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thevirtualvalentine · 9 months

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004. ONE PIECE, CAPTAIN KOBY.

content warnings: afab!fem!reader, virgin!koby but it’s not vital to the plot, riding, top!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cheesy “trapped in a small room” smut troupe, penetrative sex, dry humping, sex with feelings, “good boy” is used twice.

plot: your regular patient, Captain Koby, visits your office but you’re both thrown in a small broom closet during an evacuation drill! He may or may not have a crush on you and your dubious positioning on top of him will send him over the edge.

Captain Koby wouldn’t call himself a hypochondriac, but he cannot keep himself from waltzing into the nurses station on some bullshit excuse to see his favorite nurse. He’s just one of many of your admirers, and he’s more than aware of the fierce competition for your attention. While he doesn’t believe rank means anything in the grand scheme of winning your affections, one quick use of his haki has basic cadets running so he can spend alone time with you.

“And what is it this time Captain?” You whip around in your seat when he sheepishly says hello, scratching the back of his neck. You greet him with a sweet smile as he shuffles in.

“Uhhh, heart burn, yeah terrible terrible heart burn. Think you have anything for me?” He knows he’s full of shit, but it’s worth the effort anyway if he gets to see you. His cheeks tinted just as pink as his hair, you’re pretty much the only good thing left on this base and that’s why he can never bring himself to leave until Garp makes him hull ass on another adventure. The way you smile at him so sweetly whenever he speaks makes his heart flutter almost uncomfortably fast in his chest, maybe he does have heart burn…

“At your age? You’re too fit to be bogged down by all these health problems Captain.” He likes the way it sounds when you say his title, it just rolls off your tongue better than anyone else’s.

He’s quick to think of another excuse, “but what if it’s something serious!” You laugh as he sits down on your medical table removing his captains jacket. You pull down your skimpy nurses uniform before walking over to him with his chart on your clipboard, “I just wanna make sure.”

He wins another smile from you as you stand in front of him to check his vitals. You of course note how hot his face is and how he nervously twiddles his thumbs back and forth. He’s cute, too cute. Coming to your office week after week with a bosh excuse.

Koby loves the feeling of your hands on him, how delicate your finger tips skim over his shoulders and face. Of course it’s all professional, but who is he to complain? The scent of your haircare products and vanilla hovering in the air as you walk circles around him. It’s almost like a familiar routine between you two, he comes into bother you and you almost enable his deep-seated crush by not kicking him out flat on his ass.

“Well, no signs of any lingering symptoms Captain Koby, just a fast heart rate.” You shift your weight to one hip, letting your clipboard rest against your waist, his eyes following the curve of your body. “You’re good to go, will I see you next week?” Letting your red pen rest against your bottom lip you ask just to mess around with him a bit. He gets so flustered trying to find the right thing to say and you enjoy watching him gesture nervously as word vomit spews forth.

The line outside your waiting room has gotten exceptionally long during his stay and you don’t mean to rush him out, but, you do have a job to do. One cute little captain isn’t enough to distract you from your goals of helping people. “Next!” You call out down the hallway as he pulls his jacket back on.

The emergency evacuation lights start flickering before the long winded siren accompanies it. There must be some sort of drill as the overhead PA comes on. “Attention! All hands report to the dock. This is an emergency evacuation drill.” It’s been a few months since the last one, but still the obnoxious flickering and blaring alarms make your head reel in agony.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to the dock.” It’s Koby, he’s gesturing his hand forward for you to take as soldiers pour out into the hallways, he wouldn’t want you to get trampled over as thousands of people make their way outside. He’s always been sweet like this, a real gentleman.

His grip is strong and protective, yet gentle and nervous as he takes your hand in his. You’re placed in front of him while he clears the way for you both to pass through, that is until you’re both shoved into an open door connected to the long hallway.

Koby swaddles you into his chest to protect you from falling and the door is slammed shut in the process. You doubt you’d be able to get it open with the amount of people still passing through for at least a good ten minutes.

“Well shit, oh Captain Koby are you ok?” You hear groans beneath you and remember why your fall wasn’t nearly as painful as it could have been. There’s no light in the room and it’s rather cramped, barely any space to extend your limbs as you’re trapped on top of him. You push your hands against what feels like his chest while you try to look for a light, however you only find an oil lamp on a crate. You assume this was an area where people would come to smoke during work hours.

“I’m fine, are you ok? Does anything hurt miss y/n?” The concern in his tone his evident, his hands come to cup your face as he examines for any scratches or bruises. He’d never forgive himself if you were hurt on his accord.

“Hey isn’t that my job, I’m fine Captain thank you.” It finally sets in for him how he’s touching you so intimately and the precarious position you’re left in, sitting on top of him with knees on either sides of his hips.

It’s a view he only imagines late at night when it’s just him and his hand, maybe some lotion if he’s lucky to not wake Helmeppo. The lamp illuminates his flustered face as he tries his best to slide out from under you, apologizing profusely and almost knocking you in the face while flailing around.

“Koby,” you say trying to calm him down but he’s visibly panicking and you feel him stiffening under you with each passing second. While he’s been moving like a lune, you’re still on top of him; dress rising above your thighs as your clothed pussy sits above his cock, he doesn’t mean to but it’s rubbing your clit so pleasantly. “Koby, it’s ok, I’m not mad.”

“W-what—” his glasses that are typically resting on his head now lay on his nose. It’s amusing watching a Captain of the marines so discombobulated.

“I said, it’s ok, I’m not mad.” You push his glasses up his face to get a better look at all of him, he’s rock hard and only getting stiffer. “In fact, I’m flattered.”

You lean forward letting your lips rest against his parted ones, looking in his eyes for any sort of hesitation— but that doesn’t last. A hand flies to your curls as he pulls you forward by the hip, you knew he liked you but you didn’t know just how much. His kisses are inexperienced and starved, like he’s been waiting his whole life to have this exact moment with you.

Kobys trying not to bust in his pants at this ‘unfortunate’ situation he’s been dropped into. Not only does he get to be alone with you, he’s quite literally living his fantasy and you want him just as bad. He’s praying his inexperience doesn’t show but he wants to taste you so bad he’ll risk it all.

“Shirt off,” you command, it’s too stuffy for all these layers. Unzipping the top half of your uniform lets your breasts spill out, soft skin illuminated by the glow of the small lamp. He obeys without any sort hesitation, “you listen well Captain.”

The tips of his ears turn pink when you comment on his lack of reluctance, kissing his cheeks and then down the column of his neck as his baited breaths fill the small space.

He’s so pale you’re worried hickies will get him in trouble with Garp but he’s squirming under you as your lips make contact with his neck. He’s tugging on your clothes so needily as if to say, ‘harder please, I can take it,’ and goodness do you want to give it to him. What the hell, that jacket should cover it up.

He sighs pleasurably as you work on him, hissing when you scratch at his unmarred skin. His palms grab the globes of your ass as he rocks your pussy against his dick. He’s panting with his head rolled back too lost in the pleasure. “You wanna fuck me captain? That why you come to my office every week.”

He merely moans, eyebrows pinching together in concentration. The fabric of his pants rub against your clit so deliciously, dry fucking one of the navy’s top officers during a drill wasn’t in your plans today but holy fuck did it ignite something in you.

You kiss him again, slower this time, letting your hips drag harshly against his bulge just to tease him. Tongue creeping against his in a fight to slow the pace before he cums in his pants.

“Want you to fuck me Captain, please, I’ll make you feel good,” you half moan, tugging the hair at the base of his neck. If the devil was whispering in his ear right now, he’d let you take him. He trembles feeling need surge through him like a wave, all at once he needs to bury his dick in you to the hilt.

One problem, he’s never had sex before. The way your body rolls on top of his makes his mind hazy, forgetting all about the drill going on outside. “Not enough space,” he huffs, “just fuck me, I’m yours.” Quick on his feet, not missing a beat.

Now it’s your turn to swoon. He looks so honest when he says it, hearts in his eyes as he holds your hips; squeezing against your skin reassuringly.

Sitting back on his knees you pull your dress over your head, slipping your panties off as the lantern illuminates your curves in a soft glow. Koby watches enamored, forgetting that this is the part where he’s supposed to whip his dick out.

“Am I gonna hurt you? I didn’t touch you or anything.” He’s trying to not just reach out and grab you, in his deepest fantasies he gets to drill you in missionary while you call out his name. However, he knows stretching you open is an important aspect of sex (according to his books).

“You’re sweet, but we’ve gotta be quick.” Hovering over his length you use your own slick to lube his dick up before you’re trying to slink down it. He’s pretty average in length with a slight allowance in girth, and yes the curtains match the drapes.

The burn stings before it fades out into pleasure. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, that feels so good,” he whines, gripping your thighs with uncanny strength that’ll surely leave bruises. You wrap your arms around his neck as your cunt tries to swallow him, softly sighing as he fits you like a puzzle piece. Down and down you go on his thick shaft.

He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself, you sucking him in threatens to make drool spill down his chin. Never in his life did he think something warm and yet simultaneously wet could make his toes curl like this. “S’tight, keep going please.” You’re leaned over his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, ignoring the sounds of footsteps outside as you start to slowly bounce on Captain Kobys cock.

“Makin’ me feel so full already,” you whisper into his ear, digging your nails into his shoulders as you clench around his girth. The tip of his cock’s bullying your cervix with each bounce of your hips. The sound of your ass meeting his lap melds with his whines as he tries to get ahold of himself. Your pussy’s just too good.

“Ah— oh, fuck! Faster faster,” his voice sounds so vulnerable as your gummy walls squeeze him in, he hasn’t moved his hands from strangling your waist. Pushing you down further and further each time you chase his base.

It’s all so good; your hot breath, your moans for him to fuck you deeper, the way you’re holding onto him like you need him. He’s utterly melting, succumbing for some tight cunt. Maybe those navy stories he heard weren’t full of shit.

Koby’s chasing his orgasm, using your body as a toy subconsciously. Your ass in his hands as he spreads your cheeks, forcing himself in your heat that scorches him in a way he can’t get enough of. “So good Captain, don’t stop. I could cum on you just like this,” you say pushing him back against the wall. It’s so desperate and raw, his mouth chases yours in a hot kiss as your hands tangle in his hair.

He moans like a little slut each time his tresses are wrapped around your fingers, saliva connecting his mouth to yours. The fucked out look on his face is priceless. “So handsome, what a good boy you are.” Wiping excess drool that threatens to spill past the corner of his lip as he looks like he’s about to cry. His hips jumping to meet yours as that phrase leaves your mouth.

“Oh you like that?” Such a useful piece of information, “then be a good boy and cum for me.”

The whimper that leaves his throat is guttural, high pitched as it rips through the air. His strong arms work double time to slam you down over and over again like a machine. He finishes inside you as he clutches you to his chest, keeping himself tucked inside your cunny while his cock twitches n coats your walls white.

“So good Koby, jus like that baby.” You’re rolling your hips on his, trying to milk out anything remaining as he gasps from the stimulation.

“Oh no wait, what about you? I’m so sorry—” he doesn’t even let himself pull out of you before he’s speaking a thousand miles a minute. No worries, you have an idea for that.

You both get dressed as you hear the crowds returning, helping him zip up his jacket to cover the already bruising areas of his neck. Koby pulls your dress down over your ass and then some, like he’s your protective boyfriend or something, you just roll your eyes.

Stepping out into the hallway in a sea of people you hold his hand as he walks behind you, slipping into the crowd unnoticed. You forgot to smooth his hair out so he looks like he’s just slept in some crazy position, oops. He’s got this love drunk look on his face as you lead him back to your office and shut the door. Hearts buzzing around him as he follows you, not even an arrow from Cupid could replicate that look. You get some stares here and there, but your cunts throbbing for more so you couldn’t care less.

You place your “Be back soon <3! “ sign on the handle before turning around to find him sitting on your patients table, looking a bit too eager for round two.

“Now Captain, finish what you started. Nurses orders.”

#koby #he’s such cute bf material oh erm gee #he looked so fine in 957 oh my lawdddd #koby smut #coby smut #koby x reader #coby x reader #koby x y/n #coby x y/n #one piece smut #one piece thirsts #one piece x reader

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akutopia · 3 months

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I WANNA RIDE! osamu dazai x afab reader ⋆𐙚₊˚

dom dazai, slight sadism, dacryphilia, slight degradation, condescending but sweet dazai, size kink, sub reader!

NSFW CONTENT 17+!

“don’t hurt yourself, pretty”

chuckled dazai, the pupils of his eyes expanding slightly as he watches the sight in front of him; you and your weak attempt to ride him.

your hips stutter forward, unsure of what to do. you let out a whimper of embarrassment, shaky fingers wrapping around his cock. with an exhale, dazai smiled before he cooed.

“such a feeble thing you are..”

he laughed, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face.

“my, my.. too shy to put it in, huh? no need to act like a prude.. you’re the one that's always asking for more..”

“osamu!”

you whined, lightly hitting his chest with your fist. he was doing this on purpose, and you knew that. it was another scheme of his he had plotted— trying to make you take some sort of initiative because: did he love it when you were so uncomfortable, so nervous because he’d always fuck you without you having to plead.

dazai was surprisingly a gentlemen. he knew your pretty body was so sensitive, so tender. he’s spent time studying: he had known when you were needy, needy for him.

he spoiled you greatly. so even with your whines and pouty looks, dazai knew you were needy enough to try to ride him.

“osamu!”

you call out again, lip trembling. satisfaction takes over him, and he’s quick to wrap his arms around you with a smile, pulling you in

“want me that bad, darling?”

you nod against his neck with a sniffle, trembling legs struggling to hold yourself above his length.

“you’re bein’ so mean, samu..”

you soft mutters bring a lovesick expression to his face. god, he really was a fallen man.. a bandaged hand travels to lightly brush over the bud of your chest, making you squirm.

“m’ sorry, pretty. guess you can’t help being a slut for me”

he spoke with his lips curled up. and in response, you can only protest with a small sound. and yet, impatience becomes you. you’ve reached a point beyond embarrassment to where you drop yourself directly on his cock.

you squeal, gasping upon the not so sudden intrusion. even with thin and calloused fingers that previously opened you up, you’re always taken aback by how well he fills you up.

“s-samu.. it’s so… t-too big—”

you choked out with a whimper, tears welling up in your eyes. and yet you look up to meet your lover’s gaze, wanting to shift your hips for more stimulation.

dazai groans, thumb reaching up to brush away your pretty tears. his lips are quick to press against the temple of your cheek before he nods.

“it’s too big? now, now. you can take it. take it for me, darling”

✷ .₊𓂋‎

#anime #bsd #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #armed detective agency #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #atsushi nakajima #chuuya nakahara #atsushi x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #kunikida doppo

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readychilledwine · 4 months

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Hi, I have a fic idea. So Beron has somehow found out that Eris is scheming against him but Beron just doesn't know what Eris' plan is. So the reader is basically told by Beron to get close to Eris to find out his plan. But as time passes by, Reader falls for Eris and can't bring herself to tell Eris' plan to Beron in the court room but Eris over hears the their conversation and confronts the reader. He also asks her why didnt she snitch on him so the reader tells him that she loves him too much to do that. Then reader is attacked by Beron's soldiers or you can end it however you like. If you don't wanna write it, then it's okay but just let me know what you think of it🥺.

I think this is amazing and a twist on what we normally see for this storyline idea.

Tainted Love

Warnings - torture. Beron, cliffhanger. Angst and anger. Betrayal.

"Do you want to tell me why I caught you with my father tonight or do you want me to find out on my own?"

You took a deep breath, looking to the ceiling for strength. It had already been a hard day dealing with Beron. The last thing you wanted to be doing was dealing with an angry Eris now, too.

"Can we talk about it in the morning, please? I just want to enjoy dinner."

Eris looked at you as if you had grown a second head. "Tell now, or I will let Azriel tell me why he sent me there."

You had to hold back your eye roll at the mention of the shadowsinger. Since Eris pulled you into his bargain with Rhysand, a shadow has trailed you. Following you and relaying your every move to the Inner Circle and Eris.

It was fair at first. You knew that deep down inside. You were one of Beron's more talented spies, used for situations where the males just weren't enough.

You were soft, gentle, beautiful. It was easy for people to open up to you, and that was why Beron had picked you for this over his other options.

He knew Eris was plotting and playing against him. He's known for years. He just needed to figure out how.

That was where you came in. Eris has an eye for you since the two of you were children. He had loved you since you were teens. Now, as adults, Eris was absolutely in love with you. He loved you from the soles of your feet to the soft curl of your hair and every flaw in-between.

You, having never known love or safety, had walls he'd been trying to take down the second you began approaching him on Beron's command. You have naively expected his efforts to fail, but one night as you two danced in his kitchen, you realized they hadn't.

You were helplessly in love with Eris.

And your mission had changed.

You had started giving Beron information while also exposing fae in the court Eris needed taken out.

The master of coin? You caught him steal from under Beron and Eris's noses, in a ploy of his own to wipe out the family as a whole. You watched him burned by your High Lord the second that information was tortured from him.

His second general, the one Eris hated, you turned in for hiding tithes and embezzling from his territory. He was given a traitors death, sent to the forest to become one with the trees, ripped down flesh and all by their roots.

Beron had caught on, though. Each interrogation proved each fae you turned in was not working with Eris, nor aware of his plan.

You could still feel his hand below your dress, resting in your ribcage just above your heart. He was on to you, and if you weren't smarter, you too might meet that dungeon and those trees.

Eris cleared his throat and brought you back to him. "Don't make me ask again, little fox. Please just tell me the truth."

You set everything down and stepped away from the table, ensuring there was space between you two. "Beron knows you're working against him," Eris's face dropped before schooling. "He's known for awhile."

"For how long?"

You looked up, tears starting to fall as you realized this would be the end.

The second you told him, there were no more nights in his arms. No more shared kisses. No more hushed I love yous.

But telling him put him another step ahead of Beron. You had already launched him impossibly ahead. Beron would only figure out his plan when it was too late, when Eris had already made that final move and Death reached a cool hand out to take Beron.

"Since after the war with Hybern. He found a letter from the shadowsinger in your office. He had another of his spies decode it."

Eris nodded, processing everything slowly before standing himself. "And how, y/n, do you know all of this?"

"He told me when he asked me to get close to you and figure out your plan."

The confession was a hanging. Eris stood there nodding before taking his whiskey in his hand and downing it. "So all of this wasn't real. All the nights whispering about our dreams? All the plans we made? This all meant nothing to you?"

"You mean everything to me," your voice broke. "At first, yes, I was doing my job. But I fell in love with you when I saw who you were. When I realized who you wanted to be to this Court. To our home. I never told him anything. I've been distracting him with information regarding males you wanted taken out anyways."

Eris shook his head, his own tears beginning to fall. "I don't believe you. I loved you. I fucking loved you and you did this to me? To us? Even if you were telling me the truth, how am I ever supposed to trust you now? How can I trust you to rule at my side?"

No answer came from you. You stared towards your boots in shame. "Azriel can tell you everything that was discussed. I know you all have a shadow trailing m-"

"Because Rhysand didn't fucking trust you!" Eris broke down into anger. All formality has left him as he pulled at his short hair and paced the dining room of your small home. "Rhysand did not trust you and I should have never trusted you either."

You watched as he grabbed his jacket, "I am done. Do not follow me. Do not come find me. When Beron is gone, you will leave this court or I will have you killed. Your choice."

You couldn't help but to look up, tears falling and stinging your face. "Eris, please, I love you."

He paused momentarily, resting his head on the doorway. "I wish I could believe that, y/n. I love you more than anything, I always have, and I probably always will. But you lied. You played me."

"I did my job so he wouldn't kill me," you turned away from him, having thought he of all fae would have understood.

"Maybe it would have been better off if he had." Eris left, slamming the door behind him.

The news of your breakup hit the courts quickly, too quickly for you to pack and leave.

Which is why you found yourself tied to a whipping post in Beron's private dungeon. He had sent some of his men for you, allowing them to best you before dragging your unconscious body here."Turns out your cunt isn't as powerful as you think it is, is it dear y/n?"

You didn't respond, knowing that would only make day 3 of this torture worse. "You had one job, and you failed me." You felt Beron's hand trail your back before grabbing the collar of your dress and ripping it down to bodice. "Such a shame, too. I find you absolutely exquisite. Maybe my son just has higher standards or different tastes than I do."

You didn't have time to prepare as the first lashing came, ripping your skin open and causing your mouth to fall open in shock. "How many do you think you deserve, y/n? Not only did you fail me. You also allowed him to bed you, losing all power and worth you may have thought you had to me, and what little information you did give me, while useful, never gave us an answer on my son's impeding betrayal." Another lashing had you crying out, body leaning against the pull as the cuts overlapped and merged together.

Beron ran his hand up your back again, knee digging into your spine as he pushed you into the whipping pole and put your hair up into a bun. "Do not fret, little doll. I won't leave marks where anyone besides me will be able to enjoy them if you survive."

You lost count of his strikes after 20. You couldn't even respond anymore to them. You felt Beron's chest against your back as he untied you, allowing you to fall to the ground, body too broke to hold itself up.

He left you there bleeding on the dirt, unable to move to clean the deep wounds or even take a proper breath.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a flash of wings and red hair, rushing to you as the world faded to black.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

#acotar #acotar x reader #send anons #send asks #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n

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pparadiselost · 1 year

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la maison.

noel noa x single mother fem reader noa finds himself falling head over heels for the sweet mom next door. warning(s): nsfw, alcohol, dubious consent (drunk sex), single mother reader, named son oc (irrelevant outside of pornmaking plot), creampie, breeding minors do not interact.

recently, noel noa has developed a bit of a problem.

he had fallen in love with his next-door-neighbor. which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the most unique nor the most world-shattering of issues he could possibly have, but these once trivial feelings he had no time to waste on started taking root in his head, they began to spread like wildfire throughout his daily life.

the pro soccer player was mildly surprised to find out that the young man who had lived next to him in the quaint apartment he called home had moved out while he was playing overseas. noa didn’t think too much of it. he rarely ever grew close with the neighbors around him. he was often out of the house, gone for months to even years at a time playing for whatever country or club summoned him, and when he was home, he preferred spending his time alone rather than getting attached to people who he had nothing in common with.

but the two of you had gotten off on a completely unexpected foot.

“dada!” the squirming toddler in your arms squeals. you nearly drop the bag of groceries you were precariously balancing on your elbow, yelping softly as your son uses all the force he can muster in his tiny body to lurch towards noa. “dada, dada!”

“no, sweetie, that’s not your dad,” you gently remind him, unable to stop the sheepish smile that tugs at your lips. you expertly lean the little boy against your hip while you regain your grip on your groceries, flashing an apologetic smile at noa. “i’m so sorry about that. he has a habit of saying that to every man he sees.”

noa stands practically frozen in his doorframe. he’s seen his fair share of almost blasphemously beautiful women in his life: models, actresses, influencers… but nothing holds a candle to the way his heart thumps in his chest when his eyes land on you. every bit of you screams sweet yet battered to him, your eyes mild and gentle by the tugs of time and your body all covered with loose clothes to make sure your boy could hug right into every little nook and cranny that he pleases.

a perfect image of motherhood.

his dick throbs in his pants.

it’s lecherous. he doesn’t even know your name, and he’s getting turned on. hell, you might even be married, yet he’s lusting after you.

“it’s alright. i know how kids are,” he lies. he actually doesn’t know how kids are, but it’s enough to get you to laugh again. “do you live near here? i don’t think i’ve seen you around.”

“ah! i do.” you lift a hand to point at the door right next to his while your son tugs at your clothes impatiently. he keeps mumbling dada, dada in that gurgling voice of his, looking up at you and then stealing glances at noa. “we moved in fairly recently. i didn’t think we’d have a neighbor, because i thought the next door apartment was empty.”

his heart skips a beat, and noa coughs to clear his throat. “i see. my job requires me to be overseas a lot, so i’m out of the house often. i suppose, that makes us next-door-neighbors then. my name is noel noa. it’s lovely to meet you.”

he half-expects you to gasp and run off upon hearing his name, but instead your smile widens. “it’s lovely to meet you as well. my name is (y/n). this naughty little elf right here is honoré. do you wanna say hi to mr. noa, sweetie?”

you keep cooing at the boy, while noa breathes a sigh of relief. so you don’t recognize him to be a pro player. in some ways he prefers that. he wouldn’t want to scare you away. his mind races when he thinks about how he’s now next door to who he believes is the most fuckable woman on earth.

