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girlgenius1111 · 24 days

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behave

ingrid leaves for 2 weeks for national duty. sol and mapi try to stay out of trouble and fill the time. they are successful at one of those two objectives. some medical trauma discussed.

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“And I have an extra one of her inhalers, in the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. She hasn’t had an asthma attack in a while but-”

“-But just in case, Solstråle has one in her backpack, and you have one in the medicine cabinet. Ingrid, relax. It’s going to be fine. You’ve left the two of us before.”

“I know, but this time it's for longer, and she’s still not really herself. So many things have happened and I’m so worried,” the Norwegian rambled. It had only been a few weeks since everything had happened, and you were doing better. You were adjusting. Ingrid still didn’t really want you out of her sight, but she was due at the airport to fly back to Norway for the international break. She’d already said goodbye to you back at the house, and now she was very anxiously trying to give Mapi some words of advice before she had to go. It wasn’t the first time she’d left you with Mapi to play for Norway, but it was the first time since your mental health had really declined, since Ingrid became aware of how hard of a time you were having.

“Ingrid, amor, I know. I will take good care of her. Do you trust me?” Mapi said calmly, squeezing one of Ingrid’s hands.

“Of course, María, I’m sorry, of course I trust you. It’s just… keep an eye on her? Please?” Ingrid’s worry bled through her tone, eyes pleading with Mapi to agree to her request.

“I promise, Ingrid. We’ll be completely fine. And if we aren’t, I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” Ingrid said quietly.

“Alright. Fly safe, mi amor. I love you.” Mapi said, pulling Ingrid into a hug. Her girlfriend clung to her, and Mapi rubbed her back softly, trying to provide some comfort.

“I love you too.” Ingrid whispered, pulling back to leave a sweet kiss on her girlfriend’s lips, before turning and walking into the airport.

Mapi sighed, a bit relieved because she honestly wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be returning home with Ingrid after a failed airport drop off. The Norwegian had been increasingly anxious about you in recent weeks, and Mapi knew that leaving you, now, felt like she was failing you as a sister, and as a guardian. She also knew, however, that she had the situation handled. You were comfortable with Mapi, and she was confident in her abilities to keep an eye on you, and make sure you were doing okay.

She understood Ingrid’s anxiety. The Norwegian had always been a person who needed to feel control. Leaving her very vulnerable sister behind while she went off to play football for two weeks would certainly not give Ingrid the sense of control she craved in every situation that scared her.

Ingrid had gone, though. Entered the airport, gotten on the plane. And now it was time for Mapi to get back home to you, and begin the 2 weeks of fun she had planned.

------

Mapi wanted to bond with you, in a way that didn’t involve heavy emotions and tears being spilled. She wanted to do something fun that you enjoyed. Even if it wasn’t something that she necessarily wouldn’t have chosen. When you enthusiastically suggested that you both go to your rock climbing gym, she’d agreed easily. How hard could it be? She was a professional athlete. She was fit and strong, and she knew she could do it. She’d checked with the trainers at Barça, and she’d been cleared for the activity. An important piece of information that she’d forgotten, however, was that she wasn’t the biggest fan of heights.

Well, it wasn’t that she forgot. It was more that she just didn’t think it would be an issue. Her fear of heights had decreased significantly in recent years. She went on hikes often up tall hills and mountains, and was barely bothered. She didn’t stop to consider that being tied to a wall and climbing to the top with very little support would be harder.

It was easy to get on the helmet, the harness, and all the gear. It was adorable to watch you expertly tie the knots to her carabiner, very nonchalantly, though Mapi could tell you wanted to impress her. It was fun to learn all the silly little commands she was supposed to shout. It was fun that you knew all the right pointers to tell her, easily getting her going up the wall. It was even fun climbing; it took a specific muscle strength that was slightly different than the one she possessed, and it was just difficult enough to present a challenge, without being overwhelmingly difficult.

As she got higher up, though, she became more and more aware that the only thing between her and falling a very significant distance to the ground was a rope and a self belaying machine. She kept herself calm, though, until she got to the top of the wall. She allowed herself a small smile, glancing down at where you were cheering for her.

That was her mistake. The ground was so far away. And once she started to panic she couldn’t really stop.

You were yelling instructions up to her, ones she could barely hear.“Okay, like I told you. Flip the hand brake to the other side, and let the slack of the rope slide through your hand.”

“NO!” Mapi shouted, surprising even herself with the volume of her voice. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Is it stuck?” You replied. It didn’t even occur to you that Mapi might be scared. She was Mapi. She was fearless and confident and she was brave for you when you weren’t sure you could be.

“No, Sol, I can’t. I can’t.” Mapi said again, and you were floored to hear her start to get choked up. She had a white knuckle grip on the rope in one hand, holding tight to one of the handholds with the other. She looked like her whole body was trembling, and you floundered for a minute, entirely lost on what to do and how to help.

Though after thinking about it for another minute, the solution was clear. Ingrid could fix Mapi, just like Mapi could always fix Ingrid.

“Okay, Maps, hold on I’m gonna help you.” You shouted, seeing her nod weakly. There was no getting her down like this. You had to have some confidence in the equipment, and yourself, in order to repel down the wall, and Mapi clearly possessed confidence in neither of those things at the moment.

You grabbed your phone and called Ingrid. It went right to voicemail. You called again, waving off the worker who came up to ask if you needed help.

“I’m calling Ingrid, Mapi, just hang on.”

Ingrid didn’t answer for a second time. You dialed Caro’s number, one you had for emergencies, and she picked up on the first ring, no doubt concerned at the sight of your name on the caller ID.

“Hello?” Caro said.

“Caro, are you with Ingrid? Can you get her for me?”

“Uh… yeah. She’s in the gym, I’ll grab her. Is everything okay?”

“No, please hurry.”

It was unsettling to see Mapi this distraught, and you were absolutely flooded with guilt that you’d made her do this. She was clearly terrified and it was all your fault.

You heard some muffled voices over the phone before Ingrid’s absolutely panicked one came over the line.

“Solstråle? What is it?” She asked, beside herself with worry.

“Um. Mapi and I went to the climbing gym. And she made it to the top of the wall but now she’s… stuck.”

“Stuck? What do you mean stuck?”

“She’s too afraid to come down, I don’t know what to do.”

Ingrid fought off a smile. The mental image of Mapi stuck at the top of an indoor climbing wall, securely attached to a rope, a thick mat underneath her, in absolutely no danger at all, was comical, she couldn’t lie.

“Switch it to a video call.” She instructed, for no other reason than to get photographic evidence of this. Alexia would be getting a late birthday gift this year, in the form of this moment, framed.

You did as she asked, flipping the camera around to show Mapi up at the top of the wall. It was the shortest one in the place, and Ingrid had a very clear view of her girlfriend, holding onto the wall and the rope for dear life.

“Oh, María.” Ingrid chuckled, finding the whole situation very amusing. She took a screenshot, before you spoke and the situation became significantly less funny.

“Ingrid, I think she’s crying.” You murmured. That sobered up your sister pretty quickly. It was one thing for Mapi to be scared, and entirely another for her to be so terrified she was moved to tears. Ingrid very suddenly remembered Mapi’s fading fear of heights. Or, what was supposed to be a fading fear of heights.

“Shit. Can you get up there? With me in your pocket or something?”

You sounded almost cocky when you responded. “I could get up there with my eyes closed. It’s the easiest wall.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, get me up to her.”

You did as your sister asked, attaching your harness to the ropes and getting the self belay machine all set, before you slipped your sister into your pocket, and climbed up the wall, at a speed that could only be described as a sprint. It took longer than it could have, because you went slightly diagonal, trying to get as close to Mapi as you could. When you reached her, she seemed completely spaced out, every muscle in her body tensed, a few tears on her cheeks.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, turned the volume up, and held it up so Mapi could see her girlfriend.

“María?” Ingrid said soothingly.

Mapi snapped back into herself, her head whipping around to look at the phone, and at you.

“Ingrid.” she said, relief clear in her voice.

“Hey. Are you scared?”

“No, I am staying up here for fun Ingrid.” Mapi snapped. Ingrid looked unimpressed, and Mapi mumbled an apology.

“Can you listen to what Sol tells you to do? And do it with her?”

“Isn’t there another way I can get down?” She asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, I can cut the rope and you’d drop right down.” You deadpanned. Mapi looked horrified at you, and you choked back a laugh.

“Solstråle, that is not nice!” Ingrid scolded. “María, my love, you are completely safe. You’re going to do what Sol says, and you’ll be back on the ground in a second, okay?”

“Okay.” Mapi agreed, glaring at you.

“See you in a sec Ingrid! If we make it down alive,” you added, tucking your sister back into your pocket before she could yell at you again.

When you spoke again, though, it was soft and encouraging, and Mapi knew that you were taking her fear seriously. It is one of those little signs that you loved her, too. You weren’t as good at saying it, having not heard it said to you for a lot of your life, but you showed it. When you’d squeeze her hand during a Barça game, knowing how hard it was for her to sit out. When you’d find a silly cat tiktok and send it to her, even though she knew you didn’t find whatever it was very funny. And now, when you talked her through the whole thing, assuring her that she’d be safe the whole time.

“It’s gonna be fine, Maps. Flip the handbrake off, and hold tight to the rope. You won’t go anywhere until you let yourself.”

Mapi found herself following your instructions without much thought. You just very clearly sounded like you knew what you were doing.

“Okay, good. Now loosen your hand on the rope, just a little. A bit will slide through and you’ll drop. The less you let go of, the slower you’ll descend.” Mapi let the rope go a bit, lowering maybe an inch. You nodded encouragingly, lowering down with her. “Keep your feet on the wall. You’re just going to walk yourself down. You can go as slow as you need to.”

Very slowly, at the pace of a wounded snail, you and Mapi moved down the wall. You didn’t stop talking the whole time, forgetting, honestly, that Ingrid was in your pocket.

She was sitting in the hallway, all the way in Norway, wondering what she did to deserve such a sweet sister, who cared so deeply for the people around her. Who adjusted to her girlfriend without a second thought. Who was sensitive and loving, even if you pretended not to be.

When Mapi got down the wall, she was still shaking too badly to undo the harness. You handed her your phone, un attaching her from the wall, as she spoke quietly to your sister. When she was free, and you were free, you shoved your face next to hers, greeting Ingrid again.

If Mapi was worried you’d make fun of her, she didn't have to be.

You just smiled at her. “Ice cream?” You asked hopefully. Mapi and Ingrid felt their lips both tug up into smiles, matching smiles.

“Definitely.” Mapi agreed.

The day had been a bonding experience. Just in a very different way than Mapi had anticipated.

------

You enjoyed spending time with Mapi, you really did. But you were also a person that needed a lot of time to yourself. Maybe it was a consequence of having no one around who paid much attention to you growing up, or maybe it was just how you were wired. Either way, after almost 2 weeks of spending every minute with your sister’s girlfriend, you needed a break.

Some silence, and a break.

Which is how you found yourself on a long hike, two days before Ingrid was due home. You’d gone yourself, without Scout, which wasn’t a common occurrence, but you wanted to be gone for a while. Just you and nature and nothing but your thoughts to echo around your head.

When you got to a fork in the path, you stopped to consider. The right path would lead you back down, and you’d be home within the hour. The left path would lead you through a tricky boulder section of the hike, and you’d be gone another 2 hours.

Your only hesitation with the left path was that Ingrid had very specifically told you not to take it alone. You’d talked to her before you’d left, and she’d warned you that the boulders were really tricky, and you shouldn’t do it by yourself. She promised to go with you when she got back, if you promised not to do it today.

Mapi would never know, though. You’d just tell her you stopped at the top to enjoy the views for a bit, before you headed down. And if Mapi didn’t know, Ingrid wouldn’t know. And you really, really, just wanted some more time to yourself.

So you set off to the left, ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut that you were making a mistake.

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You didn’t remember it hurting this bad, having a broken bone. It was definitely broken, though. You’d heard it go, even as your body hit the ground with a loud thump.

The boulders had been tricky. So incredibly tricky. They were slightly loose and wobbly, and there were big gaps in between where you could easily fall. You had to get up and over a pile of rocks to keep moving, and you were tired. There were only a few more, by your estimations, and you were so relieved to almost be done that you were a bit more careless on the last few.

It was the final obstacle that you fell from. You lost your footing towards the end of the boulder pile, rolling and tumbling down the last boulder, and onto the dirt path. You threw your arm out to catch yourself, and that was all it took.

Sitting for a moment, you assessed your hand. It was broken. You knew instantly. You’d felt this before, you knew what it was. You felt strangely calm after making that assessment, carefully testing all of your fingers, and trying to move your wrist.

Ouch. No, it was definitely broken. You had a couple options. You could call Mapi to come get you. She’d freak out and call your sister, who would be furious that you’d done exactly what she warned you not to. Or, you could finish the hike and get home. Pretend you were tired from your hike, or sick or something, and sneak away into your bedroom. Sleep it off.

Logically, you knew the second option was bullshit. You couldn’t hide a broken arm forever. The thought of going to the doctor, though, was not something you would even consider. You only had one choice.

You rose to your feet, the movement jostling your arm just enough to make your stomach turn. You bent over, throwing up onto the path. Straightening up again, you set off down the path, arm cradled close to your body. You could do this. You were strong and independent and you didn’t need anyones help.

------

You felt like the universe was on your side, with the way things were going. Aside from the broken arm, of course. You were able to slip past Mapi, telling her a small lie that you’d grabbed food on the way home and weren’t feeling well, before you made it to your room. She popped her head in to say goodnight, and if she thought your behavior was weird, she didn’t say anything.

You waited until she was in bed to shower, knowing she’d be up early for training the next day. You weren’t quite sure what your plan was past that, but you were taking this step by step.

If Mapi didn’t know, she wouldn’t make you go to the doctor. She wouldn’t tell Ingrid. And Ingrid wouldn’t be mad.

It was very poor logic, but logic nonetheless.

You probably could have kept it up for longer, too, if your damn dog wasn’t so intelligent.

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Scout wasn’t sure what a broken bone was. Nor was he sure what was wrong with you. But you were hurting, had cried yourself to sleep the night before, and no one was doing anything. The helpful tall one was gone, leaving him with only the annoying and loud short one. Scout didn't think she was very smart, but he’d try to get the message across that someone should probably do something about you, his favorite person on planet earth.

He followed her around when she arrived home from training. She ignored him.

When she sat on the couch and turned the TV on, he stood right next to her, staring daggers at her face. She ignored him.

It wasn’t until he started to whine loudly, and paw at her hand that she got fed up and finally looked at him.

“Scout, chico, I am begging you to leave me alone.” Mapi sighed. The dog just looked at her, taking a tiny step closer to the Spaniard and letting out a quiet whine. “I swear to god.”

She stood from the couch, heading for your room. If Scout would listen to anyone, it would be you. And she assumed that he was just pouting because you had shut your door, not allowing him inside. Now that Mapi thought about it, though, she realized she hadn’t seen you at all today, though she had exchanged texts with you while she was at training. Upon arriving at your door she raised her hand to knock, but before her hand could make contact with the wood, she heard a quiet, pained yelp come from the room.

Mapi frowned. “Nena?” She called, knocking on the door before trying to knob.

It was locked.

You never locked your door.

Mapi paused for a moment, looking down at Scout next to her, who was panting and staring up at her. See, his eyes seemed to say. I told you something was wrong.

“Solstråle? Can I come in?”

Inside, you had clapped your good hand over your mouth, realizing that Mapi had heard the sound you’d made. You’d been trying to pull a sweatshirt on to hide the awful sight of your arm, but even the soft brush of the fabric against your arm was horribly painful.

Fuck. Fuck. Mapi wasn’t going to go away, not without seeing you. You struggled with the sweatshirt further before responding, but you were unable to muffle a cry of pain when your forearm twisted slightly.

You shut your eyes, fighting back tears. “I’m fine, Mapi.” You replied, though you knew very well that it would not be enough for the Spaniard.

“You don’t sound fine.” Mapi said, twisting the knob again, as if it would have magically unlocked itself in the last few seconds.

“I am. All good.” You said back, fighting against the urge to open the door and collapse into her arms; your arm was on fire, the pain so bad that you were barely keeping yourself from openly sobbing.

On the other side of the door, Mapi shook her head, growing more and more panicked. You didn’t sound right, not at all. Scout next to her had begun to pace, and she was trying to figure out if she could break the door down before she spoke again.

“Open the door, nena. I am not asking. I need to see that you’re safe.” Mapi said firmly, closing her eyes and praying to god that you were okay.

You had no choice. You stepped forward, unlocking the door, and Mapi’s eyes fell to you, cradling your arm close to your chest. You arm that looked wrong. It was bent at a slightly awkward angle, turning an ugly shade of purple, and it was twice the size of how it normally was.

“Jesus.” Mapi sighed, stepping closer to you, she missed the pure panic that flashed across your face, but she saw you flinch violently away from her, backing up until you were on the opposite side of the room. There were tears in your eyes, and Mapi froze, raising her hands in the air.

“Sol,” Mapi began, her heart shattering when you shook your head rapidly, wordlessly begging for something, although Mapi wasn’t quite sure what. “It’s just me, Sol. I won’t touch your arm. I just want to look at it, okay? I promise, I will not touch you.”

You blinked at her for a minute, before nodding slowly. You moved over to your bed, taking a seat on the edge, sitting rather stiffly. It was a testament to the trust you had in the Spaniard that you held your arm out for her to see, a quiet sob falling from your lips.

Mapi moved closer slowly, like you were a wild animal she didn’t want to scare off, until she was standing right in front of you. She kept her hands behind her back, simply looking at your arm. It was broken. Mapi wasn’t a doctor, but this wasn’t a difficult determination to make. A broken arm is pretty obvious.

