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mafiaanomaly · 3 months

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"Sugar"

DI!Sugar Daddy!Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader Contents: Established exclusive relationship, age-gap (if u squint), bribing, SMUT, BDSM, oral (m and f receiving), bondage, choking, hair pulling, fingering, overstimulation, edging, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex, mating press, Miguel is a total dom (Let me know if I missed anything!) Summary: Miguel unintentionally let's his jealousy get the best of him. He wants to teach you a lesson, but how much would that cost?

Miguel O'hara who doesn't normally get jealous.

He hardly ever has to, seeing as you usually immediately shut down anyone's advances.

But today, while at a cafe you both enjoy, he watched as some guy who looked to be around the same age as you dropped smooth pick-up line after smooth pick-up line.

You, seemingly, missed the hints. You'd smiled at him, giggled and gently pat his arm.

Miguel could do nothing but stare, eyes burning holes in the back of the man's head as he slips his number toward you.

His jaw drops when you take it and place the piece of paper in your purse with a smile.

Oh, now he's seething.

The two of you leave the cafe hand in hand, leaving the poor guy confused, and Miguel remains silent the rest of the trip home.

Now, to be fair, you knew what you were doing.

Of course you'd noticed the guy's horrible attempts at flirting with you. You just wanted to see how Miguel would react.

And it looked like he wasn't taking it well...

The moment you step into his house, Miguel slams the door shut behind you.

You ignore him, humming a tune as you make your way to the kitchen.

"Nuh-uh. We need to talk."

Your lips twitch with a smile. "Whatever about?"

You feel him before you see him.

He stands behind you, hard chest pressed against your back as his hands grab onto the counter, effectively caging you in.

His chest heaves with heavy, controlled breaths. "I didn't like that little act you pulled, amor." His words are gritted through his teeth, as if he's having a hard time holding himself back.

This is just too easy.

You turn to face him, placing a hand on his chest and looking up at him with the prettiest pout. "What act, Miggy?"

The glare on his face lasts for only a second before a shiver runs down his spine, brought on by your hand that suddenly begins to travel down his chest.

You watch with wide eyes and a bitten lip as his jaw drops open, eyes darting down to catch a glimpse of you gently running a palm over the slight tent in his pants.

And with a sigh, he surrenders.

His body relaxes as you silently work him through his slacks, your breaths mingling and body temperatures rising.

Miguel's lips hover right over yours, pink and parted in pleasure as soft moans rumble from the back of his throat. "Pull it out."

You do just that, using both hands to unzip his jeans and tug his cock free.

It sits pretty and waiting, tip flushed pink and veins peeking through the skin.

He is truly a work of art.

You almost whimper, drool nearly escaping your lips at the sight of his intimidating length and girth as you pump him slowly, teasingly. Enough to make him needy and restless.

You smile when his hips jerk to meet the movements of your hand. "I'm sorry, my love. Was there something you wanted?"

He groans when you squeeze him around the base, nails lightly digging in. "Your mouth. Give it to me-"

You gasp, feigning shock as your hand completely stops. Miguel immediately curses, pulling his head from you neck and thrusting his hips toward you desperately. But you only smile at him.

"Now now, Mr. O'hara. You know I don't do this shit for free."

You raise a brow, crossing your arms under your chest and staring at him in expectance.

He huffs a breath before feeling around his pockets and grabbing his wallet.

He pulls out two one-hundred-dollar bills and places them on the counter. "Happy?"

You roll your eyes. "C'mon now. What's that gonna do? Pay half my car bill?"

"Fuckin'-" He pulls out four more of the bills, slapping them in the pile. "There's $600 for now-"

7 more bills. "And $700 for the next 2 hours," He throws the wallet to the floor and steps impossibly closer to you, hand reaching around and roughly tugging your hair to force your head back. "You can get the rest later. Now are you gonna stop being a fucking brat, or are you gonna be my good girl and get on your knees?"

The bratty attitude fades, satisfied in getting what you'd wanted, yet slightly fearful of the punishment to come.

He lets go of your hair as you slowly slide down to your knees, all while keeping eye contact with him.

His gaze sets your body on fire. Skin burning hot with the tension between the two of you.

His chest heaves with every breath, eyes wide and never blinking as you wrap your hand around his length once again.

You give a few teasing strokes, relishing in the way his breaths stutter and his hands grip the countertop behind you, hips jerking forward just a little in impatience.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between your legs, you lean forward, tongue outstretched, and lick from base to tip.

The muscles in his arms flex, veins threatening to pop as his grip on the counter tightens. A strangled groan leaves his lips, prompting you to latch your lips to the tip of his length, gently sucking and running your nails along the underside of his dick.

You're unprepared for when he suddenly thrusts his hips, forcing your head against the side of the counter and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke, surprised, as he grabs a fistful of your hair. "You wanna act like a money driven whore, I'll treat you like one."

You're completely at his mercy.

He watches as you whine, whimper, and sputter around his cock, spit and drool dribbling down your chin.

Watches as your body betrays you, hips grinding into the floor to find any source of relief.

Watches as tears begin to fall from your eyes with every merciless thrust into your filthy mouth.

Your hands cling to his thighs, nails digging little crescent marks into his skin.

You manage to calm yourself down, breathing through your nose and hollowing your cheeks as he hits the back of your throat with every jerk of his hips.

His pace is borderline brutal, one hand gripping the counter and the other deep in your hair, pushing your head forward to meet his hips.

He suddenly grunts, spreading his legs wider and pushing impossibly deeper. "Jesus Christ- I'm so fucking close-"

A gag slips, your throat raw and begging for this to end. But you ignore it, watching the face of your boyfriend contrast and shift as the ending of his pleasure (for the first round) gets closer and closer.

His lips parted, mumbled praises and degrading names falling from them in a rush of hazy lust. Eyes clenched shut as his brown hair sticks to his forehead. "Shit-"

And when he moans huskily and nearly suffocates you with how deeply he pushed down your throat, cumming so much you can't keep all of it in your mouth, you know you're in big trouble.

He slowly comes down from his high, chest shuddering with every breath.

He slips out of your mouth, limp and light red.

His hand grips your jaw, angling your face up to see you better. He sees the white streaks at the corners of your lips and sighs. "Open."

You obey, cheeks flushed and lips puffy as you look away, ashamed.

Empty.

Miguel smirks. "Naughty girl..."

Your back arches, frustrated whines and whimpers falling from your open mouth.

Your body jerks in desperation with every deep stroke of his tongue, hands bound to the headboard above your head by your panties.

For the past who knows how long, Miguel's head has been between your thighs.

His tongue slides along your clit, fingers pumping into your weeping pussy as you can do nothing but cry out to him.

But he remains relentless, continuously bringing you close to your orgasm only to stop short the minute you're about to come.

By the 4th time, you're sobbing. You fight his grip on your hips, trying to scoot away from him when his fingers graze over your sensitive hole. "No-! I- I can't anymore! Please- Migu-!"

He only hums, large hands pulling your legs apart. His nose skims over your clit and you flinch. He stares into your teary eyes. "I'm not too sure if you deserve to cum yet, amor."

He sighs, blowing air over your glistening folds. "You were such a brat earlier... And then you swallowed all of my cum without asking,"

You cry out when he suddenly bites at the ball of nerves. "You're already being a pretty bad girl. How am I supposed know if you're gonna be good for me now?"

You swallow, giving him your best pout and puppy dog eyes. "I promise! I'll be good- I swear!"

Miguel stares at you impassively, thumbs rubbing small circles into the sides of your thighs.

And for a moment, when he completely pulls away, you think he's going to deny you of your pleasure.

But then he stands from the bed and removes his underwear, the last of his clothing, before crawling on top of you.

You stare at him, gaze dazed, as he grabs his cock and strokes a few times before guiding it between your folds.

You curse, hands falling from the headboard once Miguel finally frees you. You instincivly grip onto his biceps. "I'll hold you to your word, princess."

You scream when he mercilessly thrusts his entire length into you.

If you hadn't fucked him last night, that probably would've hurt a lot more.

He hardly waits before he's ramming into you relentlessly, hands gripping the pillow on either side of your head.

Your noises are unfiltered, loud and needy. But he doesn't seem annoyed by them. If anything, they motivate him.

He groans, sitting up and grabbing your legs from behind the knee, pushing them to meet your chest.

You gasp at the new position, whining and moaning as his cock hits you even deeper. "Fuck! Don't- Don't stop! I'm so close-"

Miguel loses himself, lost in the sounds of your pleasure. Lost in the wet feeling of your cunt. Lost in the overwhelming weight of your being.

He looks down at you, a picture of pure temptation, reaching your hands out to him. Begging him for release with lidded eyes and panting breaths.

You scream when his hand finds its way to your clit, two fingers rubbing circles into the flesh.

And you finally get what you want, having no warning for when you throw your head back and come around him so hard you see stars.

Miguel removes his hand from between the two of you, and you expect this to end with him coming inside you, and then finally being able to sleep...

Those thoughts disappear when his hand is suddenly around your throat.

His grip is tight enough to completely cut off your oxygen.

Your eyes widen and a new wave of slick pours from you.

Miguel hovers over you, lips inches away from yours as you gasp for air.

"I didn't say you could come yet, did I?"

Your heartbeat accelerates.

Shit.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #smut

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hunnylagoon · 3 months

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Take Me to War

PT1 Friendly Fire

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.

Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.

PT 2 Here!

Two things I hate the most?

My neighbour and New York City.

They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.

I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.

It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.

I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.

I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.

It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.

Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.

The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.

I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.

Trust me, I have retaliated.

On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.

Almost.

I still hate it.

I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.

"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"

"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."

This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"

My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."

"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"

Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.

"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."

"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.

"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-

She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.

"Is everything alright?"

"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.

"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-

"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.

"Wait-

Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.

I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.

The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.

I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.

Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.

My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.

The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.

"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.

"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."

"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."

"What about the wall?"

Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."

I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.

That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.

I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.

Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.

Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.

My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.

"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.

"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.

"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.

I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.

"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."

I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.

"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.

This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"

The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.

"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.

"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"

"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"

"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.

"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."

"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"

I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.

Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.

The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.

"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."

"Where's here exactly?"

"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.

I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"

"To make it out alive."

"And your name?"

"It's Ellie."

That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.

However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.

She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.

I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."

"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.

We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."

"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.

"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.

"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"

"Yeah, you've said-

"Do you wanna come and see?"

I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"

"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."

I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."

"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.

Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.

I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.

On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.

She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.

There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.

"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."

I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."

She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."

"Because I'd win?"

She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."

"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.

Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.

"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."

"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."

"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"

"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."

"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."