“alright, it was a joy meeting you. i’ll see you around then, mr. noa?” you offer.

‘noel is fine.’ noa nods, mumbling an agreement before you wave and disappear into your suite, leaving him dumbfounded in his doorframe. what was he even leaving the house for? he doesn’t remember anymore.

but god. temptation had fallen straight into his lap, and if the arousal churning deep in his gut told him anything, it was that his life was going to be trouble from now on.

…

noel noa has also come across a stroke of luck. his manager on the other end of the phone sighs and tells him that the next season has been postponed for a few months, mumbling on about some logistics issues between the professional leagues regarding budgeting and some new stadium being built. noa couldn’t care less: his job was to play soccer, and that was final.

the bottom line was clear. he wouldn’t be flying out and disappearing again, and for a few months, he was free to do as he wanted so long as he kept himself in tip-top shape and maintained his usual training.

a guilty part of him celebrates. it means he gets to stay longer with you, right next doors. he’s been running into you more often, and you’re always quick to offer up a small greeting and make small talk with him when time allows. noa tries so, so hard to be a good man and genuinely get to know you as a good neighbor should, rather than to look at you and be driven half-insane by how much he wishes he could drag you to his suite and fuck you on his bed.

honoré never fails to happily scream out “dada!” at noa when he sees the man, and you always correct your son with a stern voice. part of noa wants you to stop correcting him, his inner lust-demon celebrating slightly at the fact that your son is ready to accept him as his father. noa had been hesitant on full-on courting you, or at least, what he considered courting (lavinho never failed to make fun of him for having “the flirtation skills of a 13th century monk!”), having assumed that you had a husband.

but he notices the lack of a wedding band around your ring finger. could it be that you didn’t have a husband, after all?

not that it matters. noa knows he shouldn’t let himself daydream. he barely knows you, and the very least he can do is show you a modicum of respect rather than treating you like some hunk of hot meat on the dating market.

it’s dark outside when noa sits down in his bed, unwinding by himself after a long day of analyzing previous games and practicing by himself out in one of the nearby training fields. he hasn’t seen you all day, but he knows you’re home because he stole a peek at your apartment window while heading in. the lights are on, and presumably, you’re inside. it isn’t safe for a woman and a little child to be out and about when it’s dark, and noa wonders if he should offer to escort you if you ever need to go out.

no. he shouldn’t overstep. he really shouldn’t.

but what really throws him for a loop is what he hears through the thin apartment walls. at first he thought it was his phone, having auto-started a video, but nothing in his house could be capable of making that noise. noa sits still on his bed and cranes his ears, and then realization settles like cold snow on his body.

you’re singing. your voice is hushed, loving, and every now and then, noa makes out the whiny cries of a little boy.

he pauses.

dear lord. are you singing your son to sleep?

noa grits his teeth and stifles a groan when a rush of blood floods his groin, and his pants immediately start tightening up. he’s used up all of his self-restraint to not feel this way around you, yet the thought of you, in such domestic bliss with your toddler, turns him ridiculously on. his cock fucking hurts from how hard it is, pressing up angrily against his pants and demanding that he do something about it. his stomach throbs and swirls with need, with the desire to fuck something until he’s satisfied.

his hand absentmindedly wanders to the waistband of his pants, and he guides his dick so that it springs free from its restrictive confines. noa doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before in his life—his cock slaps up against his stomach, and the irritated tip is already drooling greedily. noa hisses quietly when the cold air rushes against his swollen organ, and he carefully wraps his hand around his dick.

you continue your singing.

noa wonders how you must look. he wonders if your sweet hair is damp from a shower, or if you’re getting ready to step into the bath once you put your son to sleep. he wishes he could bury his face in your hair and lewdly inhale, and he begins to slowly stroke his cock at the thought of your features.

maybe you’d hold your son to your chest. blood swells south at the thought of your breasts. the sloping curve that you always hid behind conservative clothes. noa isn’t sure if he wants to sweetly coax you out of them, getting you to shyly bare yourself for him, or if he wants to rip them off of you like an animal and savor the way you squeal and try to cover yourself up.

he wants to grope your tits. your gorgeous tits, made to hold a little boy close to your heart, once filled with milk to feed your son, all swollen and easily filling up his cupped hands. noa barely holds back a moan as he fists himself while daydreaming about your breasts.

he’d ghost his fingertips over your puffy nipples. he’d hear you cry out, sobbing out a “i-i’m sensitive there, noel-” while he teases them. he’d tug on them too, after a while, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while he has his way with your body. he’d keep on circling his fingers all over your supple breasts, the dainty signs of motherhood filling out and fueling his own libido.

his cock twitches in his fist. he’s leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. just the mental image of your fat tits has him acting this way, and noa doesn’t know what to do with himself. his balls tighten and contract, and your singsongy filling his ears overwhelms with lust.

he wants to fuck you. he wants to fuck you so bad. his length is fuming at him for not being buried into your delicate body. noa wants to fuck into you anywhere he can get.

your smaller hands, struggling to fully wrap your fingers around his thick cock. or your mouth, that canary-like voice of yours being put to good use by choking and slobbering all over him. or even your tits that he had been drooling over, slapping his cockhead over your sensitive nipples until you’re squirming and scrunching your face up the way he likes it. your plush thighs wouldn’t be too bad too, hearing your breath hitch and hike up an octave whenever his tip catches on your throbbing clit.

‘fuck- fucking hell, fuck, fuck…!’ he grits his teeth as his hands speed up, fucking against his cock as if he were a bull in heat. he hasn’t even had the opportunity to fantasize about your gummy pussy yet, and he’s already this close.

he’s too preoccupied taking his time fucking you with his eyes in his mind, stroking fervently to the sound of your muffled voice. he wants to cum, he wants to cum so bad, he wants to take all of his pent-up frustration and make it real and tangible that you’re the one who drove him to this ridiculous state.

he swears he’s going to fuck you. he swears he’s going to fuck his cock into you until your body bends and breaks to him, until you turn into a fucked-out shell of the sweetheart that lives next door. he’s going to get you fucking hooked on his cock so that you’re drooling and chasing after sex with as much as he’s going crazy for you.

horribly wet shlick-shlick noises echo around his bedroom as he thrusts himself all over his hand. his stomach twists violently, and his heavy balls contract painfully before noa cums all over himself.

‘shit. shit…!’

he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, forcing down any noises out of fear that you might hear. the rush almost breaks him. ropes of heady cum splash all over his chest and abs, instantly drenching and burning into his skin. he strokes himself through his orgasm, the coils in his gut twisting against themselves, unfurling in and out as pure pleasure streaks through his body. god, this was so wrong of him to do, but noa would be fucking damned if he said he ever came this hard before.

his cock hangs from the pricks of overstimulation as he continues to stroke himself, coaxing out every second of his orgasm as he possibly could. shame immediately floods his body like ice water when his foggy mind clears bit-by-bit, yet he can’t bring himself to jump to his feet and start cleaning up.

noa sits defeatedly in his bed. his chest heaves as he catches his breath, wishing his cum was streaked all over you rather than his own body, and he swallows thickly. he feels horrendously guilty, yet in a twist of ironic fate, your voice keeps trickling through the thin walls.

noa doesn’t even have time to fully let the guilt hit before his dick is swelling up in his fist again.

‘one more round. just one more round,’ he bargains with himself, ‘just until you stop singing lullabies to your son.’

…

“i’m so sorry, noel,” you laugh awkwardly. “i really hope i’m not bothering you.”

“it’s no problem at all, really. this is what neighbors are for.”

you stand a few paces in front of him, and the exhausted smile on your face makes noa’s heart speed up dangerously. honoré is fast asleep on your back, strapped to you with a baby harness. in noa’s hands is a stubborn jar of sauce, which, according to you, absolutely refused to open no matter what you did or how hard you had tried to wrench the lid open.

noa firmly grips the lid, and with a small grunt, he easily pops the jar lid open. your eyes widen in awe as he flexes his muscles subtly, a few of the veins in his toned arms becoming visible. he notices you staring at him, and he gently screws the lid back on before handing it back to you.

“thank you so much!” you beam. “it stressed me out so much that i couldn’t get it open. silly of me to think that when i have you right here. classic case of mom brain.”

noa thinks he’s going to stop breathing. you’re beaming at him in such a lighthearted manner, and your words bring his brain to full halt for a split second. he manages a lukewarm smile, and he’s getting ready to wave you off and let you scurry back into your apartment complex before you pause.

“you know… if you aren’t that busy tonight, would you like to come over for dinner? i’m in the middle of cooking right now—well, duh—and i feel like it wouldn’t hurt to make friends with the person living right next door,” you offer up innocently. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i completely get it-”

“-i’d love to. when would you like me over?” noa doesn’t even need to consider his options. “should i dress up?”

“dress up?” you gasp. “you don’t need to do anything fancy like that! it’ll just be a nice home cooked meal, maybe a little wine, just as a sign of goodwill. i’ll still need about… let’s say an hour? that way i can clean up a little too… the petit rascal here has a knack for getting into everything.”

“an hour sounds good to me. thank you for the invitation. i’ll look forward to it,” he responds plainly. his thoughts are going a million miles per hour.

dinner. at your place. with you. just you and him.

lady luck must be on his side. not even playing in the world cup could compare to the amount of anxiety and anticipation bubbling up inside of him. you flash him a thumbs-up, unaware of the wrench you had thrown into his nearly nonexistent courtship plans. he stands a bit dumbfounded in the doorframe (not too dissimilar when he first met you) when you scoot back into your place, most likely jumping straight back to work in order to prep food and spruce up your home to take him as a guest.

an hour. noa decides that it’s enough time for him to groom himself a bit too. jump in the shower, douse himself with a nice perfume, pick out a casual yet still suave outfit. if time allows, he’d even run down to a nearby store to buy a bouquet of flowers. a nice little thank you present for the meal, but undoubtedly enough of an ambiguous gift to give it a slight romantic tinge.

noa was going to milk this opportunity. you had thrown him the perfect chance, and noa knew that once he fixated on something, he would see it through.

to his success, all things willing.

…

everything about your house suited you. your apartment complex wasn’t decorated too lavishly, yet it wasn’t barebones either. noa smiles when he sees all the pictures of your son you have framed against the walls, and your shelves are stuffed with picture books and other memorabilia of the toddler.

you had expertly put honoré to bed before noa had came around, and when he knocked on your door an hour later, you had buried your face in your hands and laughed like a schoolgirl that had been confessed to when he presented you with a bouquet of beautifully prepared calla lilies.

“you shouldn’t have!” you had smacked his arm playfully, but noa felt his chest swell with pride when you rifled through your closet to find a makeshift vase to place the flowers in.

dinner had been delightful. noa had eagerly wolfed down whatever food you served him, and you were more than happy to prattle on to him about how honoré had recently developed an affinity for blueberries and that you were debating between buying him legos or a toy truck.

of course, the wine flowed generously throughout too. you had admitted that you had saved the red wine for a long time, never having a reason to drink it since your hands were full with a baby and not really wanting to crack a whole bottle open just for yourself. noa could tell you were enjoying the drink, swirling the wine glass around rhythmically as the drink slowly stained your plump lips a deep shade of maroon.

how lovely. noa wondered if it would smear if he were to kiss you.

letting you chatter on without stopping you let him extrapolate a lot that he wouldn’t have known otherwise. it didn’t take too many sips to get you a little tipsy, and with a few questions to ease you up, you were practically an open book.

you had gotten pregnant with your son a few years back, and when you approached honoré’s dad with the news, the sleazebag had completely vanished from your life. as awful as it sounds, noa celebrates inwardly when he hears that you’re single. you admitted that you were lucky enough to have good friends and a somewhat stable support system who took care of you through your pregnancy, and you had honoré without too many complications. but one thing led to another, and you ended up moving here.

“i work remotely,” you murmur, stealing another mouthful of red wine. “it’s… not much, but it’s enough to provide for me and my little boy. i get to pamper him a fair amount, and working from home means that i don’t need to worry about a babysitter! it won’t be too long until i can send him to school, and at that point, i can probably look for a better paying job that i can commute to.”

“i see. if i’m ever around, i wouldn’t mind looking after honoré. you already have a lot on your plate, and if there’s anything i can do to ease the load…,” noa trails off. you sigh dreamily, shaking your head.

“oh, i couldn’t ask you to do that. but i really appreciate the offer.” you glance towards the nursery. “honoré has taken a liking to you though. he gets so excited whenever he sees you!”

the tension between you two is electric. noa feels like his heart is about to give out on him, and if the tension mounting in his stomach tells him anything, it’s that he should be thankful for having the foresight to wear loose pants. your house smells like you: sweet, light, a perfect aphrodisiac for the starved man.

this is the closest he’s ever been to you, the longest he’s ever talked to you. you keep batting your eyelashes at him, looking up at him with such pretty, tipsy eyes. maybe it’s the alcohol talking for the both of you, but noa finds it hard to even swallow. he sips tentatively at his own wine glass. his mouth keeps drying up, and he’s thankful that you’re so good at filling up his silence with your own little chit chat.

“if you don’t mind me…,” you start. you peek at him, and he stares back at you with his sharp golden eyes. “what do you do for a living, noel?”

“me…?” panic stabs at him for a moment.

should he be honest with you? you didn’t recognize his name when he introduced himself, so it was clear that you had no idea that the man right next to you was quite literally the world’s best striker. would that change the way you viewed him? would you be scared? repulsed? would you talk to him again if you knew?

“sorry-,” you’re quick to apologize. “that was too much of me. you really don’t have to answer me. that was entirely my bad.”

“no, i don’t mind.” he owes you that much. you had been nothing but kind and welcoming towards him, and all he did in return was go insane with desire. the very least he could do was come clean about who he truly was.

he shifts in his seat, and noa braces himself for the worst. “i’m a professional soccer player.”

you blink at him. “r-really? wait, that’s kinda cool! do you play for a local league or something?”

“i play as a striker for bastard munchen. it’s a german team. they’re one of europe’s most prestigious leagues, and they’ve sent players to the world cup.” his grip on his wineglass tightens just a tad bit. “i’ve played in the world cup.”

your jaw drops. “oh my god. you’re not joking with me, are you?”

he risks meeting your eyes. “do i look like the kind of man to joke around?”

you cover your mouth with your hand, unable to look him in the face. “oh my god… ohhhh my god…! i’m so sorry! i’ve been referring to you so casually, and- and-”

he raises a hand, and he shushes you. “what are you apologizing for? you’ve done nothing wrong. you’ve always treated me kindly. i don’t see why knowing my job would change anything between us. we’re still neighbors. and at this point, we’re friends as well, I'd hope.”

he sees you swallow back a sigh, and you take a deep breath and nod. “right. yes. this doesn’t change anything… it’s still a lot to just- to just take in, you know?”

“you take the time you need. and if interacting with me becomes too much, then i understand. the last thing i’d like to do is make you uncomfortable.” his heart wrenches painfully inside of his chest at the thought of no longer being able to talk to you. but you’d find out sooner or later, and if his cover was going to be blown, noa would prefer doing it on his own terms.

“can i ask you another question then?” you ask with your mousy voice.

“go ahead.”

“why do you live here then?” you hiccup. “shouldn’t a super talented soccer player like you live in a big mansion?”

“i could. but i don’t particularly want to.” noa notices that you’re working up the courage to look him in the face again. his stomach twists once more, the sight of your pretty face all conflicted throwing his brain into turmoil again. he clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the same plane of reality that you were on. “i’ve never been interested in a flashy life. i prefer living quietly and doing as i’m told.”

“that does sound like you,” you hum in agreement. “well, as surprising as it is, i’m glad to have someone like you for my neighbor. and i promise i’m not saying it just because i know that you’re a professional athlete now!”

you giggle brightly, your lips curving to match the rim of your wine glass. you down the remaining liquid, giving a soft smack of your mouth to fully savor the notes. noa clenches his jaw visibly, and his nails threaten to break the thick skin of his palms.

you’re tempting him. you’re driving him insane. your lips are dyed and pretty, and noa has been staring at them all evening. his throat feels dry and heavy, and he forces the arousal pooling in his crotch to calm down.

he can’t be like this right in front of you. it was one thing to act like an immoral, debauched man in private, but it was another to be unable to control himself in front of you. he was better than this. he knew he was.

but the heart wants what it wants. and there was nothing more that noa wanted than to force you to your knees, to whip his hardening cock out of his pants and smack your slutty wine-stained lips with the tip. he’d force you to open up and stretch that cute mouth of yours around his girth, watch you struggle to take him into your mouth and whimper all over his cock. knowing you, you’d beg him to be gentle with you, to be quiet so that you wouldn’t wake up the slumbering angel in the next room over, and noa would have to fight every animalistic instinct in him to not fuck you until you’d be wailing the house down.

“is everything alright, noel?” you break him out of your thoughts. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before he faces you. he can’t stop the heat from flooding his face, but he’s quick to decide that he’d simply blame it on the alcohol.

he couldn’t keep doing this forever. something or other would give, and the last thing noa would want would be to do some unforgivable or stupid. it was torture, to have his body say one thing and his mind another, especially when you were quite literally within arm’s reach.

“i’m alright. you don’t need to worry about me. i can take care of myself,” he promises. you lean in closer, enough so that noa can feel your warm breath trickling across his neck. his heart threatens to stop, and he looks at you with hesitant eyes.

“are you sure?” your hand lands on his thigh, squeezing him gently.

oh. so that’s how things were going to be. what a goddamn minx you were, doing something like this with such disgustingly innocent intent.

“yes. i’m fine,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “would you mind passing me the wine bottle? i’ll pour us another glass, if you don’t mind…”

…

your mouth tastes delicious, like fresh wine and everything he had wanted to do to you since forever. your face is flushed, and your eyes are hazy, barely meeting his as you struggle to keep up with him through your drunken state.

“n-noel-!” you squeak out. his heavy body weighs you down, keeping you trapped between him and your squeaky bed. things are a blur, even for him.

one moment he’s pouring you more wine, and the next, the two of you are stumbling into your room, where he tosses you down onto the mattress like you’re a ragdoll.

“tell me you want it.” he rolls his clothed hips into yours, and you recoil into the bed with a choked whine. the sound goes straight to his dick. god, how long had he wanted to hear that? to hear the woman he had coveted for so long moaning underneath him?

you shake against his larger form. “w-want it- i want it, noel-“

“you want me to fuck you? you want your next-door-neighbor to fuck you?” he whispers. you shut your eyes as he kisses up your neck, his hands gripping your waist as his lips capture your earlobe. he sucks, his tongue lapping at your soft skin.

his imagination has nothing on how you actually feel in his hands. even through your clothes, he has no issues palming at your figure. you breathe out his name as his palms feel your curves, his fingertips dancing with the hem of your clothes.

you nod wantonly, not once fighting off his advances. “yes! yes, i want it- want you to fuck me- want my next-door-neighbor to have sex with me!”

“good girl,” he exhales. your breathing shallows as he coaxes your shirt over your chest and head, and you shudder as his eyes land all over your stomach and breasts.

your bra struggles to hold onto your chest, your full breasts pooling over the edge. you yelp when he yanks at your bra, snapping it off of you and letting your chest tumble out fully in front of him.

you instinctively try to cover yourself up with your arms, and noa grabs your wrists and wrenches them off of your chest. you mewl when the air nips at your nipples, causing them to perk up slightly.

“don’t you dare think about hiding yourself from me,” noa whispers. “you have no way of getting yourself out of this.”

you rub your thighs together, your cunt throbbing. when was the last time you had done this? you hadn’t had sex in years, not when you had your hands full with a baby and keeping yourself afloat. you were a mom, for fuck’s sake, with a whole baby to watch out for, yet here you were, pinned down underneath noel noa while he grinded his boner into your thighs.

his hands latch onto your chest, and his palms grope at your fat tits slowly. you moan out breathlessly when his calloused palms tease at your nipples, sending a jolt of arousal into your stomach. a wet patch forms in your panties, horribly turned on just from having your boobs squeezed a few times.

“god, you have no clue what your body does to me,” noa rasps. “do you have any idea how much i’ve dreamt about this? how much i wanted to touch those slutty tits of yours? look at you—your body was practically made to be fucked.”

your core twists painfully, and his fingertips pinch tentatively at your nipples.

“ah-! ahhh- noel-,” you buck your hips unconsciously, arching your back as he tugs at your chest. it stings, but it feels so good. even with the wine muddying your thoughts, your body responds to every little bit of attention noel showers onto you. you didn’t know you had it in you to be this lewd or to be this responsive.

you want more. it had been far too long since anyone showed you any love like this.

he slaps your tits before bringing his hands down to your pants, expertly undoing the zipper and hooking his fingers around the waistline. you let him wiggle your clothes over your hips and legs, leaving you almost entirely naked save for your drenched panties. it feels so terribly lewd, to lay there all bare for a man, even if you two haven’t technically done anything.

his hands squeeze possessively at your thighs. “i wanted to fuck you ever since the first time i saw you. ever since you told me your name, since your son started calling me dad. that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? if i became his dad?”

your chest tightens, and you bite back another lewd moan. noa ducks his head down and nips at your thighs with his teeth, and you flinch into his chest.

“you said it yourself. your little boy loves me,” noa murmurs. his tongue laps over his teeth marks, and you suck in a breath. your pussy twitches, clenching around nothing. your body wants more, wants to feel more noa more, wants him to take over your body and make you his. “nothing would make him happier than his beloved mommy to have a dad by her side.”

his mouth heads upwards, and he uses his strong hands to pry your shaking legs apart. you whimper, already feeling so exposed to the bigger man despite still having your panties on. he leans back, but his fingers ghost over your crotch. two fingers press up right against your pussy, and he rubs them up and down your covered slit.

his fingertips are damp. you’re obscenely wet, and watching you struggle to control yourself has noa’s cock straining for its life in his pants.

“or even better,” noa grabs at the waistband of your panties, “daddy fucks mommy pregnant and gives him a younger sibling that he can dote on.”

you throw your head back against your pillow. your mind spins with arousal and alcohol, and noa slips your panties off without any resistance. a strand of slick sticks to the crotch of your underwear, and noa’s finally rewarded with the sight of your bare pussy. he can see your hole fluttering and twitching on itself, desperate to be stuffed and stretched out with something.

god. your body is so attractive to him. he’s never wanted to fuck someone more in his life. with your full hips and soft stomach, motherhood has mellowed out and accentuated you into a woman noa just couldn’t resist.

he thinks he’s going to stop breathing.

“d-don’t look too hard-,” you stammer out. your body heats up and flushed at how intently noa’s staring at your defenseless cunt, knowing that your body’s begging to be penetrated and fucked.

“i’ll be so good to you,” noa vows. you’re frozen on the sheets, and noa nearly shreds the clothes off of him. your voice catches in the back of your throat when you see his toned chest and abs, the silhouette of the soccer player resembling more of a greek god than the man you had always known as your neighbor.

he pulls his pants down, and when he shoves his boxers off, you can’t help but gasp “oh!” at how big his cock is. he’s obscenely thick and long, and your pussy is both parts scared and aroused at the sheer size. god—you just know that he would stretch your walls out deliciously. his tip smacks his abs, and prominent veins run all along his length.

“you’re so big…,” you eke out. “it’s been so long since i had sex… i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“i’ll make it fit.” noa rests his hands on top of your knees. “do you want me to prep you?”

you nod. “yes please…”

he reaches over and grabs your hips, and before you can fully register what’s happening, noa hoists your hips up into the air. you give a loud cry, and the bed creaks underneath you as noa ducks his head. his grip on you is firm, and his fingers press into your hips as he brings your drooling cunt to his mouth.

noa’s tongue circles your throbbing clit. your hands fly up to your pillow, gripping at the plush material. jolts of electricity shoot up your core, and your stomach twists with pleasure. your thighs subconsciously try to shut, but noa curves his hands to keep them spread open.

“nngh…! wait, noel, hold on-,” you sob. you grip your pillow, clamping your teeth shut as noa teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. your hips shake as you grind up into his mouth, each wave of stimulation making your pussy drool and throb for more. “ah- be gentle with me…!”

be gentle with you? dear lord, noa sucking on your clit like a starved man was him being gentle with you. he had jerked himself off countless times fantasizing about having you naked and in his arms like this, and it took everything in him not to break that dripping cunt of yours in half with his dick. his cock twitches and protests when noa ignores his own arousal, too preoccupied in trying to force an orgasm out of you.

you taste so sweet on his tongue. you mewl out his name over and over, and your voice sounds like literal honey to his ears. one of his hands snakes down from your hips, and while noa swirls his tongue around your nub, he circles your pulsing hole with a finger. he could die right there and then, and noa would die a happy man. drowning in your honeyed cunt, losing himself to the tantalizing sensation of pleasuring you like any devoted man would.