“What happened?”

“I fell.”

“How did you fall?”

“I was hiking along those rocks that Ingrid told me not to climb on and I lost my balance and fell on my arm.”

“This was yesterday?” Mapi breathed, sick to her stomach at the thought that you’d been hiding this from her for so long. That you’d been hiding it at all, but that you’d gone to sleep with an untreated broken bone, that she’d left you alone while she went to training, while you had a broken bone.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, cariño.” She sighed. “You must be in so much pain.” She studied you closely, and she decided that now was not the time to have a conversation about hiding things from her. “Nena, do you want a hug?”

Now that she knew, it was even harder to pretend that you were fine. She was right. You had been in a lot of pain. You were acutely aware of that pain, now, and how desperately you wanted someone to take charge of the situation and make everything okay.

“Please,” you whispered, leaning in her direction. Mapi very carefully wrapped her arms around you, gently rubbing her hand up and down your back. You trembled against her, and Mapi thought at that moment that she would break her own arm if it meant you weren’t in pain.

Mapi hugged you tight for a minute before she very regretfully pulled back, putting her hands on her shoulders and studying you. “Okay. Okay. Here is what we’re going to do. Tomorrow, we are going to have a talk about hiding injuries from us. Because Sol, this is so dangerous. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me, and you can explain later, but right now we need to go see a doctor.”

“No.” You said simply, your face hardening as you looked up at the Spaniard. And it wasn’t that Mapi hadn’t expected some resistance; she knew that you had an issue with doctors. It was the decisiveness with which you spoke, and the barely masked fright on your face.

“Solstråle, we need to get that x-rayed.”

“No. It’s fine, Mapi.”

“It isn’t fine! It looks broken, nena, we need to get it looked at.”

“No. No doctors, no hospital, no x-ray.”

“Solstråle, I will call your sister if I need to. We are going to the doctor.”

A look of betrayal flashed across our face, and you held your arm tighter to your body in a protective manner. “Please don’t make me.” You whispered.

Harsh wasn’t working. Demanding wasn’t working. Mapi knew she couldn’t force you. She just had to convince you. She stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You are scared, that’s okay. I’ll be with you the whole time, though, nena. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” You said, your voice cracking a bit, looking up at Mapi with wide, wet eyes.

“I promise you, I am not going to let anything happen to you.”

You considered for a moment. You knew, realistically, that you had to go in. And you also knew that Ingrid was probably going to be furious with you. You craved comfort from your sister, though, you needed to hear her voice, telling you that you were safe. Ingrid knew a bit more than Mapi did about your issue with doctors, even though she didn’t have the full story. Ingrid was safe, and so was Mapi, but you really just wanted your sister.

“Can I call Ingrid on the way there?”

And even though Mapi winced internally at mere thought of how upset this would make her girlfriend, she nodded. “Of course you can. Come on, let’s go.”

The care with which Mapi helped you down the stairs brought tears to your eyes. She put your shoes on for you, double knotting the laces like you always did, before she paused, crouched in front of where you sat on the bench by the front door.

“I promise you, Sol. I am not going to let anything happen to you. Okay? I’ve got you, kid.” She said, watching as you blinked hard, clenching your jaw and nodding.

“Yeah, thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. Mapi helped you up, then, and you both exited the house.

Mapi dialed the phone in the car, connecting it to the speaker. Ingrid picked up on the first ring, almost like she knew something was wrong. “Hi mi amor,” she greeted warmly.

“Hola. We’re in the car, Sol is with me.”

“Hi solstråle,” Ingrid said.

“Hi,” you replied, not uttering another word.

“Tell her what happened, mi sol.” Mapi encouraged

“Tell me what? What happened?” Ingrid asked, her tone much more concerned and serious.

“I hurt my arm. We’re going to the doctor.” You mumbled. Ingrid sighed, but she got the feeling that this wasn’t the worst of what you had to tell her, that it was going to get worse.

“How? What’s wrong with it?”

“I was hiking and I fell. Mapi thinks it’s broken.”

“Broken…climbing… on the trail I told you to be careful on- wait, Sol that was yesterday. This happened yesterday!?” Ingrid shouted. “Why are you just taking her now, María?”

Mapi winced. “I didn’t know until now.”

“YOU DIDN’T TELL MAPI UNTIL NOW?” Ingrid yelled, so loudly that the speakers crackled slightly.

Mapi glanced over at you to see that there were tears pouring down your cheeks, and your bottom lip captured in between your teeth, as you tried valiantly not to cry. Shit.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Relax, let’s all just take a breath.” She soothed, turning to pull over on a side street.

“María, I will not relax, this is not oka-”

“Ingrid, stop.” Mapi said firmly, her voice more stern than you’d ever heard it. Ingrid fell silent. “Sol, breathe. Ingrid isn’t mad, she’s just worried. We are okay, everything is okay.”

You nodded frantically, trying to get a handle on your emotions, which were, frankly, overwhelming at the moment. “Sorry, I’m sorry Ingrid, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed.

Ingrid felt her heart shatter. She hadn’t meant to shout. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled, honey.”

“I just- the last time I hurt my arm mom didn’t believe me and you told me to be careful and I didn’t want you to be mad, and I didn’t know if you’d think I was lying, and I don’t want to go to the doctor, Ingrid, but Mapi is taking me and she says I have to, and-” you cut yourself off with another loud sob, before arms were reaching over the center console and wrapping around you.

“Shh, nena, it’s okay. You are safe, you are loved. You are okay.” Mapi whispered, loud enough that Ingrid could hear it over the phone. Tears were falling down her cheeks, too, for a combination of reasons. Mostly, though, because her girlfriend was being so absurdly sweet and patient with you. Not that María would ever be anything different, but Ingrid would never stop appreciating it.

Once you’d calmed down a bit, you leaned back away from Mapi, looking at her desperately. “María I really don’t want to go to the doctor, please don’t make me,” you begged. Even as everything in Mapi wanted to give in and take you home where you felt safe, her eyes flickered down to your arm, which was black and blue and swollen, and she knew that wasn’t an option. Before she could speak, though, Ingrid chimed in.

“Solstråle, switch the phone to a video call and let me see your arm.”

You did as she asked, fighting back another wave of tears when Ingrid’s face popped up on the screen, looking sympathetically at you. You held up your arm, holding back a groan of pain as you did so, not happy when Ingrid frowned at the sight.

“Sweetheart,”

“No,” you cried, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow. This was absurd. Your arm was clearly broken, you were 18 years old, and you were afraid of the doctor. Like a child. It was humiliating and you wanted nothing more than to pretend that this was fine, that you were fine going to get a few x-rays and a cast, but the feelings of anxiety and panic were only rising in you again, and your whole body shook at the thought of letting a doctor anywhere near your arm.

“I know, I know,” Ingrid whispered, sounding like she really did know. While your parents had always dismissed your fear of doctors as you being dramatic, ingrid had always been able to tell that you were completely and utterly terrified of going in for a check up, or going into the hospital. The pure horror in your eyes whenever you had to do so was proof enough, but she’d had to take you once, just to get your flu shot, and you’d silently cried the entire way to the office, thrown up in the bathroom upon arriving, and almost broke her hand with your strong grip while the shot was being administered.

You hadn’t always been like this, though. It had started when you were 10, and Ingrid had never known the reason. You’d never told her, and your parents hadn’t either.

“You’re scared, yes? Can you tell me what is making you so afraid?” Ingrid asked gently.

You took a few shuddering breaths before hesitantly looking at her on the screen. “When I broke my arm? They had to reset it because mom waited to take me to the doctor and the bones were in the wrong spot.

They told me they were going to put some ice on it and a bandage and then the nurses were holding me down and the doctor was forcing the bones back into place.”

You took a minute, trying to stop the incessant shakes that were running through your body at the memory. You jumped slightly when Mapi’s hand found your uninjured one, but you grabbed on tight, closing your eyes to finish your explanation.

“I cried and I screamed and mom told me to stop being dramatic, and that I was embarrassing her in front of all the doctors. They made her leave the room then, and it was just me and the doctor and the nurses. The bones didn’t go back right on the first try, and they had to do it two more times before it worked. Mom only came in when they were done and they were putting the cast on. I asked her if I could call you, and she said no, because you were too busy for me.”

It all made sense, now. Ingrid remembered coming back from international duty after you’d broken your arm. You’d seemed so depressed and withdrawn, and she’d assumed you were upset about the injury. Never could she have imagined what had gone on while she was gone.

“That is awful, nena. You did not deserve that, and I am so sorry that happened to you.” Mapi began, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I understand why you’re scared. I promise you, though, I won’t let anyone touch you until you say it’s okay. They’ll tell you what they’re going to do before they do it, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Your sister could tell that you were slightly more convinced, now. You really trusted Mapi. She’d never given you a reason not to trust her.

“Solstråle, you really need to get it looked at. I’m sorry I’m not there, I’m sorry I wasn’t there the first time, but Mapi is going to take really good care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed, another tear sliding down your cheek. Even as you did so, though, even as you gave Mapi permission to start the car and resume the drive to the hospital, you weren’t sure you could do this. You understood the importance of getting your arm taken care of, and you’d try. Whether you’d get through this hospital trip, though, was a different story.

--------

Mapi was relatively sure she was going to need an x-ray herself; you were holding her hand so tightly, your knuckles were white. You were shaking in the hospital bed, a vacant expression on your face.

You’d been sort of… despondent since returning from your x-ray. The doctors had insisted you go alone, and after some convincing, you’d agreed. When they walked you back into the room where Mapi was waiting, though, it was clear you were in another place. All she could do was wait for you to come back a bit.

“Mapi?” You said quietly, getting the attention of the Spaniard, who had been looking down at her phone, texting your sister.

“Sí nena?” Mapi replied, very gently squeezing your hand. You looked at her, then, making eye contact for the first time since returning from x-rays, and Mapi winced at the terror in your eyes.

“I don’t feel safe.” You whispered, unsure of what else you could do or say. You needed help, your fear was rapidly becoming overwhelming, especially because you knew that any minute, the doctor would be returning.

Mapi nodded sympathetically, reaching out with her free hand to push some hair off your forehead. She knew that physical touch was often the only thing that could comfort you when you were feeling anxious. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more safe?”

“Promise you won’t leave? You won’t let them hurt me?”

“I will stay right here with you the whole time. And I will never let anyone hurt you.” Mapi looked at you with such conviction, spoke with such confidence and finality, you had no choice but to believe her.

“I want to go home.” You whimpered, your voice cracking.

“Soon, mi sol. Soon.”

It was only a few minutes later that the doctor returned. She was a kind woman, gentle and cautious. She had some understanding that you were afraid, and she’s respected that. She told you everything she was going to do before she did it, and she hadn’t once made you feel ridiculous for how you were acting.

“Alrighty. Got your x rays here. We’re looking at a bilateral forearm fracture, which means both the radius and the ulna are broken. The fractured are clean across, nothing is displaced which is good news for you; that means we can put the cast on, and nothing has to get put back into place.”

Mapi watched as your body practically deflated next to her, a long sigh of relief escaping your lips.

The doctor continued. “I am curious, though. Have you broken this arm before?”

You stiffened slightly, and Mapi shifted next to you, moving closer unconsciously in a protective manner.

“Yeah, when I was 10.”

The doctor nodded. “I can see it on the x-ray, there’s a line here, where it didn't heal exactly right. That white dot? You’ve developed a bit of a bone spur there where the bones weren’t properly aligned the first time. Does it give you pain?”

You shrugged. The relief was gone from your face, and you only looked defensive now. “Sometimes.”

Mapi guessed that sometimes meant often, and she wondered if you ever would have told her and Ingrid that you were having issues with your arm, if this hadn’t occurred.

“Well, the good news is your bones are not at risk for healing in the wrong spot, so you should avoid a repeat of the first injury complications. There are options, though, if that bone spur continues to give you issues. Physical therapy, steroid injections, and surgery are all on the table.”

You nodded, jaw clenched tightly shut. Mapi could tell this wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, and she figured you’d been pushed far enough today.

“Thank you, very much. What is the recovery time like?” She said, effectively drawing the attention away from you as the conversation turned to casts and braces and slings.

You might as well have been in another room, for all you heard. You didn’t need to get the bones reset. Just a cast. You could handle that.

Or, you thought you could. It was much more stress-inducing than you expected, when the doctor came in with the items to make the cast, and reached for your arm. You flinched away from her violently, looking helplessly at Mapi. You were thinking about how she said she wouldn’t let anyone touch you if you didn’t want them to, and Mapi knew that.

“Can you give her a second, please?” Mapi said, not taking her eyes off of you as she slid into the hospital bed you were sitting upright in.

The doctor nodded, for her part lacking understanding, but not needing an explanation to respect that you were clearly terrified.

“Sol, breathe. It’s just the cast. They’re gonna put it on, they aren’t going to mess with your arm. You can do this, I know you can.” Mapi encouraged, more than a little surprised when you took a deep breath, nodded, and held your arm out to the doctor.You turned your head away, pressing your face into Mapi’s shoulder, gripping onto her shirt with your good hand.

You were putting all of your trust in Mapi in that moment, to ensure that the doctor was gentle and didn’t do anything she hadn’t said she would. This wasn’t lost on the Spaniard, and she watched closely as they wrapped your arm, and began applying the plaster.

She could feel your tears soaking through the fabric of her shirt, though you were completely silent as you cried. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, Mapi cursed your mother with everything in her. The woman had given her Ingrid, and you by extension, but she had inflicted so much pain on you in your short life. Mapi ached for the day where these scars weren’t painfully obvious, for the day you could go to the doctor without fear, ask for a hug when you needed one, cry openly when you were hurting, believe with all your heart that you were loved.

She held tight to you, watching as the doctor put the finishing touches on your cast.

“I’ve got you, nena.” She whispered. “Almost done.”

You were too good to have experienced everything that you had. She just wanted you to be happy.

When you pulled away from her to inspect your arm, she could still see such apprehension written clearly across your face. She wondered how long it would take for it to fully leave. Or if it ever would. Some scars never faded.

You gave her a watery smile, though, nodding towards the blue of your cast. “Couldn’t get it blaugrana but this is good too, right?” You joked.

Mapi returned your smile, feeling a very familiar spark of hope inside of her chest. Of course you would be okay. Of course you would. You were one of the strongest, most resilient people she knew.

“Very good. I am going to draw something so inappropriate on there before your sister gets home.”

You laughed, and Mapi laughed, both of you felt a bit like everything would be okay. Even if Ingrid scribbled over whatever Mapi drew on your cast.

-------

You sat blankly on the couch upon arriving home, staring at the cast your hand was wrapped in. You weren’t really sure what to do now, and it didn’t seem like Mapi knew, either. She took a seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her.

“Talk to me, nena.” She encouraged.

“I just don’t feel good. I’m really tired.” You told her.

“It’s been a long day, your body is coming down from a lot of stress and anxiety. You’re okay, now, so let’s just lay on the couch and relax, sí?”

You agreed, shifting to move into your spot in the corner of the sectional, before you paused. “Can you stay with me?” You asked.

Mapi smiled at you. “Of course I can. Even if it means your damn dog is going to come lay on my legs and get fur all over my pants.”

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, but you couldn’t give much of an argument because Scout jumped up on the couch right after, flopping down on your legs, making sure to stretch a leg out to rest on Mapi’s legs, too.

You dozed off relatively easily, clearly drained from a very emotionally and physically exhausting day, and Mapi took the opportunity to call her girlfriend, who she had been updating over text frequently, but who would still be, no doubt, beside herself with worry.

When Ingrid answered the phone, and only Mapi’s face appeared in view of the camera, Ingrid half convinced herself that you’d locked yourself in a room somewhere and were refusing to come out. Mapi shifted the camera, though, showing you absolutely passed out on the couch, your uninjured hand holding onto her arm, something you’d done completely in your sleep.

“Hey.” Mapi greeted. She didn’t worry about the volume of her voice; you could sleep through anything.

“Hi.” Ingrid said, feeling ridiculously emotional at the sight of her two favorite people together. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah. It was really hard for her, I’ve never seen her that anxious. They just put a cast on, though, and she’s relaxed enough now to rest. She was so exhausted, Ingrid, I’d be surprised if she slept at all last night.” Mapi paused as Ingrid hummed. The Norwegian could tell her girlfriend was upset, just from the way her mouth was set stiffly, and the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“How are you doing my love? That must have been really hard to see.” She commented, studying Mapi’s expression closely.

The Spaniard just shrugged, though. “I am sorry this happened, I know how worried you must have been being so far away.”

Ingrid shook her head. “Don’t do that, don’t try to distract me. I want to know how you are doing.”

Mapi nibbled on her lip for a moment, her eyes everywhere but on the phone in front of her. “I am so sorry Ingrid.” She said finally, the phone dropping into her lap as she wiped impatiently at her eyes. Ingrid had to be furious with her. Had to be. This was all Mapi’s fault, after all.

Of course, Ingrid had never considered blaming Mapi, not for a single minute. “No, baby, this isn’t your fault.” She said, as if she’d read her girlfriends mind. Mapi could only scoff. “I’m serious, María. These things happen, it’s no one's fault.”

“She didn’t tell me. She didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” Mapi whispered.

Ingrid frowned. “No, she trusts you. It’s complicated with her, when she’s hurt. You heard what she said about when she broke her arm the first time. Her response to being hurt was completely based on that experience, it had nothing to do with you.”

Everything Ingrid said was so logical, Mapi had a hard time coming up with a counter argument. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive herself, though, so she changed the subject.

“You come home tomorrow.” She said, a small smile gracing her lips.

Ingrid let the very obvious subject change go in favor of smiling back at her girlfriend. “I do. I’ve missed you both so much.”