"Okay, well-

"So you're like Logan Paul?"

Her eyes go wide "No-

"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."

"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."

I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"

Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.

The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.

My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."

A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!

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freebirdsworldburritos · 3 months

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The classism in the "music gear" scene is fucking atrocious. So many people will shit on other people for using affordable gear as a way to justify within themselves that dropping $3,000 on a guitar was a smart financial move.

About 3-4 years ago I joined a band and a month after I joined we went on some video podcast. Play a few songs, do an interview, something I've never done before but it seemed like it'd be fun.

I wasn't able to really get a word in during the interviews (stuttering/speech impediment/anxiety issues ran wild) but I was able to speak up whenever the host went around and asked us what our favorite instrument/gear brands were. Weird question, but alright buddy.

I've always been a fan of cheaper gear. You don't need all sorts of expensive shit to get the sound you want. So when he asked my answer was "Squier" and the dude just started laughing. Because who possibly would prefer one of the cheaper brands??? (Keep in mind this douche had a whole wall of the absolute worst looking collection of custom shop BC Rich guitars you've ever seen.)

Eventually he backed down once I started arguing with him about it, but his immediate elitist attitude really struck a cord in me because I see that shit all over the internet in music communities. "Oh you only like Squiers/Epiphones/Harley Bentons because you can't afford BIG BOY guitars like a $5,000 Gibson".

Fuck right off with that shit. Why would I pay thousands of dollars for a guitar when I can get something that works amazingly for me for just a few hundred dollars? The extra money I save by not dropping 4 figures on a guitar or amp goes towards paying my bills, feeding my kids, just trying to fucking live and exist.

At this point I've had to sell 99% of my music gear after over a decade of following the gear chase. I only have a "cheap" acoustic I bought several years ago for $350 and it's the best guitar I've ever had. I love my little busted neck Hummingbird to death.

I'm much happier now than I was when I had a huge assortment of pedals and guitars to choose from. The Gear Chase is designed to make you want to spend more and more money in an endless pursuit of finding that "perfect" piece of gear. Guitar companies, partnered youtubers, influencers, and all sorts of advertisement campaigns are purposefully trying to misguide you into thinking you NEED their product. It's marketing and capitalism at work and so many musicians fall for it every time. I fell for it for years before I got completely fed up with it.

Go out and gig with your Squier Bullet Strat and a cheap amp you found at a pawn shop, fuck anyone that gives you shit for it. Go ahead and record with whatever you have at your disposal. Put out an album that's comprised of Voice Memos you recorded on your phone with just an acoustic and your voice.

Music, like any art, is about way more than what you used to get there. It's how you express yourself that really matters. Don't listen to the elitists and marketers telling you the only way you can authentically reach your creative vision is by buying their snake oil.

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

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When He Has Wealth And Riches

@/igorcampbell out here making amazing art that keeps inspiring me bvfbhifbv im sorry to be spamming you lol

Based on this post I wrote who versions of a fic

First Rating: Teen | warnings: none

Second Rating: Mature | Warning: prostitution

You arrived at the dinner reservation first, usually, Norton always is here first but not this time.

You go ahead to the arranged seating in the far back away from the view of most of the restaurants. That is kinda strange but okay, something different, maybe this is more romantic? The lighting is more romantic with red hues.

You just drink water for now, fix your makeup anxiously, and then play with the napkin. Oh, maybe this is too much, this place looks expensive… You never mind the local dates he would take you, in fact, you like those as it feels more personal. You feel watched here, judged, you know that is your anxiety talking but still.

You kinda want to go home.

“Aren't you look especially beautiful tonight?”

You perk up at the sound of his voice then look shocked at his outfit, “Norton?”

“What? Surprised I cleaned up well?” The outfit makes him look like a completely different person, which granted, you noticed he changed after coming back from Golden Cave. Things started looking up for Norton Campbell and he wants to share that with you.

Sliding beside you in the booth, he grins, “Sorry about the wait, I needed to put my best face on.”

“You look very handsome.” The claws are an interesting touch, “This place is different from the other place. Are you sure this is okay?”

He laughs low and smooth, “Pft, this place could barely make a dent in my pocket.” He taps the menu, “Order anything you want.”

You pick up the menu and then stare at it while is looking at you with a coy smile and his eyes wandering your handsome face.

“Norton?”

“Yeah?”

“I can't read Italian.”

“...”

Long story short: you did order something. It was small and tasty but not worth the price Norton had to pay for it along with the wine he drank most of (he did not seem to care though), but he did take you back to the old spot he used to take you for a better meal.

End

The money is a case, tossed on the table with a loud clack as it busted open and money flies out and falls all over the floor. You get up from your position on the bed that was lazy and not bothered by him bargaining unannounced. The toss of the suitcase did make you jump though.

“Campbell?” Kneeling and picking up the wrapped stacks of American hundred dollar bills, “How in the hell?!” You look at him and the most arrogant grin on his face, as if he won the game of cat and mouse between you both. “Norton, please tell me you didn't rob a bank just because I fucked you good.” Rolling your eyes.

“Ha, you're good but you aren't worth prison.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” Sitting on the foot of the bed, “You'll be surprised what I heard people will do for another night of pleasure.” But you are still confused by the case of money, “What is all this for though?”

“I’m buying you out.”

You raise an eyebrow then laugh at him, “Norton, I told you already: you can buy me for as many nights as you want but I work here.”

“And I giving you a way out of this line of work.” Crossing his arms.

“‘Giving?’ That’s a rather strong word coming from you, Campbell.” Crossing your arms, “So let me rephrase that statement for you,” Clearing your throat as you then mock his voice, “I’m buying you to keep you out of the hands of other men.”

The grin is not faltering on his face, “I have the means and you always said diamond and money would be the only way to keep you,” He gestures to the money with one hand, “The money,” His other hand pulls out a diamond tear style necklace from his pocket, “The diamonds.”

“Norton,” Standing you awestruck by what you are seeing, “H-how? Norton, please, what did you-- My God, those are beautiful!” Walking past the table to him to touch the necklace. It is everything you imagined, shining in the light and cold to the touch, “Are these for me?”

“Of course they are! But…” Pulling them slightly away, “Only if you agree to be mine.” Serious in tone and expression.

“Of course! Anything! You have me!” Agreeing without thinking. This means freedom, money, and diamonds. You can be taken care of without worry! You know he is obsessed with you, miners get like that with pretty things but he kept to his word about getting you out of here. No more cat house, no more clients, no more wishful dreams. You will have a new cage and leash but will be in a proper luxury and your leash made of diamonds.

End

#idv #idv x you #idv reader insert #idv x reader #idv prospector #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #norton campbell x you #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv norton #identity v

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petite-gloom · 6 months

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Hi Megan, you’re one of the only autistic people in their 20s that I know, so I hope it’s ok to ask this, sorry it’s so long. I just found out I’m autistic (and quite possibly ADHD - awaiting dx) and that the shyness is actually Anxiety. I’m 24. I have a degree from university but have been unemployed for the past two years. I feel so worthless, everything seems futile? But I’m starting to realise why typical 9-5 office jobs aren’t the best fit for me - like sure, I could push through every day and get the work done but it drains me so much. I’ve been trying to figure out the things that bring me autistic joy - reading, art, playing piano, and makeup are a few things. But I’ve really been struggling to find out how to make these a career, or if I even should rely on these things to make money, lest they suck the joy out of it. I’m grateful to be able to live with my parents, but part of me feels like I’m being a burden by not bringing in some income/contributing financially. Do you have any advice/suggestions for me? I’ve been entertaining the idea of creating a YouTube channel, but worry that the anxiety and ADHD will keep me from being consistent or successful. I appreciate any feedback you may have. Thank you ❤️‍🩹 I hope you’re okay 🥹

i really wish i had something helpful to offer, but i'm not sure i do. i'm only two years older than you (26) and obviously work from home doing art, but i also live with a parent and struggle a lot behind the scenes. one thing i really want to give you a heads up on is that (depending on channel size), youtube doesn't really pay a lot- with just shy of 60k subscribers and 10-20k views per video (one video a week) i usually only make around £400 a month (sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less). the amounts fluctuate, don't match your estimated earnings, and are only updated accurately within adsense around 2 days before you get paid. it's not a stable or reliable way to make a living, which is why most youtubers have additional work and income streams. £400 is obviously still £400 and im very grateful to be able to add it to the household bills/groceries etc but it obviously isn't an amount that allows me to live independently, and the fluctuating nature of the payment amounts makes it hard to rely on for anything recurring. it's also a lot of work behind the scenes, and i do find it very difficult during weeks when im feeling more anxious or my mood is low. i don't say this to be discouraging (majority of the time, it's really fun to make videos!) but i just want to be real about what it's like as a small autistic youtuber.

it's hard to suggest other options because i don't know you personally- the level of your skills, how much support you need, how much rest, etc. people tell me there's money to be made on tiktok, so maybe that's something you could consider for makeup and/or piano (the videos are shorter so i wonder if it would be a little better for anxiety/adhd)? could you offer classes for either of these things? could you sell digital art? is there any part time work along the theme of your degree? i had a weekend job at a garden centre that i enjoyed for a long time, so maybe you could find something super chill with smaller hours that would pay a bit- a book or coffee shop?

i wish it was easier and that i had more suggestions but to be honest im always thinking the same- how can i make more to help? how can i make enough to be independent? how can i survive as an autistic person? what will my future look like? and i don't really have any of the answers, much to the horror of my own increasing anxiety. but i hope you can find something fulfilling to work on that pays a little. i hope you can find something that helps you feel as though you're contributing to your household. maybe you could express your concerns to your parents, and see if there are other ways to contribute? i know you mentioned financially, but things like cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping (if you don't already) can be nice ways to help support the household while they're working. my dad cooks and does the dishes, but i do a lot of the cleaning, and have recently taken over ordering and paying for groceries. he's autistic too, and this helps free up some of his mental space.

i don't know if any of this is helpful, but i hope it is. even if it isn't, please know that you're not alone in these concerns, or in this issue. i think it's a difficulty that all autistic people face as they age. we have different needs, often limited abilities, and it's very difficult to stay afloat in a world that is increasingly expensive, where you're expected to be able to work for more hours than you rest. i wish it was a bit easier for everyone. i wish things weren't so hard for disabled people especially

#answers

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vigilantethot · 6 months

Text

DRIVING ME CRAZY

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x villain!reader

Summary: You’re a villain who steals and hops dimensions. Miguel is irritated.

