he does everything he can to piss us off. He hands us a whip and lowers us down.

Just disliking him isn't enough, and he works diligently to make us hate him. He insults Minhyeok, us, wishes us dead, and the more he sees our anger, the more he gets excited and talks more. He knows that we are connected to Satan and we will know how to release our anger. On him.

He finally got what he wanted. We straddle him and, with the help of Satan's strength, begin to strangle him. Neither you nor he are gentle.

Also, his words (unfortunately, I already have a limit on screenshots). "Do not bite your lips. Bite mine instead." I beg, let me violate him even more.

Compliment from Leviathan, nice. In the end, we fall asleep cuddled up to him, and he has no intention of giving us up to anyone. As in the case of Sitri, he only opens up to us when we are so unconscious that we do not see his softer side.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

AND THATS ALL! What a ride it was, I hope I was a good guide. One day I will go into the Hades boys in more depth, but for now, let this be a shortcut for everyone who is still struggling with ch5.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #whb foras #whb glasyalabolas #whb barbatos #whb bimet #whb valefor #whb spoiler

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA FOR KISSING MY ROOMMATE GOODNIGHT?

(everyone is in their 20s. names are fake)

I’d like to start off by giving background, I(M) live with my roommate Salt. We’ve been living together for a couple of years now and met through mutual friends.

I’m straight. Salt is gay in a very open, stereotypical sense(yk flamboyant, effeminate etc) and I’m not saying this to judge him/say I resent him or something he’s a dear friend of mine and I couldn’t care less abt his sexuality or how he chooses to express himself. However it’s important to mention this for the sake of AITA

The actual ‘issue’ started a year ago, where we were both drunk coming home from a party, I was struggling to get my keys out so he called me a idiot and then just.. kissed me??

That caused me to question my sexuality for a while because being a straight man you’d think I’d be repulsed or bothered by it but no I didn’t really enjoy it(not like there was smth to enjoy it was like a couple of seconds) but didn’t really mind it either in fact it didn’t made me feel any different than how I’d feel kissing a random girl I suppose?

So yeah I experimented with my sexuality for a week or so and even almost hooked up with some guy but nope. Still straight. Just didn’t mind him(probably because of how close we are)

Anyways back to the point after that Salt avoided me for a while but in the end we did have a talk which was basically him saying he was not attracted to me, how it was a spur of the moment thing and also apologizing if he made me uncomfortable.

To that I told him he did not and joked about how he could do it again.

Fast forward a month(?) later the “kissing the homies goodnight” meme came out, so one time I asked him where was my goodnight kiss was at and he actually did it, after that we just continued doing that ig I don’t think none of us thought much of it other than some night time ritual.

Here comes the actual AITA part, I recently got a girlfriend(we’ll call her Pepper). I’ts not like I’m super in love with her but she’s a nice girl and I genuinely like her so I wish to keep her happy.

The issue with Pepper is that she talks a tad bit too much, I normally wouldn’t mind it as I’m on the quiet part, but she expects me to memorize everything she has told me(not in the “do you remember my friend” type of way in the she tells me about 10 different people and gets upset when I don’t remember their exes names or what did friend7 did on lunch a month ago type of way) she also has a tendency to hyperfixate on shows and talk about the plot & characters as if they’re actual real people which makes it hard for me to understand if something she says is about a show or real. She gets really upset if I forget even the smallest things about those stories and rants about how I never listen to her. I tried talking to her about this but it only ends with her crying so I just keep shut to keep her satisfied

A week ago I was having a really bad day of migraines and nothing seemed to help but me and Pepper had made plans to hang in my place and I didn’t want to cancel. She comes over and starts talking about her sister in life’s brunch. I ask her if she could slow down a bit cause my head hurts and I can’t really keep up.

Well she takes it the wrong way and starts yelling at me about how I always am like this and how I never listen to her. I admit I’m the asshole for saying this, but I ask her if she’s unable to sit down and have a conversation like an adult. This makes her calm down a bit and she sits down so we can discuss.

I try explaining to her how it’s unfair how she expects me to remember everything and I’d be more than happy to listen to her, maybe just slow down a bit?

In mid of it she has this weird smile on her face and tells me I look hot mad, she then leans over to kiss me which I pull away from because it feels like she’s just trying to change a topic and I think this is an important convo for our relationship.

This is the moment Salt decides to arrive at home(I should also mention he’s TERRIBLE at reading the room) he comes over gives me my goodnight kiss and leaves.

(I would like to add its not like we make out or something. He just gives me a peck on the lips, says goodnight and leaves)

This drives Pepper crazy. She starts shouting at me on how I’d not kiss her but him? And that I could go ride his dick if I’m that gay for him. She storms out of the apartment

I’d like to add that Pepper has never said anything about me and Salt. I never told her about the goodnight kiss(Because I mean who goes to their girlfriend like “hey btw I kiss my roommate at nights. but no homo”?) but we never hide it either in fact I’m pretty sure we did that while she was in room once or twice too. Pepper has made jokes about us being gay and how she feels bad about getting inbetween us but never anything on being uncomfortable or not liking it.

Now it’s been a week and we haven’t talked since. She is not answering my messages and I stopped trying to contact her from there but I’m starting to doubt myself, am I the asshole here? Should I go apologize?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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vqrtualheartss · 9 months

Text

E42 Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader! - Across the Multiverse (might change it)

A/n : Soo, this is my first time publishing any of my writings online, although intended to be a oneshot, if all goes well a part two may come by. Feel free to give suggestions, requests, feedback. Next part here

Warnings : cheating/ profanity, miles (1610) cheating, angst, cursing (only 2 words I think) , implied sexual assault,GWILES,, (not very detailed) harm done to reader

Reader = blue, Miles (1610) = red, Gwen = pink, others = white, may get a colour though

Genre : Angst(?)

I am in no way, shape or form trying to villainize Gwen, everything is just for plot in fact I love Gwiles. My only point of interest is Miles G.

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷| Every Saturday, my boyfriend -and Brooklyn's infamous Spider-Man- Miles Morales, would sit down and tell me the tea in the Spider-society. I've learnt about his encounters with other spider-people across the spider-verse and his relations with them. It was a silly little tradition but I loved it.

"Yea, so basically, the multiverse is a collection of all the universes there are, including this one. And that cow..villain thing, called The Spot has holes that can drag you anywhere across the multiverse or somewhere different in this one. I'll make sure to beat his ass next time he comes though so I can protect you from it"

I threw the pillow supporting my elbows at him, he webbed it to the wall "Corny ass"

He got up from his seat around the desk walking over to my place on the bed hovering over my frame.

"I don't care if I'm corny, I'll protect and love you in every universe there is, including this one"

We started giggling like little kids as the gap between our bodies closed in, he cradled my face in his hands before our lips met. We froze in the moment for about ten seconds before pulling back.

"I love you so, so much , and I don't ever want you to ever forget that."

He was clingy at times, but oh so adorable

"Ofcourse I know, you like to tell me everyday"

"And I'll never stop telling you"

He pecked my cheek. My hand rested onto his, caressing it

For about what seemed like hours but was just a few seconds we stared into the other's eyes, pure love and admiration in each set.

Who wouldn't fall in love again if someone looked at them like that?

"Even after two years I feel like I still have a crush on you-...Uahhh"

Taking a moment to process the events, Miles launched onto her

I held onto Miles as everything in the room including us started to levitate. He was more confused than scared since he's used to wierd stuff being Spider-Man and all. What shocked him was the blue.. portal thing that opened up in the ceiling. As it spread more, everything returned to it's position. From it a girl with blond, shoulder length hair and a right side-cut floated down on the bed beside us.

"Gwanda!, I missed you so much" huh?

"I missed you too Miles"

I stared at them blankly, separating themselves off each other, he cleared his throat.

"Y/n, this is Gwen, Gwen this is my girlfriend, y/n"

I awkwardly waved to her, to which she did back with almost the same energy. It was like looking at an inverted version of myself. My skin was a medium ebony, hers a snow white, I had coily 4c hair, her's was wavy, not to mention our clothing styles. Polar opposites.