“I have to make sure to sign Sol’s cast before you get here.” Mapi said thoughtfully.

Ingrid grew pale at the thought. “No, María, whatever you are planning to put on there please, please don’t. Just write your name.”

“Oh, my name will be on there.” Mapi smirked.

Well, at least it didn’t seem like she was planning something explicit. “Leave room for me to sign too.” Ingrid said grumpily.

Mapi almost jumped when you chimed in from next to her, throat slightly scratchy. “Ingrid signs first. Those are the rules.” You mumbled, barely opening your eyes to address your sister when Mapi tilted the phone towards you.

“Ha!” Ingrid said, looking very pleased with herself.

Mapi wanted to argue, she really did. She knew, though, that Ingrid felt insecure about her relationship with you. You were a bit more open with Mapi, a bit more outwardly trusting. Mapi knew this was just because she normally had a much softer approach, though Ingrid’s tougher one was definitely necessary. She knew, too, that Ingrid worried a lot that you preferred Mapi to your sister. So, she let this one go.

“Fine. I don’t need to sign it. I’ve already got that number 4 tattooed on you.”

Ingrid paled. “No. No you didn’t. María Pilar León Cebrian, no you did not.”

“She did. It’s huge, on my right ass cheek.” Next to you, Mapi stifled her laughter, and you did your best to keep a straight face.

“You better be kidding. I swear to god if I get off that airplane and you have a four tattooed on your ass I will kill you both right there.”

“How are you going to check? Are you going to pants me in the airport?” You laughed.

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, her teeth clenched.

“Relaaaax Ingrid. I don’t have any more tattoos,”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

“...Yet.” You added, laughing with Mapi when Ingrid brought the phone closer to her face.

“NO! No, Solstråle, no no no no no.”

You and Mapi laughed so hard you could barely breathe, hearing Ingrid repeating no over and over.

Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t annoyed, not really. You were laughing and that was a big change from before. You were on the road to recovery, and you looked adorable all curled up next to Mapi, grinning at your sister through the phone. How could she be upset at your [stupid, idiotic, immature] joke?

Though she really would murder her girlfriend if you had another tattoo when she got home.

-------

this took me an absolutely absurd amount of time.

hope you enjoy sol <3

ps. please tell me all your sol thoughts comments keep me living and breathing 🫶🏻🫶🏻

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #🍓☀️

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xiaoseminence · 1 year

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𓆩✬𓆪 𝕋𝕖𝕪𝕧𝕒𝕥’𝕤 ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥 𓆩✬𓆪 (𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝔸𝔾𝔸𝕌)

Summary ➵✬ When you wake up atop a golden altar, surrounded by the beloved characters from your favorite game, you will learn how far their fervent devotion truly goes. (Harem, GN pronouns) Warnings ➵✬ Heavy Yandere, Worship / Religious practices, Dark Topics, Slighty Mature / Suggestive scenes

“May the sacrifices we offer you appease you, our beloved creator. In these times of hardship, please guide us and lend us your strength”

The words reverberated in the hall, making it seem as though they were coming from all around you. You hadn’t opened your eyes, and yet an almost blinding ray of golden light was visible even through your closed lids. You barely registered the horrified gasps and shouts of astonishment as the strong smell of incense burned your lungs with each breath.

Was this… Death? The last thing you remembered was a train speeding towards you, headed for an inevitable collision. By the time you even noticed it, it was clear that you wouldn’t manage to escape its trajectory - too engrossed in the game you were playing on your phone to save yourself.

The people you knew always thought that death would be painless, a void empty of emotions or sound. And yet… Why was it this loud? By now the gasps had been replaced by hectic shuffling, too many muffled voices yelling over each other to the point that you couldn’t make out a single word. As if you had just emerged from a frozen lake, your senses suddenly returned to you all at once - brain now on high alert. Where were you? With a movement so fast that it made your head throb painfully, you ripped open your eyes and sat up. As soon as your lashes parted to take in the sight in front of you, your (e/c) orbs were met with shimmering cores of gold and ruby.

It took you a second to realize that you were face to face with a person, as their skin as pale as moonlight and eyes as crystalline as jewels made it easy to mistake them for a delicately crafted statue. Yet your shock seemingly couldn’t compare to that of the man, who visibly trembled to the point that his legs gave out under him.

He fell to his knees, and then… he lowered his head so far that it barely touched the stone floor beneath. As your eyes quickly darted around the room to make any sense of this situation, you were met with many other people following the example of the man in front of you. Some of them fell to their knees in an instant, creating a loud thud that echoed in the large, temple-like building, while others lowered their gaze in more of a demure manner, letting their bodies slowly follow suit as they sank to the ground.

Where were you? And why did the man in front of you seem so familiar? His golden eyes, brown hair tied with a black ribbon, and elegant attire were connected to something in your memories, yet said memory evaded you like a word stuck at the tip of your tongue.

“Your grace-”, his breath shuddered as he spoke, yet his voice held a sense of desperation. “Thank you for honoring your worshippers with your presence”. You tried to speak, ask what kind of twisted afterlife you’d been sent to, when his next words caused your thoughts to fly into a frenzy.

“Your first apostle, Rex Lapis, is forever at your service. Command me as you wish, your grace”

Rex Lapis? This couldn’t be true. And yet… it made too much sense for you to deny it. He looked just like the character you had managed to acquire just last week, after hours and weeks of your time poured into collecting as many primogems as you could. And… you could have sworn that you heard someone mention the word “Teyvat” when you first gained consciousness in this… hall.

It was as time had frozen still, as no one dared to move a muscle or even so much as breathe. When your eyes fell onto a statue at the far end of the temple, you too froze in place. It was your face. Etched into immaculate white stone. The statue depicted a person sat on a throne, long robes draped around their body and pooling at their feet. Even as a statue, the cloth was depicted perfectly. And even if the mighty posture and perfectly dignified expression did not resemble your current state at all… it was unmistakably your face staring back at you with lifeless eyes made of marble.

“Ningguang?” As if to test your theory, you had spoken the first name that came to your mind when you looked at the audience. There were many people, hundreds, maybe even thousands - but you had spotted her form kneeling in the very front row. Her attire was different from what she wore in the game, her white and golden dress was replaced by a red hanfu. But her long hair, which was colored like freshly fallen snow, with a red tassel tied to it was just like you had first seen her in the game.

At the mention of her name, she seemed to flinch a little in surprise, before she dutifully raised her head, albeit not fully. She lifted it only to the point of being able to gaze up at you, her ruby eyes peering through long white lashes, glinting expectantly.

“Yes, your grace?”

You couldn’t believe it. It was real. But… What would you do now? They seemed to revere you as maybe royalty - or even a deity. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself just a moment to force your brain into thinking of a plan - any course of action that would seem reasonable and not put you in danger. For the start, this should be simple - play along while you discover more about this world around you. The only problem was… how would you play along when you didn’t know what they expected of you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Reminiscing back to the moment you first woke up in this world is something that nowadays, you didn’t do often. On occasion you wondered whether you would have done anything differently, knowing what was to come. Though, as you now rested in the arms of one of your consorts, half aware of the sugary promises of love and servitude they whispered into your ears, you didn’t regret it as much. Yet the road leading to this state of peace in your mind and acceptance of your situation had been a very long one. ➵✬ to be continued

Word count ➵✬ 1.05k

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sentient #sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere tighnari #yandere scaramouche #yandere wanderer #x reader #reader insert #yandere headcanons

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goosita · 6 months

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I LOVE your writing I get so excited when you post! Could you write something about rivals taking Billy’s Girl and him going CRAZY till he gets her back? And then the comfort after that🥹

ooo ough oh my god he would go insane like i truly mean he would level an entire city for you if he had to

the moment he finds you in the back of the house, bound to a chair and gagged, his emotions begin a war inside of him. he’s so filled with rage that his hands shake and his teeth with ache in the morning from clenching them so hard. blood is splattered across his shirt, flecks drying on his cheek from the men he’d gunned down and fought just to get in here, and here you finally were.

he lost track of how many rounds he’d fired. all he knows is that he’d dropped several bodies. if he counted, he would realize he’d taken out the entire gang who had plotted to take you and hold you for ransom with the eventual goal to turn in the famous outlaw. there was no way in hell billy would ever let that happen; he’d lay his life down in a heartbeat to keep you safe and sound.

“baby,” he breathes, voice trembling. he rushes over and makes quick work of untying you, releasing the handkerchief tied around your mouth to keep you quiet.

“oh, baby i’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. he can feel you shaking like a leaf, but you hug him so tight he thinks his ribs might crack; not that he’d care anyway. “i should have been faster, i should have known sooner that you—“

“shhh, billy. i’m okay. i’m fine, you’re here,” you soothed, clinging to him. he can feel your fingers digging into his back hard enough to bruise. he hopes they do, honestly. he wants any mark you leave on him.

“m’gonna get you home, okay? never gonna let you out of my sight. never, you hear me?” he shrugs off his outer flannel shirt, dressing you in it and pulling you in again to press a long and lingering kiss to your forehead. billy keeps you tucked into his side, leading you to the front door.

“i need you to close your eyes, darlin’,” he says, stroking your hair. “don’t want you to see…any of this. okay?” he doesn’t want you to see any of the trail of gore he’s left. you’re too sweet, too innocent to ever be subjected to the sight of such violence.

you nod and squeeze your eyes shut, but as he leads you outside, the sharp metallic scent of blood hits your nose and you suddenly understand just why exactly he doesn’t want you to see. things had gotten very intense, you knew this. billy was a dangerous man. he had been since the day you met him, but it never bothered you. you weren’t even sure if it bothered you now, when he was so kind and gentle with you.

he helped you up onto his horse and climbed on behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and clicking his tongue to get the animal to turn and head the other direction. after a few minutes, you felt his nose nudge your shoulder.

“you still got those eyes closed?”

you nodded, leaning back into his chest even more.

“you can open ‘em now, pretty girl. nothing bad to see out here,” he promises, kissing your cheek. your eyes flutter open and the sky above is a deep navy blue, clouds just beginning to glow with the promise of a sunrise.

“never gonna let anything bad happen to you ever again, i promise. i’m so sorry,” he whispers. you shake your head and turn to glance up at him behind you. billy stops his horse and drops one of the reins, lifting his hand to hold your chin gently.

“it’s okay, billy. i’m okay. you got there just in time,” you assure him. your eyes scan his face, now noticing the dried blood in a splash pattern on billy’s jaw. the way his bright blue irises looked stormy still, the tension in his body still tight. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, his face softening.

he looked down at you for a long moment before dipping his head, resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder. your violent man, your outlaw, your gunslinger. william h. bonney, billy the kid, wasn’t afraid of anything. that’s what most people assumed; but he was terrified of anything happening to you, his sweet angel. his darling girl who kept him sane.

“billy?” you whispered. you felt him hum, his chest vibrating against your back. “take me home.”

and so he did.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #anon #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #william h bonney

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quivm · 1 year

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— Miles Morales' future.

Earth 42 Miles Morales x gn reader light light angst (?). minors can interact! major spoilers for across the spiderverse. ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

wc: 1.2k

genre + warnings:

very light angst if it even is idk who to describe it. extreme possessiveness (yandere), implied manipulation, implied death, kidnapping, being followed, gn reader but feminine pet names are used

notes!! i saw @ichangedmycornyahhname work of 42 Miles and got so inspired i was so happy. i watched ATSV the day it came out and saw 42 Miles was working in alchemax when they looked at where the spider came from so 42 Miles is really smart and my brain went smart villain = dangerous / manipulative with his intelligence ?? i love this headcannon so part 2 or other ff with this hc is definitely pending o(≧▽≦)o

Your steps hastened, desperate to reach the end of the alleyway. Your unbridled heartbeat raged as the echoes of the rapid steps behind you increased. The dread and unease of the situation washed over your body as you came to the reality of the situation - you were being followed.

Anxiety at the forefront of the many emotions bubbling up worsened your ability to keep a level head. Realistically, your capture was unlikely. The claim Miles had on you was well known throughout the criminal world as an unspoken rule. Never touch any hair on your head. An immense help in day to day life in the overpoliced and crime riddled city of New York but you didnt know that.

This time though it seemed that unspoken immunity ran out, seeing as you were targeted after closing up shop and walking home. Words could not describe the terror that fell into your stomach as an icy hand lurched forward subduing you.

“Where are you going pretty? You have a nice bag, huh.”

This was it. Your end would not be in action or helping people. No, your deeming end was going to be by a group of thoughtless thugs way over their heads. When a frosty cloth was pressed against your nose it reaffirmed your thoughts. This was your deathbed.

____

A dreary house was the first sight you saw as you gained consciousness. The organised but messy state made it abundantly clear to you someone was in constant use of it, although it was not welcoming or homey. Fires and mayhem in the skyline gleamed in the window, a bittersweet view. Sadden because that was your life forever unless you leave NYC- which you could never afford but reassuring in the fact that you were still in Brooklyn as harrowing as it is.

Times like this made you resent Brooklyn, there was no one to help. The police had more problems than officers, criminals were rampant and encouraged. The city felt empty, everyone was on their own to see the next day. Community was fragile and easy to shatter into a moment of the past.

Fright jolted up your spine. The heavy steps clanged toward the door. Even though you were not tied up it was a matter of time. Maybe the men would let you go? Maybe they were here to tie you up? Racing through your mind all sort of nonsense was thought about, until the step stopped right outside the door. The door creaked open, on its last leg.

The illuminating light from the hallway and window shone on you. Survival was the only thought on your mind, though fleeting and hopeless. It seemed only achievable through pretending to be asleep. Your motionless body layed frigid, shallow breaths was all that seemed manageable as the heavy boot came to a stop right infornt of you.

“I know you're awake.”

The short and sweet statement shook your world. Fear paralysing you as you reacted by trembling inconsolably as you cracked open your eyes. The dizzying onslaught of purple welcomed you as you looked at your kidnapper. Horror consumed your soul. It was the prowler. Contradicting previous thoughts, you knew you were over your head.

Before the tears pooled in your eyes could drop, as well as your pride as you were getting ready to beg for mercy, another statement from the masked man was made in the same chilling voice although this time laced with amusement.

“Calm down princesa it’s me.”

The sound of the mask slowly unveiling the man underneath echoed throughout the room. Confusion bloomed in your mind. Everything you knew blown out the window leaving only fright and shock.

“Miles?”

Your rough around the edges, attentive boyfriend who treated you with the utmost respect was the prowler? The prowler who everyone in NYC knew. The man with no enemies as he took them all out. The man who created New York into the shit hole it was today was your Miles? The universe must hate you and everything you stand for because worthwise why would it play the shitest card it has on you.

You knew Miles was on the streets doing crime, he told you when the relationship got serious. As concerning as it was you knew you couldn’t stop it and tried to help him any way you could to make sure he got home safe. But you never expected he wasn’t just on the crime scene he ran it for the whole of New York. That changes everything.

“Mi vida, I know this is a shock-”.

“No! This is more than a shock Miles!”

Everything your relationship was built on was slowly chipping away. You both shared the most vulnerable intimate parts of your lifes, you thought you knew him. But he was practically a stranger. A second life untouched and hidden away which made him who he was today. This wasn’t something that could be blown over. With more confidence and left over adrenaline you stood up next to him.

“Why am I here Miles?”

This large reveal couldn’t take your mind off last night's events. You were kidnapped by a group of men and then you suddenly woke up here with Miles. Did that mean Miles ordered it? He could have come to see you though. None of it made sense and you needed clarity.

“Last night you were touched by some low lives. That's unacceptable princessa. I went over with Uncle Aaron and took care of them, don’t worry you're safe now.”

The gentle caressing of his hand on your cheek which would have been comforting in any other context wafted the smell of iron to your nose and felt inexplicably cold on your cheek. You knew what being ‘taken care of’ mean’t, you caused deaths. You were Miles’ and he was a possessive man, no one could touch you without facing the consequences. Your ability to walk downtown and come out unscathed made sense; you weren’t lucky you were a death warrant.

“Mi vida you are mine and no one could take you from me. Comprendido?”

Reality sunk in. You weren’t only Miles' partner, you were his future. He loved you, you were his lifeline to sanity after his Father died and he had shoulder the responsibilities of the family. The only semblance to normality and happiness in his life other than the close circle of loved ones that were Uncle Aaron and his Mother. And that circle only had one more space for you. He would never let go of you, he viewed you as an extension of himself. There was no where you could escape too, he owns NYC any manhunt he orders would end quickly. People feared his power and strength but laid dead from his intelligence and foresight.

There was nowhere you could run except into his arms.

#miles morales x reader #42 miles morales x reader #spiderman x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #spiderverse x reader

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sinsmockingbird · 1 month

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PUNISHING THE WOLF | Zoya (Wolves Strike Soon)

PAIRING: Zoya x Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, NSFW, Dom!Reader, Sub!Character, Transfem!Zoya, Rough Fucking, Bondage, Muzzle Use, Degradation

AUTHORS NOTE: In my mind Zoya is 100% a Dom, but... I'm sure there are those rare instances where she'll at least bottom for you.

THE SIGHT before you was addicting.

Having the leader of the Legion on her knees for you was a rare sight, and one you treasured every time you got it. The growls emanating from deep in her chest were beautiful, and her eyes were narrowed, glaring up at you. She looked like a feral wolf like this, and it suited her wonderfully.

"Look at you," You purred, letting your eyes Trail across Zoya's body, taking in the sight of her dressed in leather, while you begin to circle her. "Bound, on your knees, and at my mercy."

Instinctively, Zoya strained her wrists against the rope binding her hands behind her back. She gave you a glare, her head slightly bowed, looking so pretty and obedient for you. Especially when she has that muzzle on that you had bought just for her.