A/N: I had this concept in my head and I just had to write it. Maybe I'll make it a fic one day. I say reader is a villain but she's mostly good tbh. Just a lil selfish and a crybaby lol

Becoming a villain was the best career choice you ever made. The moral satisfaction of being a hero was great, but it wasn’t paying the bills. Sure, helping the world become a better place was cool and all- but it wasn’t enough. You liked having nice things. Cute designer shoes, nice furniture for your apartment, and 26’ bundles weren’t cheap, and you were not going to live the life you deserve by saving kittens and stopping small drug dealers. You’re a powerful superhuman, and you knew that monetizing your powers would get you everything you deserved. So, you did some digging, made some connections, and started doing “jobs” for unsavory people. You refused to be a hitman, having all that on your conscience was not worth it, so you settled on doing theft, trespassing, and other unscrupulous things for cash. Not long after that, the cash started rolling in and you were finally living the life you wanted to.

You discovered your powers at age 10 after accidentally cloning yourself at a sleepover out of fear, while watching a horror movie. Over time, you discovered that you had more powers than just Bio-Fission. You had the power of energy projection, possession, telekinesis, resurrection, and teleportation. You were basically a very powerful witch. Your parents pulled you out of school as your powers grew in your teenage years, as your powers were very hard to control at first, and often your powers only came out when you were in emotional distress. You didn't mind being homeschooled, as your friends started to avoid you out of fear, and you were tired of eating lunch at a table by yourself. You used these years to learn as much as possible about your abilities and learn how to wield them. When you reached 18, you moved out of your parents house and started a new life in New York City. You kept a low profile, making a few friends but you never divulged the information about your powers to them.

About two years into your stay in NYC, you heard about a Spiderman. A man with superhuman strength and a red and black costume, fighting crime in Brooklyn. You were inspired, it WAS possible to use your powers and be accepted and loved! You made a makeshift costume, a simple black long sleeve shirt and black leggings. You put a masquerade mask on your face, not knowing how to sew and contract a mask like Spiderman. You started fighting crime in Manhattan, making the city a better place one day at a time.

Then, at 24 years old, you’d had enough of trying to save the city. It wasn’t paying the bills, and you didn't want to depend on your parents your whole life. So you made the switch.

FIRST MEETING

Finding out you could teleport through dimensions exponentially increased your salary. You weren’t just doing jobs for disgustingly rich people on your Earth, you could go anywhere! You made a name for yourself on your Earth, many rich and powerful people sought you out to steal a priceless art piece or artifact for them. Business was booming, and you started to be on Spiderman and other heroes radars. With heroes on your ass, you thought it would be best to travel to other dimensions and do jobs, until the heat was off you.

That’s how you found yourself on Earth-928B. Some greedy CEO hired you to take something for him, a rare Diamond located in a highly secured safe. This diamond was not for sale, but the CEO insisted he needed it for his collection, so when the $200k check cleared, you made your way to the safe and started to execute your plan. Your game plan was simple, teleport into the safe, grab the diamond, and teleport out. You were then to call your boss for the evening and make your way to the drop off location, in the Four Seasons parking lot, where you were staying for the “job”.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel O’Hara, this dimension’s Spiderman, was on your heels. He didn't really care about the crime you committed, but you were an anomaly and your presence in his universe was a threat. He got Lyla to track what hotel room you were staying in at the Four Seasons, and he knew you would be back right after the job. So he waited. He examined your room, looking for nothing in particular. You took very little with you. He found a small bag next to the bed, filled with some clothes and various toiletries. Yes, he knew he was invading your privacy, but he was intrigued by you for some reason. How were you able to just hop through dimensions? Lyla informed him about your various warrants throughout the multiverse, as well as your secret identity. He looked at your drivers license picture a bit too long, enchanted by your brown skin and bright smile. You were beautiful, and he admired your picture for a few more seconds before going back to rummaging through your bag. Your scent was very appetizing, the smell of lavender and shea butter filling his nostrils and calling to him. He came across a sexy black and red lace thong, and shamelessly held up up and nodded his head in approval. You were clearly a very stylish, sexy woman with expensive taste, just his type. Too bad he had to arrest you and forcefully send you home.

He heard a key card go into the door, and he quickly stuffed the panties back in the bag and scrambled to a hiding spot behind the door in the dark en suite bathroom. He watched through the crack in the door and waited until you took your shoes off and moved toward the bed. You plopped on the bed, pulling out your phone and scrolled mindlessly.

God, she really should work on her situational awareness.

Miguel quietly made his way from behind the open door, and moved to stand in the dark bathroom doorway. You were facing away from him, playing some water sorting game on your phone as he silently made his way to the bed to grab and restrain you.

Until his watch made a beeping sound.

You moved impossibly fast, and he found himself impressed with you as you quickly stood up and projected an energy ball at him, causing the spot in his suit where you hit him to glitch.

The masked intruder in your room stood completely still. He slowly raised his massive gloved hands, and you took in his appearance with wide eyes as you started to feel fear for the first time in a while. Fuck, he was huge. His stature was intimidating, and as you looked at the emblem on his chest, you started to breath harder. This colossal Spiderman is in your hotel room, and although you were very powerful, you didn't know what he was capable of. Your earths Spiderman had almost caught you once, and if he was as strong as that one, you knew you wouldn’t win this fight.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You noticed a slight accent to his words, and if you weren’t so scared you would think his voice was sexy.

“What do you want then?”

You spoke in a whisper, too frightened to raise your voice. He had super hearing anyway.

“Im here to take you back to Earth 1610. Its dangerous for you to be here.”

Fuck, he knew who you were.

He was definitely going to take you back to your Earth and give you to your earths Spiderman. You would rather die then spend your life in that prison they stick all the villains in. You tried to will yourself to teleport the fuck out of there but your powers never worked how you wanted when you were this upset. Of course.

You made a split decision and bolted to the door, very fast, but not fast enough. Spiderman grabbed your arms from behind and you knew you couldn’t fight him off. So you cloned yourself.

You didn't look back to see his reaction, not that you could see any expression on that mask. You bolted out of the door and made your way to the stairwell. You couldn’t just leave your clone behind, if she were to be harmed or taken you wouldn’t be able to leave without suffering. Your clone was an extension of you, a perfect mirror of yourself and if you were to leave her behind it could fracture your mind beyond repair. You would also rather die than live your days as an insane witch.

If you were calm enough, you could will your clone to come back into your mind. You took a few deep breaths and closed your eyes. You weren’t far from your room in this stairwell, so you were quickly able to find that invisible rope that connects your minds and yanked her back. You’re attempt was successful, and feeling whole again, you teleported to a random dimension in order the get the hell away from there. You made a mental note to never do a job on that Earth again.

Meanwhile, back in the hotel room, Miguel cursed loudly at his failure. He then made a promise to find you, before you end up traveling universes again and possibly destroying them for your own selfish gain.

SECOND MEETING

After almost being caught by the Behemoth Spiderman, you decided not to take any jobs for a while and lay low. You chose a random Earth again, and bought a room in a luxury resort on the beach in the Maldives. You spent your days drinking daiquiris and being served Caviar by the pool. You had been working so much that you had to spare no expenses, you had more than enough money to live lavishly for a while at least. Your mind often wondered towards that Spiderman you encountered. Your Earths Spider man was a young kid, the only one alive after the death of the older Spiderman. Neither Spiderman was as big as the one you encountered, and you wondered how many other variations of Spiderman there were. And how many of them knew who you were? Shit, how many variations of you were there? The mere thought of this was overwhelming, and you quickly got up to from the Pool chair you were lounging in and made your way to the bar to get another drink, hoping a buzz would kill your existential dread.

When that didn't work, you decided to just go back to your room and watch some reality TV and relax. You had been living this lifestyle for almost a year, and you were starting to get tired of no romantic or even platonic relationships. You had lovers in the past, but due to your lifestyle they never lasted long. You longed for a stable life now, the villain life was getting old. But you were in too deep to go back now.

You finally made it to your room, taking your shoes off and plopping on the couch in the living room of your spacious suite. You kicked your feet up and turned on the TV, ready to watch some petty arguments and pointless drama.

“What did I tell you about being in universes that you don’t belong in?”

You froze as you heard that familiar deep voice with that accent behind you. Behemoth Spiderman made his way from behind you and stood in front of you on the couch with closed fists, caging you in. He must’ve been in the bedroom waiting for you.

Your mind was racing, as you looked at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

“How the fuck did you find me??”

My voice was shaky, laced with fear.

“You need to go back to Earth 1610. You are putting this whole universe at risk with your selfishness.”

Spiderman spoke calmly, ignoring your question, chin up and shoulders wide with confidence. He finally found you.

Miguel obsessively searched for you for weeks, you had somehow fallen off his radar, and because you don't travel through any portals, he couldn’t track you. He alerted the spider society of your existence, and told them to tell him if they have any tips. He strongly insisted that they didn't engage with you if they found you. He wanted to catch you himself, and he needed you to understand that you couldn’t just hop in other dimensions just because you want money. He finally got a tip when the Spiderman on the Earth you were currently on informed him that you were at this resort, your cover was blown on a drunken night when you teleported into a bodega late at night because you were craving a chopped cheese. You didn’t even think anyone would notice, but the owner alerted Spiderman about your appearance after checking the security camera. He then knew that you didn't have some evil “I will destroy all universes” plan, you were just trying to find happiness and live your life the way you wanted to. He didn’t know how you would react to him finding you again, but he was prepared to lock you in Spider HQ forever if you didn't abide by his rules.

Miguel ignored his urge to get closer to you just to smell that sweet lavender and shea butter scent that he had in the back of his mind for weeks. He ignored the urge to ogle you as you were dressed in a skimpy bikini and a sheer coverup. You were breathtaking, he was definitely attracted to you and Miguel struggled to find any more words as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and lip wobbling. He didn't want to make you cry, he didn't want to hurt you at all. He just wanted you to listen to him and stop making dumb, selfish decisions.

“Im sorry!! Please don’t kill me! Ill do whatever you say, please, just don’t kill me!”

You wailed, you knew you were in big trouble and you knew this Spiderman was deadass about catching you, especially if he was able to track you to a whole different universe.

“Just come with me.”

He quickly grabbed your arm and opened a portal to Spider Society HQ. You looked around at the huge building, crawling with tons of spidermen. You felt your cheeks warm up in embarrassment and you felt them staring at you.

Holy shit, you were fucked. Behemoth Spiderman led you throughout the lobby and building by your arm, presumably to your death. You were surprised when he threw you in a red prismatic cage. You stumbled and fell to the ground in the cage, looking up at Behemoth Spiderman. You were planning to beg for your life as he took his mask off, and whatever plea you were going to say completely disappeared as you took him in for the first time.

“I didn't know Spiderman was so hot.”