"So why'd you call her Gwanda, and she like that?"

"It's an inside joke, you wouldn't get it"

Confused wasn't even the word for me right now. Miles scratched the back of his head, a nervous tactic of his

I shook my head to his statement. The silence got a bit awkward before she decided to break the ice

"Soo, how's everything since I left?"

Not wanting to disrupt their convo, I started scrolling through my feed

"The worst obviously"

I raised my eyebrows in shock at his confession. "obviously" What's that to mean? I had to bite at the inside of my cheek to stop myself from doing or saying anything irrational. I allowed myself to step out their convo, aimlessly browsing through social media, my focus was deep into my phone. However, my head swiftly moved when I heard their last few sentences

"Let's go patrolling, we still have a lot of catching up to do" Gwen's eyes widened, her blue irises scaring me a bit, they looked quite uncanny

"Does she know that you're-"

"Yeah, she does. You can trust her" Not sure if I can trust you or her right now.

"In that case, yeah, I'd like that"

My face stained with an inquisitive expression, both tones sounded a little too.. flirtatious for my liking, what exactly was so secretive that they had to talk it out in the city? I looked up at both persons as they put their suits on, waiting to see if neither would acknowledge my existence. Nope, they just got suited up and.. left. If there's a word to describe something to be more invisible than invisible then that was definitely how I felt. Not even my boyfriend could say goodbye.. humph

"It can't be that bad, they're just catching up.. yeah"

Trying every and anything to convince myself, I took up my belongings, letting myself outside his room then house. At first, I called out to his parents - "Mama Rio, Tio Jeff?" - hearing no response I left, locking the door using the key I got from Tiá Rio as a reminder that - I'm always welcome - I smiled at the memory.

I tried walking around the city to clear my mind, about halfway through my walk I saw two familiar suits gliding and having their best time in the sky, moving along the roofs of houses. That's some patrolling

"This is going to end badly isn't it?... Maybe I'm thinking of the worst, he loves me. He wouldn't replace me like that right?" Wrong.

Mood ruined, I cut my time short and headed straight home. Unlocking the door, I took my shoes off placing the beside the table. I would usually call out to my parents but they were away on a business trip. After getting some food, I took myself up to my bedroom. Taking a shower and changing into silk shorts and an oversized shirt (sleep clothes). But before heading to the bed I sat around my desk, admiring fairy lights adorned with pictures of Miles and I.. my boyfriend and I. I looked out my window only to see the two leaned against each other, back faced to my vision.

For the next few days it was all about Gwen. Gwen. Gwen. Gwen. Gwen. I felt as if he was dating her

"Wanna go on a date? Just you and me, it'd be fun" "Sorry I'm already with Gwen"

"Bonito, do you still want to go for ice-cream?" "Sorry princess, drawing with Gwen. Can you pick some up though? She loves vanilla."

"Can you buy that plush for me? I'll pay you back." "Sorry, spent all my money on Gwen"

(time-skip)

I tried so. so hard to keep positive, but I just couldn't. I changed, now it was gaslighting myself from crying to crying. "How's this even fair, he's supposed to be my boyfriend.. who is he even dating now" I felt like trash, disposable, he made me feel disposable. I thought I'd have to die before I see this era come. Clearly, I underestimated fate. I felt replaceable, disposable, and, jealous. I had completely let myself go, my eyes were always puffy, hair more tangled than usual, I looked a mess. I finally decided to talk with him, knowing this talk would only end one of two ways: good or bad.

I fixed myself up, it didn't take much really, I combed my hair, putting it in a nice high puff. Wore some cute clothes and that was it. Call me a narcissist, but I knew I was always pretty (bad lil bitch). I stared at my reflection in the mirror, smiling as I admired my features, taking a couple pics too , I finally headed out. My parents were out on another business trip, they always are, giving me another reason to visit the Morales - to visit my second family-.

Arriving at their residence, I knocked to acknowledge the presence of anyone that may be in the house. Miles' mother opened the door

"Tiá Rio! It's so good to see you" she pulled me into a hug before pulling back, both of us smiling

"Likewise mija.. oh dear, what happened? Your face is all sad-looking and-"

Your son is what happened

"it's nothing mama, I've just been tired, that's all"

It warmed my heart at how much she seemed to care for me, assuming she was referring to my puffy eyes I lied. - well that's one thing you can't rid in a day - whilst listening to me, she gestured for me to get inside, closing the door behind me as I took my shoes off

"If it's that boy stressing you out, I'll beat him for you, just let me know" I laughed at her suggestion

"No mama, it's not him, thank you for the offer though" I was still chuckling, then she joined in

"Anything for you. I'll get going though, I have something on the stove to attend to" I shook yes, heading towards his room

"Leave a plate for me?"

"Always " I smiled as I turned focus to Miles' bedroom door. I went in deciding to not knock

I don't even know if I wished I did or not. The scene behind the door was heartbreaking, but I couldn't look away. There he was.. my "boyfriend" kissing Gwen Stacy. He was looking at her with those eyes, the eyes of love he used to look at me with. Both of them looked at me like they've seen a ghost. The expression wasn't too far off, they did make me feel like a ghost, invisible. I shook away any tears starting to form, but my eyelids were like a broken dam, no way or use in controlling it. If anything, I wanted him to see how I felt, to see how much he hurt me, to feel guilt, sadness, anything.

"Cielo, don't cry. It's not what it looks like"

"How long ?" He started to stutter. "How long Miles?"

"2 weeks, listen.. please. We were caught up in a moment and we just-"

"Do you think that's helping?" I felt my words ball up, stuck in my throat, my stomach continuously dropping. It's as if I could feel the sadness in my body. I didn't like it

"No.." I looked over his shoulder, looking at Gwen as she turned her face away, his sweater and other belongings on her

"What happened to protecting and loving me in every universe? In this universe Miles. I don't care about any other universe, you had one job to do. Is loving me harder than being Spider-Man?" I shook my head side to side in disbelief

"Princessa-" Gwen hummed a timid response. Un-fucking-believeable

"Do not call me that, there's your princessa" I pointed over to Gwen that had her sweater still stuck over her body. The air quotes from myself added to the comedic effect and subtracted from the restraint I had to not laugh

I made a run for it when he turned his head in the direction of my finger before I broke down. I couldn't let him see me like this. I ran to the door, shoes in hand as I searched for my keys, unlocking it. Talking to Miles' mother in between quiet sobs as she rushed behind me, "I'm sorry tiá" I finally made my way onto the streets of Brooklyn running somewhere, anywhere far from their house. Once settled I tried putting on my shoes, who knew that such a simple task was hard when crying ?

Rio's p.o.v

What the hell is going on, more importantly, why is (y/n) crying. I looked up in the direction of Miles' room to see him run forward to the door, a girl that was definitely not her behind him, her lipstick smudged. What the actual- she looks old enough to vote ?! I stood in my position, putting 2 and 2 together.

"Miles Gonzalo Morales. Get. Here. Now."

(Y/n) p.o.v

Still, I was wandering around the city, just something I do to blow off steam. - The hell? - it's kinda wierd to see Brooklyn this empty, especially on a Saturday evening. I continued walking until I saw the reason for the lack of people, The Spot.

Could this day get any worse? I sighed, Yes unfortunately, mentally, I answered my question as I tried running opposite from the creature, my attempts to escape failed as it stretched it's hands to engulf me in its nothingness. As it took me in, I saw holes that spread randomly, seemingly having no start nor end.

I knew what they led into -a new universe-, but not where. Knowing there was no going back, I decided to leap into a random hole, accepting whatever fate it throws to me. Before making my decision, a hole randomly spawned underneath my legs, bringing me into any universe it leads to.

It was a hard fall to say the least but I got up. I landed in...Brooklyn? It was nothing like my Brooklyn but, sure it was pretty. The place was littered with multiple shades of dark purple and other hues, a black tint being evident on the atmosphere. Having nothing else to do, I did what I know best, wander. For about 10 minutes my eyes never left the buildings, neon signs or billboards, it was chaotic...but in a harmonious way. I was now more amused than scared. Then my thoughts hit me like a train

"Where will I stay?"