"It suits you," You state, coming to a stop in front of her and crouching down, giving her a sultry smile, your satisfaction at having her like this clear.

Zoya, let's out a growl at your words, her irritation obvious at having been reduced to this state by you. She was honestly shocked of herself having even allowed you to tie her hands behind her back, no less allowing you to muzzle her like she was a fucking dog. Though, in many ways, she really was one.

"You hate this, I know you do, but I promise I won't be too cruel. Not after you allowed me to put you in this state to begin with," You promised, and you meant it. While with many others you'd tease and edge them endlessly, Zoya was a different case.

Maybe it was the fact that your relationship with her was different from others, holding a more emotional side that you rarely had with anyone else. Or maybe it was the fact that Zoya, the leader of the Legion, would bow to you in this way, leaving her at your mercy. You decided it was probably both.

You raised a hand up, hooking a finger into her choker and pulling her a little close, hearing her breathing become more heavy while you whispered, "You just have to be a good dog for me, and I'll untie you and let you fuck me wild."

You were a woman of your word, so after 20 minutes of teasing Zoya, jerking her cock and giving her blowjobs, you untied her hands from behind her back. Except... to still hold some control for what was to come next, you tied her hands onto the headboard of the bed, leaving her unable to use them still.

Zoya's anger about that was obvious, and she was currently taking that out on you in the best she could. Fucking you roughly into the mattress.

Your ass was in the air, head pushed into the pillows with tears in your eyes and moans escaping your mouth. Zoya was hunched over your back, growls and grunts emitting from deep in her chest as she fucked her cock repeatedly into your pussy from behind. She may not have her hands, but she still knew how to fuck you hard without them.

"F-Fuck, Zoya..!" You let out a loud moan, back arching up and off the bed as you felt the head of her cock repeatedly hitting against that special spot inside you that had you seeing stars. "Th-that's it... keep going, right there-!"

You whined as she went harder. Somehow, she was always able to go harder and faster with you. It always left you brainless, and it was an addicting feeling, one of the many reasons why you always looked forward to when the Legion's leader would come visit you.

Zoya leaned her head forward, wanting to mark you and bite your shoulders and back, but then she remembers the muzzle she's wearing. Instead, you only feel the cool metal of it pressing into you, the cold feeling making you jump over the searing heat coursing through your body. You heard her let out a frustrated huff and growl when she remembered the muzzle, preventing her from being able to mark you.

You let out a laugh as you heard the sound of her nails digging into the headboard of the bed, the wood beginning to split a little bit under the pressure. "A-Angry?" You looked back at Zoya as you asked, a smug smirk on your pretty face that only pissed her off more. She growled in response, driving her cock deep into you with a harsh thrust that left you breathless for a few seconds.

"Z-Zoya! S-Shit m' gonna cum!" You whined as she upped her speed. You heard her mutter something under her breath at your words, and you knew she said something about how she was close as well. "I-Inside! Cum inside me!"

Zoya grunted at your request, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and nodding weakly in understanding. Then she gave a few sloppy thrusts before letting out a gutteral groan and burying her cock fully into your pussy. You moaned loudly as you felt her filling you up, making you cream around her cock.

Once you both finished, Zoya's body slack above you, a whine emitting from her at the strain in her wrists, which were still bound to the headboard. With shaky hands, you moved up and undid the bindings before collapsing onto the bed in pure exhaustion. As soon as Zoya was freed, she tore the muzzle off and threw it aside without a care before stuffing her face into your neck while wrapping her arms tightly around you.

"I hate you," Zoya muttered before nipping at your neck and beginning to leave behind the marks she so badly had been wanting to leave for the entire night.

You let out a breathy laugh and moan, running a hand through her hair and cradling her head, allowing her to mark your pretty neck up. "If you hated me, you wouldn't keep coming back."

Zoya only growled in response to you before biting a bit harder on a particular spot that made you whine. It was a lie that she hated you. In reality, she was simply addicted to the fact that you were the only one she'd ever submit to. Because sometimes Alpha's will even submit.

ENDING NOTES: This has been in the drafts for a while now. I just finally finished it up for you all to enjoy.

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins writings #path to nowhere #ptn smut #zoya #ptn!zoya #sub!zoya #zoya x reader #zoya x you

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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If Only You Would Know

HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader

summary: You and Sherlock are in love, Enola is sure of it. But she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate.

a/n: we're diggin' out old old drafts for this one, but I needed a little Sherlock again :)

word count: 4k

warnings: a little arguing, pining, someone gets injured, idiots in love™️ (it's a new genre of mine)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You sighed as Sherlock moved about his office with hasty determination. He was a strange man. Oblivious, too, time and time again. But that did not matter for you loved him. You loved him and every strange habit he harbored. Whether it was the way in which he arranged his coats on the brass hanger by the door or that godawful pipe he seemed to always have hanging from his lips. He did not even like it - he had told you one time. “’tis just a habit, dear,” it would muffle past the brown bit in his mouth before he would clip it back between his teeth.

But you did not care. And that must have been the very fact telling you just how deeply your heart had already fallen for the famous detective. Not a care in the world, especially not for what other people thought to say the least. Because all you ever thought about upon seeing him was love, warmth, and endearment. Nothing less. Not even a wretched criminal could ever shoot these feelings out of your heart.

Oh well, it did not matter, anyhow. For there was one issue keeping this fairytale from becoming reality. And this issue was that Sherlock Holmes, the brightest man you knew, was blatantly oblivious to the feelings you had harbored in your chest. To be fair, you had never mentioned it to him before. For you were simply terrified of the consequences such a confession would hold. It was one thing to pine over a man who you were lucky enough to be in the same room with, but it would be undeniably humiliating to be rejected by said man as well. So you had chosen not to act on the fiery desire burning within your veins whenever your eyes hushed a glance at him.

As much as that decision was made to protect your heart, it had turned out the circumstances provided the opposite of the desired effect. You were hurting more and more with every day you had to live with the realization that Sherlock Holmes did not love you back. In fact, he loved other women - many of them. And every single one more beautiful than the other. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if they were human at all. Never before had you seen such luscious hair as that of Sibyl or such a beautiful smile as that of Amelia. It was difficult to settle with these gorgeous women having a place in his bed and possibly his heart, but soon, you realized the importance of seeing him happy trumped your own desires. If he was happy, so were you. And if you weren’t the one making him happy, so be it.

You had just come here to see Enola from her home to the city. Stopping by her brother’s apartment had not been on the agenda, at least not yours. But Enola was adamant to have you come when she raced up the stairs to his door. You had gasped when Sherlock had opened, his hair slightly disheveled and the shirt loosely tugged in his trousers. Your heart was pounding - it always happened when you saw him, and you swiftly averted your eyes to hide the flustered look on your face from him.

Now you were standing in his messy home as you listened to Enola convince him to let her help him on a particular case of his - one she had a personal attachment to. Mixed emotions crawled up your spine at the sight of this professional yet intimate space. Not only one room over, Sherlock's bed was mockingly standing beyond the door, messy sheets indicating his prior endeavors, but there was no Sibyl or Amelia in sight. Still, your hands clamped around the silky material of your skirt, wrinkling the fabric harsher with every minute you spend in the deep-colored room. It smelled of musk and tobacco. Two things you had grown to miss whenever they were not surrounding you, but now, it was a shiver too much.

Sherlock stood before you and Enola with his hands on his hips, a look of annoyance and disapproval etched on his features, but nonetheless, a sense of amusement in the edges of his frown. You knew him too well not to notice the slight pride swelling from his chest at his little sister’s determination.

“I believe it is too dangerous for a girl like you to wander the streets, chasing criminals through London, Enola.”

“And I believe that you are an idiot, brother.”

“Perhaps,” your finger lifted in suggestion, stopping Sherlock’s head from tilting in disapproval at his sister’s array just in time. “She can be accompanied in her wandering?”

“And who would this accompany be?”

You knew it was not your place to negotiate, but you cared for Enola too much not to. And even though Sherlock’s stern eyes bore into your frame, you began to talk again: “I could-“

“Oh, dear lord. That is out of question.”

“Why brother? Do you not think Ms. Y/N and I can defend ourselves?”

A short silence lay upon the siblings as you watched the man’s shoulders draw up with a tense jaw. “I said no.”

“You are being irrational.” Enola cried. She was not one to accept defiance easily, you were well aware of it.

“No, you are being irrational. I will not vouch for having two women hurt on a mission to gather intel for my cases.”

“You cannot stop me.”

There was something itching in the glimmer of his eyes when the words left his lips, though you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Enola!” Almost fearfully, Sherlock turned to you, his eyes wandering and desperation conveyed in his stare when you heard the young girl open the door.

“I am sure we can negotiate a way to have both parties satisfied.” Enola halted as you spoke. “I am certain your bother has other tasks that need fulfilling and are less prone to danger. Isn’t that right, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock was not entirely satisfied with this turn of events, but his sagging shoulders told you that he accepted the compromise. A sigh eluded from his lungs and Enola turned to the dark-haired man with excited eyes. “I presume, there would be things you could do.”

“Thank you–“

“But,” his eyes turned stern again, “In the office only. No more wandering, is that clear?”

Enola beamed. “Yes.”

❁ ❁ ❁

It was not long after the discussion when you and Enola went about home from the city. Still, however, despite the seemingly fair compromise negotiated just minutes prior, the younger woman sloppily trudged next to you.

“He is an idiot, that is what he is.” Enola stomped past you with a pouty face. It was not ladylike, but luckily, she knew that you were not one to care about that.

You understood Enola’s frustrations, but simultaneously, your heart were to break if anything ever happened to her. So you understood the settled worry in her brother’s words as well. He was a good man. “He is just worried. It means he cares.”

“Well, he could care a little less and let me do my job.” You hid a smirk. Only Enola would be as adamant about saving a boy she had only met days ago. She was just as goodhearted and justice-seeking as Sherlock, and your heart warmed at the similarities the siblings shared.

“It is not your job, Enola.” Sometimes you genuinely admired her fixation, though it mostly converted into trouble, still. Enola had a lot more freedom than you did when you were her age, and you too would have sprung at any chance to go and wander about, seeking adventures and perhaps a little more than that. Which was in turn, why your heart felt torn between the fulfillment of having her seek childhood dreams, and the subtle but strong tug Sherlock Holmes held you with.

“Did you forget what we just found out yesterday? It seems no one cares about him. And if nobody else will do it, I consider it my duty to help.”

“Enola, dear.” You held her shoulders gently. “I understand your worries, but I understand your brother’s as well. I would be just as worried about you if something were to happen, and I do not want to see you hurt, either.”

“But we have to do something!” This was true. It would not be right to leave the boy framed with false accusations when you had the power to change his fate. There was something you could gather - information that may help him be acquitted.

“How about I go?” You silently cursed your good intentions as Enola’s eyes lit up. It was a blessing and a curse. But other than Enola, there would be nobody worrying for you, and in turn a lot less hearts broken if something were to happen - which it surely would not. “You can stay in the study and I will see to it that we may gather more information.”

“Alright, but be careful. And make sure to come back by five. Otherwise, someone will get suspicious.” The girl smiled, but her shoulders shook with excitement.

“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” You teased, awaiting a sassy ‘of course not’ which you returned with a wink.

❁ ❁ ❁

Enola watched the clock next to the window. Seconds, ticking by too fast for her liking. She needed more time - you needed more time. Her brother had given her files to sort and he would be coming back soon. Upon your agreement yesterday, you had gone out to gather information on the woman who accused the boy. But you would be back soon, she told herself.

“Is Ms. Y/N not here with you?” Sherlock’s voice called through the room and his steps approached her steadily.

Enola was stiff. “She is out,” she told him while her fingers counted the pile of files on the desk.

“Out? With who?” He stepped around the polished mahogany, settling in front of her with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t realize she was being courted.”

Oh. Enola’s eyes sparkled with amusement when she obtained a glimmer of jealousy in her brother’s. She had always had her suspicions. And she knew of your being madly in love with her brother, but Sherlock had always been secretive regarding the topic of love.

“She went to shop,” she smiled, averting her eyes. Waiting - no, anticipating a response from him.

“So she is not with anyone.” Sherlock leaned forward with squinted eyes. For a man as good at solving puzzles as he was, he did need an awful lot of confirmation.

Enola finally looked up. “Ugh, you really are an idiot.”

“Would you quit calling me an idiot?” Disapproval swept his features and made a frown settle instead.

“I would, but you won’t quit being an idiot.”

“Whatever do you mean?” It was quite amusing to see him clueless for once. And even though you tried to hide your feelings or the way you responded whenever he was as much as in the same room as you, it did not go past Enola how long your eyes lingered on his frame or the way the sadness overtook your features at the mention of another woman.

“Ms. Y/N is head over heels in love with you. And I do not understand why you refuse to see it, she is not hiding it very well, you see?”

Sherlock stumbled back, his hands seemingly finding their pace over his heart when he repeated her words. “Ms. Y/N? In love with me?”

“And you really call yourself the greatest detective of our time.” Enola shook her head. Still, the thought of the two of you together was one she liked to entertain. And she asked herself just how much you could talk Sherlock into once you were together. He was already caving when you suggested things - the possibilities of Enola getting her way when the both of you finally gave into the pining were endless!

“Oh, hush. I just never thought she would...” Sherlock trailed off, and if Enola was not mistaken, she caught a whisper of pink settle over his cheeks. Could it really be? The great Sherlock Holmes in love? Even better with a woman Enola adored as well?

“This is exactly the problem, brother. You don’t think when it comes to women.” Her mind wandered back to the women you had seen leave his chambers by the break of dawn. And just like then, Enola noticed a familiar sense of sadness wash over her brother’s eyes - the same one you hid from her in these moments.

“Enola...” But his words died on his tongue and Enola thought it wiser to resume her task. Sherlock was aware of his idiocy. For Enola knew just how insignificant all the other women were to him. And she hoped he had realized this fact.

A moment or two passed in which Sherlock paced the room mindlessly. His hands disappeared behind curtains and in bookshelves, until they reached for the pocket watch in his coat and a subtle grumbling eluded his lungs. “She should be back soon, anyhow. Should she not?”

“I suppose, yes.”

“Well, it is quarter past five already. The shop is closed well over an hour now.” Sherlock did not hide the impatience in his tone, now. And Enola felt a wave of success wash over her.

It was difficult to hide her nervousness, though, for she now worried about you as well. But you were fine - she consoled herself. You were tough and intelligent, simply a little late - that was surely it. “She will come soon.”

An unusual tension fell over the room and Enola was certain, her brother had already dismissed her little story. But she would not falter. Her fingers kept cramming through the papers, counting pages she had analyzed and sorted two times by now. Her movements, however, became more frantic, and soon, her heart was pounding in her wrists.

“Enola, what in heavens did you do?” Sherlock urged impatiently, a look cold as a stone set on his face.

“Nothing.” She did not look at him, then he would know instantly - the little lie she told.

“You sent her out to spy didn’t you?”

Why did he keep asking if he already knew the answer? Enola did not speak. She was fairly ashamed, though. She wanted to show her brother just how capable she and you both were. But having you not come back made for a serious difficulty to her plan.

She looked up at him now, just in time to see his shoulders sag and his head tilted up in frustration. “After I told you not to?”

“You only ever forbid me from going!” She cried, suddenly feeling attacked by his irrational outburst.

“I did not want Ms. Y/N out in the streets alone, either.” Sherlock was pacing again, his shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor until the reached the coat hanger by the door, only to gruffly rip the dark cloak from its place.

An accusing finger reached in his direction and a small smirk appeared on his sister’s lips. “So you are in love with her.”

The man frowned and his chestnut locks shook with annoyance. “That is not important right now. We need to find her.”

He did not deny it and Enola Holmes viewed it as a success.

❁ ❁ ❁

Sherlock swept through the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. Never had he thought that he would need to worry about your well-being. Enola’s? Yes, constantly. She did dangerous things all the time. But you were the one with the rational mind, the trait he adored most above all, for it eased his own every so often. It was enough to look out for Enola as much. He loved her and that was what love did: It made for weaknesses. Though Sherlock never wished to not adore you as much as he did, at this moment, it would have spared him trouble.

He passed another alley filled with dubious fellows and willed his thoughts not to stray to dark paces. Normally, he could stay focused. Normally, he was able to separate his feelings from his tasks very well. Normally, he needn’t worry about you, however.

Enola was many steps behind, he could hear her heels clicking in haste in her catching up, but Sherlock would not budge. He would keep on searching, keep on going straight until his sister gave him another direction to follow. She knew where you were after all, and he could not even begin to indulge in the worry-consumed anger this fact fueled him with.

It did not take long for the detective to reach the house of the last suspect he had abandoned in his search for answers. You must have gone there. Enola had been especially furious about his dropping the woman upon questioning, urging her brother to stay on the lead. But Sherlock had already gotten enough information to place her in the entire scheme. Enola did not know this of course - he had never told her. So it was only plausible to send you to spy on said woman. What you had not known, however, was the dangerous affiliates this woman had, and the little to no hesitance of hers to pursue them.

The house lay empty on the street once the siblings reached its steps, no light shining through the glass windows, not the smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was odd, though nothing to be upset over. You had been here, Sherlock knew it. He was disappointed to find out, however, that you were not anymore. Of course, you had realized the danger of the situation and left, but where to?

His head jerked to the left once Enola caught up to him, following the rattling of bins coming from the alley close by, where a faint trail of blood droplets mixed with the rain.

“Bloody hell,” the detective mumbled with every inch it lead him further to your location. And sure enough, beyond the shielding confines of a wooden palette, he spotted your coat pressed into the wall.

A small hiss, and then: nothing when he called your name.