The words just fell out of your mouth without thinking, and you quickly shut your mouth in embarrassment. Miguels face was stone cold and unreadable, and his red eyes pinned you in place with his stare. He didn't acknowledge your statement. He just stared at you.

You quickly lowered your gaze, his stare was way too intense and his demeanor was unsettling.

“Someone will bring you food shortly. Im taking you home tomorrow.”

His statement made you snap your head back up and shake your head vigorously. You stood up, still shaking your head, tears filling your eyes.

“NO! I can’t go home! They’ll put me in prison forever! I haven’t killed anyone, just let me go and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You tried to use your puppy dog eyes that worked on so many men before, but your attempt at trying to guilt him didn't work at all. He didn't even respond as he turned away and walked away from the little prison you were in.

“Asshole!”

You screamed. He stopped in his tracks for a few seconds, and you waited to see if he would turn around and let you out. He just kept walking after about 15 seconds of standing like a statue.

You banged on the glass with your hands, and tried to use your energy balls to break the cage to no avail. You slumped to the ground in defeat, tears falling.

You were so fucked.

Miguel watched you cry in the cage from his office, feeling guilty. Sure, you were a villain and a criminal, but you have never harmed anyone, and you truly seemed to think you weren’t putting anyone in danger with your dimension hopping. You genuinely seemed like a good person who makes bad choices.

He hated this feeling. He hated feeling at all, he worked tirelessly just to not feel anything. This was very unlike him, he knew he could be a bit obsessive but he wanted nothing more than to wipe your tears and comfort you.

He watched you sob for a few more minutes before deciding to do something he thought he would never do. He was going to let you out. Based on your emotional state right now, he felt confident that you wouldn’t go outside your dimension again. For now at least.

He went back to your cage, and you stood up to look at him with teary eyes.

“You can go back home. I won’t hand you over to Spiderman but promise me you won’t go dimension hopping again.”

“I promise! I promise! Thank you!”

He barely got his words out before you made your promises. He slightly shook his head, amused with how much of a crybaby you were.

He opened your cage and opened a portal to your earth, and watched you as you walked through. He fought a smile as you turned around and thanked him one last time. The portal closed, and he turned to go back to his office as he ignored the protests of the other prisoners to let them out too.

THIRD MEETING

You knew this was bad. You knew you weren’t supposed to come back to Nueva York but after 3 months of laying low and avoiding Spiderman on your Earth, you were bored. You only took this job because of the ridiculous amount of money that was offered to you. And also to maybe get a glimpse of the sexy Spiderman again. You just couldn’t refuse. Besides, it would take only a few minutes to steal this artifact anyway. He couldn’t possibly know you were even here, right?

The job went smoothly, the client got the artifact and you were paid handsomely. This could last you a whole year! You were so high on your success that you made the decision to quickly stop at a bar here and celebrate. Behemoth Spiderman was far from your mind as you wandered the beautiful futuristic city. You settled on a nice bar with a patio and had a drink. And another. And about 3 more. You couldn’t resist a good smoky tequila.

You stubbed around Nueva York for God knows how long, taking in the city. This place was nice, and it didn't even smell like pee unlike your Earths New York. Your drunken haze was interrupted when you heard commotion in an alleyway ahead. You heard fighting, and some type of weapons being fired. You slowly crept up to the alleyway, determined to stop this. You might be a thief, but you won’t just let someone die like this.

You prepared to use your powers and ran into the alleyway, right into the action. If you were sober, you would’ve had a game plan. But the tequila took over and you were ready to save the day.

You were shocked to find Behemoth Spiderman being beaten by three large men. They seemed to have supernatural abilities, as their movement were too fast to be human.

Wasting no time, you attacked. You summoned your power from deep inside and threw the most powerful, brutal ball of energy towards the men. Two were knocked down and wheezing, and you quickly sent another powerful ball of energy towards the last one, incapacitating him.

Behemoth Spiderman looked at you, eyes narrowing on his suit. He stormed towards you, enraged that you were here.

“What the fuck are you-

His rant was cut off by a shot, and you looked in terror as a huge arrow pierced through his suit and chest, poking out of both sides.

“Oh shit!”

You immediately sent another energy ball up to the assailant behind Behemoth Spiderman, and used your telekinesis to take the gun away from him.

Spiderman fell to his knees, losing blood and feeling dizzy. You looked on in disbelief. You can’t just let Spiderman die.

He reaches a shaky hand forward, and tries to say something to you before choking on his blood.

You had to save him. You knew that he would die. You pulled the arrow out of his chest, and he collapses on the ground. He’s not breathing, and he has no pulse. You had no choice but to resurrect him.

You put your hand on his chest, and summoned your power once again. You would need a lot to pull this off. You had resurrected things before, like cats and your house plants, but never a human.

Guess its never too late to start, right?

You feel your power coursing through you, fingers turning black as your power grows. You put your hands on his chest, silently appreciation the pure muscle of this man. You surge your power into him, and you blackout for a few seconds while the resurrection begins. You feel his wound close and his heart starts faintly beating again. You give him your power until you feel his heart beat strongly and his breaths are even. He will be asleep for some time, as he finishes healing, so you have enough time to escape. You press his watch, trying to see if there’s a button to press of help. You touch random things until a tiny holographic woman pops up. The AI woman scans Spiderman, probably searching for injuries.

You don’t wait for it to say anything. You let out a quick “Get him help.”

You don’t wait for help to come. You teleport back to your dimension, in your parents house. You hadn’t talked to them in a while, afraid that they might not accept your lifestyle but you know they would protect you with their life. You pass out in the living room where you teleported into, resurrections always drained your energy, but this was another level. You let sleep take you as your father lifted you and put you in your childhood bed.

Miguel woke up confused. He was sure he died, because of you. So why was he in the medical sector of the Spider Society? He called on LYLA, and she told him what happened. He was livid that you didn't listen to his demands, but he was eternally grateful that you saved him. He knew you were a good person. Truthfully, he had thought about you all the time, wishing he could talk to you and get to know you.

He felt incredible gratitude towards you for saving him, and he was determined to find you again, this time to thank you.

FOURTH MEETING

After making a full recovery, Miguel started to think of ways to pay you back for what you did for him. He weighed all options in his head, before finally deciding on making you a upgraded suit with the best tech, after hearing that you were back to being a hero, this time in your hometown. He was proud of you, and he couldn’t wait to see you and tell you that. LYLA commented on his affection for you, which he very unconvincingly brushed off.

You seemed happy, Miguel admittedly stalked your social media from fake pages to track you down. And to also admire your pictures. He really wished you had a picture in that thong he saw in your hotel room.

The suit was finally finished, it was black with hot pink detailing. It hugged all the right places, and the gear was basically indestructible. The face mask was in the masquerade style that you always wore. He really hoped you liked it.

He came on a Sunday. He came with no suit on, just casual clothes. He waited outside your house until your parents left before knocking at the door, anxiety at an all time high.

You opened the door without looking who it was, thinking one of your parents forgot something. You were shocked to see the beautiful face of the man that had tracked you and imprisoned you for a few hours.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to come here and thank you for what you did for me.”

You immediately calmed down, relived that he hadn’t come to lock you up. You had been on your best behavior, after all. You gave him a smile, which he quickly returned. He looked hot in that white tee he was wearing, it hugged all of his muscles in the best way possible.

“Come in.”

He followed you inside, sitting with you on the couch. You were watching that same show in the Maldives. You two sat in silence for a while, staring at each other. The silence wasn’t awkward at all, his presence calmed you and you felt safe. He was distracted by you so much he forgot why he came in the first place.

“So what’s in that box?”

You pointed to the gift in his hand, rising an eyebrow.

“Oh- yeah,” he cleared his throat, embarrassed that he was staring at you in silence like a creep “This is for you. I know you’ve been helping the people here and I thought that you might appreciate a new suit.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, not only did he come to thank you but he bought a gift too? Could he get any hotter?

You snatched the gift with a huge smile and he laughed, your happiness made him happy.

You ripped the box open, and your jaw dropped at your gift. The suit was beautiful, and it looks like it had some seriously fancy tech. You often opted just for a black jumpsuit, but this was such an upgrade.

You couldn’t control your excitement, and you squealed. Spiderman thought it was the cutest sound he’d ever heard. You pulled him in for a hug, which he quickly returned, melting into your embrace.

You pulled away and ran to your room.

“I gotta try this on! Stay put.”

He couldn’t even leave if he tried. He wanted to be here with you forever.

When you came out, his chest tightened at how well the suit fit you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He watched as you admired your new gear in the mirror, clearly pleased with it.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head in disbelief, not understanding how someone could be so beautiful.

“You look phenomenal.”

You looked over to him, cheeks warming as you catch his gaze. You walk towards him on the couch, and he stands up. His eyes never leave your face and body as you come closer and closer. You stop when you’re chest to chest looking up at him with your beautiful eyes.

“You know, you never told me your name.”

Spiderman looked down shyly.

“It’s Miguel.”

You nod, smiling.

“Thank you, Miguel.”

He takes off your mask, putting it on the couch.

“You’re welcome, hermosa.”

Miguel grabs your face, leaning down and meets your lips, barely touching them, as if he’s teasing to see if you’ll pull away. When you don’t, he pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss that takes your breath away. You don’t stop kissing, lips intertwining like you’ll pass away if you part. You don’t know much about Miguel, but you do know you could have your lips on his forever.

#miguel o'hara x black reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #black reader

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archiveikemen · 6 months

Text

『 Zero Distance 』 Story Event: Chapter 1

Liam Evans

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

My lover had the curse of a cat, which meant that he had to periodically satisfy his curiosity.

That’s why Liam would go thrill seeking with Alfons night after night.

I wanted to be with Liam for tonight, so I asked to tag along with them—

Kate: Why am I being hung mid-air…?

Liam: You’re not having fun? Al, pull Kate back up. Quick, quick.

Alfons: My, you have such little perseverance. You’re always so quick to complain.

Alfons, who was holding onto both of my ankles, slowly lifted me.

Kate: Oof… I thought I was going to die.

Alfons: Wasn’t that a fresh new experience? So, did you manage to confirm whether there are any security guards inside?

Kate: I- I was too scared to do that!

Tonight, Alfons and Liam were trying to steal an artwork from a museum for fun.

The truth was that the artwork was stolen by the museum, and they planned to steal it to return it to its original owner.

Kate: Can’t we just have a proper talk with the museum's director instead of going to such lengths?

Alfons: Aren't we committing this crime to help others, precisely because lawful means won't be effective?

Alfons: Your way of thinking is as unnecessarily serious as ever.

(... I get the feeling they just want to sneak into a museum in the middle of the night because it's thrilling to them.)