"Wouldn't I already live here?, I could be dead. SHIT I COULD BE DEAD"

"what should I do now?"

Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't seem to acknowledge the group of men (3) that stood, cat-calling me. I decided to ignore their existence, walking briskly

"Hey doll, come here. I don't bite"

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here?"

With their words slurred, I could only assume they were drunk, plugging my ears with my fingers.

"ohh, so you think you're better than us now?" The third man stated

"bitch"

I blame Miles Morales of earth 1610 for this

They started to run after me, I started to run from them. To make the situation worse on my part, before arming myself with even a rusty nail, one of the men held on my arm, forcefully dragging me into an alleyway and throwing my body against the wall. One thing happened after another, now they started to beat and bruise my body anyway and where they could. Whether it was by throwing glass at my face, kicking my chest, slapping my face, throwing my head back into the wall, stomping on my body they didn't stop. They stopped when I was at my weakest, my mouth was bleeding, slap marks imprinted on my face, glass shards in and around my body, blood dripping at a slow rate from my head, most of it got soaked up in my hair, making the coils look more like curls. They did all this while letting out a few remarks on their minds.

"That's what you get for resisting, you had a choice y'know"

"Think you're better than the rest of us huh?"

"cry all you want, there's no one here to save you"

Spitting out blood, and wiping my mouth with my sleeve I begged for some forgiveness - "Please" "Let me go" -

"Hmm, you see. I really can't do that doll but you can get something else"

"what?"

The man's mouth distorted into a smug smile before he tore my jacket in half from the seams. I tried to cover my chest with the hand covered in blood as the other men laughed. He tore away my hand, slamming my head once more into the wall. Hard. Getting rid of any consciousness I may have had left. I silently cried as I felt my soul slip from my body.

My eyes started to shut , vision doubling as I heard the sound of metal scraping against the wall, faint screams came from infront me, my body getting weak. I heard men shouting, slicing, punching, and, the splatter of something that heavily fell on my face and clothes. Finally, I felt the hand that had intentions of violating my body fall, its owner seemingly dropping to the floor.

Forcing myself to open my eyes I saw a suit with colours of purple and black step towards me, lifting my body up.

"It's all good now. You'll be fine" The voice sounded almost mechanical behind the mask, the demeanour of the wearer gradually softening as he reassured me. I closed my eyes trusting the stranger with my life. I can trust him afterall..right?

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #across the spiderverse #spiderman #black writers #black tumblr #black reader #yn #miles molares #light angst #angst #fluff #fsnfics #fanfic #Spotify

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fangsandfeels · 3 months

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Don't come at me, but I am confused why whenever there is a plot about one of Astarion's siblings going full villain, this sibling is almost always Petras. I agree; he is a jerk and a bully. But he is also the guy who gobbles up Cazador's bullshit about getting freedom with ZERO suspicions. Aurelia and Leon are hopeful, but it doesn't take them long to realize it is yet another way for Cazador to break them, and of course, he never intended to let them go.

Petras is oblivious to the point he is already making plans for the future and composing his menu. He is also the guy who flirts (badly) with the first person who approaches him without even considering the risk of the said person being a vampire hunter. Like, Tav can be wearing full plate armor and have a hugeass war hammer slung over their shoulder, and Petras would still go "Yes, this is the perfect naive victim to seduce. They will totally fall for my charms" with Dalyria cringing and trying to do damage control at the back.

Petras makes Astarion look like a criminal mastermind.

And no, I'm not saying that he can't be an antagonist to Astarion at all.

He can be dangerous by deciding to go his own way, gathering the group of spawn who share his views, and making a part of the Sword Coast his hunting grounds. But don't I see him plotting complicated schemes or even trying to recreate Cazador's rituals. He may try, but in my opinion, he will fail hilariously. No intervention needed.

Now, speaking of a more dangerous and tragic potential adversary, Leon is right here. He is a sorcerer. Moreover, if the nature of the spell he used to protect Victoria is anything to go by, he is experienced with Necromancy (I may be wrong; the blood thing could have belonged to the Transmutation school, though).

He is the top performer. And, he is a desperate father who did it all to keep his daughter safe. Now, I still assume that he managed to smuggle Victoria out of the palace -- which would keep him his calm and reasonable self. But if Victoria is really dead?...It would mean that everything he did, all these victims, all that suffering, all the measures he took, all the hurt he inflicted on his siblings/inmates - it all was for nothing. He was ready to die for Victoria to live. He was willing to sacrifice an orphan to save his girl. And he failed.

He failed her.

Wouldn't that push him over the edge? The desperation, the devastation, the horror? Wouldn't that create a void in his undead heart and put him into denial and resentment for his fellow spawns (he didn't know HOW she died, but he had seen enough hungry looks from Dal and Violet)?

Wouldn't he become obsessed with "fixing" it somehow because he already went so far to protect his daughter...why not go even further to bring her back, let her live the life that was so unfairly taken from her? He doesn't care about power, about sunwalking, he doesn't give a shit about anything and anyone -- he wants his child back. And he will make it happen.

At any cost.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #like obviously i want victoria to be alive and leon to be at peace. it's hard not to feel for him #but the angsty potential is so within reach #the ketheric parallel lets gooooo #also i like imagining that it's not really about astarion himself and wanting to have what he has #but more of deep personal reasons - each of them have their story of pain and suffering #bg3 petras #bg3 leon #astarion #bg3 astarion #pale petras. more like dim petras amirite

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suddencolds · 6 months

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Foreign Home | [1/1]

hello!! I am back after 8 months of not-really-writing with an 8k word fic (which I cut down from 9k words). this is another OC fic w/ Vincent and Yves, who were introduced here!

anyways, this is very character-centric and establishes some things I wanted to establish about them / their world... I hope the little detour into character-development territory is okay.

Summary: Yves has told all of his friends that he's dating Vincent, so it's going to look increasingly suspicious if Vincent never shows up. Good thing Vincent is compellingly good at lying. Anyways, what could go wrong at a housewarming party? (ft. banter, fake dating, cat allergies)

—

Yves spends three weeks turning down invitations.

It’s lucky, he thinks, that he’s been able to stay in contact with so many friends from university—that so many of them have settled here, in New York. It’s less lucky considering his current circumstances:

Out of the people who made it to Margot’s New Year’s party, almost all of them remember Vincent. And—even more inconveniently—many of them seem set on inviting Yves and Vincent places.

Yves thinks up a dozen excuses. No, Vincent can’t join on our coffee outing—he’s got an important, un-reschedulable meeting with a client that Saturday. Sunday? His Sunday’s booked through until 5pm. I know, busy season is the worst to plan around. Or, I think Vincent’s going to be out for a business conference that weekend. The 22nd? I can check with him, but he’s taking a redeye flight the night before—I think he’ll be jet lagged.

The number of excuses he is capable of coming up with is unfortunately finite. Perhaps sorry, I think Vincent has an optometrist’s appointment that afternoon isn’t Yves’s best work, but he has to say something.

Really, it’s just more work to invite Vincent elsewhere—to explain that they’ve played their role as a couple a little too convincingly. That his friends all want to meet Vincent, now.

Back during his days of rowing crew, Yves has given out his fair share of relationship advice to the underclassmen, which has unfortunately—according to Margot—“cultivated an air of mystery about his personal love life.” It was always him and Erika, until it wasn’t. (Ex-matchmaker Yves and his mysterious, highly coveted new boyfriend, Leon says, when Yves complains, which is how Yves decides he will no longer be consulting Leon on the matter.)

“My friends really like you,” Yves says to Vincent, offhandedly, when he runs into him on the way back from lunch.

Vincent blinks at him.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They really like you,” Yves says. “They want to meet you. They think we’re an interesting couple, and they keep pestering me for double dates and inviting you out to a whole bunch of events. I’m running out of excuses as to why you can’t come.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, deadpan, but there’s a slight twitch to his lips, as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m dead serious,” Yves says. “I told Nora that you couldn’t make it to dinner because of an eye appointment. Now if I want to keep this up I’ll need to photoshop you with new glasses.”