“Ms. Y/N, heavens!” He rushed over once his eyes caught your distraught face behind the wood, your entire hand covered in blood, pressed to your head, where more seemed to have already dried on your scalp.

“Mr. Holmes?” Your voice was weak, your eyes hazy - growing in the confusion the head injury most likely brought to you.

Sherlock's arms reached out to engulf you, a handkerchief quick to be pressed on your head as he knelt beside you and let your body rest against his torso. “Enola, go and get help, immediately!” He commanded with urgency, having the young girl run off with a shocked nod.

His attention traced back to your body, where his eyes focused on your heavy lids and his heart clenched at the sight. You were hurt - seriously hurt - and Sherlock could not shake the feeling of it being his fault. Had he only consulted you in his case, had he talked to Enola, had he been less cowardly and finally admitted to his feelings. This all might have never happened.

“You should not have gone out alone!” He cried as he rocked you back and forth, his arms held you a little tighter, and he was certain that his heart beat through the several layers of clothing separating you.

“You have no right to rule over me.” Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him to let you pull away from his embrace, and Sherlock instantly missed the warmth holding you had given him. He needed it back - confirming you were fine.

“But I told you not to go!” Big eyes stared up at him, but there was disappointment simmering beneath the sheer gleam of anger.

“Why are you upset? I can do whatever I desire!” It was meant to come out strong, but not even a woman as tough as you were able to hide the weakness taking over your body.

“But you got hurt!” Sherlock was juggling with empty arguments, he knew this much. But there was no right way to express what he wished to pursue with his words. It was all too much and not enough, all the same.

“Mr. Holmes, I can take good care of myself. I have done it my whole life.”

“And you shouldn’t have.” This seemed to have caught you by surprise. For you stopped in your shuffling away and held his gaze equal in confusion and intrigue.

“Whatever do you mean?” You shrieked softly, your breath staggering when he came closer to you.

Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to talk, suddenly. His hands were clammy and that stupid tie around his neck seemed just a tad too tight. Christ, he could not even look at you. He was left staring towards the wet grounds with his hands wringing beneath him.“I- it has come to my attention that I lack perception in some categories.” He hushed a look at you and was not surprised to see utter confusion seeping through your stare.

Sherlock sighed and his shoulders jumped heavily once he mustered up the courage to explain: “I do not wish to see you hurt.”

“Why?” Your eyes were big and wondrous, much like a curious child prying up in awe over what it was to become privy of.

Sherlock tried, he really did, to be steady and informative, but there was no use, for his heart had decided otherwise. “Because... because, I- my heart hurts when I imagine something happening to you.”

“But what about Sybil or Amelia… or Babette?” Every name stung another hole in his heart as your eyes saddened naming the woman he had spent previous nights with in order to get over you. He never loved them, never adored them the way he did you. They were simply a distraction. A petty compromise for the actual being he was sure would never return his affection. Now that he found out the opposite, Sherlock was uncertain about how to act.

“These women... they were just compensation for the one I couldn’t have.” He confessed slowly, his hand reaching for you and finally getting ahold of your chin. “I did not think you would be interested in me.”

“Oh but I am, Sherlock.” Your fingers came to cover his. “I am.” And an unbelievable force of warmth and calmness washed over him. Despite the blood, despite the worry. Despite everything being wrong at this very moment, he was calm. You had this effect on him.

“I know that now. My sister told me.” Sherlock sent a silent prayer to the stars. Had his sister not been as persistent he would have never gotten the opportunity to hold you close - feel you the way he desired.

“She is quite a smart lady isn’t she?” A low chuckle echoed through the darkening alley, though a shy blush crept upon the detective’s cheeks.

“As much as I hate to admit it, she is a good detective.” His thumbs stroked gentle swipes over your skin, a sliver of warmth tasting your body with every movement, and it felt good to have you indulge in his touch. He would have never dreamt of having you this close, having you feel the same feelings he did. And to be perfectly honest, experiencing it, in reality, was a hundred times better than anything he had ever imagined. “God, Y/N. If only I had known earlier.”

“Let us not grieve what is already done. Embrace the possibilities of the future with me.” Your eyes locked with his once again and your aura seemed to pull him even deeper into a trance. Sherlock could not look away. He was captured by every loving emotion radiating off of you. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he would keep it guarded in his chest for eternity, even if nobody were to ever ask him about it. It was precious - this moment was worth hundred terrible ones.

“You are right,” he agreed, and then, beyond his control almost, Sherlock pulled you into a warm kiss.

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kaedekolya · 3 months

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clarence and his counterparts: man or monster?

So we were talking about Clarence’s new android SSR (Faint Night Light) in the LBC discord server, and it got me thinking about the monster allusions that seem to be a common thread across Clarence’s main stories. Then we discussed the diary entries from his White Day event, and it occurred to me that this monster imagery also ties into his modern-day counterpart – and with that, this post was born.

In other words: is Clarence a man, a monster, or somewhere in between?

[ SPOILERS: Clarence’s main stories and Chrono Theatre diaries. This meta post is structured as story-specific sections, namely Godheim, Eden, and the modern world, so you can skip over the world(s) you haven't read yet. No Awakening spoilers, don't worry! ]

- ☽ -

Godheim: Archmage Clarence

First, let’s talk about Godheim Clarence. As the Archmage, he bears a heavy responsibility upon his shoulders – to oversee the Magi Tower, to fight the Glacial Butterflies, and, ultimately, to protect the country and its people.

In order to fulfil this duty that he has chosen to undertake, Clarence seals his heart and shuts others out. He denies his emotions, and resents himself for having these emotions, to the point that he disparages MC for “[acting] impetuously” and belittles her capabilities when she shows concern for Amelia’s wellbeing. Archmage Clarence’s impassivity is his shield against the emotions he views as a hindrance.

Yet he was not always this way. Clarence is a casualty of cruel circumstances, a tender soul torn apart by trauma. When MC is confronted with the truth of the mages’ magic, having witnessed a mage die before her very eyes, she notes that “[there] is no pain or compassion on Clarence’s face,” because “[this] is a sight he has seen all too many times before.” Decades of watching his fellow mages succumb to the Glacial Butterflies that nest inside them, and decades of having to end the lives of mutating mages under his purview, have conditioned Clarence into numbing his heart to such pain. How else could he have stayed sane, after a century of bearing witness to suffering wrought by his own hands?

Archmage Clarence’s disposition is initially described by MC as an “[icy] presence,” but this is the facade that he projects as a defence mechanism, not his genuine self. Clarence is so accustomed to the chill of the Glacial Butterflies within him that he has taken on the frost as a personality trait, believing that his frigidity defines him. He does not view himself as a human capable of warmth; instead, he thinks of himself as a mutant, as an icy monster.

Even so, Clarence cannot deny his innate inclination towards kindness. When he notices that Amelia isn’t feeling well, he tells her to sit in the carriage. When Amelia’s temperature drops, he casts a spell to warm the shivering child up, even as he grumbles that he’s wasting his time and magic. When Amelia’s death is imminent, he tries to send her off in the gentlest way possible, then grants her final wish by conjuring a connection to the water mirror. Clarence may insist that he does not care, but his actions reflect his compassion.

It is this very kindness that steers him towards a path of selfless sacrifice, for the sake of his country and its people. The life of a mage may have been forced upon him, by the man that gave a gravely injured child no other option but the potion that would transform him, yet Clarence learns to harness his power for good. He spends his youth eliminating Glacial Butterflies and protecting the village of the snow plains, and despite the harsh conditions of the path he now treads, he does not hold a grudge against the family that sold him off and thrived in the resulting profit. Instead, he returns to check on them from afar, and when an onslaught of Glacial Butterflies attack, he protects them with every last bit of energy within him.

Still, his family’s betrayal left an indelible mark on his psyche. Back when he’d been given the potion, he’d resolved to succumb to his injuries rather than drink it. Despite his instinctive desire to live, MC notes that his “will to live [had been] virtually non-existent,” because there is “[no] despair greater than being betrayed by your own family.” The young Clarence had not seen a reason to live, when his family had forsaken him. It is only when MC saves him, urging him to live on, that he resolves to survive and repay this debt. Each time MC encounters him in her voyage through time, he is on the verge of death, and each time, his dwindling will to live stems from his despair over those he could not save. What ultimately keeps him alive is the vow he swore to his saviour.

This characterisation is one that carries through his immortal lifespan. Clarence does not live for himself; he lives for others. Whether that means risking his life to defend a village, or sacrificing himself in a ritual to save the country’s inhabitants, the underlying premise is the same – Clarence lives for the person who saved him, and for the promise he made to them. He allows others to form negative opinions of him based on the assumptions they’ve made, in order to keep the secret of the ritual and the Glacial Butterflies from them, because their scorn towards him matters less than their safety. He closes himself off from others, never permitting them to reach out to him, because he cannot allow companionship and compassion to distract him from his purpose. He “[cannot] afford to be sentimental,” because he cannot have anyone or anything clouding his judgement. Better to be the enemy of the state that saves it, than the friend of the state that cannot do anything as it crumbles.

It is ironic, then, that Clarence’s devotion to his promise leads him from striving to live and fulfil it, to voluntarily dying for that same promise. His life, his existence itself, is secondary to the promise he has made. He will live to protect the world for his saviour, but if the only way to protect it is to die, then die he shall. Perhaps he views it as a penance of sorts, an atonement for the sins he’s committed. Perhaps he believes the new world would be better off without a monster like him.

For all his calculative callousness and stoic solitude, Clarence is deeply self-aware. Not only is he conscious of the suffering he inflicts and the ramifications of his actions, but he also ruminates upon his sins until they turn to guilt in his gut and self-loathing in the deepest recesses of his soul. He does not turn a blind eye to the pain he witnesses; instead, he looks it straight in the eye, internalises it, and forces himself to feel nothing at all.

Clarence may appear to have no qualms about exploiting people and reducing them to cogs in a plan greater than its constituent parts, but his interactions with Amelia prove otherwise. Right before he sends her off on what is meant to be a suicide mission, his carefully-crafted defenses slip, and he asks whether she hates him. Clarence believes that he has failed to live up to the Archmage’s title, that he has fallen short of being a “guiding force for all the mages” and a “protector.” He condemns himself for his callous strategies and merciless manipulation, since he has been treating people like chess pieces and “using them as [he sees] fit.” He disparages himself for “[standing] by on the sidelines, safe and sound.” He believes others hate him because he’s given them all the reasons to, because he deserves to be hated, because he, too, hates himself. All this while, he fails to recognise that he has taken on the greatest sacrifice of all – the burden of leadership, of decision-making, of being responsible for all the blood on his hands.

This downplaying of his own suffering, alongside his disregard of his own well-being, is what drives Clarence to self-sacrifice time and time again. When a theory about the Glacial Butterflies begins to take shape in his mind, he does not test it out on one of his mages, because he does not view them as expendable despite what he claims. Instead, he uses himself for his experiment, slicing his chest open and bearing the agonising pain in order to ascertain the truth of the magic within him.

On the verge of being overcome by the Glacial Butterflies, despite having prepared for this eventuality by shackling his limbs, he makes one last selfless request. “My Lord, you must kill me before I turn,” he entreats, willing to relinquish his own life for the safety of others. Even when Philip protects him from the Glacial Butterflies, refusing to kill him, Clarence believes that there is no place for him in the future that his Lord envisions.

Decades later, he still echoes this same sentiment. “There is no future without sacrifice,” he tells Lars, and he does not see himself as part of that future, does not see himself as deserving of that future. Archmage Clarence thinks of himself as a monster, not a man, and a monster is better off dead than alive.

It is a revelation, to him, that Amelia does not hate him. MC does not hate him. Lars, Alkaid, the mages that carry on the legacy of the Magi Tower, none of them hate him. They do not view him as a monster; they view him as a martyr, a protector, a saviour. Someone who did his best, and gave his all. Archmage Clarence leaves behind a legacy through his sacrifice, spurred by the human heart he still harbours deep within.

- ☽ -

Eden: Falcon Clarence

Next, we have the Falcon Clarence of Eden. The lone ranger of the desert, the mercenary that eliminates Sandswimmers with impeccable precision and works with no one else.

“A bait that only knows how to cry is a burden,” his mentor tells him, and Clarence internalises that into his cognitive framework and guiding compass. It is “the first lesson Liore taught [him];” that he must prove his worth in order to live. His scent lures the Sandswimmers to him, and so he must make himself useful by seeking out danger.

Valued only for his utility as bait, Clarence learns that his worth is determined by his fighting skills. With no other way to survive, he becomes a NEOS by fusing Sandswimmer gems into his body. Clarence pays the price of this acquired power through the gradual erosion of his memories, but that is far from the only thing he has lost. His decision to accept the integration of these foreign, beastly objects into his body has changed him irrevocably. He thinks of himself not as a human, but as a mutant being only one step away from becoming a monstrous Lost. Still, he endeavours to “remember [his] humanity,” because he refuses to become a “mere weapon [that knows] nothing but destruction.” Falcon Clarence understands that he is, by definition, a monster, but he refuses to relinquish the last shreds of his humanity.

In his first encounter with MC, he is rational and pragmatic as always, scrutinising her motives and seeing no reason to work together. Years of solitude, with no one else to depend on, have honed Clarence’s reflexes into an “instinct for self-defence.” Yet his reaction to MC’s request reveals that his solitude has been shaped by circumstance, not entirely by choice. When MC explains her reason for seeking out Eden, even though it does not sound particularly convincing, Clarence accepts it as sufficient and agrees to lead the way. Despite the potential risk of allowing a stranger close, he offers MC a ride on his motorcycle. Subsequently, he continues to help her out, defending the children’s shelter and giving her the gems he’d collected, even as he refuses to follow her any further.

Falcon Clarence claims that he works alone, but everything he does is for the sake of protecting others. He fights in the desert to protect the shelters from Sandswimmers, and he fights in Eden to protect Lin and the other NEOS from the Lost. He brings MC to the NEOS Association, so that she can rest for a night and learn essential skills from Lin. He knows that the night is dangerous, so despite his own preference for working alone, he ensures that MC has a community of protection around her.

Even as he dismisses everything and everyone else as burdens, his actions speak otherwise. Despite having met MC for only a single day, he offers his assistance to her time and time again, from rides on his motorcycle to filling water bottles with her. He could easily leave her to fend for herself, but he chooses not to leave her behind even when that would be the easier way out.

Perhaps the reason Clarence refuses to work with other people is that he’s afraid. Afraid of dragging them down, afraid of becoming their burden. He fears that history will repeat itself. He cannot bear to lose someone he cares for again, so he refrains from caring about anyone at all. Each time Clarence chastises others for being a hindrance, he is reproaching his past self for his inadequacy. Each time he risks his life to protect others, he is atoning for his failure to save his mentor.

MC says that she understands how Clarence feels, because “acting alone means nobody will be hurt because of [him].” In a way, acting alone also protects himself from being hurt. It is a defence mechanism born from his past, when he had to “learn to accept [his] losses” from a young age. He couldn’t afford to grieve Liore for long, not with the constant threat of the Sandswimmers, and so he could do nothing else but “live on with what memories [he] had left.” He’d forced himself to harden his heart to his emotions, but he could not suppress them entirely.

Clarence blames his moment of weakness, of emotional folly, for causing Liore’s death. It was her humanity, even in her final moments as a Lost, that held her back from killing him and caused her to die. He regrets his choice to this day, and perhaps it is this survivor’s guilt that pushes him to fight harder until he reaches the brink.

It is this same guilt, alongside his resolve to not lose anyone else he cares for, that drives him towards self-sacrifice. When he realises that MC needs a soul stone – his soul stone – to open the door within Central Control, he unflinchingly raises his gun to his head, as if it were the natural and logical decision to make. He is ready to offer his life without a moment’s hesitation, because that is the utility he can offer in this moment, in order to keep MC safe and help her achieve her goal. She has given him a reason to fight, and he will die trying to fulfil it.

Ultimately, it is his encounter with MC – and the companionship which blooms from it – that saves him. Without demanding anything in return, she cries for his pain, fights by his side, and shoulders his burdens with him. Clarence doubts his humanity, even as he holds fast to it, since he is all too cognisant of the monstrous traits within. In turn, MC’s unwavering trust reaffirms the humanity within him, reminding him that he is worthy of living.

Falcon Clarence may not be fully human on a biological level, and he may still succumb to the effects of the monsters within him from time to time, but he has managed to preserve his heart and his humanity. His tale is one of healing, of opening up, and of learning to value himself for who he is and not what he can do.

- ☽ -

Modern World: Clarence

Finally, let’s circle back to modern-day Clarence. At first glance, he’s the calm, collected, and capable Student Council president, who always seems to have affairs in order and circumstances under control.

Then, in his Chrono Theatre diary entries, we learn that he had a psychiatrist observing him from a young age, due to his gifted aptitude and exceptional intelligence beyond that of his peers. This revelation sparked a discussion in the LBC discord server, which spurred this message of mine that then became the basis for this meta post:

Clarence is well-versed in decorum, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it comes naturally to him. It’s likely that he learned social etiquette by picking it up from observing how other people behave, so he knows the appropriate responses to give and the socially-acceptable ways to carry himself. However, because this social understanding is not an innate trait but a learned one, there are often times when he doesn’t recognise the need for social niceties, and instead his instinctual response – founded on his internal logic – comes through.

One example of this can be found as early as his second interaction with MC, after she paints an artwork of him:

The polite thing to do would be to express interest in or appreciation of the finished product, regardless of one’s actual feelings towards it. However, Clarence “doesn’t show the slightest interest” in MC’s painting. Does this mean that he doesn’t care for it, and doesn’t see the need to put on a pretence? Quite the contrary. Instead, it’s because he thinks he doesn’t have anything useful to offer in response, and thus he stays silent.