And to prove my point, what they were about to do tonight wasn't one of Crown’s missions, it was entirely their own idea.

Liam: Kate! Al!

Liam: Looks like the security guard went into the room in the back. Now’s the best time to sneak in.

Liam: Kate, are you coming too? I’ll make sure to hold your hand the entire time.

Liam extended his hand to me with a sweet smile, the gesture making my heart flutter.

I held his hand, happy to see Liam smiling while living in the moment without fearing for his tomorrows.

(... I’m weak for this smile.)

Kate: Got it, let’s go.

— That decision was a huge mistake.

…

Security Guard: S-Stop right there, the three of you…!

Alfons: Ahaha, as expected of an incredibly well-known art museum in England. What excellent security.

Kate: This is not the time to be saying such things!

We were running around the place to get away from the security guard who heard the commotion and came out to investigate.

(Ah…)

I accidentally stumbled in a corner, and Liam swiftly caught me in his arms.

Liam: Kate…

Click. The security guard fastened something on mine and Liam’s hands the moment we stopped running.

(This is… no way…)

(Handcuffs!?)

Security Guard: *pant* *pant*... I finally caught you. You guys are fast.

Security Guard 2: Oi, I’ll go after that guy with a shady looking smile. You watch these two.

(... If Liam were the only one here, he’d be able to disappear and escape.)

But I knew that Liam would never choose to leave me behind.

(... What should we do? If we get handed over to the police…)

Liam: We got caught, huh. But being locked up in jail with you might not be such a bad thing.

Liam: Ah, but if the other prisoners fall in love with you… I might kill them all.

Kate: Liam, I don’t think this is the right situation to be saying—

Liam: Fufu, I’m just kidding. I won’t let you get arrested by the police so easily.

Liam: Because I’m the only one who’s allowed to touch and monopolise you.

Liam grinned like a Cheshire cat and said loudly,

Liam: Al, you’re watching us from somewhere, aren't you? Sorry, but we need your help here.

Alfons’ Voice: And what will I get in return for helping you?

Liam: How about drinking all you want tonight and I’ll pay for your bill?

Alfons’ Voice: One more time?

Liam: Geez. You can eat all you want too.

Alfons’ Voice: Deal.

Security Guard 1: Uwah! Where did you…

Alfons: Hm? You just caught a pair of dogs, I’m one too.

Security Guard 1: W-Why are there three dogs here?

Alfons removed his black leather gloves and touched the nape of the guard’s neck to create an illusion using his curse’s ability, the guard widened his eyes in shock.

Liam: Thanks, Al. Come on, let’s escape before the illusion wears off.

Liam: Kate, I’ll carry you. Hang on tight.

…

After sneakily stealing the artwork and leaving the museum, the two of them laughed loudly while walking down the street.

Liam • Alfons: Ahh, that was fun.

Kate: I FEEL LIKE MY LIFESPAN GOT SHORTENED…!

Alfons: Oh, you don't seem to have enjoyed yourself. That’s too bad.

Liam: I’ll definitely take your enjoyment into consideration next time, please don't abandon me…

Kate: I can never abandon you, Liam. Just be sure to keep the danger factor in moderation.

Liam: Fufu, okay. I’ll be careful.

Alfons: By the way, how long do you two intend to keep those handcuffs on?

Alfons: I won’t judge if you're into that sort of play, though.

Kate: Oh, right. We have to take this off.

Liam: Don’t worry, Kate. Al is a pro at unlocking things. So—

Alfons: Let’s see…

Alfons reached his hand around my shoulder and touched the handcuffs.

Alfons: Goodness! These handcuffs have some numbers on them. Look.

Upon hearing those words, I looked down at the handcuffs to see a small device resembling a clock attached.

Kate: … 24 hours left…?

Alfons: I’ve heard of this rare type of handcuffs with a time lock. It will only unlock after 24 hours.

Liam: … :0

Kate: I-In other words—

Liam: We can’t remove it until 24 hours is up…?

Alfons: Ahaha!

…

The next morning, Liam and I woke up to the handcuffs still linking our arms together.

— 12 hours left.

Liam: Not like it’ll magically come off when we wake up.

Liam: But being stuck with you until the time is up makes me happy.

Liam smiled sweetly while staring at the handcuffs.

(He’s so cute…)

Liam twirled my hair around his finger as we laid in bed.

Liam: Do you hate being in this situation? Is it bothering you? Do you want to take this off?

Kate: I don’t hate it.

Kate: I know this will be a little bit inconvenient… but I’m also kind of excited.

Liam: Excited?

Kate: Because it’s rare to be able to be this close to you at all times.

Kate: And I’m relieved that it's you I’m stuck to… mm… mmph…

Liam: You’re so adorable, Kate. And I’m so, so happy…

While kissing me repeatedly, Liam gently held me down on the bed.

Liam: … I wonder how far we can go with our hands cuffed together?

Kate: How far…

Liam: Kissing you isn’t a problem. But can I take your clothes off with one hand?

Kate: Liam, don’t take my clothes off… ahh

Liam: I can’t fondle them using both of my hands, so I’ll lick them instead. You like that, don't you?

Liam: Are you feeling more sensitive than usual? … mm… so cute…

Kate: … ahh, it’s still morning…

Liam: I love doing it in the morning too. Because I can see everything about you clearly.

Kate: … ahhh

…

We explained our situation to William and Harrison while having a late breakfast.

William: — So this is what happens when you sneak into an art museum to satisfy your curiosity.

Harrison: That’s what you get for being curious. But this is a rare type of lock that that guy (Alfons) can’t unlock.

Alfons: My, my, it appears that you're enjoying this perverted play.

Kate: Whoa! Please don’t appear out of nowhere so suddenly. Also, what do you mean by “enjoying”...

Alfons: You shouldn't tell lies. I can see the numerous hickeys on your neck…

Kate: Huh?

Harrison: Al is lying. Geez, you're so gullible.

Liam: I mean, I did kiss Kate’s body a lot this morning, so it’s not surprising if she has hickeys on her.

I was flustered by the bombshell comment Liam so nonchalantly made, and William smiled quietly.

William: Victor said that Kate and Liam can be on break until the handcuffs come off.

William: Because they most likely won’t be able to go on missions with their hands cuffed together like this.

Liam: Really? Victor’s so understanding, as always.

Harrison: But don't you have rehearsals today? Weren't you making a huge fuss over next weekend’s premiere?

Liam: Yup, that’s right. Kate, can you accompany me to my rehearsal?

Kate: Of course. Please do take me with you.

Liam: Mm, thanks.

I would usually just see Liam off to his rehearsals without tagging along, in order to avoid getting in his way.

However, it was inevitable for me to be by Liam’s side all day today.

(Even so, I don’t think our situation is too bad.)

Alfons: Liam, Liam. … What will you do?

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil story event #liam evans

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medics-secret-shipfic-folder · 10 days

Note

I don’t know why I’m concerned about this and why I’m asking, but still. How about the idea of paying attention to other characters from TF2 or TFC in your fic? I noticed that in the fic there are more characters invented by you, who are not even related to TF2 or TFC. I dared to ask this despite the fact that I really like your fic because it’s very cool! If I’m wrong about something, then I want to smooth out this guilt with a little Cmedic

My little shitty art

When writing tbtf, one of the things I prioritize is story flow, themes, and character arcs. Because of how long the fic is, this means that the best approach to the story is focusing on our main four heroes - Heavy, Medic, Cheavy, and Cmedic. The story works best when it's just these four and their journey back to Teufort. There's a lot of time dedicated to conversations and internal monologues between these four because what they go through and what they learn is the most important part of the fic. It is so important to get into their heads and really understand how they think - any good story needs very strong characters as a foundation. These are my main four characters, and so they get top billing.

This is why I haven't really focused on any other tf2 or tfc characters: it would just get in the way and make everything cluttered. If I was constantly moving away from the main four to focus on what Scout and Pyro are doing, it would be jarring because Scout, Pyro, and the rest of the team don't really impact the story all that much. As for tfc, well...most of tfc is dead in this fic. Remember, this fic takes place three months after the events of The Naked and The Dead, the tfc mercs are gone. The only exceptions are Cmedic, Cheavy, and Fred. Yeah, Fred's alive in this fic, and I do plan on him showing up in a later chapter.

With all that said: there will be more tf2 and tfc appearances going forward. As the story progresses and the main four get closer to Tuefort, more of the RED team is gonna pop up as we learn what happened to them after chapter 1. We've already seen Engie, Soldier, and Heavy's family, and the next mercs we meet are gonna be Scout and Pyro in chapter 28. And like I said above, Fred is going to make an appearance in that big three-parter I have planned.

Don't worry, its not like tf2 and tfc characters aren't entirely neglected. Shit's gonna start ramping up in the second half of the fic. Its just that because of how the story is structured, its not really feasible to focus on them when there are main characters going through arcs.

As for the original characters: they exist to further facilitate the main story and themes, hence why they have more of a presence than the tf2 characters at time of writing.

I'm aware that it can be jarring to read a tf2 fic and have half the cast not even be from tf2, but bear with me, we're getting there! You have to remember that I've got a huge chunk of this story planned in advance, so I fully intend on bringing in more tf2 characters.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #take back the fortress

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wildemaven · 10 months

Note

Congrats again honey! I’d love a little drabble if possible - let’s say 11 and 73 for Marcus Pike 🥰 you should be so proud of yourself! E💕

On the House

Wildemaven 1k Celebration / 1k Masterlist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Mentions of food and drinks, otherwise just fluffy cuteness.

Prompts: - The feeling is mutual." / "It's impossible to get rid of me."

You faintly hear the bell ring, signaling to you the front door opening to a customer, either coming or going.

The frantic whirring of grinding beans and the rumble of the espresso machine pulling two shots, drown out the more muted sounds of the shop.

A quick glance over your shoulder you see one of your regulars waiting at the cash stand, he smiles when he sees your attention is already on him.

It’s a quick dumping of shots and swirling of steamed milk into a paper cup, placing it on the counter for the kind older gentleman who’s been snacking on his scone as he waits, bidding you a ‘good day’ with his warm coffee in hand.

“Good morning! What will it be today? Your regular?” Memorizing orders isn’t easy, but when a cute face stops in regularly, it becomes fairly easy to remember they drink a 16 ounce latte with 2% milk and 2 pumps of vanilla.

“Morning! Yeah, can I get it on ice today— if that’s not too much?” He asks, noting to ask him hot or cold next time he stops in.

“Of course!” You say as you start to prep his drink, grateful he’s the only one in line so you don’t have to buzz through it. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the suit and tie.” Pointing to his more laid back outfit.