“I am a little overdue for new glasses,” Vincent says.

“Not the point. Regardless, I need to keep this up until we stage a breakup.”

“A breakup?”

“A fake breakup. To our fake relationship.”

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?”

“No,” Yves says. “But I’m preemptively saving you the stress.”

“The stress of playing your boyfriend?” Vincent says. “Last time, that just entailed going to a well-organized New Year’s party. I wouldn’t consider that exceptionally stressful.”

“That’s just the beginning. Don’t tell me you want to be dragged along to every dinner party and every downtown outing and every birthday I go to in the foreseeable future,” Yves says. “On top of working 60 hours a week, you’ll have to say goodbye to your weekends.”

“So that’s why you’re plotting our breakup.”

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’d need to explain to everyone how I dropped the ball.”

“I’m sure those new glasses must’ve been the dealbreaker.”

Yves laughs. Truthfully, Vincent could wear the most terrible, unflattering glasses in the world and still manage to look like someone whom Yves wouldn’t bat an eye at upon spotting at a photoshoot. The fact that his current glasses actually complement him very well, and the fact that he knows how to dress himself is just salt to the wound. “Yes, that’s the entire reason why I dated you in the first place. The glasses.”

“If you wanted to keep our false relationship up for a couple months,” Vincent says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Yves—who, until now, has been walking in the opposite direction of the floor on which he works—stops walking. “Pardon?”

“I like your friends,” Vincent says. “And more importantly, I don’t think it proves a point to Erika if you’ve just gotten into a relationship you couldn’t keep. So if you wanted to keep this arrangement for a little longer, I would be fine with it.”

Yves considers this.

He’s asked more than enough of Vincent already. But Vincent is right. He’s sure Erika must have her fair share of doubts about all of this—about Vincent, about their fake relationship, about its longevity. She seemed skeptical, when he’d last seen her, that Yves could’ve moved on so quickly. The worst thing about it is that he can’t blame her for that doubt. The worst thing about it is that he’d spent so much time accounting for his future with Erika that he hadn’t seen her start to slip away, hadn’t noticed the first sign of inadequacy, the first time her gaze lingered on someone else, the first time he ceased to be all that she wanted. He hadn’t steeled himself for a future without her, and now, half the time, it feels like he’s still playing catch-up.

If he wants to commit to this fake relationship, he’ll need more than one outing to show for it.

And, despite all odds, Vincent is offering just that.

“Okay,” Yves says, before he can think about how bad of an idea this is. It is really, really inadvisable. He’s sure if he weighs his options for more than a few seconds, he will come to the conclusion that he should be shutting his mouth. “If you’re sure—and only if you’re actually sure—what are your plans after work next Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing as of now,” Vincent says.

“Great. If you can make it, there’s a potluck. Joel’s hosting. He recently finished moving into a new apartment, so I think it’s something of a housewarming party. He lives a little North, past the stadium, so I think I’ll head there right after work—I can drive you.”

“That works,” Vincent says. “What kind of food does he like?”

“I’m not actually too sure,” Yves says. “I think he’s a fan of spicy food. But honestly, I think he’ll be grateful if you bring anything at all—which you don’t have to, by the way. You’re the esteemed guest, here.”

“I’m sure Joel’s new apartment is technically the esteemed guest,” Vincent says. “But I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “It’s a date. I’ll make it up to you in any way you want, by the way—if there’s ever an instance where you need me to lie for you, I’ll do it.”

“Duly noted,” Vincent says. For what Vincent would ever have to lie about, Yves can’t guess.

More importantly, he has a date for next Tuesday. Something about it is more exciting, even in its dishonesty, than it has any right to be.

—

It’s only a few moments after Yves presses the doorbell that Vincent emerges, holding a couple plates covered meticulously with aluminum foil.

“I haven’t cooked for anyone in awhile,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I hope this doesn’t make a bad impression on your friends.” “Are you kidding? It smells really good,” Yves says, and it does—from the doorway, he can make out the scent of sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger. “They’ll definitely like it.”

Vincent looks off to the side. “We’ll see.” It takes a moment for Yves to properly parse his expression for what it is.

It never occurred to Yves that Vincent might actually be nervous. At work, it’s rare to see Vincent even remotely out of his element—he always volunteers to take on their more difficult clients, and even on the rare occasion that something falls out of his expertise, he picks things up quickly. Yves has seen him give presentations at conferences without a sweat, articulate as ever.

If Vincent had been nervous, those times—over prestigious conferences, over negotiations with major clients, over other difficult points of contention—it hadn’t shown. Either he wasn’t nervous at all, or he was just good at hiding it. But he’s nervous now, Yves realizes, which means—

Vincent wants to make a good impression on his friends. It won’t be his first time meeting Joel, but it’ll be his first time talking to Cherie, Joel’s fiancé, or Giselle, one of Cherie’s friends from work. Mikhail and Nora will be there too. All in all, it’s a decently sized group, but Vincent has talked to larger groups of people before without so much as a shaky voice.

Something about it—about the seriousness with which Vincent regards this whole arrangement—is strangely endearing.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Yves says, and means it in more ways than one.

—

Joel’s new apartment, as it turns out, is already decently furnished, even though Joel had sent out the invitation with the disclaimer that everything is a mess, please bear with us.

“When you said everything would be a mess,” Yves says, leaving his shoes in a line at the door, “I thought your apartment would actually be something other than spotlessly clean and well arranged.”

“It’s easy to make things look neat if you move all of the clutter into the closets,” Joel says.

“It’s just a few boxes,” Cherie says. “But it was tricky to figure out how to place things. It’s a lot more spacious than the apartment we had in college.”

“No kidding,” Yves says. “It’s a seriously nice place.” Back in their last two years of university, Joel and Cherie had gotten an apartment just a few buildings down from the apartment which Yves picked out with Mikhail—they had similar floor plans. Yves distinctly remembers the space: creaky floorboards, space heaters lined up against the walls to last them the winter; decent natural lighting, and never enough kitchen space.

Back then, he and Mikhail had had separate rooms, so their apartment became a spot in which Erika became a frequent visitor, and then, at one point, stopped visiting at all.

But that’s not the point. The point is, the apartment Joel and Cherie have picked out is much nicer than the one they’d had in college—for one, it’s more spacious, and the entire building has nice facilities and looks newer—and Cherie’s eye for interior design has only helped their cause.

“I’m glad you were able to come!” Cherie says, turning to Vincent. “Yves is always telling me about how busy you are with work.”

“He’s the one putting out all the fires,” Yves says.

Vincent smiles, extending a hand for her to shake. “Cherie, right? It’s nice to meet you. And you’re—” He turns to Joel, with a slight sniffle. “Joel. I think we met last time.”

Cherie squeezes his hand. Joel laughs and says, “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

“He’s good with names,” Yves says. An acquired skill from all the hours of networking, probably.

“That’s a useful skill to have, especially if you’re dating Yves,” Joel says. “I swear he knows everyone.” He goes on to tell a story about how, back in university, Yves almost accidentally got elected as vice president for a business club he’d only shown up to once.

At some point into the conversation, Yves ducks into the kitchen to help with setup. He sets out the dish he’s brought—salmon sliders with mango salsa—and the beef skewers that Vincent made earlier (he’s not sure why Vincent was worried in the first place, because the skewers look very competently made). After that, he busies himself with finding a way to keep everything temporarily covered until they eat.

Something soft and fuzzy winds around his ankles.

He looks down, and the soft and fuzzy thing looks back at him with pointy triangular ears. This is news to Yves.

“You guys have a cat?!” He shouts from the kitchen, vaguely in the direction where Joel and Cherie should still be standing. “Since when?”

“Since a month ago,” Joel shouts back.

“Her name is Gingersnap,” Cherie adds. “Gin for short.”

“Oh,” Yves says, kneeling down to scratch her behind the ears. His hands are a little calloused from all the snow he’s been shoveling lately, but Gingersnap purrs anyways, evidently unbothered. “What the hell, guys, now I’m never going to be able to leave your apartment. Consider me a permanent resident.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Cherie says.