Here, we see a disconnect between how Clarence understands the world, and how other people tend to view it. While most people would appreciate receiving praise or validation, Clarence doesn’t particularly see the need to receive either, and thus doesn’t immediately think of giving them to others. Rather, he takes a more pragmatic approach, focusing on utility; a piece of work deserves feedback for the effort poured into it. However, as a law major, he does not have sufficient knowledge or expertise regarding art. As such, he believes that his feedback would not be useful, and thus it is better not to say anything at all.

This ties into how Clarence views himself as his roles, and the functions he can serve. He understands that he has worth, but he evaluates this worth through his services as the Student Council president, or his contributions as a law intern. When he assists others, he doesn’t think of it as going out of his way to help them; instead, he views it as part of his rightful duty.

As a result, Clarence doesn’t view himself as simply “Clarence.” Rather, he thinks of himself as Clarence, the Student Council president; Clarence, an upperclassman; Clarence, a friend. If he can fulfil someone’s needs through a role that he holds, he will do it, even at the expense of himself.

We see this most prominently in Clarence’s “Break Time” R card story:

When the senior who’s supposed to interpret for an academic speaker falls ill and fails to attend, Clarence steps up to fill their shoes last-minute. William notes that Clarence can be counted on to show up whenever and wherever he’s needed, and MC agrees that he’s “the only one who’s up to the task.”

However, what most people don’t recognise are the sheer lengths Clarence will go to in order to fulfil his duties. On top of his regular responsibilities, filling in for the interpreter caused Clarence to “[burn] the midnight oil” preparing for the speech, and taking care of the sick speaker meant that Clarence could not sleep for two days. He doesn’t recognise that he’s constantly going above and beyond, because to him it’s a given, but he is in fact pushing himself past his limits, and past the line that most people would draw.

It’s interesting to examine MC’s thoughts here, because she interprets Clarence’s willingness to take a nap as a rational understanding that he needs to rest in order to keep functioning. However, this only happens after MC coaxes him into taking a break. If she hadn’t intervened, Clarence would have continued pushing himself until he completed his task – he was already at “the brink of collapse,” and he “only agreed to sleep after [MC] practically begged him to.” Clarence prioritises his responsibilities to the point that he does not recognise his own needs, and thus neglects to take care of himself.

Although modern Clarence doesn’t think of himself as different, or as anything less than a person, it’s evident that he views himself as the roles he fulfils rather than simply as who he is. In turn, this mindset is reflected in his behaviour, which then shapes other people’s perceptions of him. This is how Clarence becomes characterised as the aloof and intimidating Student Council president in the students’ eyes, even though he cares so deeply and helps out so much; most people are unable to look deeper and see Clarence as the person that he is, because he perceives and presents himself through the lens of his roles.

As such, other people often view Clarence as different from themselves – as if he’s operating on a different wavelength, or existing on a separate plane entirely. Modern Clarence’s genius sets him apart from his peers, but more than that, his perspective of himself winds up alienating himself from other people. Clarence views himself as like others, but others view him as unlike them. He blends in well enough, but he doesn’t quite fit in; he has a place in society, but he doesn’t quite belong.

- ☽ -

Clarence, across time and space

Out of all the Clarences thus far, modern Clarence is perhaps the most well-adjusted, and this reflects the importance of having a support system. Godheim Clarence and Eden Clarence were isolated from a young age and survived alone throughout most of their lives, whereas modern Clarence had family and friends around him. He may not have had the most conventional childhood, but he grew up with his older sister Jaclyn and his close friend Luca, and he also had his psychiatrist Ford observing and monitoring his development. Subsequently, after he enters St Shelter Academia, he gains a circle of friends he can rely on, such as William, O’Connor, and, of course, MC.

Expanding upon Clarence’s St Shelter Academia bonds, we see that Clarence has people around him who genuinely like him for who he is, and are willing to support him unconditionally. O’Connor affectionately refers to Clarence with a nickname – “Shi-kun” in the Japanese voiceover, or “Little Si Lan” in the Chinese one – and for all his devious teasing, it’s clear he looks out for his Student Council successor. As for William, he may whine about Clarence’s by-the-book discipline, but his clumsiness and complaints do not preclude him from helping out when needed. For all that Clarence often chastises William, he still relies on him to assist with Student Council matters, and he knows William is someone he can trust.

Compared to these two, MC is a relatively newer connection, but her bond with Clarence runs deep. Right off the bat, she’s able to meet him on his level and banter with him, and he lets down his guard enough to subtly tease her for trying to trick him. As their relationship develops, Clarence grows to trust her, sharing his inner thoughts and admitting his vulnerabilities. MC is a safe haven for him, and she understands him on a level deeper than most. While the other students may fear Clarence for his aloof disposition, or hesitate to approach him due to his detached rationality, MC sees the earnest sincerity woven into his actions and the warmth laced through his words. Others may think of him as an unfeeling robot or a terrifying monster, but MC loves him for the human that he is.

There’s a subtle but interesting juxtaposition here, in which Godheim Clarence and Eden Clarence – both possessing monstrous mutations within them – view themselves as monsters while most others do not, whereas modern Clarence – wholly human – views himself as human while most others do not. All three Clarences are keenly aware of what constitutes them, allowing this biological understanding to shape their perception of themselves, but they do not recognise that their actions paint a different picture to others.

Regardless of the world he inhabits, Clarence constantly straddles the line between man and monster. His selfless nature and dutiful diligence often lead him to self-sacrifice and superhuman feats, creating the illusion of a monster – but beneath this facade lies, always, the heart of a human.

- ☽ -

thank you for reading!♡

if you have any thoughts about this meta post, i'd love to hear them! responses are always welcome, and my ask box is open~

up next: android clarence, and the inevitability of tragedy. where is the line between human and machine? stay tuned for my thoughts on clarence's awakening main story!

#lovebrush chronicles meta #lovebrush chronicles #for all time #lbc #lbc spoilers #clarence clayden #lbc clarence #lovebrush clarence #godheim clarence #eden clarence #modern clarence #sol's meta musings

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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

Knew I'd Always Crawl Back

pairing: shuri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: a question looms in the air: will you and shuri make it to your dinner reservation on time, if at all?

word count: 4373

contains: smut (18+), thigh riding, strap!shuri, multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, overstimulation, slight praise!kink, fluff at the end because romance is real!

tags: @fetchyourlife @shurisbbymama @takeyaki @n7cje @shuri-my-love @straightestgay-voice @simp4iwaizumi @bubshri @verachii

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: lmaoooo, all i can do is laugh, truly. i wrote this whilst high, so i hope it's coherent? idk. i'm so in love with shuri y'all like this is crazy pants! shouts out to my mutual for translation help! enjoy <33

translations: sthandwa - my love, mtuwam - my person, bambo'lwami - my other half

════

part two | part one

“How much longer until you're ready, sthandwa? I can only sit still for so long.” Shuri groaned from her seat in front of your vanity.

You stuck your head out from your closet as you put in your second earring, “I only need a little while longer.”

“Might want to pick up the pace!” She was annoyed, understandably. You’d given her that exact same response seven times already. She was patient at first, but it was wearing thin now.

Shuri showed up an hour earlier than your agreed upon time, no doubt for this exact reason. She was aware of how long it took you to get ready. This being your first date since getting back together, officially, did not help.

Your nerves were bouncing around like children hopped up on too much sugar. It reminded you of your jitters when you first asked her out. She’d made you wait an entire week before making up her mind, only to admit her answer was never not going to be yes.

Your girlfriend and her games. Your girlfriend. It felt amazing being able to call her that again. Three weeks apart dragged on like three years. It made you realize Shuri was a part of you, her presence sewed into your body and mind. A presence you refused to live without.

The conversation the two of you had about your future unraveled many emotions and thoughts that went unsaid for weeks. You finally opened up to each other about the pain and the loss being felt on both sides in a healthy way. It was hard, and raw, and it was real. It was the most honest conversation either of you had ever had. Having someone who accepts you at your most vulnerable was a rarity, but the ancestors sent you Shuri. And for that, you were most grateful.

The dust had settled, and that chapter of your lives was now closed, tied up with a happy ending thankfully. Tonight was a night of celebration. Shuri decided a romantic dinner at one of the most elite restaurants in the city was a good way to do that.

“Nothing that takes too long, please.” She’d said, insisting on needing to have you home and undressed beneath her as soon as humanly possible. You could not lie, you were just as impatient as her, maybe a bit more. She had refrained from touching you since that night in the club, and instructed you to refrain from touching yourself. It was pure torment, but torment you knew would be worth it.

Something that subsided your neediness was knowing she longed for your touch just as you did hers. Her little whimpers every time you brushed up against her in any way was evidence enough. Shuri did not know you were privy to this information, and you were going to have your fun with that.

You stepped away from the mirror inside your closet and stood under the threshold. “How do I look?” Her lip bite at the sight of you was immediate, and you smiled. She took in the way your velvet dress embraced your hips and curves. Your earrings dangled aimlessly as you posed for her, right arm extended above your wild curls. The heels you chose were the most uncomfortable pair you owned, but they were also the most elegant, and they matched your dress.

“You look…” The twinkle of awe in her eye was answer enough. You strutted towards her and not once did Shuri rip her gaze away from you. Knowing that your girlfriend was completely and utterly enamored with your very existence was a powerful feeling. It was a feeling you reveled in.

“Thank you, mtuwam, but I still believe my outfit is missing something.”

She slanted her head as if to disagree, “What could it possibly be missing?”

“My necklace.” Your pout was mighty, and so was her smile, but she said nary a word.

You stood in front of her and her eyes fixed on your chest, eyeing your cleavage without a drop of shame. Part of the reason you chose the dress you were in, was to garner that reaction out of her. You bent over a tad, pushing your boobs in her face just enough to keep her in her trance.

“I need this seat.” Your whisper was sweet and seductive. You were unsure if she heard you because she had yet to move a muscle. Shuri’s mouth hung agape as she salivated before you.

She shook her head then, blinking at you, “Pardon?”

“The seat. I need it.” You gestured to the chair in front of your vanity she’d been perched on while you got dressed with a small smirk.

Shuri cleared her throat, “Why? Are you not ready to go? You look ready to me.”

“I am ready. I just need to put my hair up, and then we may leave.”

Her eyes flickered to your chest again before she spoke, “If that is all you need to do then have a seat right here and do it.” She patted her thigh and smiled up at you. You gave her an eyeroll, but followed her instruction nonetheless. Her satisfied little grin was worth it you supposed.

You placed yourself in her lap and began grabbing fist fulls of your fro, humming along to the music playing softly in the background. Pretending not to notice the way Shuri gawked at you in the mirror was amusing, it seems you were incorrect about being more impatient than she was.

As you did your hair, you found your body moving to the song that played, grinding into Shuri’s thigh. The small amount of friction it brought you was thrilling. She did not seem to notice what you were doing. Good. Every few minutes, you would adjust yourself on her lap, swallowing the moan threatening to escape you.

It was risky, but Shuri busying herself with her Kimoyo beads left the opportunity wide open. You moved up and down as carefully as possible, trying to concentrate on your hair. Soft shallow breaths were all that you allowed yourself, but oh did you need more. The sensation, your clit on her clothed thigh, left your chest heavy.

You let your eyes flutter shut, allowing yourself to get caught. “You're not as sneaky as you believe yourself to be, you know.”

Her voice startled you and all your attempts to feign innocence were rendered useless. Lips pressed against your ear sent shivers down your spine. You exhaled a long, lengthy breath and shut your eyes tight.

“Okay. I’m ready to go now.” Attempting to hide the shake in your voice was difficult, and Shuri was buying none of what you were selling. You tried standing up, but she held you in place.

Her huff of laughter was one you knew well; she was scheming. “You may be ready to go, but I'm not. You made a mess on my pants.” She gestured to her leg, and sure enough, there was a small wet spot staring right back at you. Curling into yourself was an option, and the thought gnawed at your brain the longer time went on. This could not bode well for you.

“Now you must finish what you started.” Your eyes met hers in the mirror, and there were remnants of a smirk there.

“What?”

“I know you aren't wearing any panties under this little dress, sthandwa.”

Your eyes turned pleading as you watched her reflection. Shuri had warned you about the consequences if she found out you’d been pleasing yourself without her permission. And not only did you go against her, but you did it in her presence. “We're going to miss our reservation if we don't hurry.”

You stood, and she pulled you back down. “We aren't going anywhere until you finish what you started, my darling.” You knew that tone of voice well too, there was no arguing with her now.

You begged once more, but to no avail. Slowly, slowly, slowly, you opened your thighs. There was a small squish, and you began to rub your sensitive bud on the previous spot.

“I know you want to go faster, go ahead.” You picked up the pace and your breathing did the same. Small whines climbed up your throat as you rode Shuri’s thigh. It felt good; better than good, perfect. You were growing wetter with each hump, and her eyes did not move from the image of you in the mirror.

Your clit twitched at the contact, growing more and more sensitive. Shuri watched your breast jump with your movements, eyes glazed over, lust darkening their hue. Her lips were on your neck then, kissing right below your ear. Back pressed against her front, you threw your head back as you slid your pussy up and down her thigh.

Small, wet sounds were becoming audible as you approached your climax. Your pussy was dripping all over her pants. She did not seem to care, and neither did you. Your pace was a force to be reckoned with as you moaned, loud and booming. Shuri’s mouth and tongue were all over your throat, but not once did her hands move from your hips as she steadied you. With a small bounce of her thigh, she added to the sinister sensation.

You kept grinding into her, breathing heavily as you built yourself up. “That's it. I love that look on you.” Her words sent you almost immediately. And there it was, that feeling you were missing; that feeling Shuri denied you on the dancefloor. Your first orgasm in months. It filtered through you, filling your bones and muscles, and your entire nervous system. Your toes curled in your shoes and your riding rhythm faltered.

You cried out as it washed through you in the way waves do, groaned until you rode it out. A feeling you wish you could bottle. Orgasmic; the perfect name for the most perfect feeling.

Sleepiness overtook you, but you knew you weren't getting off that easy. “That was amazing, but I’m afraid my pants are ruined now.”

Shuri removed her hand from your hip, sliding ringed fingers through your damp, swollen folds. You hissed at the feeling, needing a minute to wind down. But you could not stop her, your body limp against hers.

“You're drenched.” She rubbed gentle circles on your used clit and you attempted to wiggle out of her touch. It only caused her to chuckle. Shuri dipped one of her fingers into your leaking hole, thrusting it in and out a few times before bringing it to her lips.

She hummed when your cum hit her tongue, “Oh I've missed this taste.”

“We're going to be late for dinner.” It was all you could manage, but you knew your words meant nothing.

Your eyelids hung low as you watched Shuri in the mirror. Her face let you know the only thing on the menu tonight was you, and Shuri was raised to believe you must always finish your food. “I want you out of this ridiculously short dress, and on the bed.”

Lazily, you practically crawled to your bed, the lastings of your orgasm still weighing you down. Your attempts to unzip your dress failed, so you turned to Shuri, “Help?”

Her smile pulled you in as she stood and came towards you. Your eyes traveled to her pant leg and the mess you made, and there was a warm fuzzy feeling within. She eased up behind you, running fingers up your arms and down your back before slowly sliding your zipper down. She kissed your shoulder, then your neck and you sighed into it.

Shuri guided your dress straps from your body, tugging gently at the fabric. She couldn't even wait for you to be completely out of it. As soon as your breasts were exposed, she cupped large handfuls of them and your eyes rolled back when she pinched your nipples.

“Does that feel good my dear?” She rolled your buds between her fingers, shooting pleasure right down to your achy sex. Wetness rolled down both of your legs, pulling you closer to yet another release. “I need to hear you say it, sthandwa. Tell me how it feels.”

She pinched harder and you yelped, “It feels so good.”

“Good. On the bed for me.” You stepped out of your dress completely and did as she instructed, climbing onto your comfy mattress and settling in. Shuri undressed herself at the foot of the bed, ripping off her suit piece by piece until she was left only in her unbuttoned dress shirt. The sight of her like that was overwhelming; prowling and hungry, and it just might be your favorite look on her.

Grabbing your ankles, Shuri pulled you closer to the edge and you giggled shyly. “Tell me, how long has it been since you last felt my lips on that pretty cunt of yours?”

“Too long.” You huffed and she nodded. Desperation lodged inside your bones at the thought of her going down on you.

She opened your legs and you shivered. “Do you miss it?”

“Terribly.” Your response was a whisper that she swallowed. She leaned forward to kiss you hastily, sucking on your tongue. Pulling away, her lips began to wander your lower body and you whined. Tattooed fingers hovered over your most delicate as she pulled your right nipple into her mouth. When her digits sunk into you, a cry sprung free and your head flew backwards in pure delight.

Feeling her spread her fingers inside of you as she lapped your nipple, swirling her tongue around it with every suck, drove you crazy. Her fingers worked you with skillful precision, causing you to squirm and tangle in your sheets. Teeth grazed your abdomen, descending down, down, down. She stopped where she fucked you before looking up, catching your eyes.

“Look at me while I devour you, let me see those eyes.” And you did. You drank in her dazed sunburnt irises as she wrapped her soft mouth around your swollen clit. Shuri’s slurps and sucks rang in your ears and your screams rang in hers, mingling in the air. She continued the thrusting of her fingers, sloshing around in your wetness and your cum from your first orgasm, just as you approached your second.

Brown eyes fixed on brown eyes all the while. Not once did she break her stare, and you did not dare break yours. Her tongue replaced her fingers and your hips lurched upward in pleasure. In and out, in and out. She lapped you up, making your head spin like a top.