“oh! oh god, noel-” your pussy can’t stop leaking with slick as noa keeps teasing you. he slips a finger in without much resistance, and your walls eagerly latch onto him. noa groans against your cunt when he feels your wall twist and clench around his finger, greedily sucking him in.

god, noa thinks he’s going to go insane. his cock wants nothing more than to bury itself into your sweet pussy, and feeling you twitch and clamp up on his finger makes his dick grow hungrier. his arousal is almost impossible to ignore, yet noa continues to swallow and lap at your core while he fingers you slowly.

he slides in another finger, thrusting in and out of you carefully. you buck your hips, crying out so prettily for him. noa curls his fingers and presses his fingertips all inside your pussy, and he stays vigilant in looking for that sweet spot that would completely unravel you.

“fuck-! fuck, wait- please, i-i can’t-!” you plead. your pussy tightens up around his knuckles dangerously, and noa fucks his fingers up into the spot that made you clench up and mewl so loudly. you’re already moaning and trembling this much just from being fucked on two fingers and having your clit sucked. noa can’t get enough of the way your body twists and reacts to everything he gives you.

a third finger prods at your hole, as if to ask if you’re ready. you inhale shakily as noa pushes another knuckle into you.

“fuck…!” you’re immediately clenching up, and your pussy’s walls are rubbing all against his fingers greedily. you’re nearly in tears, just from being fingered, and noa fights his desire to break you. “it feels so good- you feel so good, noel…!”

he thrusts his fingers into you, and you reel visibly. he can tell from the way your pussy has been twitching and gushing all around him that you’re close, stretched to your limit just from three fingers. he doubles down on flicking his tongue all over your clit: letting you grind your hips down greedily against the broad of his tongue. your body shakes, and you can’t stop sobbing.

you’re almost there. you both know you’re almost there. noa focuses himself on pleasuring you fully, and he roughly fucks his fingers into you and curls his knuckles into your g-spot without any mercy.

“noel-!”

your cunt squeezes his fingers for dear life, and noa latches himself onto your clit as you nearly wrench yourself out of his grasp. heat shreds your body, and the tightening in your stomach snaps violently as you cum shamelessly all over noa’s hands and mouth. you cry out his name loudly again, your normally gentle voice sounding so lewd and desperate as your slick gushes all over his chin and palm.

“fuck…! cumming- i’m cumming, noel…!” your body twists in his hands, and noa continues to stimulate your cunt until you’re babbling incoherent noises. he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, feeling your pussy try to cling to his knuckles before he lets you down properly onto the bed again. you’re struggling to catch your breath, your wide eyes all hazy and drunken as you suck in shaky breaths.

noa has no issue swallowing down your cum. he sucks your juices off of his fingers, cleaning up his mouth and chin before he scoots closer to you. you let out such a pathetic moan when he spreads your legs out again, your body too pliant and weak to offer any resistance. the sight of your obviously overstimulated and squirt-slicked cunt makes some sick monster in him swell with pride.

he did that. he made you cum.

he grips his long-ignored and fully engorged cock, and he smacks it against your cunt lightly. you flinch, your hole flaring up as he rubs his dick up and down your slick pussy lips.

“are you doing alright?” noa asks. his hands grab your hips, and your heart flutters as he rubs soothing circles into your skin. you nod weakly.

“yeah- i can do it,” you promise. you glance up at him with such pretty fluttering eyes, remnants of tears clinging to your lashes as you swallow. “i want you in me… i want your cock in me, please…”

“alright. deep breath. relax for me,” he commands. you nod again, and you shakily inhale and try to loosen your muscles up.

it immediately burns when he slides into you. you grit your teeth, trying your hardest to keep your pussy relaxed as his thick cock invades your pussy and stretches your walls out to its limits. noa grips your hips tightly, and he groans lowly when he feels you clamping up around his dick.

“fucking hell-,” he breathes out. “you’re so fucking tight-”

“t-too big-” hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “oh god, you’re going to break me!”

your pussy sucks him in and rubs all around his cock in a way that makes noa see stars. you’re so soft and tight, clinging and drooling all over his dick while his girth stretches and flexes your walls out. he keeps pushing past the resistance until he bottoms out, his balls resting heavy on top of your ass. you choke and gasp as he pushes your hips back even further, and he hovers over you, keeping you trapped underneath his thick legs.

a mating press.

“listen to me now,” he says. “i’m going to fuck you pregnant. i’m gonna fuck this pussy of yours till you’re pregnant again, and i’m going to give that little boy of yours a sibling of his own. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? have a baby of our own and form a perfect family…”

your pussy squeezes involuntarily, and even without you saying anything, he knows you’re turned on at the thought of being bred by him. a loud moan bubbles up in your chest as he slides his monstrous cock out of you before roughly slamming his hips down, forcing his entire length back into your tight cunt.

you barely choke back a scream. his cock has filled out every single bit of your hole, leaving you no room to comfortably take him. you swear that his tip prods dangerously at your womb, threatening to force it open so that he can dump as much of his cum into you as he wants.

oh god, you’re fucked. you’re having raw sex with your hot neighbor, and he’s talking about fucking his own child into you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “can’t believe you had a whole baby with this pussy with how goddamn tight you are-”

you shudder as he thrusts in and out of you. every time he pistons his hips, he doesn’t waste a single movement. none of his thrusts are shallow; each one pumps deep and directly into your womb, clearly with the sole intent of getting you pregnant.

“haven’t had sex with anyone since- since i got pregnant with honoré,” you manage out. “fuck, fuck- you’re going too deep!”

irritation irks him in at the thought of some bastard getting to fuck you first, at the thought of another man getting to fuck that slutty pussy of yours. what kind of madman would even dream of letting you go, let alone throw you out so cruelly into the world? if he could, noa would keep you at home and lavish you with all the attention and love you could ever want. he’d pamper you, treat you like the goddess you are, make sure you know your worth and more. he can imagine it: buying you pretty clothes, taking you out to expensive dinners, spoiling honoré until the boy’s world is flipped upside down by his indulgent stepfather.

but when noa glances down to see you all spread out and submissive for him, your hole eagerly taking his cock and getting ready to be stuffed with his cum, he can’t help but gloat slightly. he’s the one who has you now, the one who’s going to properly sweep you off your feet, the one who’s going to make you his.

“don’t lose yourself just yet. i know you can take it.” he fucks his dick into you once more, and you moan, unable to stop the arousal coiling up in your core. he wants to make sure you feel it, makes sure you feel every inch and ridge of his cock rubbing against your insides. he doesn’t know when the last time you had dick was, and neither does he particularly care, but he wants your body to know that his dick is the best you’ll ever have. “get used to how it feels. i’m going to make you my wife—gonna give you a family of our own. that’d be nice, yeah? to have someone that can support you? so you’re not all alone with just your son?”

you can’t help but nod, your pussy quivering at the thought. you know you’re not thinking straight, not when wine stains your thoughts and your body’s overrun with lust. but for some reason, thinking about noa wifing you up, taking you to be his cute little housewife while he fucks his kids into you, chasing after honoré and whatever other babies he’s going to put in you, finally having someone kind and reliable to depend on…

you want it. you want it so bad.

your cunt makes it obvious from how much you’re clenching up around him, unconsciously milking his cock.

“you like that? you like the thought of getting married to me and having my babies?” noa eggs on.

“don’t tease me like that-,” you protest. you can barely keep up with everything happening around you. his cock keeps stretching you out, rubbing all over your slick walls and sending waves of heat up your core. arousal floods your gut, and all you can care about is how good it feels to have sex, to finally let loose and forget about all the worries in the world, to lose yourself to a man who wants nothing more than to be good to you.

“tell me it feels good. tell me you want it.” noa’s fingers dig into your thighs. your clit throbs, and you bring a hand to your crotch to rub at it frantically. you’re sniffling and sobbing pathetically underneath the pro player, already this cock-drunk and overwhelmed just from having cum on his mouth once.

“want it-,” you obediently repeat. heat floods your face and neck. he’s so possessive, but it turns you on so much. “want you so bad- want you to fuck me-”

“is that all?” his hips pound into you mercilessly, and you groan. his balls slap against your ass every time he fucks his cock into you, a constant reminder that you’re about to be bred by him.

“it’s embarrassing to say…” you can’t meet his eyes. noa hums disapprovingly, and dread pools in your chest when he draws his hips back all the way, until just the tip remains buried inside your indecent hole. “what are you doing…?”

you instantly turn to look at him, horror flashing across your face when you choke out, “n-noel, hold on, you can’t-!”

he slams himself all the way into you. you shriek, your core immediately burning at the ruthless stretch. his cock prods at your womb brutally, and a mix of pain and unbridled pleasure rips at your body. you’re instantaneously reduced to a crying mess, unable to form words as noa breaks your pussy. you swear you’re going to break into pieces, body left completely to the man’s mercy. he keeps drawing his hips back like that, his cock reveling in the feeling of being completely enveloped by your welcoming hole.

the room echoes with your cries, the desperate ah- ah- ah-! noises from you spurring him on to keep fucking you like a bull in heat. as much as he loves you, cherishes you, wants to keep you by his side, the sex is animalistic and unforgiving. your body feels bruised and battered as he bullies his length into you over and over again, stretching and molding your insides to adjust to his massively unfair size.

“say it!” noa’s voice doesn’t waver even once. “say it properly, or i’m not stopping until you pass out.”

you open and close your mouth dumbly, your mind too fogged up to think properly. you endeavor and push through, pursing your lips to form the words that noa has wanted to hear since the beginning. “w-wanna have sex with you more! wanna be yours- wanna be your wife-! wanna get m-married to you and- and have your babies!”

“yeah?” the blond man repeats. “you want me to be your husband? you want me to be honoré’s stepdaddy? you want me to father the rest of your kids?”

the dirty talk arouses you in a way you didn’t even realize was possible. you throw your head back, your back fully arched. you’re being so loud, too loud, and while you knew you should be quiet and good for your son’s sake, you can’t help but shamelessly beg for the man on top of you to fold you in half and fuck you pregnant until you’re nothing more than a stupid breeding bitch for your evidently soon-to-be husband.

“yes…!” you moan wantonly. “i want it all!”

he’s dangerously close. so are you, he can feel that much. you babble on and on about how you want him, how you want him to make you his, how you’ll be anything he wants you to be. what a depraved woman, he muses to himself, so desperate for love that you’d throw yourself at him once he gives you an opportunity to. he thinks it's awfully ironic, knowing that he did the same to you, and he’s glad that he has nothing but relatively good intentions.

minus the fact that he wants to get you pregnant.

his cock throbs and threatens to spill his cum into you. you’re teetering on the edge, aroused beyond your own comprehension by the sex and dirty talk, your sticky fingers playing with your abused clit. his hands reach for your tits, groping your sensitive breasts again.

he can’t wait to see you pregnant. your pretty chest, swollen up with milk for his baby, and your hips full and rounded out. your soft belly is stretched out, and you practically glow with warmth. he knows you’d be a good mother—he knows you’re a good mother. you dote on your son with so much love in your heart, and he knows you’d do anything to make sure that your family stays happy and healthy.

his heart swells.

“fuck-” he pumps his dick in and out of you at such an inhumanly fast pace. your pussy won’t stop coiling all around him, making sure to milk him for all he’s worth and intoxicating him endlessly. noa knows he hasn’t had that much to drink during dinner, but the sensation of fucking into your warm hole makes him feel like he’s had one sip too many. “gonna cum, love- gonna cum inside you and make you my wife…”

“do it-!” you encourage him. your voice is strained and high-pitched, and your thighs ache with the pressure of having him breeding you in such a demanding position. but he’s so deep in you, touching you in places you didn’t even know was possible, and the pleasure makes your mind go blank. “cum in me- please, cum inside me, noel!”

how can he refuse? you’re begging for him, asking him with such doe-like eyes and offering up that tempting body of yours.

it’s his turn to beg. “stay with me.”

you let out a loud squeal as he draws his heavy hips back one last time. your hole contracts around him, your desperate walls trying to drag him back inside, and he slams down into you as far as he can go. he knows he’s going to be hooked on your pussy, hooked on your body and the way it feels like you were made just to take his cock and get pregnant with his babies, hooked on all the ways he’s craved you with such an insatiable appetite since he’s laid eyes on you.

he lets himself go. with all the lust in his heart, enough to rival the sheer amount of love he has for his sweet, sweet neighbor.

he’s never cum this hard before. his balls tighten up painfully as he empties himself out inside of your cunt, and you moan out his name when you feel him pulsing inside your core. noa clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth together as the rush of his orgasm possesses him. you’re too much for him: too loving, too ready, too perfect, and noa would rather be damned than let you escape him.

it hurts to thrust into you so quickly, not having fully even finished riding out his climax, but he’s determined to shove as much of his semen into you. he needs you full, needs to know that you’ll be knocked up with his baby, and he uses his cock to force ropes of his hot cum into every inch of your womb.

your core tightens and twitches when you feel him cumming inside of you, all of the tension building up coming to a standstill in that moment. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- noel, i’m- i’m cumming- i’m cumming, i’m gonna cum- noel…!”

your cunt wrings his cock, gripping onto his length furiously. noa has to double down, brace himself for the way your body refuses to let him go, as you cry loudly and cum all over him. your pussy keeps contracting and squeezing, your second orgasm immediately setting your nerves on fire and taking complete control of your senses. he can tell you’re instantly overwhelmed, your breathing turning irregular as you pant out for air, a slick ring of ivory froth forming at the base of his cock.

“s-so good-,” you slur out, your words melting into one another. you shudder when noa pulls out of you, whining in slight protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking your warm pussy. a strand of milky cum follows his dick before breaking, and like a broken dam, a rivulet of semen leaks out of you and drips down. it follows the curve of your ass before beading momentarily on the sheets, creating a pool of cum underneath you.

even noa didn’t realize he came that much. he blames it entirely on his intent to breed you.

he sits down wordlessly by your side, the two of you laying in the darkness in silence as you catch your breaths. noa debates getting up to fetch you some water or a towel, but before he can, you grab at his wrist and coax him back to your side.

“you asked me to stay with you,” you whisper. you sound so hushed, but noa would have to be an idiot not to pick up on the wavering tinges of longing in your words. “don’t go just yet… stay with me.”

he wipes some of the sweat off of your forehead, tucking some loose hairs behind your ear. he ducks his head down to kiss your face, just like how proper lovers would. you smile so brightly, despite your body still aching from the number noa just did to you. you’re an angel sent from heaven, this much noa is sure of. he has never been one to believe that sincerely in abstract concepts like soulmates and fate, but when he cups your face and rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheeks or your eyelids, he gets it. he truly does.

“don’t worry.” his voice is calming, and despite the fatigue ebbing over you in relentless waves, you can hear him loud and clear. “i’m not going anywhere.”

…

you’re fast asleep. noa’s aware that he should be asleep too, the clock ticking into the long and lonely stretches of early morning as he keeps you tucked into his chest. a firm arm holds you close to his heart, and your body slots against his like you were made to be held by him.

a missed call notification from his manager rests on his homescreen. he doesn’t want to pick up just yet. he doesn’t want to return to the real world, to his responsibilities, to be away from you.

a text message from his manager pops up, and he scans the preview with his usual eagle-like eyes.

‘sorry for calling you so late, noa. hope you’ve been doing well,’ his manager writes. ‘unfortunately, it looks like you’re going to have the next few months off as well. some material shipments got delayed, and without it, the stadium won’t be completed for a little while longer. your instructions are the same as last time: keep up with your exercise regime and do as your club tells you. other than that, you’re free to do as you want.’

relief floods noa’s weary body. he turns his phone over, blocking off the light before he pulls you to his chest even tighter. burying his nose into your hair, he holds you against his beating heart. thump-thump, your heartbeats syncopate to one another, and noa already knows he’s going to spend his precious time dedicating himself wholly to you and your happiness.

what he doesn’t see is the next text from his manager. not that it matters, noa has everything he could possibly want right now.

‘you sure are one lucky man,’ it reads. ‘make sure to take some time for yourself and relax, away from sports. breaks like these are rare.'

'you know what they say, noa. there really is no place like home.’

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #noel noa #x reader #fem reader #my writing

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wtftarot · 2 months

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PAC: The Sun

The Sun stands as the counterpart to the Moon. Representing clarity, the Sun leaves nothing in shadow. It speaks of blessings and growth. What do you need to learn from the Sun today? Let's fuck around and find out.

As always this reading is meant for entertainment purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in any way. Remember, use common sense, and don't be a dumbass.

Masterlist

Pick the Sunflowers, the Kid or the Horse and head on to your reading.

The Sunflowers page cups Rx, Justice, 7 swords, the Fool, three cups, the hierophant Rx, temperance rx

A lot of things are lookin hazy for y'all, huh group one? The energy here is super interesting. First, y'all are entering an era that will redefine what you think it means to have a balanced life. You'll figure out what it means for you specifically. Which is awesome but that's not the focal point of your reading. There's something here that feels very sneaky, not in a harmful sorta way, more like a heist. It's like you're heisting yourself back. I fuckin love that. I think y'all may have lost yourself or a part of yourself somewhere along the way. The cards aren't saying how or why, which I feel is significant. While whatever happened had its impact, it's so much less important than this, than you, finding yourself again. Now you're scheming and plotting ways to get yourself back and it's beautiful. There's so much excitement and joy here. You may still have to hide them because of circumstances outside of your control but you're not burying them. You should feel absofuckinlutly no shame about it, fyi. You had to adapt, that's all. Now though, you are plotting and planning yourself towards a life that you don't have to adapt yourself to. The clarity you're getting is clarity of self. Things in your life feel a little hazy and off because they kinda are. You only "fit" your life as it is now because you lost those parts of yourself. Things were always 'off'. You edited yourself to what the situation called for. So, as you find yourself, you won't 'fit' the roles in life you used to. You're stepping into a life that gets you. A life where those parts of you are celebrated. Moving forward you may not get many satisfactory answers from sources outside of yourself on what to do. That's cause this is a time where you are creating the answers. You may find yourself doing a lot of inner-child work in the next few months. Deconstructing outdated teachings, or just seeing through bullshit you once thought to be true. Your awareness of when you are or are not acting in favor of your true self is being heightened. Now, this all feels like the inner-shift that has to happen before the external changes. So, you may wanna seek out some alone time or journal your thoughts cause I'm willing to bet you'll be having some epiphanies or ah-ha moments. This is awesome, babe. It's gonna be beautiful to see.

random ass vibes: Cats, 8,888, the wizard of oz, My Chemical Romance, shout out to all y'all with adhd/autism. religious upbringing? Red, "you can't buy happiness- steal it", goldenrod, something about acrylic nails? first time getting them? owls.

The Kid

The Sun rx, Nine of Swords Rx, Four of Cups Rx, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, Eight of Wands Rx, Nine of Wands Rx, King of Swords Rx

This reading was interesting as hell to do. The short version is: Y'all are intuitive, you're just not letting yourselves simply BE intuitive. You try to force things or second-guess others and it's fucking you over.

There is a message that you may be spending too much on different divination tools when you don't need them. This reading is cool and frustrating. I had to walk away from your cards because every time I tried to read them, the message was muddled and contradicting itself? I'm writing this a day later because now that I'm not trying to force it, it's flowing like the goddamn Mississippi. I didn't even plan to get back to your reading yet. It's like 6,7 am? I was just drinking my coffee and the reading became clear. Which is the whole ass point of your reading. Everyone has different intuitive psychic skills and different skill levels but if y'all chose this group? Y'all are pretty fuckin psychic. Or you could be if you got over some self-doubt and shit. When I said you're not letting yourselves be intuitive, I mean you may be relying too much on divination tools and signs instead of your intuition. You can strengthen your intuitive gifts, and learn to interpret them more accurately but you can't force it. It seems like you've become so focused on trying to pick up on things psychically, that you're not even living in the moment anymore. Which leads us to the other side of this coin. When you're determined to know and see more when there's nothing there, you can start to take your anxieties for hits cause they're the only thing you got. It's sorta like how when you're looking into a dark space, and you start seeing things that ain't there. Which understandably makes you freaked out, then when the anxieties don't come true you doubt yourself cause your "intuition" was wrong. Truth is not everything is a sign or a hit. Sometimes a number's just a number and a bird's just a bird. A bad feeling in your gut is just your gut feeling bad. Truth also is sometimes true psychic hits are kinda dumb, most of the hits I get regularly are just my cat needing something. It's okay if your intuition is just when produce is on sale. You ARE psychic. You're also human. All of this is confusing and that's okay. We're always confused until we figure things out. This all came out with the Sun in reverse because y'all expect your intuition to be clear the way your other senses are clear. You're looking outside of yourself for something that dwells inside of you. The advice here is to learn to trust your inner instincts. I keep hearing "Play psychic games". Scry out what animals you're going to see the next day. Try to intuit what suit a card is before you turn it over. Being psychic isn't (always) foreshadowing doom, it can be super fun. Try to get readings on non-serious topics. Let your intuition flow and play.

y'all have no random ass vibes because you need to stop relying on external confirmation of your intuition.

The Horse

This reading may be triggering, I'm not sure if feelings of not deserving love are a trigger but just to be safe. If you struggle with depression, anxiety, or the like please seek professional help. I'm just a chick with a computer and a deck of cards. Remember, don't do anything to compromise your safety.

I took some time between readings, and leading up to your reading horses kept popping up everywhere. I knew this reading would be different. I did pull some cards, but they feel unnecessary because y'all's guides are just talking to me. Why are y'all so convinced you won't get a happy ending? Mind out of the gutter, please. Thank you. You seem to be utterly convinced that you will never have a solid, safe, joyful life? "None of that is for me" is what I keep hearing. It's like there is one way to be happy, one sort of life that leads to happiness, and if you do not conform to that you're just doomed to die alone in squalor? There's this energy of I cannot do things my way and be happy. I can't be myself and loved. I just heard " I don't get to.." As in I don't get to be myself. I don't get to be loved. I don't know who made you feel that way but they better fucking hope I never see them. Or better yet, hope that future you never meets them. Cause sweetie, this reading? It's about your comeback. And HOLY FUCK YALL THIS WILL BE A HELL OF A COMEBACK. There's this overwhelming feeling of happy, unbridled defiance rearing its head in you. If you haven't felt it yet, you will soon babe don't worry. This may just be a heads-up. Defiance in the face of every fucking thing that makes you feel like you'll never get what you want. SPITE. That's what yall are embracing. I FUCKING LOVE THIS ENERGY YALL. SPITE IS MY ENTIRE LIFE PHILOSOPHY. This may be sort of a "villain era" for you. You're gonna be spitting in the face of everything that made you feel like you'd never be enough. YOU ARE ENOUGH. I want to be clear, you're not going to wake up and suddenly be immune to all the bullshit you've been told. You are however going to wake up and decide to live in defiance of what people have told you. That's why it'll feel sort of villainous, you may not feel like you deserve happiness (yet, give it time). BUT is 'deserving" it going to stop you? HELL NO! This is giving happiness is the best revenge. Those fuckers saying you can't be you and loved? They're gonna have to sit and WATCH YOU. And you get the pleasure of shoving your success, your happiness DOWN THIER FUCKING THROATS. Sometimes, you have to move towards things before you feel deserving or ready, so you can learn to feel deserving and ready. It's gonna take some work and strategizing, (y'all may wanna chat with some of the people in group one) I am so fucking pumped for y'all. If y'all don't feel this energy yet, you will soon I promise. In the meantime, maybe make a happy-upbeat revenge/spite playlist. Cause above all, this is about being HAPPY.