At some point, Gingersnap gets up, mewing, and heads out of the kitchen, and Yves resumes life as an active contributor to the potluck’s success. When he finishes reheating everything up, setting the table, arranging the dishes, and filling up two pitchers with iced water, he wanders back out into the living room. Vincent is there, alone, except he’s not really alone, because…

Oh.

God.

He’s kneeling down, unmoving, speaking to Gingersnap in a soft, low voice, holding out a hand for her.

She approaches him, a little tentatively, and then nuzzles her orange head into the crook of his hand. Vincent smiles—a soft, private smile. “Hi, Gin,” he says.

There’s the low, lawnmower hum of a purr as Gingersnap rolls onto the ground to let Vincent continue petting her. It’s a heartwarming sight—Vincent, from the office, crouched down to pet a cat that’s smaller than his hand. Yves thinks he might cry.

Then Vincent withdraws his hand, reaches up with an arm to swipe at his eyes. Something jolts through his shoulders, a tremor so slight that Yves wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t already been watching—

“—nGkt-!”

Gingersnap mews at him, perplexed but undeterred. “Sorry,” Vincent says to her, quietly, “I’m not trying— to—” It’s all he can get out before he’s veering away again, this time with both hands tightly steepled over his nose for—

“hhIH’—GKKtt-!”

He sniffles softly, though the sniffle is immediately followed by a small, quiet cough. He reaches up with one hand to rub his nose. Yves watches his expression draw uneven, his eyebrows furrowing.

“hhIH…”

Whatever sneeze he’s fighting seems terribly indecisive—but terribly irritating—for the way he rubs his nose again, his eyes squeezing shut in ticklish anticipation.

“HhIH… hh… HH-hhH-hHIHh—”

He cups a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, and not a moment too early—

“—hIHh’iiIKKTSHh-!”His shoulders jolt forwards with the force of it, though it gives him barely a moment’s reprieve before his breath hitches again, sharply, urgently. “IiI’DSZCHuuhh-!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent turns to blink at him. His eyes are a little red-rimmed and watering. There’s a thin flush over the bridge of his nose.

“You didn’t tell me you were allergic to cats,” Yves says, rounding the corner to close the distance between them.

“Slightly allergic,” Vincent admits, turning aside with a liquid sniffle. “It’s ndot - hhIHH-! - a big deal.”

“I didn’t know Joel and Cherie had a cat,” Yves says. “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if they did.”

“It’s fine,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I like her.”

“You might like her, but your body doesn’t seem to be a fan.”

“It’s a good thing that I have a consciousness, so I can codtinue petting her.” Vincent sniffles again, lifting one hand to rub his nose with his index finger. Yves does not know how to even begin to tell him what an inadvisable idea that is, but either way, he doesn’t have a chance to before Vincent’s eyes graze shut, and he turns to face away from Gingersnap before he jerks forward, catching a muffled - “Hh’GKK-t!” - into a clenched fist.

“Bless you,�� Yves says. “You know, you’re really not going to make the situation any better if you keep on—”

“nNGKT-!!”

“—bless you!”

“hh—hHhih’iiKKsHHhUH!” The last sneeze is noticeably harsher than the others—it sounds loud enough to scrape against his throat, which seems to be further evidenced by the small cough that succeeds it.

“I’ll ask Joel if he has any antihistamines,” Yves says.

“It’s fide,” Vincent says.

“If you insist on spending time with Gingersnap, wouldn’t it be better to spend it without having to sneeze?”

“I would still have to sdeeze,” Vincent says, as if he’s already experienced in the matter—briefly, Yves wonders how many cats he inadvisably plays with on a frequent basis. “Just less.”

“That would be an improvement.”

Vincent looks away. “Antihistamines mbake me tired,” he says, after a little hesitation.

“It’s a good time to be tired,” Yves says. “It’s not like you have any pressing work to get done.”

“I want to make a good ibpression on your friends,” Vincent says, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “That’s ndot going to happen if I fall asleep halfway through dinner.”

“If you did, I’m sure no one would fault you for it.”

“I’ll take something after we finish eating,” Vincent says. “If things haved’t improved by then. ”

“Okay,” Yves relents, and—since it doesn’t seem like Vincent is leaving anytime soon—takes a seat next to him on the rug. It’s a compromise he can accept.

—

Nora gets there next, followed by Mikhail and then Giselle. It’s Yves’s first time formally meeting Giselle, who turns out to be very tall and a little intimidating—she’s come straight from work, so she’s dressed accordingly, and she talks with the sort of quiet authority that Yves knows is usually indicative of years of experience. Right before they sit down for dinner, Vincent ducks out into the bathroom—‘I need to look at least marginally presentable,’ he’d said, seeming like he was in a rush—so Yves saves him a seat at the table.

“Yves,” Giselle says, taking another salmon slider. “You made these entirely from scratch? This is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Yves says. “To be honest, it was a bit of a gamble. I wasn’t sure if the sauce was going to pair well with it.”

“Yves is really good at cooking,” Mikhail says. “That’s half the reason why I roomed with him in college.”

“So what’s the other half?” Cherie says.

“The other half is that he lets me eat his food,” Mikhail says.

Yves laughs. “For a second, I thought you’d have something nice to say about my personality.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikhail says.

“Yves is very good at cooking,” Vincent says, emerging from the hallway. Yves blinks at him. Whatever he’d done in the bathroom has done wonders—he looks remarkably put together. Not a strand of his hair is out of place. His eyes are dry, not red, not teary, not irritated, his collar crisply upright, his voice devoid of congestion. The only telltale sign about his ailment is the slight bit of redness to his nose, but it’s winter—that could easily be chalked up to the cold.

He slips easily into the seat next to Yves, his posture impeccable. Yves does everything in his power not to stare.

“I think he’s responsible for some of the best hot chocolate I’ve had,” Vincent continues. That remark is surprising, too—repurposed from a memory as it is, it seems almost like something that could be genuine.

But Yves remembers how easily Vincent had lied, back on New Year’s—how easily he’d drawn the fictitious threads between them, almost thoughtlessly, as if they had always existed.

I could make better hot chocolate, Yves thinks, before he can stop himself. I could really make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted, if I just had time. It’s an absurd thought, and one that he doesn’t have much grounds for. He had been pressed for time, back then—he hadn’t known when Vincent’s ride was going to be arriving—but even if he’d really, properly tried, even if he’d succeeded in making the best hot chocolate he’s capable of making, there’s no guarantee that Vincent would’ve liked it.

He’s surprised by the pang in his chest, now, the desire to make true something that he knows to be false, to be worthy of the compliments that Vincent’s so easily spoken about.

“That’s definitely an exaggeration,” Yves says. “Technically, Mikhail didn’t even know that I knew how to cook when we signed the lease. The real reason why we roomed together is much more interesting.”

It’s a story he’s told before, though Cherie and Giselle haven’t heard it before. It’s easy to fall into it again: Mikhail and Yves met in their first year, over a group project in an intro to finance class. The two other members of their team had been dead weight, and at the time, Yves had thought—incorrectly—that Mikhail was just as bad as the rest of them.

It’s practically a comedy of errors—a series of miscommunications had led them to each finish the project independently. Yves remembers the all-nighters he’d pulled for that, nervous and over-caffeinated, until the day before the presentation, where he found that Mikhail had not—unlike the other members of their group—spent the last few weeks slacking off.

Beside him, Vincent goes still.

When Yves chances a quick look at him, he sees: a slight, almost imperceptible ripple to his expression, before it smooths out again.

He nearly backtracks—his first thought is that perhaps something he’s said is the source of Vincent’s irritation—but then Vincent turns his face away. There’s the slightest disturbance to the line of his shoulders, and then—

“—gkT-!”

The sneeze is barely audible, stifled as it is into a half-closed palm, though the gesture is subtle, too—easily mistaken as Vincent simply looking away, resting his chin on his hand.

“I can’t believe you guys are still friends after all of that,” Nora says.