Shuri pushed your hips back into the mattress and you squirmed, “Stay still.” It was a command you needed not to challenge. The pressure she put on your hips was sure to leave bruises in the morning, and the thought only turned you on more. You loved when she marked you as hers alone.

Your hands traveled to her head, tangling in her curls as you cupped it. Hearing her moan from the act of eating your pussy like a starved animal was single handedly going to do you in.

“Stick out your tongue.” You managed in between heavy breathing.

When she obliged, you created your own rhythm, rubbing your nub back and forth against her. Her hums of enjoyment pushed you to continue, only amplifying your sensation. Hips stuttered and vision blurred, your second orgasm swimming through you within seconds. “That's it dear, make a mess all over my face.”

“Yes, my Queen.” You breathed out strings of curses, humping Shuri’s face to drag your pleasure out. Sensational. And you only wanted more. You pulled her up to kiss you, and to cheekily get a taste of you on her. Grinning into the kiss, she sent her hand down to your hole again, pumping you softly. The kiss was heated and swoon worthy, your juices covering both of your lips.

When you flipped her, positioning her under you, it surprised her. A lone smirk formed on your lips and she matched it. “Your turn, my Queen.”

Warm tender kisses peppered her jaw, lips sucking anxiously. Your tongue trailed from her neck tattoo, down her throat, to peck the space between her breasts. It was slow and drawn out, and Shuri’s restlessness roared awake. It was what you planned for. You kissed her abs sweetly, then traveled back up her chest. Her groans of annoyance only egged you on. Reaching for her hand, you wrapped your fingers around her wrist, guiding it to her own soaking sex.

“Show me how you want it, mtuwam.” Shuri’s fingers, still coated in your slick, pushed through her wet folds. Slithering down the length of her body, you settled in between her damp thighs and watched her play with herself. Her movements were swift and jittery; a little too eager for your liking. “Slow down love.”

Extending your hand to her nipple seemed like the best way to intensify her pleasure, so it was what you did. Her groans were so pitiful; music to your ears. You clamped down with great strength and she screeched.

She tried slipping a finger inside herself, and you intervened then, replacing her digits with your own.

Revving Shuri up for a release was your only goal as your thumb massaged her throbbing clit. Sweet, sweet release, it was what she deserved for being so damn perfect. You lowered your mouth to her pussy, diving head first into her ocean. Instinctively, your tongue drove into her tight warmth, and she sobbed above you. Your own moans surged through her as you fucked and sucked.

Shuri’s body thrashed on the bed and her toes curled. She was close, and you had the power to take her all the way there. Having the Queen of Wakanda fiending for your tongue and fingers deep inside her was the ultimate power move. Royalty bowed to no one, usually, but her Royal Highness bowed to you.

“Is her Majesty going to come for me?” You looked up at her and the view was heavenly. She nodded, tweaking her nipples. Shuri’s back shot off the bed at the feeling of three fingers entering her. “There you go baby.”

When she came there was a few seconds of silence, followed by a slew of blasphemous lines. Eyes stamped shut and legs twitching uncontrollably. Grunts flew this way and that. You pumped her still, needing to feel her clench around you for a little while longer. You pulled your digits out of her soon after, and pushed them through her lips. “Open.”

“You taste fantastic. Won’t you agree?” She nodded with a cum glazed smile, catching her breath.

You climbed up to lay beside her, propping yourself up on your elbow. Admiring her beauty was your favorite thing to do. Flawlessness existed in the form of your girlfriend.

Her voice was groggy when she spoke, “I hope you know we are not finished.”

“I do know.” Your squeal was high pitched and it made Shuri giggle. Her shirt hung off her shoulder as she bent over for her bag. She returned with a box you knew well; too well.

A beckoning finger pulled you to the edge of the bed. It took only seconds for her to pop it open and you flinched, eyes widening.

“New?”

She nodded, “Brand new, for you.” She removed the toy from its resting place and you examined it. Bigger than the last one; sleeker, thicker. It both enthralled and alarmed you, a combination you enjoyed. Shuri placed the strap just above her crotch, and the harness materialized as her panther suit does. You bit your lip in excitement.

“Hands and knees.” You did as she said, arching your back in the process. She ran her fingers down the crook of your spine and you relaxed. Towering behind you like a shadow — Shuri positioned herself for intrusion.

Leisurely, she grabbed your hips, slipping into you. Her first thrust was measured and calculated, making sure you could take it. The stretch burned wonderfully, as you pushed back on her, signaling her to move. “You don't have to be gentle with me.”

“It was never my plan to be gentle.” Her last words before pulling out and plunging back into your cunt. You plummeted into your pillows with your screams as Shuri plowed you. Long deep strokes, bringing forth grunts from her. You knew she felt the pleasure rush too, through her design.

Squelching, and sounds of skin slapping skin bounced off the walls with the way Shuri ravaged you. Biting down on your pillow was the only way to keep yourself from crying your throat raw. She pulled out, slapping it against your puffy pussy, then dove back in. “Take it, all of it. I love the sounds you make for me.”

Fucking you was Shuri’s favorite thing to do. Nothing else apart from her work entranced her this much. And you loved performing for her, loved putting yourself on display with your moans and wails. You looked back at her working you, catching her watching herself move in and out of your tight pussy. Bottom lip between her teeth as she smirked.

The toy disappeared and reemerged meticulously, coaxing your orgasm out. Superpowered thrusts shook your bed, and the very walls of your room.

Your knees began their inevitable buckling; legs shook, and shuri knew you were close again, “Not yet. Want you to ride me.”

She slithered out your weary hole and you collapsed, crossing your thighs tight.

“Spread those legs, need you on top.” She laid on her back, holding the base of the sopping strap and waited for you to mount her.

Sinking down onto it opened you wider than you thought possible, and you basked in it, as tired as you were. “You’ve got this baby, I know you do.”

Her words of encouragement helped you persist until the shaft was all the way inside you.

Shuri grinned with pride, “Perfect.”

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down, creating a steady pace as you placed your hands on her chest. She guided your hips, fucking up into you all the while. Slamming yourself down on her over, and over, and over made your bed creak. You rode her with greed — starvation unabashed as you moaned like a mad man.

She soaked up the vibrations your bouncing created, and her own desperate whimpers rose in volume. The tip brushed over that special spot inside you again and again, yanking your orgasm front and center. Senses heightened as your tower of pleasure grew tall. Up, up, up. The sky was the limit.

Shuri nodded up at your fucked out features, knowing you were at your peak. She wove your fingers together, bringing your knuckles to her lips for the ghost of a kiss. Sweat trickled down the both of you as your grunts unified. She was close too. Amazing.

“Come on, make me proud sthandwa.” Her words were lightning, striking right where you needed to knock your tower all the way over. All consuming ecstasy; encompassing euphoria.

One last hump, one last thrust, and you were both coming. “Shuri!”

Her name velveteen as it escaped you.

Moans were all that could be heard as she writhed beneath you. Magnificent, melodious moans. She pulled out and you immediately missed the feeling of being filled. Slumped on top of her, your breathing fell in sync, chests rising and falling as one. She laughed when you rolled beside her in the sheets, nuzzling into her and letting your orgasm whisk you into slumber.

•••

The sweet smell of dewy night air tugged you from your sleep. Curtains danced without a care in the wind as you adjusted your eyes to the darkness. Reaching out for Shuri’s warmth, you were met with only emptiness. That was when you panicked. Shuri had never once left you in bed alone after sex.

You sat up frantically, slipping into her shirt laid beside you. Calling for her, you attempted to climb out of bed. The soreness at your core had another idea, unfortunately.

“Don't worry my darling, I'm here.” Shuri sauntered in then, a tray of food clutched in both hands. You smiled when you saw her, ear to ear. She’d pulled on one of your t-shirts and a pair of boxers.

She climbed on the bed and you clapped your hands excitedly when the smell of hot food hit your nostrils. “Since we missed dinner.”

You giggled, “And whose fault was that, my Queen?”

“Certainly not mine.” She scooped spoonfuls of rice into your mouth and the flavor made you hum.

Something caught your eye in the corner of the tray as you chewed. A beige rectangular box called your name.

“Go on, open it.” You squeaked and reached for it. There sat your necklace, shiny and gold, and perfect as ever. Below it sat a matching engraved bracelet.

You picked it up as Shuri pushed your hair out the way, clasping the chain around your neck.

Abaphansi bavumile ukuba sifanaelene Thina sobabini.

The ancestors have agreed that you and I are meant to be.

“Shuri I–” You were in hysterics instantly and she smiled. She placed it around your wrist, kissing the back of your hand sweetly.

“I need you to know that… that you are it for me. You've ruined me and I refuse to have it any other way, bambo'lwami. You are everything. And please, never take this off again.” She sniffed and you nodded with teary eyes.

Shuri placed the tray on your bedside table before kissing your lips. She kissed your face, your nose, your neck, your chest. She poked your sides, tickling you and sending you into a babbling fit of laughter.

You cupped her cheeks, pecking her lips again, “To know you is to love you, and I've loved you for as long as I have known you. All my paths lead right back to you.”

Her mouth pressed to your forehead and you leaned into it, wanting to soak her all up.

#shuri x black!reader #lyricswriting #shuri fic #shuri smut #shuri x black!fem reader #myworks #letitia wright #shuri x reader #shuri x fem!reader #black panther #wakanda forever #shuri x f!reader #shuri x y/n #shuri #shuri udaku

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theemporium · 1 year

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Hi can you please write 136 and 131 with Daniel ricciardo from the smut list ? I miss him so muchh 😭

131. “oh don’t mind me I’m just enjoying the view”

136. “don’t cover your face, i want to see you”

The whole world was shocked when Daniel Ricciardo rocked up to the first race of the season with his girl on his arm.

There had been hints and whispers of the Australian being in a relationship, but it had never been confirmed by the driver. He teased and he joked and he would have his fun, but he never gave a definitive answer on the question until now.

The action was bold and proud and so very Daniel, all things considered. He wanted nothing more than to show the world who his girl was. He wanted to scream it to the world—or even to anyone who would just listen.

You, on the other hand, were the opposite of the Australian driver.

He thrived in the spotlight, you preferred hiding off to the side. He always had a bright smile on his face, you were glaring at whatever annoyance was bothering you nearby. He loved to make people laugh, and you truly didn’t care about most of the people around you.

Opposites attract was a phase known by many but they never once expected their sunshine driver to be the one involved with it.

But Daniel loved that about you.

He loved that despite everything you still showed up to race weekends to support him. He loved that you didn’t care what people said and had no issue putting people in their place when PR had his hands tied. He loved that you were so unapologetically you.

And he fucking loved reminding you of such.

“My pretty girl,” he cooed in a low voice, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs as he took in the sight of you.

“Danny,” you whined, your hands reaching to hold him and the boy had no issue in taking one of your hands, intertwining your fingers before pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Shh, patience baby,” he murmured as his eyes glazed over with an emotion you knew all too well. “Gimme a sec.”

Your chest was heaving, soft pants of anticipation escaping your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view,” Daniel said with a cheesy grin on his face as his gaze caught yours, the same look on his face that he got after he won a race. “Love seeing you like this, all fucked up and desperate for my cock.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled under your breath, moving to pull your hand away from him but the boy held on tight.

“Don’t cover your face, I want to see you,” he hummed as he kneeled on the bed, letting his eyes wander over every inch of naked skin left on display to him, the flushed cheeks and the messy hair.

He had been on a high after the last race weekend, the three wins in a row making him cockier and more arrogant than usual and you weren’t complaining—and definitely not when he had his face between your legs until your body was shaking and withering beneath him.

“Danny, please,” you whined, and it was a little pathetic and if anyone else saw you, they wouldn’t fucking believe it was you. But no one else would see you liked this—nobody but him.

“My pretty girl needs more, hm? Two not enough for you?” he teased, a hint of a mocking tone to his voice and it made you want to clench your thighs together. But before you even think of doing so, both large hands were splayed against your thighs and holding your legs open. “Nuh uh, baby, keep ‘em open for me.”

Your hooded eyes watched as he laid between your legs, arms hooking around your legs to keep you where he wanted you and his lips softly kissing up your thighs.

“You’re in luck, baby,” he murmured, warm breath fanning over your soaking cunt. “Three is my favourite number.”

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haitanisbug · 2 years

Text

YANDERE! Bonten punishing you for faking an orgasm

cw: yandere. Noncon. Orgasm control. Orgasm denial. Humiliation. Degradation. Sir kink. Restraints. Exhibitionism. MINORS DONT INTERACT.

You faked an orgasm because you wanted him to get off of you as quickly as possible. These nights are always exhausting for you, tending to his needs. So when you figure out you can fake it to get it over quicker, that’s exactly what you do. But you forget that he’s perceptive and obsessed with you. He’s spent the past few months stalking you and tracking your every emotion. You’re a fool for thinking you’d be able to fake something as passionate as an orgasm. So, like the good boyfriend he is, he has no choice but to punish you for your poor decision:

MIKEY, RINDOU

He’s pissed that you’d have the audacity to fake an orgasm with him. So if it’s an orgasm that you’re avoiding, then it’s an orgasm he’ll give you. And oh boy does he give you an orgasm. Or many.

He starts with tying you down on his bed, spread eagle so he has easy access to your cunt. He’ll fuck you with his tongue first. Spearing your pussy and then flicking back to your clit so quickly that it has you cumming all over his lips. He’s memorized everything about you so of course he’s memorized the quickest way to bring you pleasure. Then he’ll fuck you with his fingers, spreading you out and rubbing your warm, gummy walls. It has you desperately trying to push your hips into his hand, trying to get more friction. But the restraints are tight and you can only take what he gives. He chuckles at your desperate movements and brings you to yet another orgasm.

You can’t be enjoying this, it’s punishment after all. So the last thing he does is secure a hitachi wand right up against your clit. He ties it securely and plugs it in and then just leaves it there for hours. You’re cumming over and over again, subjected to this relentless torture on your clit. Sometimes he’ll walk in with a glass of whisky in hand and sits in the corner to watch you. He just observes how your back arches off the bed when you’re close, your hands come up to grip at the rope burning as your palms tug it, the way you body flails as you’re pushed over the edge again, the cum that seeps out of your cunt and dribbles onto the sheets underneath you, the tears that trek down your face and ruin your poor makeup. He loves it all, and he watches it as if it’s entertainment made just for him. Then he’ll wander out of the bedroom for a bit, letting your pleas and sobs become background noise for whatever dull TV program he’s watching in the living room.

After hours of this punishment, he comes back into the room and turns off the wand to witness your utterly fucked out figure. You’re shaking within the restraints and you curl up into a ball once he undo's them. He clicks his tongue in frustration “let me get a look at that pretty pussy, angel.” Grabbing your knees he spreads your legs apart and just chuckles at the sight. Your pussy lips are puffy and swollen. He lightly slaps your sensitive clit, and you snap your legs shut with a shriek. He laughs loudly at the reaction and then pulls you up into his arms whispering into your ear.

“Your orgasms are your gift to me, and baby I’m gonna make you start giving more generously.”

KAKUCHO, KOKONOI

If you want to fake an orgasm with him, that’s fine. He’ll let you. But if you don’t want to get relief from him then he won’t give you any sort of relief ever. He keeps a close eye on you, not letting you touch yourself, keeping all toys away from you and he’s definitely never bringing you to release himself.

But the worst part is that he still teases you. He’ll perch you on his lap and slide his fingers into your shorts. He’ll play with your clit till your mewling into his shoulder on the brink of release. Right before you’re about to cum he’ll withdraw his hand and then laughs at the cry you make from your ruined orgasm. It’s tortuous and sadistic because this little routine goes on for weeks. Constantly bringing you close to the edge of pleasure but never letting you fall over. You’re babbling at him and begging him to let you just cum, please. But this is the consequences of your actions, and he’d so much rather watch your cry for an orgasm instead of gifting it to you.

Sometimes, he’ll even make it worse. Getting you to sink onto his cock, and fucking into you. He has to be careful because you’re so needy at this point, he suspects you could probably cum untouched. But again, he knows you’re body in and out, and he’ll pull out right before you cum and he’ll release all over your messy cunt. He has you follow him for weeks, making sure you’re never trying to sneak your own release. If he catches your hand sliding down to your clit, or your hips swiveling against the kitchen counter he’ll restrain you and add an extra day onto your punishment.

Only when he has you delirious, and on your knees in front of him begging to let you cum just once, only then will he finally relent. He’ll have you strip in front of him and then cups your pussy with one hand, he’ll squeeze it tightly and say

“This fucking belongs to me, understand?”

Once he hears the small mewl of “yes sir” from you, then he’ll fuck you into oblivion, finally giving your release after weeks of pent up desire.

SANZU, RAN, TAKEOMI

Faking an orgasm around him not only makes him mad but he’s almost humiliated by it. Is he not good enough? Do you not desire him enough? Or are you just acting like a brat? He’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. If you don’t want to orgasm that’s fine, but your disobedience won’t last long, and he will humiliate you in return.

Unlike with Kakucho and Kokonoi, He’ll refuse to touch you at all. And at first you’re fine with it. That’s actually a dream come to true. But he refuses to let you touch yourself too. And after a few days you start to get needy. He sets it up perfectly: acts as if he’s preoccupied working on something and he’ll leave you alone in the bedroom. Your hands slip into your panties and right when you’re about to start fingering yourself he’ll barge in. He rips your hand away from yourself and with an icy voice he’ll say

“if you want to get off, you have have to prove to me you really want it this time. Make yourself cum, but you can’t use your fucking hands.”

He’ll oh so graciously offers to help, and you’re unsure of what he means till he’s sitting on the couch and shoving you on to your knees in front of him, sticking the toe of his boot right under your cunt.

“Fuck yourself on my shoe, princess.”