Random ass vibes: Danger Days, snakes, cats, 666, y'all may wanna look up Hopepunk, zombies,

#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #wtftarot #the sun

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hazybisou · 11 months

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STALKING IS ILLEGAL KID! | LUKE HUGHES

pairing: f!reader x luke hughes

overview: week 1: luke tries to get y/n to agree to go on a date with him (as if she doesn’t know who he is and the reputation he and the team holds throughout umich) despite her suspicions against the whole scenario.

o. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. au masterlist

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she felt weird.

everywhere she went, there was always someone (or more) watching. y/n didn’t know why, she just simply chose to ignore it.

so as she made her way out of the library , she couldn’t help but notice a group of guys looking at her from a table in the corner. they turned their heads away as soon as she looked at them. she’s seen their faces around campus. she knew who they were. so why did she ignore them? simple. y/n knew better than to get involved with umich hockey team.

jess had told her about the people she should and shouldn’t be near. one of them including the whole team. it wasn’t anything bad but it was more of a “unless-you-want-to-deal-with-those-idiots-and-their-ways-i-suggest-you-stay-away” type of talk.

y/n couldn’t help but feel annoyed and roll her eyes. this has been going on for the past few days. one of them was always staring her down as she walked by. she was sick of it.

she stood there for a minute thinking of her next decision and if it would be wise and careful. “i’m sick of this shit so fuck it.” she whispered to herself.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the four boys didn’t notice she had caught them. they were too engrossed in their own conversation (revolving around her obviously) to even look up. they had been coming up for a way for luke to ask her out or somewhat get to know her.

for the past 5 days, ever since the party, that’s all they’ve been doing. planning. scheming. plotting. whatever you wanna call it, it’s all they’ve doing.

“what if you like accidentally bump into her.” dylan suggested with a shrug. “it’s cliche but it could work.”

luke just shook his head. “no way is that happening.” he sighed. “this is pointless. we’ve ran out of ideas. i mean it’s already bad enough i agreed to doing this shit but-”

he got interrupted.

“can i help you?”

they four looked up to find the girl staring down at them.

“i’m sorry?” mark questioned.

“well considering the fact that you’ve been staring at me for a while now, you tell me.” she remarked.

luke cringed and closed his eyes as he realized they had all been caught. they didn’t mean to stare, really they hadn’t, but they did. maybe it was curiosity that got the best of them.

“oh we weren’t-”

she just laughed. “you weren’t what? looking? you know i’m starting to think you all have a problem with me or something.”

everyone somehow turned to look at luke for a second. he just gave them a look in return as to say ‘what?’.

“jess was right. you guys are weird.”

that had confirmed their assumptions. she was jess’s new roommate.

mackie asked, “you know jess?”

she nodded. “she’s my roommate. who has told me what i need to know.”

luke perked up at that statement. “what exactly has she told you?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” dylan leaned over and said in a low voice so only luke could hear.

luke elbowed him in the rib. “shut the hell up.” he responsed in a whisper before turning back towards the girl.

“not much. just how you’re all self centered dickheads who think way too highly of themselves and need an ego check. you know, the small things.”

fucking jess.

mark turned to her. “do you believe her?”

“i’m starting too.” she said. she was about to turn around before pausing and looking back at them. “don’t let me catch you staring again. it’s creepy.” with that, she turned and walked off towards the entrance.

“bro, go talk to her.” mackie suggested as he gestured to the girl who was walking away.

luke quickly got up and began to jog over in order to catch up to her. he began to slow down as he was right behind her. “hey.”

she paused. “what do you want now?” she turned around and crossed her arms.

“i just wanted to um-i wanted to ask if-can i have your number?” luke got out.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the question. “yeah no. especially after what just happened back there.” she took a step. “and i don’t even know your name.”

you idiot. who asks for a girls number without giving them your name first?? she already thinks you’re weird.

is what luke thought to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“it’s luke.”

“maybe next time, luke.”

and with that, she walked away.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

it was a thursday morning and y/n was out, shopping at a strip mall. she and jess had decided to look for new clothes for the spring that was to come in two months.

“hey jess, how about this?” y/n said as she held up a navy blue halter top that had a lace trim to her body.

she turned around to hoping to find jess.

she didn’t.

rather she were met with luke’s tall, lanky, figure.

“i think it looks great.” he responded, a hand in his pocket while the other was pointing to the top. “although i’m sure i’m not the person you were hoping to ask.”

“nooooo, really?” y/n said, sarcasm obviously laced in her voice.

luke smiled and nodded his head.

“where is jess?” she asked as she started to look around, hoping to get out of this situation.

“i don’t know. she saw me and waved and wondered off.” he shrugged.

“thanks, that was very helpful.”

“i know right. i’m such great help.”

“asshole.” she whispered to herself.

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you.” luke questioned as he leaned down to her height and put a hand behind his ear, signifying he was listening. she didn’t know why but she somehow found that attractive.

“nothing.” she quickly replied. luke had a smug look on his face. “move, i’m going to find jess.” she muttered as she pushed past luke and began to walk to a different aisle she thought (hoped) jess would be in.

luke stood there, dumbfounded, before he turned around and began to walk with her. “you know we should hang out. grab dinner, talk, get to know each other..” he trailed off and y/n just scoffed and turned around.

“why are you talking to me?” the girl suddenly inquired.

luke was taken aback.

“what?”

“why are you talking me?” she repeated. “i mean i don’t even know you, apart from the fact that your name is luke and you play for the school’s hockey team, but other than that, i don’t, i’m literally talking to a stranger right now.”

luke half smiled. “since when is talking to a pretty girl like yourself, illegal?”

she shouldn’t have blushed at that comment but she did any way. luke seemed to have noticed as he let out a small chuckle.

“that still didn’t answer my question.” she quipped back.

“well, i want to get to know you. i saw you one day and couldn’t help but think, ‘god, she’s beautiful’ so why not talk to you?”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you’re a weird dude, you know that?” he smiled sheepishly.

“i’m gonna go find jess.” she said. “hopefully the next time i see you, it’s when we’re out of college.” she told him as she walked away, a small sway in her hips.

luke stood there, a smile on his face before he turned around to exit the store.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the next day, y/n was at work at a local diner across the street from campus. she had an afternoon shift from 5:30 pm to 10:00 pm. pop had asked her if she could close the diner which she had agreed to. so here she stood, bent over slightly, as she wiped down the booth table at the end of the aisle of booths.

the lyrics to an old song from the 70’s came form the jukebox on the opposite end of the diner and had reached their way to her ears. she had began to sing the lyrics quietly to herself.

there was only a couple, a regular who was a sweet old man named tom, and her co-worker, pop (also known as the owner of the diner) left. he was 52 years old and was still running the place. in y/n’s eyes, he’s a second father to her. he always took care of her and had great advice.

she suddenly heard the bell above the door ring, signaling someone had walked in. although closing time wasn’t until 10:00, she had decided to start getting the place ready for close up time by wiping the countertops and tables.

“sorry, we’re closed.” she announced to whoever had walked in, not even bothering to look up y the table.

“doesn’t seem like it to me.” an, oh, so familiar voice said.

y/n paused her movements as she looked up from where she was busy cleaning, to find the infamous luke hughes, standing at the entrance.

y/n put the rag over her shoulder and walked towards the counter, getting behind it to take luke’s order. “stalking is illegal ya know?” she stated. “no matter where i am, you’re always right behind me.”

luke just rolled his eyes and scoffed as he took a seat on the barstool closest to her. “i’m not stalking you.”

“then how’d you figure out where i work?” she responded as she closed the cashier.

“don’t worry about it.” he waved off.

y/n squinted at him. “you asked jess, didn’t you?”

“no.”

she gave him a raised eyebrow.

“maybe.”

y/n groaned and just grabbed her notepad she used to take orders. “well you’re here now, might as well take your order. what can i get for you?” she asked as she put on a fake smile.

“i’ll take two vanilla milkshakes, please.” luke said and she wrote his order down.

y/n looked up from notepad. “is that all?” she asked the boy. he nodded his head and y/n ripped the paper out. “i’ll be back with your shakes.”

she walked over towards the small window that looked into the kitchen. “order in pop!” she exclaimed as she slid the paper over to the man who took it and began to look at it.

“two vanilla milkshakes? for that lonely fella?” pop questioned as he looked over to luke who was looking around. “is he your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“i barely know the kid. we’ve only talked twice.” y/n said as she held up two fingers.

pop just shook his head and smiled. “he seems like a good kid.”

“i guess. you know he asked me out the other day?” pop raised his eyebrows in amusement. she laughed. “i don’t know. he just did.”

“and you said no?”

“well yeah. what am i supposed to say? you can’t know someone for two days and ask them out. that’s weird.” y/n stated. “and not very proper.”

“he probably likes you.” pop suggested.

“la la la la la la! no! don’t go there!” she told him as she pointed a finger at him. “no.”

he just laughed before he backed up slightly. “i’ll be back with your order.” he said. “for now..go talk to him.” y/n just shook her head.

she walked back to the counter and got to work. tom had paid already, but he had decided to stay for a little longer. she looked over and noticed he had begun to grab the newspaper and his bag. he got up and walked towards the counter. “i’ll see you tomorrow tom?”

“sadly, no. charlotte’s coming down from wisconsin for her birthday.” he replied back with a smile on his face at the mention of his granddaughter.

“oh tell her i said happy birthday.”

“i will. goodbye, y/n.” he waved towards the girl.

“bye tom!” y/n waved back as he left the building, the bell ringing.

she went back to the cashier as the couple came up to pay for their food. she handed them their cash before waving goodbye as they also exited, the bell ringing once again.

“so i was thinking,” luke started.

“i forgot you were still here.”

luke just shushed her. “as i was saying, i was thinking of heading to the beach tomorrow.” luke continued. “and i was wondering if you wanted to come with me? that way we can get to know each other.”

“luke seriously, what is it with you and trying to get me to go somewhere with you?” y/n stated.

“what? you don’t trust me?” luke asked.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you, which i don’t, it’s just that we’ve only known each other for two days and you already want to take me out when i don’t even know you.”

“well then this is your chance to get to know me better.” luke explained.

“you won’t give up till i say yes, will you?”

“mhm.”

“no.” she bluntly answered.

“oh, come on y/n! let me get to know you. learn more about you. you seem like a nice person. it’s obvious from the way you are with strangers and customers.” he whined.

“it’s called having manners.”

“please? just one time.”

“if i say yes to going, will you leave me alone?”

luke perked up at the question. “yes! i promise! you just say yes and i’ll leave you alone afterwards if you want me to.”

“promise?”

“promise. i’ll even lock pinkys with you.” he replied.

“okay.” y/n said.

“okay? as in you’ll go with me tomorrow?” he repeated.

she nodded. “okay, as in i’ll go with you tomorrow as long as you leave me alone later.”

a big smile appeared on luke’s face. “thank you! you’re the best.” he exclaimed before he got up and took his wallet out. he pulled out a twenty before placing it on the counter.

she grabbed it and held it up. “what the hell?”

“for the milkshakes.” he explained.

“oh.”

“okay i’ll uh, i’ll see you tomorrow.” he rushed out before he turned around and began to walk towards the door before he suddenly paused and turned around. “i need your number.”

“oh.” y/n muttered. “um, give me your phone.” she said as she stuck out her hand. he fished his phone out of his pocket before unlocking it and handing it to her. she opened his contacts and added a new contact before typing her number in. “here. text me which one, and at what time.”

“ok i will. bye!” he rushed out. “oh and by the way, you look cute in your uniform.” he told her before turning around and leaving the diner, a slight breeze making its way in.

y/n felt her face get hot and she couldn’t help but smile before it quickly disappeared, reminding herself to not get excited over a boy.

“order is served.” pop said as he placed two milkshakes on the windowsill.

“sorry pop, he just left. but at least he payed his debts.” y/n stated as she held up the twenty dollar bill before placing it back on the countertop.

pop just smiled. “free milkshake?” he said as he held on up towards her.

a smile crept up onto her face. “duh. let me just lock the door.”

so like this is probably the most i’ve ever written in general which is fun. this took me like 8 days to write and it honestly sucks BOOTY!! but like it’s 1 in the morning right now and i’m low on energy so it makes sense? i think. also next chapter is js gonna be the beach “date”?? and some other stuff so be prepared for that. now i will be going to sleep bc i have to deal with children tmrw morning starting at 8:30. (why did i agree to helping out with summer school?? i don’t even know y) goodnight lovelies 🫶🫶

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl #college hockey #umich hockey #umich boys #mackie samoskevich #dylan duke #mark estapa #isa’s works #love to be told au

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badchoicesworld · 10 months

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Can I request headcanons of Hobie Brown reacting to his gn s/o being startled when he kisses them whether it's on the lips or even on the cheek or forehead? Not only do they never kiss anyone because they never dated anyone before him, the slightly cold feeling of his lip piercing surprises them! Does this makes sense XD *Cough* totally not me about his lip piercing * Cough*

hobie notices how startled you get when he kisses you (gn!)

hobie brown x gn! reader

established relationship

hello i’m here to be ur bad influence, get a lip piercing if u want one, become the hobie brown in this scenario

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x gn! reader

requests: open, i wont be caught lacking

it was a moment of weakness

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

ok so i think that we all agree on hobie being very into physical contact and touchy feely

it’s nice to have a reminder that someone’s there for you physically, things like leaning on each other of just linking a finger while walking are super significant to him cause it shows you’re not afraid of being close together, y’know ? i image that’s pretty crucial to him if he’s ever in a relationship

at the same time, if it’s not present from the start, i think he’d be more than willing to teach someone what it’s liked to be physically loved and appreciated

he doesn’t know what’s gone off in your life, if your lack of experience is due to some sort of trauma or it’s as simple as you’ve never had the chance to be close to someone in that way, he won’t hold it against you

maybe tease and taunt you a bit

he’s definitely respectful and drops topics like a pin if prompted, and will easily respect personal space if anyone ever seems a uncomfortable by his closeness

no questions asked, he’s unbothered and keeps his hands to himself

if you seem a lil peeved more than anything he’s probably a bit more persistent cause he’s a cocky bastard at times

but if you express that you wanna be close to him but just aren’t used to it, man’s all over it

not all over you though, he won’t rush you

this shit boutta be GRADUAL and LOVING

ANYWAY to the actual scenario

there’s no way you’ve managed to avoid the magnet of affection that is hobie brown, but if things like arms around your shoulder and waist, hugs and cuddles don’t bother you then he’s unsuspecting for now

but if one day you’re just chilling, doing your own thing

maybe in spider society if you hang there, perhaps at either of ur cribs

and hobie just passively walks by or maybe you two have been hanging out all day

he sees you busy, wants to remind you he’s there

gives you the quickest little muah ever on ur temple or smthn

it’s casual to him, but he sees how ur expression immediately changes to a slightly started one, mixed with whatever else you’re feeling in that moment

it crosses his mind that you two have literally never kissed which is wild, now he’s amused by this revelation and is like “what?” (whot) while scheming and plotting in his head

you have your own reaction (or lack of) and hobie’s mildly entertained depending on it

just mad flustered ? he will weaponise this

if you seem genuinely uncomfortable by it then hobie’s gonna apologise and just wait for you to bring it up again before tryna kiss you again, he’s unbothered

if you explain that it’s just the piercing that caught you off guard and how cold it was, he’s laughing

like yeah, valid

likely knows he’s your first s/o or whatever you call yourselves, but you’ll tell him again that he’s your first

grins at all the innuendos he could make but voices none of them

you’re fine with it ? the coldness just caught you off guard ?

cue him wrapping both of his lanky ass arms tightly around your shoulders and just smothering the side of your face in kisses, really making sure that his cool lip piercing is making contact each time

he loves to be a fucking nuisance

irrelevant but i think hobie has a tongue piercing, anyway

even if you eventually get used to kisses, he still loves to see your reaction to the sudden freezing cold piercing

especially in the mornings, cackles when he watches you try to withdraw from him in the morning because of how cold his piercings are

imagine what it’s like when he fuckin nuzzles his face into you

two eyebrow piercings, one nose ring, lip ring- personally i would cease to a exist if i’m in that groggy state and that cold ass metal even grazes me, i’m gone and never coming back

he’ll sometimes kiss you just for your reactions, you aren’t safe

easily his favourite spot is the neck, imagine putting on a freezing cold necklace

yeah, it feels like that when he kisses you a certain way

in conclusion, your reactions enable him, please stop

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

#across the spiderverse #headcanon #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #atsv hobie #imagine #oneshot #ask #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie x reader

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madelynraemunson · 6 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club)

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ only, minors i am ON PATROL

Chapter 011: Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Movie night is cut short when Billy and Eddie both show up to your door in search of compromise.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

somewhat smut = *

smut =**

word count: 4.5k words

disclaimers — eddie’s bruised lil face, billy��s bruised face, no one is beating the living daylights out of the other this time. 😵‍💫 just a lot of ✨ fluff ✨ and you guessed it… ANGST , traumatic flashback, max being a mastermind with her plotting & scheming 👀

“My head is saying ‘Fool, forget him!’, my heart is saying ‘Don’t Let Go’…”

♡

Isabelle Munson is a menace and a half.

It’s obvious that Eddie’s ex wife married him for one thing and one thing only: his money. And, when caught in her web of lies, Isabelle quickly threw him under the bus to cover her trail.

“What, are you trying to take over Hellfire or something?”

It’s no wonder why Eddie freaked out on you like that. The clinginess and need for control over your ‘situationship’ probably set off all the necessary alarms in his head. Even though Eddie probably knew your intentions, he didn’t want to risk the possibility of another Isabelle. After all, she too started as an employee.

POP! Snap! Fizz…

Max pours a can of soda into her ice cold tumbler. She stirs it around before taking a few sips.

"Your boss’s ex wife sounds like a bitch," she comments.

"The biggest bitch," you shake your head. "I’m reading up on all the tea right now."

A paramour for control, Isabelle’s calling to make Hellfire all about her started affecting the work-life balance. So, Eddie sent her to NDA Gentlemen’s Club in order to keep their affairs separate. But then a romantic affair began to brew between Isabelle and Terry, the owner and actual culprit behind the scandal. And of course that opened up another can of worms.

“Why would Isabelle wanna put Eddie behind bars instead of the guy who actually tried to sex traffic her?” Max inquires.

“Terry Hobb was already gonna be arrested,” you discover. “If Eddie went under too, Isabelle would likely be entitled to his assets while he’s locked up. Probably what she wanted all along.”

Framing Eddie for a crime. Something that’s so easy to do in Hawkins.

Like Billy said, Eddie coming from a long line of criminals did NOT help his case. Drug dealer, murderer. Con-man and arsonist. Eddie being someone who trafficked the vulnerable would be easy to believe, especially in a town full of conservative women who were tired of their husbands coming home late — and drenched in glitter.

To bear the Munson name is not exactly a blessing. Even the woman Eddie made a Munson managed to do him dirty.

There’s another kind of wolf that Mom never warned you about: the one dressed in white — the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“This is all so awful,” you swallow hard, finally planting your phone face down onto the kitchen table.

And now Eddie’s business is in jeopardy again. All thanks to two volatile Hargroves who have no sense of self control.

"Why do I feel like there's something there?"

Max brings you back to earth. When you turn, she’s smirking at you.

“What do you mean?” you ask her.

“Oh come on,” Max rolls her eyes. “You seem really bothered by this. And Eddie beat THE LIVING SHIT out of Billy. Doesn’t seem like he does it for just any employee.”

You feel yourself blushing. Not only that but Eddie never fights anybody, period. He’s always called on Henry to do all the dirty work for him.

But Eddie knew about Billy and how powerless he made you feel. Seeing your abuser meandering so comfortably around his establishment was probably the last straw.

“There…might be something,” you confirm. “It’s hard though. Eddie doesn’t wanna commit.”

“Well after a marriage that traumatizing I wouldn’t either,” Max shrugs. “I’d be deathly afraid of women for the rest of my life.”

She walks over to grab the two bowls of popcorn that you guys heated up for everybody. You two, along with Vicky and Robin, are having a movie night to wind down from all the chaos. Tonight’s choice is Grease.

"Alright kiddos, camp is almost set up!" Robin dances her way into the kitchen. "We ready for some Grease Lightnin'?"

Max swoons as she adds some more key ingredients to her popcorn. "Hell yeah! Love me some Travolta and showtunes."

“What are you doing?” Robin asks, watching your sister douse your shared popcorn bowl with cayenne pepper and lime.

“A lil California spin on mine and Sissy's popcorn,” Max shrugs. “A squeeze of lime and some tajín. Well — cayenne pepper — since we don’t have any."

“That’s outrageous.”

“Wait till you see what we do with street corn,” you gush, dreaming about elote.

“Oh god…” Robin goes pale white.

“No really, Robin! It’s pretty good,” you insist.

“Not that!” Robin shakes her head. She points out the window. “That…”

You turn in the direction that Robin points in, which is outside towards the street.

Billy.

“Billy,” you gasp silently.

Your brother is parked along the curb, climbing out of his rental car with a little pep in his step. You watch as he checks his, relatively bruised, appearance, tugging at his hair and giving his clothes one last pat-down before making his way over.

Concerned footsteps dart their way into the kitchen. Vicky looks just as mortified as Robin.

"Do y'all see this?" Vicky questions.

Everyone nods to validate.

"How does Billy know where we live?!" you demand turning to the only other person here who has his phone number.

Guilt spreads across Max's face. As mortified as you are, you can't blame her. The fucked up parts of yourself would've done the same thing. You and Billy were in dire need of a heart to heart.

"You guys need to talk," Max explains what you're thinking. "I'm not letting him leave without at least a word or two. He agreed to be civil when I texted him."

"Thanks," you mumble. "I would've done the same."

Anyone who didn't fully understand the dynamic would've thought you and Max were crazy. But there is a part of you that will always love Billy.

Billy’s getting closer now. You can hear him clearing his throat from outside.

“So are we going to need the fire department too?” Robin asks, phone readily in hand.

“Most likely,” Vicky shrugs.

“No one’s calling anybody,” you instruct. “At least not yet. Let’s just see what he wants first.”

Billy's at the door now and you have no choice but to answer. You swing it open before he could even get a knock in, knuckle floating in mid-air but slowly drifting back down when he sees you in front of him.

Your big brother. At least by two minutes.

“Sup,” Billy greets you, almost jokingly. He flashes you a peace sign. Hi. I come in peace.

“You look awful.”

“Yeah, mosh pits aren’t really my scene,” he takes a sly jab at Eddie.

He requests entry into your new humble abode to which you deny. Billy backs down without question. So instead you walk out into the porch and close the door behind you.

“Before you press charges,” you preface. “I just want you to know how hardworking, kind, and empathetic Eddie i-”

Billy stops you with a raised hand. “I’m not…pressing charges.”

You’re almost stunned. “You…you’re not?”

“No,” Billy’s eyes are sullen. “I started it.”

“Eddie threw the first punch,” you point out. “If anything all you did was provoke him, which obviously won’t hold up well for him in court-”

“I…” Billy insists. “…started it.”

You don’t question it anymore because you can sense aggression brewing. And you preferred to talk to Billy when he’s calm like this.

Both of you take a seat right on the porch stairs. You can feel Vicky, Robin, and Max staring from inside.

“I deserved it,” Billy shakes his head. “And everything else coming to me for what I’ve done.”

“You don’t deserve it,” you try to convince him — and even yourself — of what you’re saying.

“YOU don’t even believe that,” Billy says, seeing through the bullshit. “Just fucking save it, okay?”

It's not like you can deny it any longer. Billy is the reason why you and Max are in this situation.

“I could’ve killed Max if I had been any more careless,” Billy grieves. “All because, what, she threw a box at me? And punched a hole in the wall because I said shit that made her do it. What I did made me lose everything I had left. Made me lose you guys."

Accountability, that's the first step. You turn away from him, refusing to believe this new change of heart.

"I didn’t honor your wishes to be left alone or at least given a little space..." he continues. "Showed up to your safe space and overstayed my welcome. And it blew up in front of me. Probably shattered my septum too."

"Do you see now?" you choke. "Do you see why we can't live with each other?"

"I'm sure we can, we just gotta change our ways."

"We've been trying to change our ways since Dad and Sue left!" you hiss. "Since Mom died, since the first crack in the glass. We change, but it just evolves into something worse."

Crickets on Billy's end. You can tell he's sitting with the words, no matter how uncomfortable they feel. But that alone is another big step.

You turn to stroke his face. He closes his eyes in dismay, soaking in all the affection radiating off your delicate, trembling hands.

“Look at what we do to each other, Billy," you plead. "It's not like this when we're apart."

Billy opens his eyes. They’re glistening with tears.

You fill him in on the friends you've made in Hawkins. How much your bank account grew. The payments you’ve caught up on since stripping at Hellfire. How you and Max sleep comfortably through the night. After what seems like forever.

Life is beautiful without Billy. As much as you didn’t want that to be true.

Billy finally speaks again. “What happened to us?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head. “And until we can both get our shit together, we need to stay away from each other.”

And now it’s 1998. You and Billy are four years old, playing tug-o-war over the last chocolate chip cookie in the jar.

CRASH! went the jar when it fell to the floor.