He glances down and smiles, a plain tshirt and jeans are today’s attire, realizing he’s only ever came in before heading to work.

“Yeah, I have the day off, no need for the office uniform.” He chuckles, heat pricking his face at the way you seem to know his order and what he wears regularly.

He’s only been in the city for about a month, still learning all his neighborhood has to offer, but settles on this coffee shop as his go-to place, especially since it’s on his way to work— it doesn’t hurt that you greet him most mornings either.

“So what is it you do then, that is so official?” You ask, adding the vanilla to the cup of iced milk before pouring the two steaming shots over top, the dark liquid curling into the milk. “If you can’t say, I totally understand.”

“FBI, Art Crimes Department to be more specific — I have the day off. My name is Marcus.” His hand shoots out in an attempt to put himself out there, being that he is still pretty new to the area.

Sliding his order across the counter, you give him your name as you shake his hand, the gesture lingers a bit, getting lost in each other’s gaze— laughter breaks the silence, both of you realizing what just occurred.

“Well, it’s on the house today, Marcus.”

“Oh no! Let me pay, please! I don’t want you to get in trouble for this.” Pulling several bills from his wallet and holding them out to you.

“Lucky for you, I’m the owner, so I make the rules— it’s on the house. If you want, you can make it up to me by taking me out to dinner tonight, I’m off at 5. I enjoy your company in the mornings, I’d love to get to know you better— outside of daily latte orders.”

He doesn’t respond, you think he must be thinking of the best way to let you down.

“I’m so sorry, I thought we had a moment there— now I’m being weird and too forward with you.“ A nervous laugh escapes as you try to explain yourself.

The pairing of his jaw tick and cute smirk nearly take you out.

“Definitely not being too forward, the feeling is mutual— I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up at 7.”

“I’m happy I didn’t lose you as a customer, my mornings would have sucked without your smile.” Handing him your address that you scribbled onto his receipt paper.

“Never, it's impossible to get rid of me."

#wildemaven 1k celebration #Marcus Pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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creatingnikki · 9 months

Text

I'm doing all of this adulting right. I'm filing my taxes and I am paying bills and I am becoming fluent in corporate speak and I am not saying what I really feel. I am speaking to doctors for my parents' health issues and I am staying away from old lovers and new vices the best I can. I am doing all this. I'm trying to be rational and realistic and cancel my subscription to delulu land. But tonight...tonight I feel like a child who is crying simply because they want something they can't have.

What do I want?

I want you. More precisely I want to feel the peace I felt when I was with you. That summer night in mid July when I was drunk and high but still so very sober, lying next to you giggling, speaking softly. The way you held me. The way you asked me to stay a while and rest. The comfort and safety and peace I felt in those few moments, I haven't felt that in a really long time in the company of another human. I want more of that. I thought we would have more of that. If nothing else.

I was okay with it being so very lowkey that we only met during late evenings and chilled in your dim lit living room talking about art and books and how there are only really limited plot devices with you trying to scan your book collection to find me this particular book. I was okay with you not loving me as long as you were soft towards me and as long as you held me like that. I was okay with not naming this thing anything, throwing away all labels, as long as our eyes kept talking and we kept smiling in each other's presence.

But it seems like you don't need me. You don't need me to feel anything. Your peace is yours. Your comfort and your safety and your intimacy. You have plenty of sources for that. Your life is abundant. Whole. And you know I am happy about that. I love that for you. So, then, instead of needing me, can't you want me?

What can I do to make you want me?

If I stick to all the rational and reason of adulting I know the question to ask isn't that. The question to ask is how can I make my life abundant with peace and comfort and a sense of safety and calm? But until I don't find the answer, can't I come and lay my head on your chest and smell the detergent on your shirt as you hold me close and make it all feel okay? Can't I? Is that really so much to ask?

Can I?

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aro-culture-is · 1 year

Note

Aro culture is being asked about your life goals on your job application and just wondering what you even put there because like, it wouldn't be relevant at all to the description and I don't want to just. Work at this place for the rest of my life. So like. What do I even put?

genuine answer:

look at it from the POV of the employer and not your actual life

for example, for someone working in customer service, they might be looking for personality traits and goals that involve you not leaving within the time period they consider their "investment" in training you to have not yet been fully paid off. Most "inexperienced" jobs are looking for a minimum of a month, but most likely they'd really prefer 3 months + a possibility you'll return if the job is seasonal (ie, a summer job to pay for college), or 6 months to a year in any other type of position. Add more time if you are part-time.

so, for example, say you're in schooling of some sort: you'll want to emphasize that you're looking to make money to help pay for schooling expenses while working towards getting a degree. If your degree is in anything but fine arts, you probably can list it; if it's in fine arts and not relevant to the job - rip my dude, lie and evade. you're still deciding, you're taking gen eds at the moment and like [these courses], anything. the idea is to show that you want a job and hours for a reason that shows you have drive/motivation. fine arts, despite being absolutely grueling degrees that absolutely fucking require more work imho as an engineering major than most majors, are just super devalued by a lot of folks.

if you're in a non-schooling period of life: try to lay out something that shows you're a motivated, practical, or in some way capitalistically "valuable" type of person. do not force yourself to be totally truthful. say whatever will get u the job that u can bullshit. "I'm looking to pay the bills" is probably not the best - spin it so that you show some sort of hobbies, volunteer work, community work, anything that teaches on personality. just do what u gotta to sound like you have something you do other than work and sleep, most of the time they just wanna get a read on you having passion and some sorta drive for something. probs don't mention caregiving for elderly or children though - some hiring managers are trained to look at that as a detriment, since it means you could more easily be called away for emergencies/urgent situations.

there's a lot of advice about like. using the direct words from the job description in these things, but imho i'd be careful. it can get u through automated computer checks, but a real person is probs gonna be like "cool but like. who tf are you." try to think about what/who will see it

some specific examples: "I plan to graduate with a degree in engineering and work in providing industrial solutions." / "I want to be able to spend time working with local gardening groups to make a community garden." / "I hope to further my skills in sewing so that I can make and mend my own clothing."

again: show passion, dedication, and knowledge/skills when possible. if you can find something relating to the position, that's usually best, but... sometimes you just gotta show that you're not reading off "10 best interview answers" and that you're a real person who cares about something. whatever it is, be prepared to get some basic questions/comments like, "Your application says you have an interest in gardening - can you tell me about that?" and respond with 2-3 sentences at a layman level. ie, "I've always enjoyed hands-on work, and it's always wonderful to see my plants thrive from seed to fruiting. I grow tomatoes, and my wife and I can our own tomato sauce each year. I'm hoping to grow peppers next year so we can make our own salsa." I've bolded things that would tell an employer things I think they'd like to hear - you like hands on work, you reliably do a fairly hands-on task without it being a requirement, and you have plans for improvement.

Genuine note though: I'm 23 and currently a barista at a local-ish coffee chain, due to dropping out of engineering as a result of developing a disabling chronic illness. Your mileage may vary; try to think "If someone had trained me to be the most discriminatory, law-avoiding asshole I could be while hiring someone, what is the best and worst I could read from this?". Don't disclose specifics on your personal life around children, elderly parents/grandparents that live with you, plans for future children, disabilities, anti-capitalist leanings, or any political opinions that don't specifically align with the company's expressed home-page level values. Like, if you had to click a button off of their front page on their website to find "we value diversity", try to not to say "I sell queer merchandise" as much as "I run a small online store in my spare time, with merchandise like pins and stickers."

#Anonymous #aro culture is #aro #aromantic #actually aro #actually aromantic #ask #mod alexander #long post

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harrystylesslutt · 9 months

Text

A serene escape

Part 1 of seaside serendipity

warnings: just fluff for now

The quaint coastal town of Seaside Haven was your personal paradise. Its narrow cobbled streets, lined with charming cottages and the alluring scent of the ocean breeze, made it the perfect summer escape. The café by the beach, "Seashells & Coffee," was your haven of tranquility. It was here that you had spent several summers working, basking in the warmth of the locals and the cool embrace of the sea.

The sun rose lazily over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold as you stepped into the café. The day held the promise of new adventures, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. The morning rush hadn't begun yet, giving you a moment to prepare the cafe for the day ahead.

As you arranged freshly baked pastries in the display case, you couldn't help but glance out the window, captivated by the waves crashing against the shore. Lost in thought, you nearly jumped when a soft voice interrupted your reverie.

"Excuse me, is this place open?"

You turned to find a tall, curly-haired stranger standing at the entrance. His emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity, and the smile on his lips was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He had an aura of mystery and charm that immediately intrigued you.

"Yes, we're open!" you replied with your normal cheerful tone, despite the unexpected flutters in your stomach. "Welcome to Seashells & Coffee."

He stepped inside, and you noticed a hint of sea salt in his dark, tousled hair. "Thank you," he said, a faint British accent adding to his allure. "This place has such a lovely vibe."

"Thank you," you repeated, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink under his warm gaze. "Would you like a seat by the window? It offers the best view."

"That sounds perfect," he said, a playful yet reserved glint in his eyes.

You led him to a cozy corner by the window, where he took a seat with a small smile. As you handed him a menu, your fingers brushed against his, causing an electrifying sensation to run through your veins. You quickly withdrew your hand, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduced himself, his smile never fading.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm YN," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn't like you never got any good looking customers, you did, but you've always managed to keep your cool since most of them had a cold vibe surrounding them. There was just something about this stranger that made you intrigued to know more, was it his manners? the way he held eye contact? or the way his eyes kept subtly glancing down at your lips?

Over the next few hours, few customers went in and out, all of them seeming to be in too much of a hurry to sit down on one of the pink leather couches. You could feel the eyes of the stranger on you every now and then, there was some kind of tension knowing you and him were the only two people in the shop. However he did not miss trying to make his presence noticeable, since he was making his way back and forth from where you were working, getting new pastries to try while leaving little appreciation comments every now and then.

As the afternoon sun bathed the café in golden light, Harry was on one of his missions to get a new pastry, you somehow managed to end up engrossed in a conversation with him. He was well-traveled and had an air of wisdom beyond his years. He shared stories of his adventures, and you told him about the town's history and hidden gems, since he showed you a strong interest towards the hidden tales of the town. The more you talked, the more you felt an unspoken connection between you two, as if you had known each other for much longer than just a few hours.

After paying his bill, Harry leaned closer, his eyes locked with yours. "Thank you YN, I couldn't think of a better way to start my vacation; you really do know the art of pastries well” He chuckled.

You blushed at his compliment, feeling the undeniable chemistry between you. "Thank you Harry, although I am a bit thrown off by your hatred for strawberries, I don't think it's acceptable really.”