“Right,” Yves says. “I was so ready to never talk to him again. But obviously, we still had to give the presentation.”

He talks about how, in a half-asleep effort to salvage the project work, he and Mikhail had found some way to relate their findings to each other, to loosely bind the disparate subjects into a coherent thesis. Mikhail talks, too, about how they’d manipulated their presentation to get their combined work to seem sufficiently on topic.

Mikhail is halfway through his story when Yves sees Vincent jolt forward beside him.

He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of a sneeze—expertly stifled, just like the others—into a clenched fist. This one’s a little more forceful, even in its quietness—it leaves Vincent hunched over for just a moment, his shoulders slightly slumped, before he straightens again, covertly lowering his hand.

There’s a slightly hazy, distant look to his features, as if whatever’s been bothering him hasn’t begun to let up yet.

Yves nudges him with his arm. Vincent doesn’t exactly jump at the contact, but he does freeze, his shoulders stiffening.

“Hey,” Yves says, quietly enough that he doesn’t think anyone else should be able to hear. “You okay?”

Vincent nods.

“You sure you don’t want to take anything?”

Another nod.

“I can’t tell you how little either of us proofread that paper,” Mikhail is saying.

“I reread it three months later,” Yves admits. “And he’s right. We really didn’t proofread it.”

But it was a winning proposal, even though they’d both been too tired to realize it then. And still, Mikhail had still managed to hold a grudge against him for two long months. And then Mikhail had run into last-minute problems with his upcoming lease arrangement, and Yves had happened to find a decently priced two-bedroom apartment with no roommate, and he’d reached out half as a joke.

“You know those friends who say they can never room together?” Mikhail is saying. “Like, they hang out all the time, or they’ve been friends for years, or they trust each other with their lives, or whatever. But the second you put their living habits in close proximity, everything goes to shit? I think we were the opposite.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because you two never had a good enough relationship to ruin in the first place?” Nora says jokingly.

She has a point. Yves is starting to think that all of the formative relationships in his life have all happened by accident.

—

Vincent and Giselle get along very well, Yves notes, listening to the two of them talk. Halfway through dinner, they get into a heated discussion about the more outward-facing expectations at work, as Joel and Cherie exchange knowing glances. Giselle talks about feeling accountable for the team she manages—for knowing that if they don’t perform, she’ll take the fall for them; for being careful not to disperse the stress from higher ups unevenly, for constantly feeling her way through how much work is reasonable to expect of them. Vincent talks about the stress of apportioning work to others—the knowledge in his own competence and the knowledge gap when it comes to how others will handle things, the desire to take on more work alone to make sure everything is accounted for.

Nora, who’d had an internship at a different firm after each year in college, weighs in too on the management styles she’d been under, to what extent the expectations from leadership affected the dynamic between her coworkers.

It’s interesting, Yves thinks, that they all have their own subset of worries, even when they come across as people who are so certain of themselves.

As the others speak, Vincent stops periodically to rub his nose with the knuckle of his index finger—an action that always seems to keep the irritation at bay, but never seems to mitigate it entirely. For a moment, his expression goes hazy, his eyes watering ever so slightly, but it always lasts only a moment.

When Mikhail cracks a joke that has the entire table laughing, Vincent takes the opportunity to cough quietly into an upheld fist. When Cherie talks about her and Joel’s extremely mathematical efforts to fit everything into the car before moving, Vincent turns aside, raising a napkin to his face with a quiet, well-contained sniffle.

It’s difficult to tell, at first. But his attempts to keep quiet, to succumb to his symptoms as inconspicuously as possible, take their toll on him. Every time he jerks forward with a near-silent stifle, Yves can tell, by Vincent’s expression when he emerges, that it’s just short of relieving. Every sniffle seems to only add on to the mounting congestion, in the long run. It’s a slow, almost imperceptible unraveling.

And yet, when Yves asks about it—when he offers to ask the others for antihistamines, or when he offers to make the drive to a convenience store himself; when he suggests that they go out to get some fresh air—he’s always faced with the same nonanswer, the same dismissive, I’ll be fine. The same persistent, Don’t worry about it.

So Yves doesn’t worry about it, for now—at least, not outwardly.

—

At some point after dinner, they disperse. Yves talks to Joel and Cherie about the apartment, about the pains of moving in, about the other places they’d considered and about why this one had been at the top of the list. Then about the cat— “we had been talking about getting one,” Cherie says. “And then one day Joel was wandering around downtown, and one of the pet shops there was holding an adoption event, and then when I got home there was a cat in the living room.”

“He didn’t call you to come pick out a cat with him?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission?’” Joel says.

“He texted me before he brought her home,” Cherie says, and scrolls through her phone until she finds a text that says: Would you kill me if I brought home a cat. Just asking for a friend. And hypothetically if we extended this thought experiment it would be an orange cat that’s 2 months old.

“That sounds like a text from someone who’s absolutely decided already,” Yves says. “Ask for forgiveness, huh? So how’s the forgiveness going?”

“I let her name her,” Joel says.

“He’s on litter box duty for the next six months,” Cherie says.

On the other side of the room, Mikhail and Vincent are having a conversation—it could be because Vincent is the person in the room that Mikhail has talked to least, to date, but Yves has a feeling that it’s so that Mikhail can gain embarrassing intel on what Yves has been doing for the past few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vincent turn away, his eyebrows drawing together, raising both his hands to his face to catch a sneeze into steepled hands. Then, not a moment later, his shoulders shudder forward with another.

“Totally off topic,” Yves says, to Joel and Cherie. “Do you guys have any antihistamines?”

“I think we have some Benadryl,” Cherie says. “It should be in the bathroom cabinet, behind the mirror.”

He does find it there, eventually—next to a box of band-aids and a small cylindrical container of cotton swabs. Perhaps he’ll hand it to Vincent, discreetly, when he’s done talking to Mikhail. Vincent had said antihistamines made him tired, but now that dinner is over, it shouldn’t be an issue—Yves suspects people will start heading out soon, and he’ll be the one driving, anyways.

When he steps out into the hallway, Mikhail and Vincent are in the middle of a conversation. It’s a conversation Yves has every intention of interrupting, and no intention of eavesdropping on, until he overhears—

“So,” Mikhail says, “When you first started dating Yves, what was it that you saw in him?”

Yves winces. That’s certainly not an easy question to answer—he and Vincent don’t know each other all that well, and any planning they have done on the basis of their fake relationship has been almost entirely centered around logistics—events, important dates, flagship moments in the relationship, trivia-worthy personal details. Not… this.

But Vincent just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “Honestly, if I told you everything I liked about Yves, you’d want to date him too.”

“That’s a tall claim,” Mikhail says. Yves is positively certain that no permutation of words in the universe could make Mikhail want to date him. “You can’t just say that and not give any examples.”

“I guess Yves is a very considerate person,” Vincent says, with a sniffle. “It actually confused me, at first. When I was growing up, after I moved here from Korea, I was brought up in the sort of environment where there was always an expectation for self-sufficiency. It didn’t matter how young I was, I guess—there were certain things I was expected to know, and certain things I was expected to teach myself.”

Something about his expression looks wistful, if not a little sad. But perhaps this is a trick of the light; perhaps his eyes are just watering from earlier. “My parents trusted me with a lot of things, but it was the kind of trust where they weren’t planning on filling in the gaps for me if I fell short.”

“I know what you mean,” Mikhail says. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Vincent says. “But I’m not telling you this because it was a burden to me, or anything. Back then, it was all that I had ever known. It was normal to me, then, because it was inevitable.”

“Yves is a very different person than I am,” Vincent says. “At times, when I was growing up, it felt like kindness was always something that had to be calculated.”

He pauses, sniffling again, before he raises his arm to his face with a forceful—

“hIhh’GKT-! Hh… hh-HHih’NGKktshH!”

“Bless you,” Mikhail says reflexively.

“Thadk you,” Vincent says, sniffling. He lowers his arm. “I was always taught that if you lend a hand to someone else, you have to make sure their success is not the thing that robs you of your spot—that sort of thing. But Yves is kind even without thinking about it. He’s kind even when there’s nothing in it for him.”