You’re both in trouble now. Or so you thought.

Billy ended up winning this round, scurrying off with the cookie while you attempted to sweep the broken shards of glass away. But knowing Billy had gotten a beating several days prior — it was BAD this time — you decided to take all the blame.

“Say ‘Sorry Daddy’ right now,” your father ordered after three aggressive spanks to your backside.

Bent across his lap, you bite your tongue as he issues two more spanks with his large, calloused hands. It was sure to leave a mark.

“SAY IT,” Dad roared.

But you weren’t sorry. So it came out strained.

“‘m sorry Daddy,” you sniff. “And I’m sorry… Billy.”

The last word wasn’t worth it. It was never worth it.

Your buttcheeks were burning, eyes stinging with salty, resentful tears as Dad continued to use you as an outlet for his rage. When you thought it was over, Dad chucked you off his lap, pulling you by the hair to toss you against the wall like it was some dodgeball game at the Y.

Billy’s eyes watched in horror. Your eyes burned into his as he poked his curious head out from the wall he was hiding behind.

“Doing it for you,” you mouthed to him.

Later that night, your bruised behind hobbled side to side to your shared room after your bedtime routine. To your pleasant surprise, there was something waiting for you on a small plate at the foot of your bed.

The last chocolate chip cookie.

You and Billy never apologized to each other back then. So acts of service like saving each other the last sweet treat made for a good alternative.

Billy walked over to you as you fawned over the last cookie. You turned to him in disbelief.

“I thought you ate it,” you smiled.

“No, I was saving it,” Billy lied. “All for you, Sissy.”

“It used to be us against the world,” Billy recalls. “As cheesy as that shit sounds.”

“But now it’s just...not,” you point out. “We just can’t be in each other’s lives. We gotta love each other from afar, Billy. At least until we can figure out how to be civil with each other.”

Billy doesn’t speak for a while. Instead he takes a look around the neighborhood. The tall trees that decorate the telephone poles. The flat land that perfectly accentuates the edge of the horizon. The fresh air, slightly corrupted with the overpowering scent of Marlboro. It’s no quaint beach town, but there was something about it that screamed “home” in no way San Diego can.

“Are you sure this is something you wanna do?” Billy questions you, referring to your job. “It’s not a safe gig, sis.”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “It’s temporary anyways.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this…” he sighs. “But I’m proud of you… ass and tits out and all.”

“Gee thanks,” you joke as you nudge him. “I’m glad I have your approval.”

After a while, you two finally stand up and make your way inside. Max is reluctant to walk towards Billy when he walks in, but that same invisible cord inclines her to do so anyway.

“You still don’t like me, huh?” Billy infers.

Max crosses her arms. “How can I?”

A timid smile forms across Billy’s face. “But you don’t hate me?”

Max repeats her sentiment. “How can I?”

She runs to him and snakes her arms tightly around his waist and he swings her around. Max giggles like a child when he playfully ruffles her hair.

“Seriously, how can I?” she questions. “I’d really like to take an expert class on how to hate you.”

Billy chuckles. “You need money for school books?”

“No, Sis got me on that.”

“Of course she does,” Billy says, peering over at you. “You’re in good hands.”

You formally introduce your brother to Robin and Vicky but it’s an awkward ordeal. Can't expect your good friends to get along with the person whose choked you out on multiple occasions throughout most of your life. Slapped you around as well. Pulled your hair and tainted your body black and blue. Calls you "bitch" and "slut" wherever he sees fit. But still loves you with everything he's got. And you, him.

Trauma is a weird thing.

Billy didn’t intend to stay for long, so he sees himself out shortly after that.

“Alright, I’ll text you when I leave,” Billy announces. “Call me. Please. If you two need anything.”

“Okay,” you smile. “We’ll be sure to answer this time too whenever you call.”

Billy gives you a half-assed salute as he swings the door open. He nearly shifts himself backwards when an unexpected surprise greets him at the door.

Eddie.

Standing 5-foot-10 with a face full of contusions and cat-like scratches is your boss. Eddie cringes when he sees Billy, eliciting a similar reaction from your brother the moment they register each other.

The silence is deafening.

There’s an urge to pick up where they left off, but both men refrain from doing so for your sake. Billy stomps off, shaking his head without meeting Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie turns to you. Waits until Billy is out of earshot to speak.

“You’re right about your brother being a douche."

You laugh. Eddie gives you that puppy dog pout with his chocolate brown eyes. You want to forget about him so bad. You want to let him go. But your heart is yearning for more.

“Do you still hate me?”

“Kinda,” you shrug. “But less so by the minute.”

“I deserved that.”

You can’t help it anymore. Eddie tries his best not to wince when you fall into him, wrapping your arm around his waist and burying your head in his chest.

He rubs your back gently before ruffling your hair. Then he plants a gentle kiss onto your forehead. It launches you into squeezing him tighter.

“You okay?” he mumbles.

You nod into his chest and he strokes your hair, allowing you all the time you need to let you guard down.

“How long is he staying in town?”

“Forgot to ask,” you answer him honestly. “Probably not for long.”

“You should board up your windows just in case,” Eddie says half-jokingly. “Install a few more locks. Probably a few cameras.”

You tsk. “Okay, I don’t think I need to get that carried away.”

“Fine,” Eddie shrugs. “Of course I can always stay the night too.”

His fingers dance up the small of your back, causing you to inhale sharply out of arousal.

“Protect you a lil more…” he continues.

“Yeah I don’t think so, Munson,” Robin clears her throat, knowingly interrupting the sappy moment you’re sharing. “Movie night is for the girls only.”

“You know I can always leave it to you to cock-block, Buckley,” Eddie laughs. It’s a reminiscent one. “Thought your silhouette looked familiar at Hellfire.”

Your eyes dart between them both.

“You guys know each other?!”

“We all went to school together,” Vicky explains, coming back into sight as well. “The three of us were all in the same band class at one point.”

“Until ‘Dungeons’ over here thought he was too cool for us,” Robin adds. “And started his own band.”

“I was always a lil eccentric, wasn’t I?” Eddie winks. “Thanks for remembering. Though Corroded Coffin is all a distant memory now.”

“So that means you guys went to school with Steve too?” you direct your question towards Robin and Vicky.

Vicky raises an eyebrow. “Steve? Like… Steve Steve? Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington?”

“You know King Steve?” Robin scoffs, completely baffled. She crosses her arms in amusement.

“Oh she knows King Steve,” Eddie smirks. “Knows him real well.”

“Jealous much?” you quip.

“I plead the fifth,” Eddie mutters.

“And I plead that we all know less and less about each other,” Max sighs. You almost forget that she’s there. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The girlfriends follow Max back into their room to continue with movie night. Now you’re left alone again with Eddie.

You stare up at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a couple ruffled feathers, I’ll be fine,” he dismisses your concern.

"You've got a great deal of damage control to do when we go back.”

“Eh,” Eddie shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time my business was in trouble.”

You laugh and roll your eyes.

“And for as long as you’re along for the ride? This probably won’t be my last.”

“Swinging at my estranged family members, my hero my hero,” you joke, finding yourself leaning into him further.

And then you kiss him. It's your first advance in a while that Eddie doesn't shy away from. He kisses you back, with an ignited passion that surpasses even the electricity from Saturday in his van. It's an aching, and a longing.

His lips interlace ever so comfortably with yours. He's missed you so. And you missed him too. Even when you were being irrationally jealous over Nina.

“Gettin’ me in so much trouble, Hargrove,” Eddie grazes your back as he slowly pulls away.

And your eyes can’t help but trail down to his hands. Knuckles bloody, fingers absent of any rings for once, tan lines on all but one special finger.

“Did you love Isabelle?”

Eddie stares at you like you’re insane.

"Of course I did,” he insists. “She was my wife. There were some warning signs that she was after my money though, but I was too stubborn to believe it was true.”

You nod.

"But now you know," Eddie grins in exhaustion. “Now you know why I’m guarded. Because like you, even Isabelle looked like a dream”. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he mumbles, “Too good to be true.”

Your heart shatters for him.

“You need to start saying what’s really on your mind,” you say to him. “Speaking up, asking for help. I’m tired of watching you fight battles alone.”

“Then don’t look,” Eddie jokes. One second later and he’s back to being serious. “It’s pretty hard to trust people when they prove to you time and time again why you shouldn’t.”

He steals some popcorn from your bowl, tossing it up into the air. It successfully lands in his mouth.

“Besides. I’ve come this far without anyone, but Wayne’s, help. And I turned out fine.”

You glare at him.

“Couple scrapes and bruises,” he continues, alluding to his scuffle with Billy. “But I’m fine.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Eddie offers you a look.

“What, you think I’m bluffing?”

“No,” the pitch in your voice heightens. “I just think…a healed person would let a little love in.”

Then those sad doe eyes meet you again, the kind of gaze that would cause anyone to go weak in the knees. You swallow hard.

“Please be patient with me,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m really trying.”

“I know you are,” you rub his arm. “We don’t have to rush into anything.”

You both lean into each other again, the need to have and be with each other a palpable energy between your torsos. You beam up at him as you run your fingers down his hair.

“I am ready for something though,” Eddie proposes. “I’d like to keep whatever this is going.”

“I’d like that too,” you heart begins to flutter.

You picture yourself grocery shopping at Meijer with Eddie. He’d push for you to buy desserts, but you’d remind him that he needs veggies in his life. You see yourselves going to the pumpkin patch as autumn approaches and taking goofy Polaroids by the scarecrows. And it’s like he’s already in front of you on Christmas, his tongue poking out slightly — like it always does when he’s deeply focused on something — as he fixates on making his gingerbread house a gingerbread home. And when the ball drops on New Year’s Eve, he is going to be your kiss, dipping you like the one sailor did with the nurse in that one iconic picture of the world war being over. And then you two would recreate that same pose when you take him back home to experience a San Diego summer.

A romance for the books.

“Just…sex and quickies all the time!” Eddie speaks, instantly yanking you out of your daydream. “Smoking together…asking each other about our day…cuddling, in the nude…”

Suddenly, Eddie’s cock-blocked himself with his fantasy that he revealed to you. The familiar tinge in your chest returns again.

“Oh…hooking up is what you meant,” you nod.

“Duh, what else?”

You swallow hard again. So now you know what this is all about. You know now what he really saw when he looked at you.

“So… just purely sex. I gotcha.”

“Whoa, don’t put it like that,” Eddie grimaces. “It sounds bad. We’ll get to the titles eventually, I just gotta dip my toes in first.”

“I don’t want you dipping any of you in anything,” you glare at him with disgust. “Sorry but for a while I thought you liked me for me.”

“I do, Shy Girl,” Eddie insists. “I’m just not ready for titles yet. We literally just got done talking about that.”

“Oh, but you wanna keep me around as a fuck doll, that’s it?”

“Don’t act like you don’t have needs yourself…” he protests.

“Yeah and Steve is meeting those needs,” you hiss. “The reason I’m bouncing between you guys is because Steve is my fuck buddy, but I’m willing to let him go if you want to be exclusive with me. Which I don’t get why you won’t call it exclusive if that’s theoretically the case.”

But should’ve known Eddie only saw you as a booty call. You two hang out at nighttime, flirt, and touch each other too often for that to not be a case. And, of course, when something else catches his eyes, Eddie moves on and simply pays you no mind.

“I thought you saw this going somewhere,” you scoff as you cross your arms. “Beyond a mattress and the back of your van.”

“I thought I saw this going somewhere too,” Eddie shrugs bitterly. “But now that you mention it, someone who is always questioning my intentions without letting me explain myself doesn’t deserve the title anyways.”

Could Eddie stomp on your heart any more?

Did he just expect you to wait around for him? Did he expect you to run around with ‘Reserved For Eddie’ while he decided how much of himself to give you on whatever day? None of it is fair. But Eddie doesn’t play fair. He just calls the shots, as always.

And to think the two of you would come to any sort of compromise tonight.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Hargr-”

“Good…night… Eddie.”

“The power you’re supplying… it’s electrifying.”

Defeated, you end up excusing yourself from the rest of movie night and lugging yourself to your room. Max is in the room too, a huge surprise considering John Travolta was metaphorically a room over.

“Oh she is cuuute,” Max raves.

She’s talking about the red lingerie set from Nocturna, you realize when you drag your feet into your room.

“Thanks,” you shrug sheepishly, taking the set back from jet. “Eddie bought it for me to wear actually.”

You take the set in your hands and smooth it out just a little. It’s such a pretty set. Now it’s just collecting dust, a shame because you loved how amazing you looked and felt in it.

“Why don’t you wear it to Hellfire?” Max suggests. “I’m sure Henry would love it if you did for his dance in a couple days.”

“You want me to wear it for Henry?” you scoff. “That’s a no. Eddie doesn’t wanna see me wearing that specific set for anyone else but him.”

“Hmmm,” Max thinks. “We’re talking about the same Eddie. Right? Eddie ‘Non-Committal’ Munson?”

You smirk. She smirks. Your sister is a genius.

If Eddie truly doesn’t want to commit to you and make you his, then there is no need for you to commit to him either.

And the DEVIL WOMAN set is clearly no exception. There’s no need for a hot outfit like that to go to waste.

“I’m picking up what you’re putting down…” you grin, a rather wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing grin.

Max rubs her evil little fingers together. “Figured you might.”

“TELL ME ABOUT IT!” you two hear Robin and Vicky yell from their room. “STUD!”

And ‘You’re The One That I Want’ starts blaring through the speakers.

Its a shame that you and Max were missing your favorite part of the entire movie. But you two have your own revenge plot in the works.

And you, you’ve got your own dance number to practice. A dance for the One that you want. In this case, it’s Henry.

“You better shape up because I need a man. And my heart is set on you.”

Oh Eddie…

Let the mental gymnastics begin.

—————————

author's note: when eddie goes low, shy girl goes lower…. do you guys think eddie will be mad seeing shy girl dancing for henry in the red set he bought her? 🤔😈

—————————

🏷️ tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxps i , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron

#Spotify #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things 5 #stranger things #eddie x reader #reader x Eddie

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vmpiires · 5 months

Note

hi babagril 🤭 sooo my request is gojo poundin the shit out of y/n (or my name 🗣️) after y/n being a absolute teasing him and being a brat.

u could either write gojo or geto… or both cs uk i don’t mind

„𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂”

: ̗̀➛ 18+ CONTENT!!! MDNI

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, public sex, nun too heavy. threesome. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 670

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; again,, first time writing for these characters. i hope this don’t suck 😭 HOPE YOU LIKEEEE and reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D

you were being impatient. you, gojo, and geto have been out all day messing around…more like gojo and geto were messing around. you just tagged along because you didn’t wanna be left alone at home while gojo claims to be out doing “extensional work”.

the three of you were currently out for lunch. geto squinted at the non-sorcerers. his little ponytail swung behind him as he grabbed the set of chopsticks and began playing with his food.

“there’s a bunch of monkeys, over there. i don’t wanna be near those things.” you heard him grumble under his breath before he’d take a glance at you and smirk. “don’t worry, you’re an exception.” that’s when he began spraying his disinfectant deodorant….to keep the monkey smell away.

“what the hell…” you thought as you laughed off geto’s comment, not exactly knowing what you should say after. gojo’s hand gently pressed down onto the table as he stood up.

“going to the bathroom, be right back.” he announced. that’s when you took the opportunity to try to go with him and satisfy your needs. you were going through an insane heat. it didn’t help that you were ovulating.

“uh…me too!” you suddenly say before grabbing gojo by the arm and dragging gojo to the bathroom, leaving the non-sorcerer hater at the table alone.

he didn’t seem to mind.

the two of you get to the bathroom, and you being you, you stopped gojo before he could get into the stall, telling him your scheme.

twenty minutes later, the two of you were on the bathroom floor, naked. gojo was holding your thighs down while his tongue was moving against your folds at some unknown speed, making you moan loudly. your hips bucked, pushing his face more into you.

your fingers gripped onto his icy white hair. you were trying your best to be quiet, considering you were in a public setting but the way gojo’s tongue was moving was driving you insane.

before anything could go any further, the bathroom door opened. there stood geto with the widest of eyes, completely in shock of what he was looking at.

but your imagine enticed him. seeing your movements against his best friend’s face as he opened the door. it was hypnotic. the male made a face before he commanded you to move off of gojo after he decided that he’d join in on such acts. of course you listened. he removed his clothes also.

“you’re so obedient…i thought you were incompetent but i think you could be useful.” he said as he pinned you down against the cold tiled flooring of the bathroom. he’d put your legs up over his shoulders, before he’d force his length into you. it all happened so sudden. your breath hitched as you tried to control your moans but it was physically impossible.

while geto was slamming himself into you, his thrusts getting slightly more intense by the moment, gojo quieted your noises of pleasure with his own length. as if it were muscle memory, your hand wrapped around his shaft and your tongue swirled around against his tip, which flushed a red color filled with sensitivity.

you were being constantly praised by the two men as they fucked you roughly. all three of your moans and airy breaths filled the room, not really caring if anyone on the outside heard anything. what mattered was that you all were getting some sort of pleasure out of this. your eyes rolled back, unable to see what was in front of you clearly.

soon enough, puddles of a warm substance fell onto your stomach and some going down your throat.

both geto and gojo stood up, cleaning themselves before putting their clothes back on.

“that was fun, wasn’t it?” geto smirked at you. embarrassed, you quickly got up and cleaned yourself also and put your clothes on.

“i thought it was fun.” gojo beamed with a goofy smile. geto narrowed his eyes before nudging the other.

“i wasn’t asking you.”

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

#anime #𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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politemenacephd · 5 months

Text

Easing Tensions

Miguel O'Hara x transmasc!reader (+18)

Plot: Reader is Miguel's physiotherapist, who gets mouthy with him when he refuses to take proper advice.

Word count: 8570

Content: Established relationship (friends), slight age difference, sexual tension/rivalry, playfighting, rough dry humping, oral (giving and recieving), rough kissing, workplace affair, P in V sex, slight degradation, biting kink. Warning: Mentions of reader having top surgery and bottom growth but no bottom surgery. Mentions of vaginal anatomy are used when describing reader. -------------------------------------

Notes: I'm porting this over from my AO3 because its my most self indulgent fic and I love it, sorry I really wrote this one for myself but I wanna add to the trans masc fics while I can, enjoy <3

You spun your chair in an empty office, eyes glazed over with boredom.

You were doing everything you could to control your temper. Tapping your pen, twitching your feet, and spinning your chair until you were too dizzy to be annoyed.

You glanced at the clock: 7:05pm. Your eyes narrowed.

Miguel was late. Again. That big hunky idiot was supposed to show up at 6:30pm for his session, and now you were here way past your usual closing time. You were certain all the other spiders had probably gone home by now too. They were probably drinking themselves silly at some Nueva bar while you waited hand and foot on your beloved, high-strung leader.

You grunted and scribbled something in your notes to sketch out the frustration.

You see, you had a special job within the spider society, one that was quite unique. You weren’t a hero, not anymore, nor were you some tech genius or child prodigy.

No, you were a physiotherapist. It was a rather overlooked job in the grand scheme of things. Everyone thought Spider-Byte was vital for managing the go-home machine, and people like Jess and Peter were considered irreplaceable, but with hundreds of people bending their bodies in inhuman ways and pushing their muscles to the brink, who was there to keep them functioning properly? Who was there to ensure they didn’t slip a disk or get a trapped nerve rending them incapable of fixing anomalies?

You. You were there, and even if your praises weren’t sung to the top of the HQ you were usually shown a basic level of respect by your clients. That is, except for one.

The door suddenly burst open, right as your chair spun a final circle round to face it. You glared at the enormous shadow filling the doorway.

‘You’re late’ you said slowly.

A pair of glowing red eyes glared back at you.

‘Very late’ you repeated, emphasising your point by rising to your own feet. Those red eyes narrowed.

‘As I always say, I’m sorry, but—’

‘You’re a very busy man?’

As you rose from the desk and walked across the floor the shadow emerged into the light, revealing the chiselled face of your most behated client and friend: Miguel O’Hara, head and founder of the spider society.

‘The busiest’ Miguel noted. His full lips curled slightly as he looked down his nose at you. When standing head to head you barely came up to his chest, so you had to tilt your head to see him.

To anyone else he was terrifying. 6ft 8, muscled to the brim, with broad shoulders and blood red eyes. Not to mention those hefty claws, capable of ripping metal in half, or those fangs dripping with paralyzing venom.

Even if you were an averaged sized man you’d be miniscule compared to him, but that didn’t matter. After all, you had a special relationship with this beast of a spider.

‘Take ‘em off, get on the bench’ you said, gently jabbing a finger into his pec. Miguel’s cold expression curled into a familiar smile.

‘Such a gentleman’ he said, his thick tongue dripping with sarcasm.

You chuckled and clapped him on the bicep. ‘For you princess? Always.’

You’d known Miguel a long time. Long enough that you were the only one he’d trust with his physiotherapy, and long enough that you were one of the few people allowed to talk to him like this. You could tell Miguel was fond of you when he gave you that patented, smouldering glare, but didn’t immediately tell you to leave or throw something at your head.

In this case Miguel just grumbled a little before stripping his shirt aside, allowing you a chance to admire his back.

‘Mm… I can see you’ve got more tension’ you noted, tracing a finger down the bare skin of his shoulders. His muscles heaved as he rolled them, but when your finger brushed his skin you saw him give a little shiver. He looked scary, yes, but was far from it.

‘We had another anomaly to deal with. A Vulture got through’ Miguel curtly replied. You began brushing down the pre-prepped massage table at the side of your office as Miguel stripped off his pants.

‘Vulture? That means you were using your webs a lot. You already put too much strain on your rhomboids’ you said, more to yourself than him. You quickly ensured that the blinds were down as he made his way over to your nicely made massage table. His claws immediately ripped the fresh sheet you’d put over it, but you were used to that by now.

You let him do his little undignified shuffle until he was perfectly in place before approaching him from behind. ‘Alright, so, do you want me to focus on the usual spots?’ you asked. He nodded.

With his approval gained you put your palms on his thigh. He let out a slight huff as you started pressing into his muscles. His skin was smooth beneath your fingers, muscled and firm with a light covering of dark hair. You moved over his legs with ease.

‘You’re not doing those stretches I told you to do.’

‘I’m busy.’

‘Uhuh. You’re always- busy, Mr O’Hara’ you said, snidely emphasising the word ‘busy’ while pressing deep into his glute muscles. As anticipated you earned a low grunt of pain from him as you worked out the tension. ‘Which is why, I’m trying, to keep you in good condition. Because if you get sprained again, you won’t be able to work, and you’ll- oof, there’s a tight one- fall even further behind.’

‘I can work through a sprain’ Miguel said through gritted teeth.

‘Not on my watch.’

You heard him give another pained chuckle as you worked down to his thighs. ‘Not on your watch’ he repeated in a sarcastic grunt. ‘What are you, my dad?’

‘You’re old enough to be my dad’ you drawled back. That got you a horrified little choke from Miguel, one you enjoyed a great deal.

‘Cómo se atreven- what are you talking about?’ he snarled. ‘I’m not that old! And you’re certainly not that young.’

You paused mid-press as Miguel pushed himself up onto his elbows, his neck craning to face you. He glared at you, eyes barely a few inches apart, and you returned his coldness with a slightly tilted smile.

‘Sorry. Of course. I meant, old enough to be my daddy’ you teased in a slightly hushed voice.

Just as you’d anticipated, his cheeks darkened with a deep undertone of red. He turned away.

‘You’re incredible unprofessional’ Miguel grumbled.

‘Sorry, daddy.’

‘Ay por Dios- not today, please.’

‘Sorry daddy, won’t happen again daddy.’

‘I will fire you, don’t think I won’t.’

You continued with your session in relative silence. As you worked out his back Miguel occasionally broke into complaints about his job, about how tired he was, and you either listened sympathetically or chided him in that usual bro-ish manner. You could tell now by the little tones in his voice whether he wanted attention or wanted to joke around, and you took it to heart.

After all, you did care about him. He was a tragic man, one who covered all his issues in anger or sarcasm, and this had become his haven to relax in more ways than one.

You felt like you owed him. In many ways, you did owe him.

‘How are you healing up?’

You nearly jumped as Miguel broke that comfortable silence. Your eyes rolled up to see he’d tilted his head, and his red eyes were glowing beneath the unruly tangle of dark hair draped across his forehead.

For the first time you stammered. ‘Ah- you mean the surgery? I’m good. Its, good. The scars still there but it’s healing up nicely.’ You moved to try and continue pushing but Miguel paused you again, this time by pointing a claw at your chest.