“Ah there it is, you let me off too easily earlier, I knew you were secretly judging my impeccable taste” He replied. You found yourself cheekily laughing at his teasing words “If anything it is anything but impeccable. The fact that you won't try any strawberry pastries is cruel! You know that you’d find a newly found love for them but you’re in denial so it’s fine it'll take you a while to cave in” Your playful banter goes on for a while until Harry really has to go but not before suggesting subtly his next visit, and that alone leaves u with flutters in your stomach.

------

The next day, as the sun painted the sky in a soft pastel palette, you found yourself eagerly anticipating Harry's return to Seashells & Coffee. The memory of your long conversation from the previous day had lingered in your mind, leaving you with a sense of excitement and nervousness about seeing him again.

Just as the clock struck ten, the familiar chime of the doorbell signaled his arrival. Harry stepped in with that same charming smile that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he brought the sunshine with him, brightening the entire café with his presence.

"Good morning, YN," he greeted, his eyes locking onto yours as if you were the only one in the room.

"Morning, Harry," you replied with a warm smile, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

He took a seat by the window once more, and you couldn't help but notice the small details that made him uniquely Harry—the way his curls fell just right, the subtle crinkles near his eyes when he smiled, and the way he fidgeted with the menu, pretending to be undecided.

"You're back for another adventure at Seashells & Coffee?" you asked playfully, remembering his words from yesterday.

Harry chuckled. "Absolutely. It's the best place to be."

As the day went on, your playful banter continued. You brought back your criticism towards his peculiar dislike for strawberries, which amused you to no end. "You're missing out on the best summer treat, Harry," you teased, holding up a plump, ripe strawberry between your fingers.

"I know, I know," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I told you,It's just one of those things I can't seem to enjoy."

Determined to change his mind, you decided to take matters into your own hands. During a short break, you disappeared into the kitchen, whipping up a special strawberry dessert just for him. You carefully crafted a delicious strawberry shortcake with layers of sponge, fresh strawberries, and a dollop of whipped cream on top.

Returning to his table, you placed the dessert before him with a flourish. "Now, this is the ultimate test. Give it a try."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "You're on."

He took a hesitant bite, and you watched nervously, hoping that your creation would win him over. His eyes widened in surprise, and a smile broke out on his face.

"Wow, this is amazing," he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight. "You might have just done the impossible and changed my opinion on strawberries."

You couldn't help but beam with pride at his reaction. "I told you they're delicious! It's like a burst of summer in every bite."

As the day continued, you and Harry spent more time together, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. The bond between you grew stronger with every shared moment. You felt a sense of comfort and ease around him, as if you had found someone who truly understood you.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the coastal town, Harry hesitated before speaking. "Would you like to take a walk on the beach with me?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation, and you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'd love to."

Closing the shop, you strolled along the shoreline, the waves gently caressing the sand beneath your feet. The sound of the ocean served as a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you and Harry walked along the beach, the cool ocean breeze caressed your skin, creating a sense of serenity around you. The waves lapped gently against the shore, and the distant cries of seagulls added to the tranquil atmosphere.

Harry's curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help but ask about the peculiar events that had occurred in the town. "You mentioned yesterday that this place has a magical charm and stories waiting to be written. Are there any particular stories or events that stand out?"

You smiled, appreciating his interest in the town's history. "Oh, definitely! Seaside Haven has a rich history filled with mysteries and legends. One of the most famous stories is about an old lighthouse that sits atop the cliffs."

Intrigued, Harry leaned in, eager to hear more. "Tell me about it."

"Legend has it that the lighthouse was built centuries ago by a lonesome sailor," you began, the tales of old coming to life in your words. "He fell deeply in love with a local woman, but their love was forbidden by her overprotective family. Heartbroken and desperate, he built the lighthouse as a beacon of hope, hoping it would guide him back to her."

Harry's eyes sparkled with fascination. "Did it work?"

"Well," you continued with a playful grin, "that's the mystery. Some say that on clear, moonlit nights, you can see a ghostly figure of a man gazing out to sea from the top of the lighthouse. Locals call him the 'Lover's Light.'"

"That's both beautiful and haunting," Harry mused, captivated by the romantic lore.

As you walked further, you shared more stories—the shipwrecks that dotted the coastline, the hidden caves said to be treasure troves, and the annual beach bonfire festival that brought the entire town together. Harry listened with genuine interest, asking questions and adding his own insights.

He paused for a moment, gazing out at the vast ocean before turning back to you. "It's incredible how stories and history shape a place. It's like every corner of this town has a tale to tell."

"It truly does," you agreed, feeling a deep connection forming between you two as you shared these tales. "And it's those stories that make this town so special, giving it a sense of magic and wonder."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the sky, you both continued your leisurely stroll along the beach. The stories of the town, the sound of the waves, and the connection between you and Harry created an enchanting moment—one that would forever be etched in the sands of your summer paradise.

-------

Harry walked back to his rented cottage, his mind swirling with thoughts of YN. The way she spoke about the town's history with such passion, the playful glint in her eyes when she teased him about strawberries, and the warmth of her smile—it all left an indelible impression on him. He couldn't deny how drawn he felt to her, but he also knew that he was just passing through this picturesque town for a different reason. .

"Keep it together, Harry," he mumbled to himself as he entered the cozy living room. He settled down on the worn-out couch, trying to focus on the laptop in front of him. But every time he tried to concentrate on his work, thoughts of YN crept back into his mind.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. "You can't get distracted now," he reminded himself sternly, his fingers tapping on the keyboard. He had come to Seaside Haven for a specific goal, he reminded himself.

As he typed, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of suspicion lingering in the back of his mind. It was as if fate had led him to YN, and he couldn't understand why he was so taken by her. He had met plenty of people during his travels, but there was something about her that felt different—like she held a key to a world of wonder he had yet to discover.

Pushing the thoughts away, Harry focused on his work once more. He typed away, the soft tapping of the keys echoing in the quiet room. But try as he might, his mind kept wandering back to YN the enchanting girl he had met at the café.

"Get a grip, Harry," he scolded himself, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get the best of him. After all, he was just a visitor with a mission in Seaside Haven, and he didn't know how long he would stay.

With a determined sigh, he finally managed to immerse himself in his writing. But even as the words flowed from his fingers, he couldn't shake off the image of YN's smile and the feeling of her hand in his. It was as if the town itself conspired to keep him captivated, weaving its magic around him and YN.

Harry found it useless to try to keep himself concentrated while she clouded his mind, so he gives up, saving the document on his laptop and closing all the tabs for his research . He closed the lid, feeling a mix of confusion and fascination. "You're being silly," he whispered to himself, trying to dispel the enchantment that surrounded him.

But as he lay in bed that night, the image of YN stayed with him, her presence lingering like a sweet summer breeze. And in that moment, he knew that Seaside Haven had more in store for him than he had ever anticipated. Perhaps it wasn't just a town for a summer escape, with a good story—it could be the place where he found something he never knew he was looking for.

To be continued...

#harrystylesslutt #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #love on tour #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fandom

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mitsurichan3s-art-corner · 1 month

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Mitsurichan3 commissions information & Terms of Services

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poisonpeche · 2 years

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Side to Side | Levi x You

Levi x Reader Smut | Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, Vaginal Fingering, Dacryphilia, Just being fucking filthy truly, Slight Angst, Reader is Fem Bodied, Reader is Switch, Levi is Switch, Squirting; this is my first smut piece so be gentle with me xx.

Word Count: ~3k

Art by me 🖤 Link to my Art Shop in my Tumblr Bio.

He always has a way to find you.

When you’re drowning in the details, an endless stream of thought and worry, or any other crime life seems to throw at his sweet girl. He swears if he could take you away from it all, he would. One day you won’t have to worry about bills, or survival, and this temporary struggle will all just be some frayed memory covered up by better days ahead.

He never wanted you to know the life he lived as a child and his stomach turns knowing he might be failing you through this. A decade by your side and you both got laid off within a few weeks of each other. He can’t help but curse whoever the fuck is out there for this cruel twist of fate. He doesn’t want to see you break like he did so long ago…You can’t. He won’t allow it. Not you.

Levi is keen to always bring you back. He adores you in all of your seasons and he made a promise to you to always lead you home. His patience is unyielding and never wavers for you no matter the cost. Tonight is no different.

Unlocking the door with a gentle turn of his hand, he intends to keep that promise.

He finds you sweetly nestled in the blankets of your bed. Chest rising and falling in an effort to self soothe from the difficult couple of months you’ve had adjusting to your new job in the city after you lost your dream position. Square one with less pay. You deserve so much more. When others can’t see what he sees in you, he can’t stand the delusion, the outright downplaying of your talent. He wonders if you will ever know how brave you are just by existing. Still trying to find the best in your life despite the odds. He knows how hard you try despite it all. For yourself. For him. You’re meant to have every comfort in this world and he is determined to give it all to you in time.

Carefully putting away his things in your bathroom and changing out of his clothes heavy with the burden of work, he gives you a few moments of peace before coming to your side.

A dim light is thrown throughout the room, your only company while waiting up for your partner and a chastising glow looming over you despite your best effort to keep it together. Just for another day of barely hanging on. Fighting exhaustion was futile once again, as you were swiftly swept under by sleep. Finding comfort in rest started to feel like a punishment, the guilt racking through your thoughts with relentless force…Can I find another job that pays better? Are we going to lose everything? Will we be okay? And yet, you succumb to it against your will.

But God, does it feel so good to runaway for once. Funny how your mind can be such a blessing and a curse; your constant reminder that your life is on a razor’s edge of being completely fucked and a source of blissful escapism. An image begins to form in your mind’s eye, coming into view. Delicate hands starting at your ankle, slowly grazing upwards past your soft muscle and skin daring to slow even further as they become more bold taking a more dangerous path once they hit your knee, trailing over your inner thighs.

You don’t even need to see his face to know his hands. The masterful way he builds you up before even thinking about beginning his innocent touches…until they aren’t. Maybe they weren’t ever meant to be. This is the gift he can give to you with no money, no power, or influence. He’s just a man, your man, making his way in life the same as you and he will give his mind, his body to you for as long as you’ll have him. His touch is always there even when he isn’t. That’s how deeply you cradle him in your subconscious, adoring him even through your restlessness. The love of your life.

You shift into his phantom touch, chasing an impending high, what only he can do to you.

He catches it from the corner of his eye while he’s rinsing his face from the day, droplets falling from his lashes and the black strands just above his silky undercut. An arched back, your arched back, taunting you in your sleep. He shamelessly watches on from the other side of the room, drinking you in with an amused smirk on his lips. What are you thinking about at this hour, sweet girl?