“So that was what made you develop feelings for him?” Mikhail asks.

“Eventually, yes,” Vincent says. “At first, I thought that we were irreconcilably different.”

“What changed?”

“Yves is an easy person to like, romantically or otherwise,” Vincent says. “It’s a little disarming to be on the receiving end of his type of kindness. And I think that’s ultimately what made me start liking him. He’s just the sort of selfless person you can’t help but admire, if that makes sense. It’s like—when someone does so much for you out of sheer selflessness, at some point, you start wanting to be a part of their happiness too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yves sees a small orange blur—mostly fluff, on four short white legs, with two pointy ears—bound from the kitchen into the living room.

“I get it,” Mikhail says. “That’s an interesting answer. It makes me hopeful that Yves might’ve stumbled into a relationship that will be very good for him.”

That’s a statement he’ll have to revise, Yves thinks wryly, in a few months, whenever it stops being practical for Vincent to keep up this act.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What makes you say that?”

“When he and Erika broke up, he was—” Mikhail pauses, briefly, and Yves is thinking about the many embarrassing—but completely, verifiably true—ways he could finish off that sentence. “—he was pretty upset,” Mikhail says, instead, which Yves decides is suitably merciful.

“Look, what’s between them is between them—I’m not going to claim I know all the ins and outs of their relationship. But given that Yves was living with me for much of the time that he and Erika were dating, I’ve seen them interact more times than I can count.”

“I don’t think Erika is a bad person,” he continues. “She’s very ambitious, which I think was good for Yves back when they first started dating. But I don’t think she recognized those things about him—how much he cares for others, how much he gives people the benefit of the doubt, how much he… well, frankly, how much bullshit he’s willing to endure on his end. I think she took his kindness for granted, a little bit, and she certainly didn’t go out of her way to reciprocate.”

“What I’m saying is, I’m glad he met you,” Mikhail says. Beside him, something small and orange hops onto the couch they’re standing next to. “I can tell that what you said was sincere.”

If even Mikhail thought he was being sincere, perhaps Vincent is a little too good of an actor.

“Obviously, it’s early for me to be saying this, so you can take it with a grain of salt,” Mikhail continues. “But I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.”

The sentence feels like a punch to the stomach.

And—well.

I’m glad he met you. I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.

Yves has really dug himself into this hole, hasn’t he?

Mikhail thinks that Vincent is good for him—Mikhail, one of Yves’s closest friends, someone who is by no means quick to express his approval over whoever Yves is seeing—which means that when they inevitably stage their breakup, Yves is never going to hear the end of it.

Is it cruel to be taking Vincent to all of these events, to be introducing him to all of his friends, when—after the impending breakup—Vincent might never see any of them again? Is it cruel that Mikhail likes Vincent enough to be hopeful that this is going to last?

Yves doesn’t have time to contemplate it more when three things happen.

One—Gingersnap, who is still perched at the very top of the couch, nudges her face against Vincent’s arm and mews softly at him.

Two—Vincent stops what he’s doing to reach out slowly, cautiously, to scratch gently at the fur under her chin. Gingersnap purrs, leaning her head into his hand.

Three—Vincent withdraws his hand, suddenly, as if he’s been burned, twisting away reflexively. He lifts his hand—the same hand he’s been petting Gingersnap with (probably inadvisably) to his face, to cover a resounding—

“hh—hiHH-hHihh’iIZSChHH-uhh! snf-!”

The sneeze sounds ticklish and barely relieving, as if he’s been holding it in all afternoon.

It’s only a few moments later that Vincent’s jerking forward with another ticklish, wrenching, “hh… hhiHH… NgKT-!—hh’hiiIIIK’TSCHhuhH! snf-! hiIh… hIIIH-IITSCHh’yyue!”

“Oh,” Mikhail says, finally comprehending. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Just slightly— hIh… hH- Hiih—hhH’nNGkT-!” Vincent sniffles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Sorry to - hh-! - cut our codversatiod short - hH… I… hhiHh’IiKSHhuh! Excuse mbe… hH… Hhh-! I’mb going to rund to the bathroom… hh… hhiIh… hh-HIih’iiIK’SHhUHhh!”

Yves ducks out into the kitchen before Vincent has a chance to head his way. He busies himself with removing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, Somewhere behind him, he hears the bathroom door click shut, hears the slightly muffled sound of a sneeze, then another.

He shuts his eyes.

Vincent had said that it was fine. Should Yves have insisted? It’s Yves’s fault, again, that Vincent is in this situation, but then again, he couldn’t have known—both that Joel and Cherie would have a cat, and that Vincent would like her so much. Either way, Yves can’t help but feel partially responsible.

But would it be strange, now, to offer Vincent something to take for it, to openly acknowledge his affliction? Should he have done something earlier? Or should he wait to acknowledge it after they leave?

Against all doubt, he finds himself outside of the bathroom door.

Yves knocks.

There’s the sound of water running, inside, and then the sound of the faucet being turned to shut. Then there’s a brief pause. Yves is contemplating knocking again when the door opens just a crack.

There, Vincent stands, his eyes a little watery still, his nose just slightly redder than usual, his hair slightly out of place—he’s just washed his face, then.

“Yves,” Vincent says.

“Um,” Yves says, holding out the glass of water and, next to it, the bottle of Benadryl. “Thought you could use these.”

Vincent takes the cup, a little hesitantly, and sets it on the bathroom counter. Then he takes the bottle of allergy medicine, unscrews the cap, and removes two small pink pills.

“Thank you,” he says. Yves thinks he’s about to take a sip when he twists to the side suddenly, his eyes squeezing shut, snapping forward with a loud—

“hIIH’IIKKSHh’hUh!”

The hand he’s holding the cup with trembles a bit with the action, but the water inside doesn’t spill.

“Bless you,” Yves says, taking the cup from him, before—

“hIHH… hh-Hhih’iISCHhh’Uhh!”

“Bless you!”

The only acknowledgment Vincent gives him is to take the cup back from him, sniffling, and down the pills in one quick, decisive sip.

“They’ll take some time to take effect,” Yves says, though he’s sure that Vincent knows that already, for the way he knew to take two, even without reading the label on the bottle. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been awhile since my last edcounter with a cat,” Vincent says, sniffling.

“You forgot how bad it was?”

“It gets better with exposure,” he says. And worse without.

Yves says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know they’d have a cat.”

“Even if you’d known, I ndever told you I was allergic,” Vincent says. “It’s fine.”

“I should’ve thought to check. Seriously, a housewarming party—”

“I told you, snf, I like cats,” Vincent says, clearing his throat. “So it’s fine.”

Yves looks around—at the bathroom, which looks just as pristine as he’d left it earlier, except that the tissue box on the bathroom counter is a little askew. At the slight tiredness to Vincent’s posture, even as he looks off to the side, tilting his glasses up to his forehead to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Do you want to get out of here?“ Yves says.

“I cad stay,” Vincent says, as if he really is willing to, despite the side effects. “Do you want to stay longer?”

I want you to be comfortable, Yves wants to say.

Instead, he says, “I think I’ve just about caught up with everyone. Besides, we have work tomorrow, and I think Cherie and Joel do too, so I don’t want to stay too late, you know?”

“Okay,” Vincent says.

“I’m happy you came,” Yves says, stepping past Vincent to put the bottle of Benadryl back into its original spot, where he found it. He snags the glass from the counter on his way out.

“Your friends are a fun crowd,” Vincent says, following him out.

Yves laughs. “I think just between you and me, Mikhail has been dying to interrogate you about this relationship.”

“He did idterrogate me,” Vincent says. “How much of it did you overhear?”

“What?”

“When you were standing out in the hallway.”

Oh. Well, perhaps he hadn’t been as discreet about eavesdropping as he’d thought. Yves says, “Okay, you got me. I heard a good amount.”

“I don’t think Mikhail noticed you there, if you’re worried,” Vincent says. “In any case, it doesd’t matter if you overheard. It was just the same story.”