‘Can I see?’

You blanked. He wanted to see? With a slightly flustered face you pulled back and unbuttoned the top of your shirt, just enough to show your chest and the two, thin, raised scars going under both your pecs. You felt Miguel’s eyes moving over you slowly.

‘You uh- you like what you see?’ you said, trying to play off the strangely tense moment with a joke. Strangely, Miguel didn’t seem as offput by your flirting as he usually did.

‘Looks good’ he said. He gave a curt nod before dropping his head back onto the table. You hurried to re-do your shirt.

‘Yeah, I uh- thanks for, making them push my surgery forward’ you said as you returned to his body. He grunted and shrugged, his enormous shoulders rippling beneath your hands.

‘It was against code to make you wait so long, of course I pushed it. You shouldn’t thank me. I was doing my job.’

‘Ah, of course. You definitely didn’t scream at the surgeons in the medical bay to… what was it? Do their fucking jobs? And then went on some weird holy than thou tangent about taking care of all our members equally?’

You caught Miguel’s eyes as they darted to your face and had to bite back laughter. He looked horrified.

‘Who- who told you that?!’

‘Peter’ you crowed, ‘he told me at his last session.’

‘Peter, that- He lied’ Miguel snarled. You gave him a gentle pat on the back.

‘Okay. Sure. He lied.’

Another silence fell after that, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You pressed on the curve where his glute muscles joined his hip joint and watched him shuffle slightly in discomfort, his hips grinding on the table.

God, he had such a nice ass. You admired the shape just an inch away from your hand, the perfect muscles curve and dip. Unprofessional indeed, you thought drolly.

You didn’t want to find him as attractive as you did. You didn’t want to dwell on the wet dreams you had of him, or the few times you’d guilty indulged in pleasuring yourself to those thoughts. It felt wrong, but turning him away was equally as embarrassing. You’d have to explain why.

You knew you had to stop this. You knew you shouldn’t indulge in jokingly flirting, because he didn’t like you like that. Of course he didn’t. Why, then, could you not seem to control your body?

You decided you should probably move away from his behind.

Your hands slowly moved up to his back until your body was bent over his, awkwardly trying to stretch around the enormous man’s upper torso. Each time you breathed he seemed to feel it; he’d shudder or shift, his head nestled into the cushioned bed.

‘Sorry, uh- if anything’s bothering you, let me know’ you said quietly. He lazily opened one eye.

‘You’re good’ he grunted. You smiled; he sounded relaxed for once.

As you finished up the stretching you hopped down and gave him your patented double hand back pat, letting him know without words that he was done. You stepped back to watch him rise.

He rose slowly, muscles arching as he stretched his arms behind his back. The flex was unbearable. What a show off, you thought, all while knowingly gawking at the smooth sculpted mound of his biceps. You’d enjoy him just a little more before he was gone. You knew, deep down, you’d miss him.

‘Ah, mierda- I’m gonna feel like shit tonight’ he grumbled. You shook your head and returned to his side, watching carefully as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat perched on the edge with his characteristic hunched posture.

‘Well, that’s what you get. Like I said you’re not doing the stretches I told you to do.’

‘I’m busy.’

‘You’re not so busy that you can’t do the stretches, I specifically tailored your routine to fit—’

‘I’m. too. Busy.’

You bristled as he suddenly interrupted your speech. You turned, just barely giving him a side eye, and found that he wasn’t even looking at you anymore. He was looking for his clothes. You stubborn bastard, you thought, you’re going to get yourself hurt.

‘Do you want your after-session assessment?’ you asked. Miguels lip curled, and to further annoy you he pinched the space between his brows.

‘Whatever, go ahead.’

‘Are you going to listen? Because if you don’t listen there’s no point.’

Miguel looked up, and in unison your eyes narrowed.

This was always the hard bit. Yes, you were friends, but you were in the unenviable position of having a very difficult power dynamic with a very difficult man. He was your boss, but you were his physio. He had control over your job but you had control over his mobility.

You were hot headed men with messy internal biases, which created the perfect conditions for a perfect shitstorm.

‘Well?’ you asked, ‘are you going to listen to me? Or shall I, yet again, put on your record that you refused treatment despite signs of muscle strain and therefore need to be, what’s the nice word for it- supervised?’

‘This is ridiculous, I’m not a child’ he scoffed.

‘No, you’re not. Surprisingly, based on your brashness’ you said, crudely cutting into him. Miguel gave the slightest sneer. As if to assert some kind of dominance he rose from the bed, allowing his shadow to cover you from head to toe.

‘Me being nice to you doesn’t negate that I’m your boss.’

You stared up at Miguel as he spoke. You refused to back down. ‘And you being my boss doesn’t negate that you’re stubborn, and most importantly, wrong’ you replied. His eyes narrowed until only the barest trickles of red light could get through.

He opened his mouth to speak, but to his surprise, you cut him off. ‘Okay. Let’s do this your way, Mr big brave bold and brash’ you said, swinging your arms wide in a challenging motion. ‘Prove to me your mobility isn’t being hindered, and I’ll stop lecturing you. I’ll even write up your notes with a clean bill of health so no one else can nag you either. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Miguel raised one brow. You could feel the tension growing, something strange and new bubbling beneath your natural rivalry.

‘Okay’ Miguel said after moments pause. He rolled his bare shoulders to give you a clear view of his strength and physique compared to your own. ‘Deal. Do your worst.’

You grinned. With ease you dipped down to his leg as he attempted to storm away, and with all the strength you had you pressed against one of the nerve points you knew he’d agitated. Immediately he stumbled.

‘Fuck- fuck—’

He hissed as he involuntarily fell, his fangs bared. You had the gall to pout and blow him a kiss.

‘You ready to listen now?’ you crowed. At that, he dived at you directly.

Back and forth you continued this messy pseudo-battle, knocking furniture to the floor and rattling windows with your limbs. Miguel was absolutely determined to do something, whether that be pin you down or paralyze you or something else entirely, but you had one goal: pick on his weak spots until he conceded to listen.

But unfortunately, you were evenly matched, both in prowess and stubbornness.

Each time Miguel got his claws on your body you found another trapped muscle, one that you could manipulate into being painful with just a few prods of your fingers. Each time he released you, and each time he came back angrier, hungrier, and more vengeful than before.

Fatigue only seemed to spur you on harder. You wrestled on the floor like snapping dogs, fangs gnashing and fingers digging into flesh until it bruised. You stuck your hand into his mouth to push him back, and in return he grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you beneath him.

Something had to break. Something had to give, and that give came when Miguel finally caught you.

In a moment of weakness you got too cocky, and an attempt to tease his thigh muscles resulted in you being grabbed by the waist and pinned against the wall. You felt the shutters ripple and crack as you crushed them with your back.

‘Would you- stay, STIL!’ Miguel bellowed.

And, to his surprise, you did.

You froze.

You’d somehow gotten far too close, and Miguel’s body had boxed you in against the closed blinds. Chest to chest, groin to groin, your lips close enough that your breath swirled and conjoined.

You both froze in a sudden panic, your eyes widening in unison, as the room was filled with the tense ticking of your clock.

You weren’t sure what you expected Miguel to do. Leave? Lecture you? Berate you some more, perhaps?

To your surprise, Miguel did none of those things. He just closed his eyes and breathed in deep, right at the crown of your hair. You furrowed your brow. What was he doing?

Oh, but Miguel knew exactly what he was doing.

You see, while you were panicking about your internal attraction, he was busy indulging in his own guilty pleasure. He was drinking in your scent. His heightened senses could smell everything: your sweat, your gorgeous musk, the blood pumping in your veins and your cheap cologne. You smelled like iron. You smelled feral. You smelled hot.

His claws extended against his will. Fuck, what was he doing? Now was not the time for this.

Oh, but you smelled so good. You felt so good. All that pent up curiosity he tried to keep in check spilled out, as his momentary aggression allowed his walls to fall. Usually when he got mad it was his other inhibitions that fell. He threw things or smashed them. But there was only one thing here that he wanted to smash and destroy, and it was you.

His guilty pleasure. His friend who he pretended to be annoyed by. His worst, most indulged temptation. His pretty boy.

Slowly his eyes opened, boring down into yours with terrifying intensity. You saw his lips curl back, his fangs on display. ‘I should… leave’ Miguel said slowly. You felt his heart hammering against your chest.

‘Why? We’re not done’ you replied. His eyes narrowed. Did he sound, strained?

‘I need- to leave’ he said, this time even slower.

‘Why?’ you repeated. You were testing the waters. There was no way, you thought. There was no way he was thinking what you thought he was thinking.

‘Because I—’ Miguel couldn’t even get the words out. His body was moving on its own. He was bending now, his face getting close and closer. At this point even you, in your insecure denial, couldn’t avoid the truth. You could feel his heart thundering. You could feel the tension in his muscles, and most importantly the soft little throbbing in his barely covered crotch.

‘I can’t—’ Miguel’s voice had gone husky. Your eyelids drooped as he got closer.

‘You- idiot.’ It was supposed to be a hiss, but your voice dribbled out like honey. It was a pathetic whine. God, you sounded like such a brat. You felt him throb a second time.

‘You don’t talk to me like that’ Miguel spat. His lips were barely a cm from yours now, and you felt every word. ‘I am your boss. I am the reason you’re here.’

‘Idiot—’

‘Shut your mouth.’

A soft little shuddered breath hit his face. ‘Make me.’

That was the trigger, the final cut on the barest thread holding you both back. In a second his lips were on yours.

It was frantic, almost aggressive, the way you fell on each other. Your nails dug into the thick muscles of his neck as he pushed you to the wall, and in no time at all your lips were parted. Your tongues fought just like your hands, trying to overpower the other, with such ferocity that soon your jaw and chin were wet with each other’s spit.

‘MM- Mm—’

Your moans were muffled by each other’s tongues, but you could feel his gruff response as a vibration against your lips. He pushed you until the window creaked, threatening to break it. He squeezed you until your bones hurt.

When you pulled back it was purely to survive, to gasp for air as neither of you had remembered to breathe. But even then, you wouldn’t stop. After just a few shaky breathes Miguel returned to your face. He was harsh, nibbling and sucking and biting all the way down your neck. He bit until he drew just a little blood and then eagerly licked it away, filling you with just enough venom to soften you in his hands. You bit his shoulder to muffle your groans.

Biting like animals, clawing like animals. This was your own kind of battle.

When the soft, bruised, reddened skin of your neck could no longer satisfy him, Miguel spun you around, forcing your face and chest against the window. You felt his full body weight crushing your own.

‘I- I didn’t know you swung this way, Mr O’Hara’ you teased between pants. Miguel rewarded you with a rough twist of your arm, driving his hips down on your ass.

‘Why not? You’re a good-looking man, aren’t you?’ Miguel grunted. You felt his bulge heave as he dry-humped against your rear, his clawed hand easily pinning your back. ‘A pretty boy with a smart mouth.’

‘So- you do like me for my mouth, huh?’

His claws dug a little deeper, rendering you speechless as his cock throbbed. ‘I like you- for this.’

You gasped as he squeezed your back, your hips and your ass in that order, before finishing with a gentle tug at your hair. For once you decided to just shut up, and you let him dry hump you against the wall.

After riding out that initial frustration the two of you collapsed into a panting mess. Miguel’s chest was heaving against your head as he slowly rubbed himself against you. His breath hit the window and steamed it up.

‘I knew this was gonna happen’ Miguel murmured, his voice low and deep.

‘W-what?’

‘I knew I couldn’t resist you, pendejo’ he purred. ‘Ah- you’re gonna get me in so much trouble.’

That little confession made your stomach twist and your legs weak. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart was thundering in your chest.

‘Little- office fraternization never hurt anyone, huh?’ you panted, trying to play it off.

‘You’re a distraction’ Miguel grunted. You bit back another desperate groan as he lowered his palm to your ass. He squeezed, hard, the fat and muscle tender beneath his thick claws and calloused fingers. His hot breath hit the glass in frantic pants. ‘A- gorgeous fucking distraction.’

‘Well then- get it over with’ you whined. You were grinding back against his bulge with unbridled desperation now, showcasing an utter lack of shame. God he felt good. God he felt big. ‘Fuck me you idiot, then you can stop- moping!’

It was an invitation you didn’t think he’d take, but you were wrong. So wrong. You felt him throb so hard it scared you, his throat releasing a startled whine.

‘You want… you want me to—’

It was almost cute, how shy that huge man suddenly sounded. You bit back the urge to smile and just nodded.

‘Please’ you whispered. ‘Please, Miguel, just- just fuck me. I won’t ask so nicely again.’

His hands squeezed you tight, his thick body squishing you against the glass. You’d never felt so small, so insignificant. Usually it would have felt emasculating, but here it felt unbearably right. You felt the slight sting of his claws digging into your soft belly.

‘I’ll pay extra’ Miguel whispered.

‘W-what?’

‘For the- for the session, I’ll pay extra if you let me.’

‘Jesus, I already said you could- fine, fine, whatever, just please fucking touch me.’

You could physically feel his joy at your response. ‘Ah- mi rey’ he murmured. His desperation was tangible. ‘As you wish.’

Your whole body was lifted as Miguel spun you around and held you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Without thinking you smashed your lips into his.

‘Mm…’

You relished in his messy tongue play as he carried you over to the table, eagerly throwing your neatly planned supplies to the floor with a violent clatter. His full lips parted and his tongue snaked deep into your throat. You were terrified he would bite you, but that only spurred your arousal further.

With a soft oomph you were thrown to the desk. As your lips parted you drooled, a thin slither of saliva and venom hanging between your mouths. Miguel panted back at you. His body was curled across yours, his hips spreading your legs and his hands on your wrists, pinning them to the wood.

‘You want me on top? Or, do you want to- you know. Other way around’ he asked, awkwardly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘I don’t have my strap-on, so, gonna have to be you on top this time.’

A ghost of a smile spread across his face. ‘I’m sorry, this time?’

You grunted as he flipped you onto your chest. You felt his claws tearing your dress pants aside, ruining that nice expensive fabric as he threw them to the floor. You could feel him mounting your back as you were pushed into the desk.

‘I thought you wanted me to fuck you and get it out of the way?’ Miguel teased.

‘You’re the one who said I’m gorgeous, you slut. I just assumed you’d come back for more’ you teased back. His teeth nibbled at your nape until your back arched and your smart mouth choked. ‘Mm—’

His claws went down to tear your boxers aside. ‘I’m a busy man, sir. I’d like to test what I’m buying before I come running back.’

In a second your body was completely bare, your skin exposed to the cool air of your office. Your enlarged clit was practically swollen, throbbing and aching to be touched. Miguel sheathed his claws and began sliding his hand down and between your thighs.

‘Let’s see what those hormones did, huh?’

You bit down a guttural whine as his calloused finger shifted through your folds. You could feel his breath on your cheek now; he was watching you shudder, watching you bite down your pleasurable response.

‘Looks like it’s working well’ Miguel murmured. It was odd to receive such soft praise from him. ‘Big boy’ he whispered into your neck, right as he pushed your folds aside to gently rub your enlarged clit back and forth.

‘Fuck—’

You’d run out of quips at this point, reduced to a pathetic mess shifting and squirming on his hand. His fingers were rough, and his lips on your shoulder were even rougher. You would have been content to just be teased like this, but Miguel seemed unsatisfied.

After a few minutes of gently stroking it between his thumb and forefinger, Miguel lifted and flipped your body onto its front. ‘Gimme that’ he crudely barked, and before you could even muster a whine he’d thrust his head between your thighs. You cried out as his tongue hit your clit.

‘F- MM! Fuck, fuck- c-careful, ah—’

You were stunned, almost winded by the sudden influx of pleasure. Miguel either didn’t hear or didn’t care; he sucked on you like a starving animal, his full lips ravaging you until saliva and slick was dripping onto the floor.

You quickly became overstimulated by his roughness. He was a bully with his mouth, pushing you until your body started to jolt with little spasms. You begged him to be gentle but he was utterly drunk on your body at this point.

‘Let me- fuck, let me- let me do you’ you begged, a request that finally seemed to get his attention. When Miguel raised his head he was panting, his lips and jaw now shiny with spit and slick. He looked so adorably ditzy with his glazed over eyes.

‘W.. what?’ he stammered.

Now impatient you forced yourself up until you were sat on the desk, your hands fumbling to draw him up too. He stumbled to his feet and watched you yank down his boxers. His cock jolted out, lightly slapping his firm lower belly before flopping in front of your face.

Miguel must have seen your eyes widen, the way you paused momentarily when faced with his girth, because he let out a chuckle as he wiped his mouth.

‘Is there a problem, sir— MM!’

He grunted as you unceremoniously wrapped your lips around him. Your eyes rolled as your mouth was filled with all those toe-curling sensations; the taste of skin, the warmth, the little smear of pre-cum as he throbbed at his sudden intrusion into your throat. You took him until you choked, and then took him a little further.

Miguel instinctively gripped the sides of your head to stabilize himself. ‘Hey, ah- fuck, no ones ever- done this for me befo- HNGH—’

You could hear his stupid claws tearing up the floorboards beneath you as you started to suck back and forth. His hips were bucking like they had a mind of their own.

‘You- why are you so good at this?’ Miguel whined. He looked almost shellshocked as you switched to deepthroating the tip while simultaneously stroking the underside of his balls, perfectly hitting every sweet spot he had.

You pulled back just to reply, letting him gawk at your cum-coated lips and dizzy smile. ‘I’ve- fantasied about it enough times’ you replied. His shock slowly faded in a crude half smile.

‘Uhuh. Whatever you say, slut.’

You hated how you moaned at his degradation. Miguel held you still as he pushed his cock back into your mouth, and the little spurt of precum that hit your throat was proof enough that he liked it too.

‘No, I don’t really mean that’ he murmured as you started to suck on him again. ‘I want you to myself’ he purred, quiet enough that you didn’t hear it. ‘I want you all to myself, pretty boy.’

You let him fuck your mouth until he could take no more. You let him squeeze your throat in one hand so he could feel his girth going down it. You let him pull out and watch you tongue his member. You let him indulge in this moment, the first time someone was brave enough to take this terrifying man into their mouth, as you pampered his cock like a prince.

In the end he only stopped because he was edging himself on the verge of climax, and he refused to cum in your mouth. Not because it wouldn’t feel good, but because he wanted more. He wanted much more.

As he yanked his cock from your mouth he gave you another sloppy kiss, one you eagerly returned.

‘Okay’ he panted between bruising your lips with his own, ‘okay, I am on my knees begging you. Please, let me fuck you, please.’

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You gave his gorgeous lower lip a bite before rolling yourself onto your front, bent over the desk in the perfect position. You grunted as he slapped a firm palm onto your bare right cheek. He’d already lined his cock up with your rear.

‘Dios mio- I’ve waited so long to fuck this. Have you- have you got lube in here?’ Miguel asked, craning his head around the desk.

‘I- shit, no, I don’t’ you groaned. ‘I didn’t- think of that, surprisingly.’

‘Ah- ah. Right. Ah- fuck.’

Miguel’s hips seemed to be moving on their own. He was trying to hold back; he didn’t want to hurt you, but he was losing his mind at this point. He wanted you to an unbearable degree. His cock was aching to have you, to be inside you, to hold your smooth, warm body in his hands and feel you moan for him. He wanted to ruin you.

‘You… you can use the other hole, if you want’ you grunted, gently shifting your hips until he was pressed against your clenched cunt.

Miguel paused. You felt his trepidation as his grip loosened. ‘Are you sure?’ he murmured, his voice low. You nodded.

‘I- yeah. Yeah. I trust you.’

His grip tightened again but in a more affectionate way. You felt his breath in your hair.

‘Are you sure?’ he repeated. ‘I don’t- it won’t, cause you discomfort?’

You let out a breathy chuckle. Miguel didn’t quite get dysphoria but he tried his best, and the genuine concern in his voice made your heart thud all over again.

‘It's fine for me. Fuck it, I’m bottoming anyway, what’s one hole from another?’ you said with a shrug.

At last, you seemed to have eased his worry. With a soft growl Miguel spread your legs and lifted you into position on your front, slowly pushing up towards your soaked hole.

‘Alright. Alright. I’m going to fuck you now, okay? Just- stay still. Good boy.’

You felt the brush of his tip and instinctively tensed. A shudder ran through you as he pushed it in, beginning the stretch.

‘Ah- fuck, Miguel’ you moaned. You felt him petting your back as he pushed deeper, admiring the little wince you gave.

‘That’s it, you’re doing good.’

He split you open barely halfway in, causing you to squirm.

‘Fuck- ‘s, big, fuck—’

‘You got it, just relax. Ease up for me.’

Miguel was doing his best to be courteous but it was clearly hard for him. His cock was throbbing in a way that hurt, and the only relief in this world was that sweet, tight hole. He wanted to bottom out. He wanted to fill you to the brim and bully your cervix until you begged, he wanted to make you drool. He wanted to cum every inch of his frustration inside you.

But he couldn’t, at least, not right away, because he could see you straining beneath him. So he moved slowly, giving gentle pumps to help loosen your muscles. You felt yourself becoming wetter, your cunt fluttering and clenching as he brushed your internal g-spot.

After a good minute of adjustment Miguel finally fit his fat cock inside you. He’d pushed you to your limit, but he’d fit. He bottomed out with a guttural growl, almost animal in nature, before gasping aloud like a man who just avoided drowning.

‘There- there. Good boy. You took it so well.’

There it was: the feeling you’d dreamed about for so long. You could feel him inside you. You could feel the thick veins throb against your walls, the bulge of his cock so hard that it had utterly skewered you to the spot. When you tried to adjust you felt his claws on your hips, sharp and rough. You panted into the table. You could feel him moving in you.

‘Mm- mm, fuck- you’re so big.’

You felt him throb again, clearly bristled by your praise. ‘You’re so- tight’ he whined. ‘So fucking- soft.’

He started to knead the flesh of your lower back as he moved. You felt the slip of his cock as he shifted just a little, one inch in and then one inch out. ‘So fucking soft’ he repeated almost dreamily. ‘So… fucking tight. Oh M- god, mm—’

You both moaned in unison as he drew all the way out before sliding back in.

‘So good, so good- fuck—’

The big man had been reduced to an absolute mess after barely one move. His thighs were shaking as he clung to your hips. ‘I knew you’d be this tight’ he whined. ‘I knew you’d feel- heavenly.’

‘You been thinking- MM—’ You paused midsentence as he pulled all the way out just to slide back, a sensation so delicious that your toes curled and your foot stamped on the wood.

‘Have I been thinking about you?’ Miguel groaned as he pushed in deep. ‘Of course I have, you beautiful idiot.’

You bit your lip as he started to pump inside you, his pelvis slowly rocking against your upturned hips. You felt each gently slap of his skin against your bare ass alongside his hefty girth slowly dragging against the most sensitive little ribbing on your insides.

‘Fuck- oh fuck that’s it.’ You gasped as he nudged your g-spot with his member. With no control your muscles tensed and clenched him in a vice-like grip.

‘Lemme- lemme pay you’ Miguel whined, his claws digging into your skin again as that rapturous pleasure overtook him. ‘Lemme pay you please.’

‘How- how much?’

Your breathless teasing made him shudder. ‘Everything’ he panted. ‘Let me- give you everything.’

‘You- ah, fuck, keep doing that. Keep doing that.’ You held back your response just to relish in the feeling a bit longer; you could feel his balls hitting your clit with each thrust, his muscled thighs digging you into the desk until it ached, and that alone was driving you a little crazy.

‘Ah, ‘s so good… you- you were saying, everything?’

‘Every- fucking, cent in my account, you can have it’ he groaned. You could feel him speeding up now, as the skin-on-skin contact was starting to create a low slap that reverberated through the room.

‘Jesus, you sound like a virgin’ you teased, hoping to spur him into action again.

Just as planned you finally felt him bristle.

As if to punish your bravado, he started to get rough. He started pumping hard, his hips snapping as he pounded you into the table. You had to grit your teeth to bear it. The smack of his hips, the sweet ache of his cock stretching you out, the mixture of pain and pleasure as you adjusted to his thick girth.

If you weren’t some kind of spider, you were sure he would have broken your back entirely.

‘Fuck- fuck, careful—’

‘Mm- you were running your mouth before, just- fuck, mm- take it like a man’ Miguel grunted.

‘You’re- fucking huge, you idiot—’

‘You already said that, pendejo.’