Almost as if he asked the question aloud, you respond in perfect time, “Lev’, please.”

His eyes widen in awe at the sight of you and you break your fall from the bend of your back, gently wrestling yourself to your side facing away from him. The cover falling to frame the curve of your hip, leaving you fully exposed with your back on display and your ass mocking him from afar.

“Please what, love?” He plays into your hand with a burning curiosity, softly asking in earnest. You’re still asleep, but he loves to toy with you like this. Somehow your charm and wit beam even in your half-baked haze. He loves that about you. How fiery and sharp-tongued you are, but when you’re alone with him you unravel so easily, showing him only the softest and most vulnerable parts of you. Only for him. Your self proclaimed weakness is why he fell in love with you. You are so many things, but your duality endlessly fascinates him. He is often so controlled and constant while you are passion in its purest form. Hearing you call out his name like this? He’s done. He’s already yours for the night. For every night.

He slowly walks to the bedside, now only a short distance from you as he settles down into the sheets with his feet on the floor, twisted around to face you with his hand outstretched behind him, inching closer to you. Looking over his shoulder, his gaze over your body pulls him down so naturally and effortlessly, a subconscious force; something else begins to take over.

And then, he smells it. And he knows without your clever answer. Even after ten years together, your arousal hits him through his heart like it was the first time and he visibly shudders with a deep, dark inhale to test his theory. Like he even needs to, but he’d bottle you up if he could. Eyes falling back as he rolls his neck towards you and back in disbelief with an exasperated laugh mixed with a guttural, shaky sigh. A scent like yours opens up the most primal desires inside of him, and both of your troubles begin to melt away. We will always have this while we lose it all.

He leans in fully on his side brushing his nose against the curve of your shoulder and neck, spooning you softly, listening to your labored breaths and watching his baby break apart at her own pace. What he would do to crawl inside this fantasy with you…or play a part.

As soon as you sense him there, you instinctively push your hips back with a gentle grind, a soft moan leaving your lips, and a dream that has now begun to feel deliciously real. Even on your side now alongside him, your back begins to curve, twist and arch into place, pushing you deeper into his crotch while your neck cranes further into his sharp jaw, his lips now making contact with your ear from behind.

At your gracious invitation, Levi provokes you further, giving the production in your mind the shameless direction it needs, delivering his first line so softly only for you.

“It’s okay my baby I’m here now.” Tongue gently falling forward, he licks an unbroken line up the contour of your neck to the shell of your ear, arching in tandem behind you with a tighter hold. “I know how hard you tried to wait for me.” He catches your earlobe between his teeth, laving over the bite. “You always try so hard for us love, even like this. Come back to me,” he pleads.

You sigh and twist in response to his lowered words, ass flush to his hips. The dark tint of his voice drawing you in without a fight, bringing you closer to the surface by inches, but too slow for your liking.

His left hand snakes under your arm, meeting the plush skin of your stomach, passing over your ribs, and sliding over your sternum to palm your throat so lovingly that even Levi is overwhelmed by how sweetly you accept his touch and welcome him to your bed, your home you both made together amidst it all. Together you always make something so beautiful while everything else seems to fall apart.

He encourages your head further back, so he can finally look at your face, your expression flitting between pleasure and frustration as you breech the surface of your dreams. He engulfs you in his hold, pressing you close to the warmth of his body, reaching forward to kiss the edge of your lashes. At the end of his small kiss, he slides his open mouth backwards up your cheek, teeth grazing as his breath fans out over your skin. You meet him with the intensity and instinctively drop your jaw open to unknowingly mirror him. Even sleep can’t take you out of sync with him.

His hand leaves your throat, sliding upward over the curve of your neck to hold your jaw and temple against his own, burning cheeks flush together. “Come on sweet girl, come to me. Let me see you and those eyes…I know you’re trying. I don’t want to leave you like this.” His final words sit heavily in your mind, finally rousing you from the darkest shadow of sleep with your eyes opening in a haze trying to determine if you were really free from your dream when this reality was just as lovely.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” The words drip off your tongue and always break his heart with your sincerity. You’re always so saccharine coming to, and when you use this name he feels just as pliant and tame. He doesn’t deserve it after everything he feels he has a hand in putting you through, but the selfish parts of him relish in the endearment. Maybe he could be sweet for you. Or you, for him. You always are.

“I know love…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Never can. Don’t wan’t to.” His hand cupping your jaw drags back down your body, gripping your skin with more fervor than the gentle touches he left you with before. He moves to the hem of your panties, stopping and rolling his fingers in a small circle below your navel. You gasp softly at the abrupt end in movement, curling your body closer into Levi, grinding in a deeper swivel over his crotch in time with both of your shared breaths, hardening to the touch with each movement of your hips.

“Missed your hands on me, Levi.”

“Did you?” You nod weakly in response, at his mercy now.

“Where, love? Tell me where and I’ll give them to you.” He breathes into you, desperation edging into every word.

“No…I’ll show you instead.” He sighs out taken aback by your sudden dominance. There she is, the girl that can’t resist to lead no matter how much she may try to destroy herself with doubt. He’ll never let you no matter how hard you try at times. God he wished he could convince you even after all this time he still believes in you like the first day he met you in college when he thought you were utterly untouchable. Too good for anyone, even him.

But you’d never even dare to encourage his own insecurities. Your heart would never allow it. You’ve never made him doubt his confidence in himself, in you. He thinks about all those years ago when he first saw you. Young and so new to the world, hanging out of his passenger’s side window with your eyes closed and your head tilted back on the sill. Much like now. Exactly like now. You’re older now, but just as beautiful. Time has been as kind to you as you have been with everyone that has the pleasure of knowing you, loving you.

Your hand covers his own, fingers interlocking side to side like your bodies against each other now as they travel downward, slipping under your panties together, a moan leaving both of your lips in unison. Turning your heads towards each other, you look at one another with only pure adoration as the rest of the world falls away. It’s only you and him together now; soft moans and touches the only legacy to your name. Both sets of eyes turn downward, watching your shared movement, a silent plea.

With your hands steadfast and laced, Levi’s middle finger grazes over your clit first, and you slowly throw your head back, opening up the space for him to move forward and catch your mouth in a hungry kiss, immediately rushing into a stronger embrace through your lips alone. Teeth clash without a second thought and you both swivel your heads in the opposite direction to change the angle into a deeper, desperate kiss.

A single finger of yours lifts from his hold while your others remain locked together to meet him alongside your clit, rubbing smooth circles with him, matching his pace, sending a tremor though Levi’s body, vibrating your pussy against the lace of your underwear, the friction only drawing out more of your arousal and Levi falls apart.

“Look at you, always wanting to help, hm?” His response alone has you moaning for more of his words slipping through the cracks of his half-cocked smile. “Let me take care of you for once, my good girl.” You shake your head softly in protest and he lunges forward further, taking your nipple in his mouth rolling the plush of his lips until you’re straining against them, a pang of arousal throbs in your core. He knows he can edge you just by your chest alone, so sensitive to his touch, the movement of his tongue only heightening the sensation felt by both of your fingers on either side of your clit.

In a wordless response, you hook both of your fingers together, impatiently sinking into the velvet of your folds in tandem, slick pooling around both of your knuckles.

“Fuck, my baby’s so wet isn’t she? How long have you been like this, love? ‘M make it better for you, I promise. You waited for too long.” He says in shock while your scent permeates thickly through the air consuming his every thought. He only thinks of you now. It’s always been about you.

But this is not another moment without him you want to deny yourself of like so many that pass throughout the day apart, and you lead him further down still, fingers hooked, into your entrance that flutters while adjusting to the both of you as you thrust in together.

Gasping for dear life you manage to push him over the edge. “Make me wetter, Levi. I know you can.” Just when he thought he couldn’t take your smell teasing him senseless, your words put him into a panic as he lets out a low moan into the night air. You push him into a frenzy, hooking his fingers upward and he feels you follow suit inside of you, mimicking his every moment.

“I’ve got you love just hold onto me…Yeah, like that…I’ve been thinking about you just like this, begging for me, fucking yourself on my fingers. Using me. Wanna make you squirt on me like you did last time. Down my fucking throat, if you’ll let me,” he’s reeling with every grip around you both at his words. If he keeps talking like that you’ll scream.

He begins a slow thrust that you harmonize with so beautifully, following just behind, never leaving you without stimulation. The pads of both of your fingers brushing against each other. The pressure swells in below your stomach and you tighten around both of your movements, getting lost in your shared touch. He’s talking so close to you now, and yet you still can’t hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes are both pinned at the movement below, breath hitching at his disgusting words.

“Do you have it in you?…How much can you give me? You give us so much baby what’s a little more…Fuck, just let me taste you again like that.”

He rubs over the soft ridges inside you, causing your muscles to swell against you both and bringing you alarmingly close at his soft taunts. You pull your finger from alongside Levi’s to relieve the pressure and bring it upwards in between yours and his lips. Without provocation, you both lunge toward the slick dripping off your finger, fighting over the last drop, tongues pushing over and past each other mixing both of your saliva in with your arousal, an obstructed kiss. But to get the last word, you shove your glistening finger into Levi’s mouth, pinning his tongue down, causing him to gag against the elixir you’ve concocted together. He pathetically attempts to curl his tongue around you while tears begin to gather on his lash line. All for you. Mine.

“You’ll get every drop once I get to taste your tears,” your jeer maims him and has him nearly biting down on your fingers lodged deep in his throat, his teeth leaving throbbing indents against the bone.

If Levi believes your smell deserves to be bottled and treasured, then his tears are your prize. How many times will you make him cry out from tonight or until the end in torment and exaltation? The anguished thought always pushes you to the edge, pushes you to crane upward and lick his tears breaking free while he hopelessly chokes on your fingers.

Their taste alone has brought a thin sheen of sweat to your skin. Sweet, salty, subtle. Just like Levi. And you want more.

As a challenge, he slips out of you trailing the remains of your dripping cunt over your inner thigh, to your side, and then hooks his hand underneath the back of your left knee, folding it upward to the ceiling and into your side, closer to him as he spoons you. Your obscenely wet cunt catching the cool air on display.

If you get his tears, he only takes in return.

“Give me your fucking pussy. I want all of you. Now.”

A loud moan escapes you in surprise while his eyes rake up and down you with his growl. He’s bolder than ever and begging to ruin you even after all this time. Promising. No matter what it takes just like every other promise he’s made and kept throughout the years. Always here to lift you from the pain of shouldering this life and all of its unpredictability, finding you and leading you out of the spiral of doubt and confusion, to your home within each other.

And you’ll let him take you. Until the end.

***

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