They step out into the hallway. Giselle has left, already, to be home in time for a cross-timezone call with a team that works somewhere halfway across the world. Yves bids everyone else a goodbye (Cherie and Joel thank him for coming, and Cherie hugs him and Vincent both on the way out; Nora asks Vincent to send her a recipe to his beef skewers, to which Vincent admits sheepishly that he stole from a cookbook, to which Nora says “making it successfully is half the work;” Mikhail says, “If you and Vincent get a place too, I want to be invited to your housewarming party.”)

On the way out, Yves grabs both of their coats off from where they’re hanging in a closet next to the front door, and hands Vincent’s coat to him. There’s never much street parking by the apartment, so the car is parked a couple blocks down, and it’s cold enough to be worth bundling up.

“You’re very good at lying,” Yves says, when he’s sure that the door is shut behind them.

Outside, it’s snowing just a little. Snow falls from the sky in thick white flakes. Vincent pulls his hood over his shoulders, sniffling a little—though whether that’s from the cold or from the allergies, Yves can’t be sure. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Definitely a compliment. I just mean, you play the part really well.”

“So instead of being a good boyfriend, I’m a good fake boyfriend,” Vincent says, lifting his sleeve to his face to muffle a cough into it. “Somehow, that seems much less impressive.”

“It’s arguably more impressive,” Yves says. “It definitely requires a different subset of skills.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment. When Yves looks over, he sees Vincent raise both hands to his face, steepling them over his nose, his eyes fluttering shut.

“hHh… hHh’iiiIKKSshh’uhh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Ndot— hh… hHh… done — hH-hhIh’nGKKTsHuuh! hHh-hH’IIZSCHHhhuh!”

“Bless you! Cats, huh?”

Vincent hums. It’s snowed all through dinner—the snow under their feet coats the sidewalk, powdery and untouched. Their shoes sink into it while they walk.

“I didn’t know you used to live in Korea,” Yves says.

“It’s not a secret, snf-!,” Vincent says. “But I ndever found an occasion to bring it up.”

Yves can think of a hundred things to say—how it’s strange only learning this information secondhand; it’s strange to play the part of someone who knows Vincent and knows him intimately, and to know so little about him, at the core of it. Isn’t it like that, with coworkers? The only window he has to Vincent’s life is made up of the things Vincent has chosen to share with him—over small talk in the break room, or conversationally over their outings, or during longer drives.

He knows an assortment of trivia, like Vincent’s favorite color (green) or Vincent’s birthday (March 15th) or the number of siblings Vincent has (one), or when he had his first kiss (during his first year in university) or his least favorite chore (vacuuming) or how he spends his weekends (generally at the library downtown, catching up on work or working on his personal projects). But even that was only for the sake of having something to say if his friends asked him—of having a basic understanding of his supposed partner that Vincent could later corroborate.

“Was it very different there?”

“I moved here when I was pretty young,” Vincent says. “But it was very different.”

When Yves looks over, there’s something complicated to Vincent’s expression that gives him pause. “Back then, I was young enough that everything was new to me. So the cultural shift wasn’t as pronounced for me as it was for the rest of the family. I think that’s why they moved back, eventually.”

“Did that happen recently?”

“They moved back just six years after we came here,” he says. “I was in high school at the time, so I stayed with my aunt to continue my education here.”

“Was it difficult living here on your own?”

“Is this useful to you?”

Yves blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Is this information useful to you?” Vincent says, looking over at him. His glasses have fogged up a little in the cold. “Do you think your friends are going to ask about it?”

“It’s—not exactly useful in that sense,” Yves says, backtracking. “I just wanted to know. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That’s right, he reminds himself—he and Vincent are only doing this for appearances’ sake.

“I got used to it,” Vincent says, finally, which isn’t exactly an answer. “It’s hard to say if—hold on, I— hh-!”

Yves sees him duck off to the side, raising his arm to his face.

“Bless you—!”

“hh-Hhiih’IIZSCHh’uhH!”

The sneeze is muffled slightly into his sleeve. Vincent sniffles, keeping his arm clamped to his face for a moment, in trepidation, before dropping it to his side.

“Apologies, snf-!,” he says, as if he has anything to apologize for. “It’s hard to say if things would’ve been better if I’d gone back with them to Korea. I just know things would’ve been different.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say to that. It feels like something that Vincent has thought about for years, something that Yves couldn’t even begin to comprehend—growing up here, alone. Away from his family, in a country foreign to him, with his family all the way on the other side of the Pacific ocean; staying with a stranger. To say that it had to have been difficult would be a vast understatement.

Had he doubted himself, then? Had it been his idea to stay here, in the States? Had his parents told him it was for the best? Had he argued with them on the subject? Had they listened?

“Do you think you’re happy enough now to justify that decision?” Yves asks.

Vincent is quiet for a bit. Around them, the snow continues to fall, silent and slow, listing upwards on every updrift. “Sometimes,” he says.

—

When they get back to the car, Vincent is quiet. The car is frigid, the window panes cold enough to fog up when Yves puts his hand on them—he puts the heaters on to the highest setting. If anything, being out of the cold seems to make Vincent’s nose run even more—a fact which he carefully obscures, resting his face on the palm of his hand with a few muffled sniffles.

“Thanks again for coming,” Yves says. “I know I—and everyone else—already said that to you like a hundred times. But I mean it.”

“It’s ndo problem, snf,” Vincent says. “I’ll be sure to avoid putting you into contact with cats in the future,” Yves says.

“There’s ndo need for that.”

“While we’re at it, is there anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Not much,” Vincent says. “Unless you pland on getting rid of the entire season of spring.”

“That’s secretly why you chose an office job,” Yves says. “So you could avoid all the pollen by staying inside all day.”

“Busy season was - snf-! - idvented solely for that purpose,” Vincent says.

It’s barely a couple minutes into the drive when Vincent stifles a yawn into his fist.

“Are you tired?” Yves asks. “I mean, you did say that thing about antihistamines making you tired.”

“Wide awake,” Vincent says, before—moments later—hiding another yawn behind a cupped hand.

“Evidently,” Yves says, which earns him a quiet laugh.

“Tell me if you ndeed me,” Vincent says, leaning his head lightly on the passenger seat window. As if this is work, or something. As if Yves could have any conceivable reason to need him during the drive home.

“Not at all,” Yves says. “As a matter of fact, it’d probably be a good thing if you close your eyes. You wouldn’t have to look at all this traffic.” It’s a little past rush hour, but traffic is only just starting to clear up, and driving in the city at any hour has never been a particularly pleasant experience.

Vincent opens his eyes. “Do you wadt me to help navigate?”

“I want you to sleep,” Yves says. “I’m an expert at handling traffic.”

It’s as if all this time, Vincent was merely waiting for permission. Yves isn’t certain if he’s asleep, but he certainly looks to be—when Yves sneaks a glance at him, his eyes are shut, his shoulders slack, and his breathing has evened out. It’s an image Yves wants to thoroughly take in—the slow rise of his chest, his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks.

Instead, he drives. Instead, he stares hard at the rows and rows of cars before him, at every traffic light, and tries not to think about—

Vincent, at the housewarming party, kneeling down to pet a cat smaller than his hand, despite being well aware of the consequences.

Vincent, calling Yves kind even without thinking about it, talking about him—about his best qualities—with near-artful dishonesty.

Vincent, walking beside him in the snow, talking candidly about growing up here; the unspoken understanding between them about how much he must’ve given up.

That Vincent, the same Vincent from work, asleep in Yves’s passenger seat, while Yves drives him home.

Yves can’t help but think that if he caught feelings for someone like Vincent, Erika would be the least of his problems.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #probably one of the longest oneshots i've posted here #i'm sorry if this is not like #as... snz-driven as usual? it's a little more mellow and i really hope that doesn't make it a boring read #i promise i am in the middle of writing something spicier 😭#my fic #also thank you to everyone who has left comments/come talk to me about fool me twice 🥹 it makes me really happy to know that there are #people out there who like reading these two #yvverse #(<- new tag for them)

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