His sweet, husky voice dripped like honey as he folded over your back, drawing a pathetic mewl from your lips. You were turning to putty in his hands. You started to arch your hips to push him deeper; the ache was turning pleasurable, and you wanted more.

At that point the pleasure took over, and like animals in heat you gave in. In the timeless capsule that was your office you let him fuck you. You weren’t sure how long you took him exactly, but it felt like it would never be long enough.

Your bodies were pressed together, naked and sweaty beneath the dim overhead light. Like two snakes you were wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs, your bodies frantically rocking and humping in a messy unison. Muscle on muscle, skin on skin, you felt the sweat from his abs coat your back.

‘Mm- mm, fuck.’ You let him bottom out in your cunt with a glazed over expression. You drooled onto his claws and let him pump all of his frustration into your willing hole. ‘Mm… Miggy, ‘s- so good, mm—’

‘Guapo’ Miguel whined to himself. ‘Muy guapo… Estás tan mojado.’

‘W-What? I’m not that- wet—’

You whimpered as he pushed in deep, eliciting the most perfectly timed filthy squelch from your manic coupling. You felt slick sliding down your thighs to the floor. Miguel’s self-satisfied grunt made your cheeks burn. ‘Mojado’ he repeated in your ear.

He continued to thrust at just the right angle to get more of those sounds. He wanted to hear how wet you were, how wet and desperate he’d made you. You bent over and let him.

Without realizing you’d filled the entire office with signs of your passionate coupling. The echoes of two men grunting, groaning, cursing and begging combined with the violent slapping of wet skin into an erotic symphony, punctuated perfectly by the thick smell of sweat and cum.

Surrounded by this audio-visual cacophony, it was no surprise that you quickly felt your orgasm rising.

‘Ah… Okay, oka—MM—Okay I’m close, I’m close.’

You could feel the pleasure increasing to unbearable degrees, twisting and tightening your insides until you almost screamed. Miguel grunted with pride.

‘Okay, shh- you got it, go on, cum for me pretty boy, cum on my cock.’

‘F-Fuck—’

Miguel wasn’t as experienced as you’d expected, but lucky for you he lucked his way into finding just the right position. He drew back until his cock was angled at that soft ribbed spot on your cunt while his finger wrapped down and between your thighs, eagerly massaging your bottom growth.

He admired the way you squirmed and jolted, the way your muscles gripped him. He felt your ass clench and regretted, deeply, that he couldn’t spank it in this position.

‘Fuck, fuck—’

‘Come on, good boy, cum for me.’

His hips were thrusting desperately as his finger rubbed you out. Your toes clenched.

‘FUCK— fuck it’s so, close, please— YES—’

With a deep moan you finally climaxed. Your body shuddered and tensed as those orgasmic ripples turned your body into an absolute mess, your cunt clenching hard enough that your gushing cum squirted around his cock. Miguel let out a groan of relief.

‘Oh fuck- good boy, yes, yes, that’s it, cum for me.’

In the heat, the passion, Miguel broke. He bent over and utterly crushed you beneath his torso as his finger and shaft continued their manic work, and with a heavy breath he hissed into your ear. It was a territorial display with his teeth on your cheek, pushing you down.

‘You’re mine’ he barked, barely audible over your dramatic whimpering. ‘You’re mine, you’re all mine.’

You didn’t reply. You were seeing stars, lightheaded from the rush of blood and abrupt tension. You laid yourself against the desk like a corpse as Miguel returned to thrusting right up to your navel.

The overstimulation caused you to grunt a few times, but you didn’t dare ask him to stop. The slightly painful jolts felt too good. Plus, you wanted something more: you wanted him to cum in you.

And god, so did he. Miguel’s mouth had fallen open and he was ramming his cock as deep and hard as he could, forcing the desk to creak beneath you. At one point you heard it snap. He was desperate for this one thing, this itch he had to scratch, this inescapable ingrained need to own you.

He wanted you stuffed. He wanted you filled. He wanted to know he was inside you when you stumbled home later tonight, secretly trying to squish your thighs together so it didn’t drip out and alert everyone to what he’d done to you.

With that mental image filling his head Miguel finally tipped. With a few more rapid humps, his cock throbbed and spurted those first, thick, heavy white ropes inside you.

‘MM- argh, YES—’

You jolted in shock as his claws dug into the desk, sinking into the wood like flesh. With each spurt he thrust deeper, and with each thrust he tore up the wood by your head.

But then, in the daze of being filled, you felt a sudden sharp stinging pain in your neck.

Miguel had given in, and he’d bitten you. He’d sunk his canines into your nape like a cat carrying a kitten, and as he filled you with his cum he filled you with his venom too. His eyes were glazed over, his nose flaring as he huffed hot air against the fine hairs at the base of your skull, and his hips were still pumping erratically to a finish.

You, at this point, were utterly out of it. Your vision was swimming, your limbs numb, and all you could feel at this point was his breath on your back and his thick seed now overflowing from your already stuffed hole.

It took Miguel a moment to come back to his senses, but when he did he retracted his teeth in horror.

‘Shit- shit! Are you okay?! Are you okay?’

Miguel unceremoniously pulled out to check you were still conscious, only to find your body utterly paralyzed. As he stepped back some animal part of his brain begged him to stand and stare, admiring with great arousal the way his cum looked dripping out of you, but his rational and deeply guilty conscience pushed him to instead carry your body to the nearby sofa.

‘Okay, okay, shit- he’s going to kill me when he wakes up- stay here, I’m going to get help.’

In a panic Miguel dragged on his boxers and rummaged through his pants for his watch. There was only one person he could call, but he didn’t exactly like it.

‘Lyla? Lyla, are you there?’

Miguel tried to keep his voice down as he urgently hissed for his assistant. Thankfully she popped in right away, perching on the edge of his wrist with her glasses down.

‘Hey boss! What are you—oh my god.’

Her glasses fell down her nose as her jaw dropped. Her eyes had fallen almost immediately on your naked, paralyzed body now splayed across the sofa, and as they began to roam she was greeted next by a nearly fully naked Miguel and an utterly destroyed office.

‘Are- boss are we burying a body?’ she hissed.

‘NO! No he- my friend- I need the antidote for my venom, please, ASAP’ Miguel hissed back. Lyla rolled her eyes up to stare him down. Beneath her curious gaze he quickly flushed.

‘Your friend?’ she repeated.

‘Yes, he- he is my physio.’

Lyla raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s your employee, friend, and he’s naked on the couch because—’

‘Because- because, none of your- business! Just bring the antidote!’

‘Right. Bring the antidote. For your venom. Which can only transfer via bite. For the naked man on the couch, covered in bite marks.’

Miguel was seething at this point. His nostrils flared as he glared her down.

‘I don’t know what you’re implying, Lyla—’

‘Look, either you tried to kill and eat him, or you fucked him! One of these is a felony, the other is just awkward. I’m just asking which it is so I know if I can joke about this later or if I’m gonna need therapy for the crime I helped you cover up. Did you try to eat him, or did you fuck him? Which one is it?’

Miguel sighed and lowered his head into his palm. ‘I didn’t- I didn’t, try to eat him’ he mumbled. That was the closest to telling the truth he was going to get, and thankfully that was enough for the smug little AI. She gave him a beaming smirk before shifting her glasses back into place.

‘Oo, peachy. Good for you, boss.'

The little AI vanished amidst a barrage of abuse from Miguel.

Despite her teasing Lyla was true to her word. Within a minute a drone had arrived at the door carrying that precious needle, its insides filling with the only antidote to Miguel’s paralyzing venom. Miguel grabbed it as fast as he could to avoid being seen. He locked the door before hurrying to your side, and after a garbled apology in Spanish he shoved the needle into your neck.

For a few minutes nothing happened. You continued to lie in a state of dream-like awareness, drool pooling from your mouth into the sofa with eyes that saw nothing.

Miguel rocked back and forth on his ankles, his hands gripped together. ‘Come on, come on, please, please—’

‘FUCK!’

As the antidote finally settled in your veins you jolted up in a panic, a move so abrupt that you managed to topple off the sofa right onto Miguel’s anxiety ridden face. You both collapsed onto the floor.

‘ARGH! Argh fuck- I’m alive?! I’m alive! Ah, oh my god- I thought- ahh—’

‘Mierda- ¡Oye! I told you, it doesn’t- kill, it—’ Miguel got through the start of his self-righteous explanation before freezing, as he realized that your fiery eyes had turned on him. Your own nose flared as you sneered at him in disbelief.

‘You….’

You said it slowly as you rose, your finger now pointed at his face. Miguel tried desperately to avoid the temptation to gawk at your naked form as you hissed. ‘You- what, the fuck, man! You bit me?!’

Your anger was only exacerbated as you realized Miguel was, despite his earnest attempts, very overtly gawking at your naked and now cum-coated thighs. You reached out and grabbed him by the jaw. ‘WHAT- THE FUCK, MIGUEL?!’

‘I’m sorry! Mi rey, I’m sorry, just- I can’t control it, okay?! It’s an instinctual thing! I… Bite!’

‘Oh, and that makes it okay?!’

‘NO, just- I’m trying to explain!’ Miguel stammered. ‘Even if I’m just- by myself, I instinctively have to bite something, I was just… caught up in the moment.’

‘Caught up in the moment- jesus christ.’ You used your free hand to reach around and feel the deep puncture wounds on the back of your neck. ‘Are these permanent?'

‘I said I was sorry. You- actually, wait, no- no, you bit me early too!’ In his stubbornness Miguel aggressively pointed a claw at his shoulder, showing the little red indent of your teeth. You flushed violently.

‘That was… That’s not the same!’

‘How?’

‘How- what do you mean, how?’

‘I mean how is not the same?!’

As Miguel wrenched his head from your hand you resorted to grabbing his neck, a gesture he returned. Soon you had each other by the throat, teeth bared and eyes wild.

‘I- bit you because I was—’ You stammered on the admission as Miguel hissed. ‘Because you were horny, and you instinctively wanted to bite me’ he said slowly. You leaned in and bared your teeth right back.

‘You fucking—’

You both froze.

You were nose to nose, still naked and sweaty and hot, now down on the carpeted floor of your office. You panted into each other’s mouths.

All over again, to your horror, you felt your insides throb and tighten. You saw his eyelids droop.

You didn’t even need to tease him this time. His lips hit yours, and without a word you surrendered to what you knew would be another round of mind-blowing angry sex.

You just hoped he at least wouldn’t bite you this time.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #transmasc reader #smut with plot #smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #fanfic #x reader #18+ content

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directdogman · 2 months

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Just wanna say that I'm a HUGE fan of Dialtown and DSaF. I absolutely LOVE the storytelling and the balance you have with the plot! The absurdity mixed with logic and realism that paints something that could very well happen is absolutely stunning! I truly admire you and your teams' (assuming it isn't just you but I'm not sure) skills.

I do have a question though! At some point I saw an ask that you answered regarding writing dialogue and the differentiation of writing characteristics in different characters! I have to ask, what does the process look like for dialogue writing? How the hell do you stay in the mindset of the character? It's something that I struggle with way too much in my own writing (with way too many Google searches on synonyms for different words) so I'm wondering what your process is. Especially when it comes to a character lole Oliver, who has a theatrical way of speaking. It feels like there's too little words in the English language but you have this guy that's using all of them in one sentence!

Anyways, hope you're having an awesome day. If not, I hope things improve! I hope this wasn't too lengthy of an ask, haha.

Hey, don't think I'm necessarily a master at this! Hell, you should see how much I have to google word synonyms! Seriously, every time I sit down to write, I do the very same! Even if you become familiar with every word in the English language, you can never really store them all in your head at once! There's people out there who kinda can, but that's the thing, you don't HAVE to be insanely skilled in that way to write compelling character dialogue because I sure as hell am not!

DW, you're on the right track! It gets easier, the more you do it, but there's no real secret to writing really good dialogue (at least, that I know of) other than just writing a lot and when possible, studying writing that you really like and trying to deconstruct what others do (and it sounds like you're already on the right track, in the regard!)

One thing that helps me is being able to think like the character. Understanding how they think, how they feel about the world, what makes them tick, etc. It's easy for me since I write characters that I tend to share some common experiences with (or characters that share traits with people I know intimately), but even I don't delve as deeply into character-psychology while I write as I could. But. I feel I know enough about my characters to understand their 'vibe' pretty well! TBH, sometimes I have to go and replay existing DT scenes just to ensure it all 'sounds' correct. If you get good at this, you can pretty much hear your characters speaking in your head! That makes what you're asking about a hell of a lot easier.

I'm really more of a student than a teacher in the grand scheme of things (I have a lot to learn, myself!) and honestly, just having an interest in writing and wanting to deconstruct the stuff that inspires you is a big plus in becoming a really good writer! As cliché as it sounds, I really am just one dude standing on the shoulders of giants. Never forget that writers who inspire you are in the exact same spot you are. Hope this helps!

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 months

Text

say my name and everything just stops || George Weasley

Title: say my name and everything just stops Pairing: George x Reader Summary: George didn’t expect being fake engaged to the love of his life whose heart he broke would be this easy. But as they put their plan into action, he’s surprised at how seamlessly she fits into his life. It feels as if no time has passed as they settle into a routine, and it feels like she was always meant to be there by his side. It’s hard to keep a grasp on the original goal, when all he can think about is how much he’s already dreading having to say goodbye. But as a new scheme starts to come together in his head, there may be a way for George to get everything that he wants. Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, a scene takes place at a bar and one mention of a hangover! A/N: part 2 of hockey!george is here! I did a bit of restructuring to this part and the next, but I’m very happy with the way the story is coming together! As always feedback is welcome! <3

“Thank you again for doing this,” George says for what feels like the millionth time today. But it still doesn’t feel like enough. Y/N has upended her entire life for him, and he still has no idea why she agreed to this whole charade.

After spending a few days in Washington to figure out some of the logistics of Y/N moving, which included George getting on his knees to beg Fred to take over her lessons at the rink, they’re finally back in Chicago. Thankfully Y/N’s actual job in marketing is remote, and George already arranged to have a desk and whatever else she may need delivered sometime this week.

He had his assistant stock the apartment with all of the things Y/N used to love, including her favorite snacks and several fuzzy blankets, and he signed the contract for Y/N’s car service this morning before they got on the plane. George has even already added her to his Amex account, and the black card with her name on it should be here any day now.

George has money to spend, and there’s no one else he’d rather spoil than Y/N.

”You really can stop saying that,” Y/N reminds him as she follows him through the front door. “It was cute at first, but now it’s just kind of annoying.”

”Sorry, I know. You’ve had to sacrifice way more than me for this stupid arrangement and I feel bad that I’ve basically uprooted your life. I don’t deserve any of the shit you’re doing for me and I just wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate it.”

”George, it’s really okay. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to be here.”

In all honesty, Y/N feels a little guilty over how accommodating George has been. She’s not really here to help him out, but to figure out whether her life has become the plot of a book and she’s about to get her second chance at love or if she’s about to break her own heart. Either way, she’s not here out of the goodness of her heart, and George’s kindness is undeserved.

“Right, okay,” George gives Y/N a grin, before motioning for her to follow him. “I had my assistant clear some of my stuff out of the dresser and closet so there should be plenty of room for your things,” he explains as he leads Y/N down the hall towards his bedroom. “This space is ours now, and I want you to feel like it is too.”

As soon as they step through the door Y/N is hit with the scent of him and it nearly knocks her on her ass. Because George still uses the same cologne he did in high school, and it reminds her of home. She used to steal the bottle when he went away for games, covering her bed in it so it would feel like he was there with her at night. Now she’ll be surrounded by that scent 24/7 and she’s not sure her heart is ready for that.

George drags the suitcase he’d been rolling into his closet disappearing for a second before he pops back out. “I only have a one bedroom, I uh, never really thought about having to share my space with someone,” he admits sheepishly. “But you can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, George, I’m not taking your bed. The season’s about to start, you need to be well rested and there’s no way sleeping on a couch for weeks will be sufficient.” She gives him an appraising look, taking in his broad frame. George has always been big, but time has done him well and his build has really filled out.

“Besides, I don’t think there’s a couch in this world big enough to fit all of you,” she continues, and Y/N can feel the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “You stay in your bed, I can sleep on the couch.”

”Absolutely not,” George insists, taking a step closer to her. “You’re my guest, and I’m not going to have you sleeping on the couch.”

Y/N bites her lip, already regretting what she’s about to suggest. “Well then if you’re not going to let me sleep on the couch and I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch, we’ll just have to share the bed.”

Her suggestion takes George by surprise, and his jaw clenches to keep it from dropping. He was already questioning whether he’d be able to survive sharing space with Y/N, but sharing a bed? His cock is rock hard at just the thought of smelling her shampoo on his pillow.

“Are you sure?” He manages to stutter out, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean it’s big enough,” she responds, gesturing towards the bed. It’s got to be King sized, with a thick black comforter that’s sure to reek of George that Y/N wants to wrap herself up in. “We’ll probably barely even touch.”

“As long as you’re fine with it, I am too,” George agrees. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

”It’ll be fine George,” Y/N lies, giving him a grin that she hopes is genuine.

Fake engaged to and sharing a bed with the man she loves that broke her heart? Yeah everything is definitely not fine.

After a torturous first night together, Y/N thanks the heavens that George is up and out early for the first day of training camp the next morning. Because despite all of her reassurances yesterday, sharing a bed with George Weasley is the worst idea she ever had.

Despite the size of the bed, George is massive, and as soon as he laid down next to her she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. It doesn’t help that she was completely enveloped in his scent, and her pussy was throbbing with need from the moment she crawled under the blanket. It took her hours to fall asleep, her body rigid as George tossed and turned as well. It wasn’t until his breathing evened out that Y/N finally managed to close her eyes and relax.

Only for her to wake up a few hours later to George’s arm wrapping around her waist before he pulled her into his chest. Turns out all these years later he’s still a cuddler. Being back in his embrace was too intoxicating to deny, and Y/N laid awake for over an hour, just letting George hold her as his breath ghosted across her neck. It felt achingly familiar, and she didn’t want to give it up.

But she knew things would be awkward if George woke up to find her in his arms, so after getting her fill Y/N wiggled her way out of his hold. She stuffed a pillow into his chest for good measure, needing to keep his arms occupied so she didn’t find herself caught in his embrace again. Y/N doubts she would have had the willpower to pull away a second time.

Y/N is up and out of bed the second her alarm goes off, electing not to stay buried under the covers while she scrolls social media like she usually does. Just the smell of George has her wet and if she lays there for another moment Y/N knows she’ll have her hand down her pants, touching herself as she buries her nose in George’s pillow like a weirdo.

She wanders out to the kitchen, taking advantage of being alone so she can snoop around. Last night George had assured her that this is her space now too and she’s welcome to anything, but it felt weird going through his things with him around. Apart from finding where he keeps his dishes and a cursory look in the fridge for a drink Y/N didn’t do too much exploring.

So when she opens George’s pantry, she’s surprised to find it filled with all of the things she loves. A brand new box of her favorite cereal sits right next to the granola George puts in his yogurt in the morning, and her favorite chips and cookies are mixed in with the kinds that George prefers. It all feels so natural, and Y/N slams the door shut as she struggles to catch her breath.

Because fuck, this is the life she always imagined having with George, and none of it is real. This is the life Y/N has always wanted, and yet it’s still not really hers - something she has to remember. There’s a very real possibility that once George makes Captain they will go their separate ways for the last time, and she has to be prepared for that.

Deciding to avoid the pantry for now, Y/N wanders to the fridge and pulls out the things to make an omelet. She’s just starting to whisk the eggs and deciding whether she should work from the kitchen island or the couch when the doorbell rings. George hadn’t mentioned anyone stopping by, and Y/N remains cautious as she goes to open the door. Some part of her fears that some crazed fan or ex-lover of George’s will be waiting on the other side, but a sigh of relief leaves her body when she checks the peephole and it’s just a few delivery people.

No more Criminal Minds for her.

“Hi Mrs. Weasley,” one of the men greets when Y/N opens the door, and she’s too shocked to correct him. Her knees shake as she steps aside to let them in, her mind still focused on how good it felt to be called by George’s last name. “We’ve got the things your husband ordered, it shouldn’t take too long for us to set it all up.”

“Okay,” Y/N says hesitantly as the men start to bring a few boxes into the apartment. She’s a little unsure about letting these people in since George didn’t say anything about a delivery, but Y/N knows the security here is intense and they wouldn’t have been let into the building if there was something weird going on. “You know where everything is going?”

The first man nods, giving her a smile. “Yes, your husband was very clear when he placed the order a few days ago. We’ll be in and out so quickly you’ll barely even know we were here.”

Y/N nods, gesturing towards the kitchen as the men head towards the dining room. “Alright, well, if you need anything I’ll be in there.”

She shoots off a quick text to George as she walks, knowing she’s unlikely to get a response. But it makes her feel better that at least someone will know other people came into the apartment in the event that this really is an elaborate ruse to kidnap her.

Y/N: hey! Hope hockey stuff is good - just wanna let you know the delivery people are here setting up whatever you ordered

When a response doesn’t come through Y/N tucks her phone back into her pocket and refocuses her attention on breakfast. She’s just plating up her omelet and toast when the man from before appears in the kitchen.

“We’re all done here if you just want to take a look to make sure everything looks good before you confirm delivery.”

“Uh, sure,” Y/N agrees, following him into the other room.

When George gave her a tour last night the dining room had virtually nothing in it. There was some artwork on the walls, a small table with a few chairs with a fake plant tucked in the corner and a lamp in the other. Which made total sense to Y/N, since George lives alone and has an island with barstools for him to eat at, he hasn’t really needed a fully functioning dining space.

Which is why her jaw practically drops when the man leads her into the dining room. The small table is gone, and in its place is a gorgeous wooden desk with the softest looking chair Y/N has ever seen behind it. There’s two large bookcases against the back wall, and there’s a plush carpet covering the floor. Tears prick the corner of her eyes, and Y/N runs a hand along the glossy desk just to make sure it’s real.

“Does everything look okay?”

Y/N spins around to face the man who she forgot was even there. Swallowing the emotion crawling up her throat, she gives a curt nod. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

The man gives her a smile and thrusts out a clipboard. “I just need a signature and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

She signs without even looking, her attention back on the office George created for her. After their breakup Y/N couldn’t fathom when her sweet, loving boyfriend turned into the heartless person that dumped her so carelessly. It’s just starting to hit her that maybe the George she knew wasn’t really gone after all, just hidden behind a facade.

Once the door shuts behind the delivery crew Y/N makes her way behind the desk, sinking back into the plush chair. Her apartment back home isn’t big enough for her to have a dedicated office space and she often works from her kitchen table or couch, and Y/N had been totally fine with doing the same at George’s. So the fact that he’s gone and made Y/N her own space in his apartment has her heart pounding in her chest.

She fires off another text to George.

Y/N: the delivery people just left and holy shit, George. You really didn’t need to do this for me. I love it, thank you.

They must be on a break, because a few minutes later as Y/N is opening her laptop to start working George responds.

George: ah shit, sorry, i totally forgot to mention the delivery last night.

George: we can go out and get different artwork or decorations or whatever. I meant what i said last night, this is our space now and i want you to feel at home

George: and i know i didnt need to, i wanted to :)

She’s already starting to fall back in love with George Weasley, and Y/N is not sure she’ll be able to stop.

Things get easier to navigate as the week goes on.

That first night when George got home from training camp it had been awkward, neither of them really sure how to navigate this interesting relationship. On one hand, they’re technically engaged and it should be expected for them to act somewhat like a couple while at home. But on the other hand, they haven’t been around each other in years and it kind of felt like two strangers living under the same roof.

But they slowly started to get into a routine. George is always up first, and before he leaves for camp he puts on a fresh pot of coffee so it’s still warm and fresh by the time Y/N gets up too. They usually text throughout the day whenever George has the chance, discussing what to do for dinner or to just share something about their day. George gets home at 4 everyday, and Y/N has a protein shake waiting for him on the counter while she finishes up with work. Then they cook dinner together, moving around the kitchen effortlessly while they talk about their days.

Dinner is always eaten in the living room while they watch something on TV. George cleans up the kitchen while Y/N empties his hockey bag, throwing his sweaty gear into the washing machine before repacking his bag with fresh athletic gear and a clean practice jersey. They get ready for bed together, standing at the his and hers sinks in the bathroom as they brush their teeth. George is usually the first to fall asleep, and Y/N will read or scroll on her phone until she too goes to bed, and then they wake up in the morning to do it all over again.

George didn’t think they’d fall into a routine so easily, but he’s been pleasantly surprised so far. He finds that every night after a long day of camp he’s looking forward to seeing Y/N at home, and the little texts they exchange during his breaks have become his favorite part of the day. Even falling asleep next to her has become second nature, and George will never get tired of the fact that his bed has started to smell like the both of them.

He figured it would be an adjustment, having someone else and their stuff in a space that has always been just his. But George loves seeing the touches of herself that Y/N has started to leave around the apartment. It’s always a thrill when he enters the closet and her clothes are hanging up next to his. He loves the rumpled blanket she always leaves on the couch, and the sight of her coffee mug in the sink next to his in the afternoon always makes him happy.

They’re living the life George always wanted, and he’s already dreading the day it comes to an end. But the inevitable heartbreak is worth it to see the way Y/N lights up when he gets home in the afternoon.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, Weasel,” Thomas, the Rebel’s goalie, states as he slides into the seat across from George.

They’re on break for lunch, and George was taking advantage of the opportunity to text Y/N back.

“Yeah, you’ve been a lot more smiley, Weasel,” Adam, a defenseman, adds as he sits next to George.

“What? Is it a fucking crime to be happy?” George asks with an eyeroll.

Before he has a chance to even react Thomas is reaching over and snatching George’s phone out of his hand. “No it’s not a crime,” he starts, scrolling through the texts on George’s phone. “But I’m sure it has something to do with Y/N and why she’s asking you what you want for dinner tonight.”

“Fuck you,” George grumbles as he grabs his phone back, and he can feel the flush on his cheeks. He knows that the whole point of Y/N being his fake fiance is so he can show everyone how responsible he is, and in order to do that people have to know about her. But a part of George was hoping to keep Y/N to himself for just a little bit longer.

“Weasel’s got a girlfriend!” Adam exclaims, ruffling George’s hair. “You’ve been holding out on us George, when the fuck did that happen? Who is she? Where’d you meet?”

“Yeah, give us all the details George, you owe it to us,” Thomas adds.

“You two are worse than a couple of school girls for christ sake.” George takes a sip of his water, needing a second to compose himself. “It happened during the off season. I went back home for a bit, you know, to see the family and everything. Y/N and I dated before I was in the league and we reconnected. We didn’t want to be apart when I had to come back for the season so she moved in with me.”

“Holy fuck, look how red his cheeks are,” Thomas teases. “Our little Weasel’s in love.”

“Little lover boy,” Adam joins in, ruffling George’s hair again. “Fucking finally, Jenny has been dying for you to get a girlfriend, she said her and Olivia need a new drinking buddy.”

“Hell yeah, bring Y/N to team drinks tonight,” Thomas suggests with a grin. “You can’t keep her from us forever, and Olivia will castrate me if she finds out you have a girlfriend and I didn’t try to get you to bring her out.”

George huffs, thinking it over. They have a day off tomorrow, and he was kind of looking forward to doing nothing but hanging out on the couch with Y/N. But introducing her to the team and their partners is probably the most natural way for him being in a relationship to get back to Coach, and that’s the whole reason Y/N is here in the first place.

“Alright fine,” he relents, causing the other men to cheer. “But you fuckers are on a short leash, you hear me? Say any weird shit and we’re gone.”

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Adam promises, placing a hand on his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you sure I look okay?” Y/N asks again, pausing just outside the entrance to the bar.

It physically pains George to look her over, because the pair of jeans clinging to Y/N are so tight they look like they’ve been painted on and it’s taking all of his willpower and thoughts of his grandmother naked to keep him from popping a boner. The fabric showcases every single curve on her, and all he wants to do is plant one hand on her ass while the other grips the back of her neck as he kisses her senseless.

But he can’t do that, so he settles for grabbing her hands to stop the way she tugs at the hem of her shirt. It’s just barely too short, letting a sliver of skin peek between the top of her jeans and the bottom of the shirt, and Y/N has been tugging on it constantly. As if another few inches of fabric will suddenly unravel and cover her completely.

“For the millionth time, you look incredible, baby,” George reassures her, taking too much pride in the way her cheeks flush. “You have nothing to be nervous about, Y/N. This is just a casual hang out with my friends.”

“I know, I know. You’re right,” Y/N agrees. George intertwines their fingers, squeezing her hands and it sends butterflies fluttering through her tummy. “I just want your friends to like me, and I don’t want to fuck up this whole fake fiancé thing.”

George can feel the cool band of Y/N’s engagement ring pressing into his skin, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t send a thrill through his body. He thought it would be strange, seeing the ring on her finger knowing that he’s the one who put it there. But every time he gets a glimpse of the diamond it feels like it has always been there, a feeling which George has carefully boxed up and stuffed to the back of his mind.

“You have nothing to worry about,” George soothes, releasing one of Y/N’s hands so he can pull her behind as he pushes through the door to the bar. “All I told the guy’s is that you and I dated when we were younger and reconnected when I went home during the off season. Technically none of that is a lie.”

Y/N nods in agreement as George drags her into Maynards. Except for the rowdy crowd in the corner that is very clearly George’s teammates, it’s practically empty and she feels some of her nerves drift away. Pretending in front of people George knows is one thing, but having to put that facade up in front of fans with phones is a whole nother story. On the drive over George had explained that Maynards was the team’s go to spot because it’s close to the arena, but is so dingy and outdated that not too many people come in. The boy’s like the anonymity that Maynards provides, and it’s often the place they go when they just want to hang out for the night and spend some time together.

Y/N feels honored to be let into that special club.

It’s one of the guy’s girlfriends that notices them first, and the rest of Y/N’s nerves float away at the look of pure joy that crosses the stranger’s face.

“Holy fuck, Thomas wasn’t lying!” The girl shouts excitedly, causing the few people standing with them to turn and look their way. She abandons her boyfriend, bounding over with her arms stretched out for a hug.

Except much to Y/N’s surprise she walks right past George, wrapping her arms around Y/N instead. “I’m Olivia, it’s so nice to meet you.”

Y/N returns Olivia’s hug with the arm that isn’t attached to the hand George is still holding on to, returning the tight squeeze. “It’s nice to finally meet you, George has told me so much about you.”

Which isn’t a total lie, from the time George got home until they reached the bar he’d given her a brief run down on everyone she’d be meeting tonight. He’d spent the most time talking about Thomas, Adam and their girlfriends, since they are who he’s closest with on the team and who he spends the most time with off the ice.

“Well he’s told us absolutely nothing about you, so we’ve got a ton of catching up to do.” Olivia releases Y/N from her embrace, grabbing her hand instead. Except as she starts to drag her away, George keeps his own grip on Y/N tight, catching her in the middle.

“Y/N is my date, Olivia, you just can’t steal her,” George huffs, pouting at them.

Olivia rolls her eyes, clearly used to George’s antics. “Sharing is caring, Georgie,” she mocks, tugging on Y/N so George has no choice but to release her hand. “You’ll get her back, I promise.”

Before she disappears into the crowd with Olivia, Y/N shoots George a reassuring smile over her shoulder, a silent signal not to worry about her.

If only she knew that George’s reluctance to let her go has nothing to do with worry, but his overwhelming need to feel her hand in his.

“So what was Weasel like back in high school? Was he always such a little shit?” Thomas asks with a grin.

They’ve been at the bar for a few hours, and despite her initial nerves, Y/N is actually having fun. Olivia had dragged her over to where Jenny, Adam’s girlfriend, and some of the other player’s partners were huddled together and it was as if they were old friends. After a few margaritas and getting to know each other the guys had wandered over. George had immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing Y/N in close so her back was pressed to his front. That’s where she stayed as his friends asked her what felt like a million questions about George.

“Weasel?” she responds, wrinkling her nose. Y/N tilts her head back so she can look up at George. “That’s what they call you? I’m ashamed, it’s not very creative. Woody was way better.”

George’s cheeks immediately flush at the reminder of his old nickname, causing Thomas and Adam to whoop in laughter. “You’re a little menace, you know that?” he murmurs in her ear, squeezing her waist.

“Woody? Now that’s a story I want to hear,” Adam says, his eyes lit with excitement.

Y/N goes to tell the story, but before she can even utter a word George claps his free hand over her mouth, muffling her words. “No, nope. I will not let you hooligans rope my fiancé into your shenanigans.”

Everyone around them goes silent. When Olivia had referred to Y/N as George’s girlfriend earlier she didn’t correct her, figuring there was a reason why he hadn’t told his friends about the engagement. So she went right along with it, keeping her left hand tucked into her pocket as much as possible.

“I’m sorry, did you say fiancé?” Jenny asks, her voice loud enough to draw looks from those around them.

“Um. Surprise?” George responds sheepishly, dropping the hand he has over Y/N’s mouth to grab her left hand instead. He lifts it up to show everyone the ring, and even in the dim light of the bar the diamond shines.

“Oh my god! Congratulations!” Olivia shouts as Jenny giggles, and the girls take Y/N’s hand from George so they can examine the ring more closely.

“Damn, Weasel. You’ve broken the hearts of female hockey fans all over the country,” Adam teases, clapping George on the shoulder. “No wonder you’ve been in such a fantastic mood lately. Congrats.”

Thomas winks at George. “Yeah, congratulations or whatever, but let’s get back to the conversation.” His eyes sheen with mischief and George lets out a groan. “Why the fuck did they call you Woody?”

The girls dissolve into a fit of giggles as Y/N looks up at George for approval. But when he gives her a pleading look all Y/N does is wink before she refocuses her attention back on the group and launches into the story.

“Well you see, it all started back when we were in high school, and George was away with the junior team for the first time.”

George tunes out the rest of the story, not needing to listen as Y/N recounts the story of how he got caught jerking off in his hotel room the night before his first game in the junior league. Instead he focuses on the bright smile on her face, and how the people he cares about most react to her. He can already tell that Jenny and Olivia have accepted Y/N as one of their own, and he knows she has Adam and Thomas’ stamp of approval too.

Y/N fits into their group flawlessly and it makes his chest feel warm. George tightens his grip on her waist, and he never wants to let her go.

They spend a large part of the next day on the couch. Y/N is too hungover to move and George wants to be wherever she is. With each of their heads at one end of the couch their legs are intertwined in the middle, both of them content to just watch movies and eat snacks all day. It isn’t until the sun is starting to get lower in the sky that George finally speaks.

“We should go out somewhere for dinner tonight.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow as she raises her eyes to meet his. “You suddenly get bit by the going out bug?” she teases.

George chuckles. “No, I’d much rather lay around all day with you. But if we want people to believe we’re engaged we should probably be seen out and about together.”

At least that’s the excuse he’s come up with. In reality last night he started to come to the realization that he doesn’t want this engagement to be fake. Y/N had fallen asleep as soon as they crawled in bed but George had laid awake watching her closely as he reflected on the night and the last several years.

Because being at that bar with Y/N is the happiest he’d been in a long time, and when he really thought about it, the last time he remembers being truly happy was before he ended things with Y/N. Even the day he was drafted and his first game in the NHL didn’t come close to being his happiest memory, because she wasn’t there with him.

So George made a decision last night. Fuck being named Captain, his one and only goal is to make Y/N fall in love with him again. That way he can marry her for real, and he never has to think about what life will be like without her by his side. He’d stayed awake for hours formulating a plan, and this is just step one.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Y/N agrees. “But nowhere fancy, okay? I still feel like shit. You weren’t kidding, Olivia and Jenny go hard.”

George agrees to her stipulation, and he finds himself returning the grin on Y/N’s face. Operation Get Y/N to fall in love is officially a go.

“Remember that time at Rosie’s when Fred made you laugh so hard milkshake came out of your nose?”

George attempts to laugh at the memory, choking on the sip of milkshake he’s just taken. “Oh god, don’t remind me,” he spits out once his coughing calms down. “I smelled vanilla for weeks after that.”

Y/N giggles at the grimace on George’s face as she settles back into the booth. To comply with her request not to go anywhere fancy, they’re at a dingy dinner a few blocks from the apartment that George swore has the best milkshakes in all of Chicago. And as Y/N takes a sip of hers, she can’t help but agree.

“That was also the first time we held hands,” Y/N reminds him, blush coating her cheeks. They were twelve and George had been so embarrassed that Y/N had reached out to squeeze his hand and he never let go. Two weeks later they went on their first date, and a week after that they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

“I was so nervous that I threw up when I got home,” George admits with a grin. “I told Fred it was because I could still feel milkshake dripping out of my nose, but really it was because the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen had held my hand.”

He lays his arm across the table, palm up in invitation. Without a moment of hesitation Y/N places her hand in George’s and a shiver runs up her spine when he grasps her fingers. George brushes his fingers over her knuckles, and they sit in silence as George looks at their intertwined hands and she looks at him.

“What happened, George?” Y/N asks suddenly, her voice shaky. “I thought things were going so well and then suddenly they weren’t.”

“I was scared,” he admits after a few moments of silence, still refusing to meet her gaze. “I always knew the NHL was my future, but getting that call, that Chicago was going to offer me a rookie contract, scared the shit out of me. I still had two years until they were going to call me up, and so much could have happened. They could have decided to drop me, or I could have had a career ending injury. And I had no Plan B. Hockey came first, my grades were barely passable and I had no passion for anything else. Without the NHL I would be nothing, and I couldn’t burden you like that. I figured letting you go so you could find someone worthy of your love was better than dragging you down with me.”

“George,” Y/N whispers, at a loss for what to say. Her heart aches in her chest, because George may have been the one to break them, but Y/N didn’t fight hard enough to save them. She knew something was wrong with George, and that he hadn’t suddenly become a heartless asshole after nearly ten years together. Y/N wishes she had stayed that day, refused to leave until George talked to her about what was really going on.

Maybe if she had the engagement ring on her finger would be real, and it would have saved them both years of pain and longing.

Before she can say anything else the waitress is back with their food, and they pull apart as she places the plates down in front of them. She’s gone in another instant, and even though everything smells and looks amazing, Y/N has suddenly lost her appetite.

The next morning there are pictures of them all over social media, with several different sports sites publishing articles about how hockey’s hottest bachelor is officially off the market. Y/N hadn’t even noticed people taking their photo, but she’s glad that they all seem to have been taken before things got awkward. In each photo they’re both smiling, and there’s even a few where you can clearly see a blush outlined on George’s cheeks.

They actually look in love, and it makes Y/N feel sick.

Things were weird between them the rest of the night and George was up and out of the house to head to camp before Y/N was awake. Her only shred of hope has been the fact that George had still left a fresh pot of coffee for her. Maybe this whole thing isn’t over before it really even got started.

Because Y/N has decided it’s time to stop playing the long game and merely hoping that this whole thing ends with her and George together for real. Y/N is going to get George Weasley to fall in love with her again even if it kills her. After his confession yesterday, Y/N knows now more than ever that George is the man she is supposed to end up with, and she is not going to give him up again without a fight.

Will she ever forget how he had hurt her that day? Of course not.

But what matters is that she’s forgiven him, and she’s ready to show George that what they have now can be real.

She barely focuses on work all day, formulating a plan and figuring out her next steps. By the time George gets home that afternoon, his usual protein shake is waiting and Y/N is ready. Operation get George Weasley to fall in love with her is a go.

Y/N decides to make her move that night when they’re in bed. The awkwardness between them had started to fade as they fell into their evening routine, and by the time they were eating dinner on the couch together they were laughing and joking around again. While they hadn’t talked about what George said at the diner, it seemed they had come to a silent agreement to leave the past in the past and to keep moving forward.

With only one week of training camp left before preseason starts, the focus of camp has shifted from running drills to starting to run plays, so when Y/N crawls into bed that night George is still awake, sitting up against the headboard as he reviews his book of plays.

She mirrors his position, keeping only a few inches of space between them as she starts to read her romance novel. Y/N keeps glancing at George out of the corner of her eye, not really paying attention to the words on the page. After a few minutes she gives up, huffing as she shuts her book before angling her body to face George.

“I’ve been thinking,” she trails off, waiting for George to give her his full attention.

“That can’t be good,” he jests, placing his playbook on the nightstand before he turns to face her as well. “What’s been going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face. “Well I saw all the pictures of us people were posting this morning, and I was thinking about that family skate thing and the team dinner you were talking about and how if we’re going to be out and around people, there’s probably certain things they are going to expect from us.”

“Like?” George asks, urging her to continue.

“Like PDA things,” she explains, swallowing the nerves threatening to creep up her throat. “Holding hands, touching, cuddling. Kissing.”

“Oh,” George murmurs, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“So I was thinking maybe we should practice. Doing all of that stuff. That way when we’re in front of people it doesn’t look weird or awkward. It looks like something we do all the time.” When George doesn’t say anything Y/N feels her stomach drop, and embarrassment flushes her cheeks. “Nevermind, forget I said anything,” she dismisses, kicking herself for even bringing it up.

But before she can turn her back to George and pretend to sleep he grabs her wrist, using his grip to pull Y/N even closer. “Sorry, I was just processing. You’re right. No one will believe we’re engaged if we look like two chickens pecking at each other when we try to kiss or if you flinch every time I touch your ass.”

Without giving her a chance to respond George grips the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling her into a kiss as his other arm wraps around her waist. There’s no hesitation as they kiss for the first time in years, and Y/N feels fireworks as George’s mouth melds against hers.

George breaks their kiss for a moment, muttering a quiet fuck before he’s kissing her again with more force. Angling her head back, George deepens the kiss and Y/N moans as he nips at her bottom lip. She shivers as his tongue soothes the sharp pain before letting him lick into her mouth.

Next thing she knows George is pulling her closer, dragging her so she’s straddling his lap. Her own hands grip his shoulders as George massages the back of her neck, his other hand wandering down to cup her ass. He drags her even closer, and they both let out a gasp as his hard cock presses between her thighs, nestled just where she needs him most.

As Y/N rocks against him, moaning as his cock nudges her throbbing clit, the reality that they are about to cross a line that they will never be able to come back from hits them both. In the blink of an eye Y/N is back on her side of the bed, hair tousled from George’s grip and her breathing heavy. She spares a glance at George, happy to find that he looks just as affected.

“So I think that was enough practice, yeah?” George doesn’t even wait for Y/N’s response before he’s up and out of bed, one hand trying to cover the tent in his sweatpants as he rushes into the bathroom. A second after the door closes Y/N hears the shower turn on, and she can’t help but slip a hand under her sleep shorts.

Phase one complete.

They haven’t kissed again since that first night early in the week, but much to both of their delight, physical touch starts to become a regular part of their relationship. When they’re out in public George doesn’t hesitate to grab Y/N’s hand, and he often keeps a hand on her lower back to guide her. Now when George gets home he seeks her out, sometimes content to rub her shoulders as she works, sometimes so desperate to feel her close that he hauls her from the chair into a hug. While they cook dinner together they’re constantly brushing against one another, and Y/N is practically in George’s lap while they eat.

The space they try to keep in bed at night has been completely erased, with George refusing to fall asleep until Y/N is wrapped in his arms. Her plan is working even better than she could have imagined and she can’t wait to show off their new found closeness tonight at the Rebel’s family skate.

Training camp is officially over, and every year to celebrate the team hosts a family skate night. The guys get to bring their wives or girlfriends and their kids, and everyone just gets to have fun together on the ice before the craziness of the season starts to take over. Preseason starts next week, and after the first game at home on Tuesday, the team will be gone for the better part of the next three weeks. Which makes tonight at open skate and tomorrow’s team dinner Y/N’s last chances to really get close to George before they are apart again.

“When do you think is the last time we skated together?” George asks as he steps out onto the ice, holding his hands out so he can help Y/N enter the rink.

In years past George never really cared for family skates considering the fact that he never really had anyone to bring with him, but he’s been looking forward to this all week. Not only did he and Y/N meet on the ice, but ice skating was their first date, making this the perfect next step in his plan to get her to fall in love with him again.

Y/N thinks about it as she grabs George’s hands and joins him. “Probably a family skate back when you were in the juniors. You used to have to bribe me with kisses to get on the ice.”

George keeps Y/N’s hands in his, starting to slowly skate backwards, pulling her along. “Mmm, that reminds me.” He pulls her in closer, leaning down and kissing her briefly. “Thank you for skating with me.”

She knows it’s for show, but it makes her heart rate pick up anyway. “You’re welcome. But I think I deserve one more kiss for being so brave.”

“Y/N, you can have as many kisses as you want,” George murmurs as he leans down before pressing their lips together again.

Their kiss is much longer this time, and Y/N is just about to open her mouth for George’s tongue when someone skates by, stopping sharply to spray them with ice.

“Adam, fuck you,” George growls as they pull apart, glaring at the other man as he skates away.

Y/N laughs, pushing George away to put some distance between them. There are children present after all. “You look so cute when you’re mad.”

“Only when I’m mad?” George pouts playfully, bringing his attention back to her.

“Nah, you’re cute all the time,” she reassures him, momentarily releasing one of his hands so she can boop him on the nose. The smile that graces his lips takes her breath away, and Y/N tilts her chin, silently requesting another kiss.

George immediately obliges, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss. It’s over far too quickly for Y/N’s liking, but George keeps her close as they continue to skate around the rink. It’s nice, just being there with him, and Y/N lets her gaze wander around as they move.

It’s funny, watching these guys who are so big and broad glide around with their kids. The ones who are too young to skate are just being held in their dad’s arms, bundled up in little snowsuits. There’s a few toddlers too, wearing little skates and a tiny version of their dad’s jersey as they’re guided along the ice. Some of the kids are even old enough to hold sticks, and they’re skating around passing pucks with their fathers before taking turns shooting on the goal.

It hits Y/N then, that if this all works out that could be her and George next year. A tiny baby in his big broad arms, wearing a jersey that says Daddy across the back with George’s number underneath it. A few of the wives have custom jerseys as well, with Mrs. Last name embroidered on the back and their husband’s number underneath. She’s sure that George would insist on her having one too.

Y/N’s attention refocuses on George as they slow and they come to a stop in front of the home bench, where George’s coach is tightening up his daughter’s skates. George wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist, pulling her back into his chest.

“Coach,” he greets when the other man turns and acknowledges them. “I just wanted to introduce you to my fiancé, Y/N.”

“Daniel Morris.” His voice is gruff, and Y/N takes the hand he offers, giving it a brief shake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s lit a fire under this ogre’s ass,” he teases with a grin. “Weasley has been playing his best these past few weeks, and we have you to thank.”

“Oh well, I don’t know about that,” Y/N brushes off, hoping the pink tint on her cheeks can be blamed on the cold. “But thank you. It’s nice to meet the guy George is always bitching about.”

Morris lets out a loud laugh, grabbing the attention of almost every single player out on the ice. “I like her George, you better keep this one around.”

“Oh trust me, Coach,” George starts with a grin, flicking his gaze down to Y/N. “I intend to.”

And that’s the truth.

“God I’m so sore,” Y/N moans as she crawls into bed that night, flopping down onto the pillows. “I don’t know how you do that every day. I barely did anything and my body aches like I just climbed Mount Everest.”

George shakes his head as he chuckles and he rubs a comforting hand down Y/N’s back. “Years and years of conditioning, baby. Where did you think all these muscles came from?” He flexes, causing Y/N to laugh.

“I do love your hockey butt,” she teases, giving George a wink.

“And I love your regular butt,” he responds, playfully giving it a slap. “C’mere, let me make you feel better.”

George maneuvers her so they’re cuddled close, one of Y/N’s legs slung over his hips with her chest pressed against his own. She presses her face into the crook of his neck, and a shiver wracks through his body when she kisses the sensitive skin there. George starts to rub circles into the tight muscles of her back, his fingers applying just enough pressure to work the kinks out without hurting her.

“Feel good?” he asks after a few moments, and Y/N lets out a moan of appreciation. “Good,” he murmurs as his hand starts to trail down her back. He pauses for a moment on the curve of her ass, digging his fingers in for a moment before continuing down to the thigh he has slung over his hips. George repeats the same motions as he did on her back, working out the muscles of her thighs.

George threads his free hand through the hair on the back of Y/N’s head and he slowly starts to scratch at her scalp. The gentleness of George’s simple intimacy brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N shuts her eyes to keep them from escaping. It’s easy to pretend when they’re like this, that this is just a normal night and they’re just a normal couple taking care of each other before they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

As Y/N starts to slowly fall asleep she sends out every piece of good karma she has out into the universe, wishing that her plan to make George fall in love with her works. Because she’s already head over heels in love with this man, and if he breaks her heart again she’ll never be the same.

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