You look up at him in shock. He’s never made you do something so degrading before, surely he’s kidding? But his face is impossibly serious and you realize that if you ever want release ever again, you have to follow what he says. The tip of his shoes catch your clit and it feels so good, that you start to hump his leg harder. He laughs at the pace of your hips but you don’t have the wherewithal to care.

Right when you’re about to cum he pulls his shoe away, and you’re left thrusting embarrassingly against empty air. It’s no use. Your orgasm is ruined and you’re left at his foot, crying in desperation.

“Didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you, princess huh?” His smug expression almost has you whimpering out pleas.

He continues his punishment throughout the rest of the week, making you try to get yourself off. And always in the most embarrassing positions and places. After all, you humiliated him by faking an orgasm in the first place, it’s only fair he pays back that feeling tenfold.

He’ll have you run your cunt against the arm of the couch while he finishes dinner and watches you desperately. He’ll have you on his lap during a meeting, rubbing against his thigh while the rest of Bonten has a clear view of your wet cunt rubbing up against his leg, pussy clenching around nothing. He’ll stop your ministrations right before you release all over his thigh, and you whimper and lightly sob into his neck. Trying to hide your face as it burns in embarrassment from the cackles of the men behind you.

It’s only after numerous situations like these does he finally let you have your release. And he makes you beg for it, and then has you thank him after your brain is almost fucked out. When you’re tuckered out in his arms he realizes how much he’s enjoyed this week, and how he’s kinda wishing you fake another orgasm again if that means he gets to see you humiliate yourself all over.

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joenotexotic99 · 9 months

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Hi honey, I have to say I love your stuff. You write absolutely great. Could you do a headcannon on BoB and what type of love would you give them? I mean love at first sight, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, etc. I'd be happiest with Winters and Nixon and Speirs, but do what you will. Thank you.

A/n: here you go my love. When I finally re read the request I realized you might have wanted the pov's reversed but it was too late. Hopefully it's not too bad. I will happily switch it to reader pov if you wish.

Warnings:fluff

Masterlist

Richard winters

-friends to lovers. I don't think that this man thought of romance when he first met you. Attractive? Most definitely. However he had bigger things preoccupying his mind. Yet somehow at some point, you wiggled your way to being one of his best friends. Don't tell nix. Something about you practically scrambled his brain. He doesn't know when in the friendship he fell or if he fell in the very beginning. But when he realized just how much he loved you it was like he jumped off a cliff without a parachute. He knew right then and there you were it for him. He probably felt nervous telling you due to the fact that he never gave off the impression that he likes you. But let's just say the feelings were reciprocated.

"Dick, I have been flirting with you this whole time."

"Really??"

Lewis nixon

- love at first sight. This man took one look at you and said yes. He may not immediately start flirting with you out of respect, but he will damn well be tied to your finger. Will always open doors for you, and give you his coat when you're cold. So many acts of services. At one point you two were at a bar and some private made his way to your side to start a flirty conversation where he swears he got to hands'y. He knew that you were single but he was extremely jealous nonetheless. Eventually he had to leave to get some air. You followed shortly to catch up with him. You confronted him asking what has gotten into him as of late. He never wanted it to come out like this but it sort of just spilled out of him. He rambled on about his feelings before you cut him off with a kiss and a huge grin on your face.

"Shut up nix and take me on a date"

Ronald speirs

-Distance attraction, I don't know what to call it, this is the closest I can get. It just feels right. Basically, Speirs isn't quite love at first sight, he's the guy who needs to really get to know you to start building a relationship like that. However this man has a MASSIVE crush on you. But he's too prideful to say anything seeing how simping for someone isn't exactly in Ron's profile. He just admires you from a distance while simultaneously stuffing his emotions deep down. Much better in his book. Yet he still does his very best to be by your side at every moment possible even though he spends a lot of time trying not to think about how perfect you are. It's you who makes the first move. You obviously like him and you know he does too. It's obvious to everyone but no-one says a single word. And before you can finish telling him if he wants to go out some time, he's already agreeing.

"Yes"

"What?"

"You free Friday?"

Carwood lipton

-childhood friends to lovers. He was the boy next door. You two were friends from first grade through college. Sharing secrets, sleepovers, getting into mischief. Car started crushing on you when you two were teenagers. Said crush continued all the way until you two volunteer to join the paratroopers. War was hell but you seemed to make it just a little bit more manageable. His life in the war picked up significantly and he had a freight train worth of responsibility placed on his shoulders. Yet you never left his side. It wasn't until Austria that he confessed his feelings. He almost felt sick when he told you in fear of losing his best friend. It was short sweet at straight to the point. You were silent for what felt like an eternity. Lip almost took off in fear of rejection. He was stopped in his tracks by the sound of your laughter. He turned to hear you laughing with the biggest smile on your face.

"Clifford carwood Lipton, do you know how long I've been waiting for those words"

Joseph Leibgott

-Enemies to lovers. Your relationship started off Rocky. Your personality clashed and having a civilized conversation was seemingly impossible. Every time your paths crossed it was filled with banter, insults and tension. Sometimes it got to the point where someone needed to intervene. When you would walk into the same room that Joe would be in it's like the air seemed to thicken. The cold stares and passive aggressive comments. As the war progressed your comments never faulted but the tension you ask? It could be felt by an entire room. And all that hate seemed to not leave as bad as a taste in your mouth. Joe knew from the start that he hated and loved you. You know the type of enemies to lovers where it's like 'she's mine' and 'who did this to you?' It's giving that. He got so fed up with replacements trying to whisk you away so he simply grabbed you by the waist and kissed you.

"Don't lever leave with one of them alright sweetheart?"

"Wasn't planning on it"

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers x reader #richard winters #lewis nixon #ronald speirs #carwood lipton #joe liebgott #richard winters x reader #lewis nixon x reader #carwood lipton x reader #joseph liebgott x reader

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whatitshouldvebeen · 8 months

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God I just had a massive angsty thought about Johnny’s girl, or captive for a better word, having to hide her pregnancy from the rest of the family. Nancy would be the only exception to this. Her sixth sense is crazy. But I was thinking about the delivery not going so smoothly, especially considering all the stress on the reader. You have to pretty much do it by yourself in a barn on a makeshift bed made of hay and a blanket, with Johnny only taking quick peeks in every now and then. The baby wouldn’t show any vital signs at first, and you’d like to think Johnny looks more concerned than he appears. You’re finally able to call him over, and get his help with things. The baby starts crying, though never having been a mother before, the reader knows the baby needs more right now than her and Johnny could both provide. Someone with more knowledge. You’d have to hand your infant over to Nancy and trust her with it for the first couple of days, not even knowing if it was going to be okay by the time it was returned to you. Johnny looks after you, despite feeling irritated and tied down in a seperate room in the house, arguments sprout over him thinking you’re overreacting, never having a hope in the world of understanding the emotions a new mother goes through.

Johnny Slaughter x reader

Daddy's a Killer

Contains: heavy angst, childbirth, and a mention of breastfeeding

MINORS DNI

Nancy never concealed her displeasure when Johnny decided to house you in the barn. A few months later, when he vented his frustration about you, she felt relief—finally, her son recognized you as the burden she always knew you were. Yet, when she and Johnny went to the barn to bring you back to slaughter, the sight of you stirred an unexpected reaction.

"You foolish boy," she muttered, eyes narrowing and shifting to Johnny.

"What, ma? I'm gettin' rid of her like you been sayin' to!" he retorted. One of his hands muffled your anguished screams, while the other gripped your wrists, holding you in front of him as you desperately tried to twist away.

"How many times has Drayton told ya not to mess with the meat?" she scolded, her nose crinkling.

"Ma, I—" he began to protest.

"She's pregnant," Nancy stated flatly.

Color drained from Johnny's already pale face. "W-what?"

"Can't kill 'er. She's got your blood." Nancy grimaced. "You think you want rid of her now, just you wait 'till she's hormonal."

In his shock, Johnny's grip slackened, and you managed to wriggle free, falling to your knees in front of Nancy. "Please, let me go," you pleaded. "If you want to be rid of me, I'll never speak a word. I'll disappear, I swear it!"

The stern, dark-haired woman displayed no signs of sympathy as a smile stretched across her face. "Honey, you got my grandbaby in there, and every baby needs a family. You ain't leavin'."

You looked up from her shoes to her cold eyes, tears streaming down your face as Johnny harshly pulled you back up. The realization set in that there was nothing you could do.

–

The subsequent months unfolded in an unusual manner. Nancy, with an insistence to have Johnny treat you better for the sake of the baby, managed to curb his physical abuse. However, his relentless verbal tirades persisted beyond her control.

During those prolonged months, a subtle transformation occurred within Johnny. The sensation of feeling his baby through your stomach seemed to evoke genuine affection in his eyes. Strangely, this newfound tenderness extended to his "relationship" with you. He provided a pillow and blankets for the barn, heated your food, and even allowed you some fresh air daily.

Despite the improved conditions, humane treatment remained a distant concept. His anger flared, and the majority of your days were still spent in the old barn.

The difficulty of your pregnancy grew, confining you to bedrest (as much as hay covered in blankets could be considered a bed) during the final weeks. At this point, Nancy visited more frequently than Johnny, yet her conversations were solely centered around the baby.

"Bet it's a girl," she remarked one day. "You got that girl shine. When I was pregnant with my girls, I looked the same way."

Inquiring about her pregnancies, she revealed none of them came to fruition, hastily correcting herself. "'Cept for my little angel Johnny, of course!"

Suspicion regarding Nancy's authenticity as Johnny's mother lingered, but in the grand scheme, it seemed inconsequential. Revealing your thoughts to Johnny might only worsen the situation.

Then, the day of your contractions arrived. Within hours, the pain became so intense that screams were your only outlet. When Johnny returned home, he came to see you, and instantly regretted it.

"Ma, why is she so pale?" he asked.

"Somethin's wrong," his mother replied, replacing the towel on your forehead. In the throes of labor, you lay on your back, pushing with all your weakened might.

Your strength had dwindled daily, and Johnny, not the most adept caretaker, had left you spending more time with Nancy in the last month of your pregnancy. Despite her care, you knew it was only for her grandchild's sake.

"Push! Come on now, I see their head!" she shouted, urging you on. You screamed, head thrown back into the sweat-drenched pillow. Johnny, stationed outside, smoked like a freight train, only peeking in occasionally. Comfort was beyond his capacity, a fact you came to understand long ago.

"One last push," Nancy urged, and you obeyed, your child slipping into her waiting hands. "It's a girl!" she exclaimed, but then fell silent, her face stricken.

"Is she okay?" you asked wearily, attempting to raise your head higher to see her. The baby had dark brown hair, like her daddy. She was limp.

Nancy flipped her over, holding her head and body, rubbing and slapping her back.

"What's going on?" Johnny said as he appeared at your side. You'd like to think he sounded worried. Your attention, however, remained fixed on your lifeless baby. Silent screams of anguish echoed as you witnessed Nancy's attempts to revive the child who had been kicking happily in your stomach that very morning.

Then, your daughter coughed, rasping for air. Water bubbled out of her lungs, wetting the barn floor. Nancy cradled her close, attempting to soothe the wailing newborn.

"Is she okay? Can I see her?" you asked, reaching out desperately. Nancy, however, refused to look at you.

"Always knew you was a piece of work, girl. Can't even birth a baby right when it don't die in your womb. She's weak and frail, like you. You don't deserve this girl," she said coldly, bouncing the baby gently as it laid against her shoulder, still crying.

"Please give me my baby," you wailed, stretching your arms out for her desperately.

Surprisingly, it was Johnny who took your little girl from Nancy. His mother glared at him with steely eyes as he placed his daughter in your arms.

"A baby needs their mama," he said, watching your face as it filled with affection for your perfect, tiny baby girl. He turned back to his mom. "She gotta feed her. You can take her back when she's done, but she won't get better without her mama."

"Fine," she spat, sitting up straight, the blood from your baby staining her dress. "But she's mine any time she's not eatin'. I gotta make sure she gets better, and your slut clearly don't know how to take care of a baby."

Johnny agreed, and you knew protesting would only strain your chances of spending time with her at all. It was true; she was your first baby, and you could tell she was sick by the bluish tone to her skin and her struggle to latch onto you. Yet, she was alive, in your arms, and that was all that mattered.

"Bring your girl into the spare bedroom. Better 'n me havin' to go out to the barn just to feed the baby," Nancy said, and Johnny obeyed, picking you up with what you could delude yourself into thinking was genuine care before bringing you inside his mother's house, your baby clutched tightly to your chest all the way.

–

As you recuperated in Johnny's mom's house, Johnny reluctantly assumed the role of caretaker. He assisted with your baths, helped you get dressed, and, surprisingly, inquired about your well-being at least once a day. It felt odd—a begrudging care, tinged with resentment, yet undeniably present. He wasn't accustomed to showing empathy.

During the feeding sessions with your baby, occurring five to eight times a day, Johnny surprisingly chose to be present more often than not, expressing a peculiar tenderness. He'd stroke your hair, murmuring, "She's gettin' stronger every day. She'll be okay in no time."

Yet, in moments when your baby was not present, Johnny's patience wore thin with your perpetual concerns.

"My ma's got her! You ain't gotta be so whiny!" he complained, rolling his eyes.

"But the last time I saw her, she seemed kind of out of it. Can you at least check on her?" you asked anxiously.

"Ma would tell me if she needed somethin'. You're overreacting like ya always do."

The desire to shout, to hurl the bedside lamp at him, surged within you, but you knew it would be futile. Johnny would never take you seriously.

After all, you were a year past your "expiration date", Johnny liked to "joke". You needed to make yourself useful, to show your thanks for the fact you were still alive. Your daughter needed you for now, but when she got older, Nancy could take over… and she wouldn't even remember you.

The thought made your stomach tie in knots. And as you looked into the fed-up eyes of your captor, you knew your place in his world would only become more and more tenuous. You had to be perfect for him. For your daughter.

Forever.

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #texas chainsaw game #tcm #x reader #pregnancy #childbirth #black nancy

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asratery · 11 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Man!Male Reader Pt. 3

Miguel gets his face f_cked just like you promised(?) him. Also you're not being a very good partner atm :( but y'all will prevail 😇

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

cw: dildo :D, attempted edging, masturbation, self-consciousness, slight angst, slight communication issues, sexual frustration, oral sex (receiving), crying. miguel is a crybaby, dirty talk, hair pulling, mmm eye contact, pet names, rimjob, implied anal sex

Heyy 😀 so yea i mentioned at the end of pt. 2 that i wanted to write miguel giving head so here we are

(word count: 4.6K+)

Miguel had found it to be particularly frustrating that you preferred emotional intimacy over physical. You completely bamboozled him, making him believe that you were some secretly sexual being after your first night together, but your lack of initiation in anything past kissing afterwards had disproved this. Don't get him wrong, he loved that you always had an open ear to listen to him vent or give him advice, whether it be through an earpiece while you were traveling through some random Earth or while you sat in his office, filling out paperwork for a recent mission. But the man had needs, and he so badly wanted you to put your hands on him as of lately.

He found himself pulling up audios of you from your missions, fucking himself on fingers that couldn't compare to the thickness of yours, desperately rutting into his pillows while you stayed in your own dimension, dealing with business in the day and villains in the night.

"Fuck." Miguel groaned out, his legs bent to his chest and spread wide as he slid two digits along his walls. He couldn't reach that bundle of nerves that your cock so perfectly rocked against when you fucked him. Fuck, how long has it been? Two months? Three? You both had mutually decided not to initiate sex or anything physically strenuous again until you had fully recovered. Which was six weeks ago. What the hell were you holding off on? There's no way there were so many villains you had to take care of in your world that you couldn't come spend a night with your boyfriend.

Miguel wanted to cry. He'd spent the past hour trying to edge himself, but he couldn't even bring himself close, his fingers weren't enough to satisfy the heat in his core that was begging for you. Miguel's eyes darted over to his nightstand. He still had a couple toys left in his the bottom drawer. He bought them only three weeks after you joined the Society, unable to hold back his own fantasies at the time. He would spend nights pretending it was you as he'd pump the lacking imitation inside him, and to think that he got that reality only months ago with an even bigger 'toy' gave him a sense of pride.

He slid the drawer open, dipping his hand down to grab a very familiar friend. The toy was six inches in length and four in girth, incomparable to your hard ten inches, but it was going to have to suffice for tonight. Miguel felt embarrassed at the sight of it, sneaking it out of the drawer even in the privacy of his room. He always felt unexplainably shy about these things, not afraid to let you stare at him as he preps himself, but to fuck himself with a toy in seclusion? How humiliating.

Miguel pressed the tip of the dildo to his prepped hole, the damned thing fluttering at the feeling. He wanted you so badly. He didn't think he could even put it into words. The toy slid in easily, giving Miguel a feeling of fullness, but only a fraction compared to you. The tip just barely brushed against his prostate, causing his thighs to tremble at the feeling. It felt like the toy was fucking taunting him, just skirting over the neediest part of him, reminding him of the lacking presence of you in his bed. Inside him. If Miguel knew you were going to have the libido of a monk, he would've tied you up in his home the day you were released from the infirmary. But he didn't. And now he was laying in his bed, rocking an inadequate replacement into his hole, on the verge of tears as his shaky hand stroked his weeping cock.

Fuck, was it him? Was he acting like a horny teen or was he just not enough for you? The thought sprung tears into his eyes, the self-consciousness he had once abandoned returning even heavier in his chest. Miguel was already nervous about the age gap between you two, being seven years older, but the thought of you in your own world, surrounded by beautiful men and women during your work days, using your charm to secure deals for your own business, had warm tears spilling down the sides of his face. He bit his bottom lip, willing himself to not let out a sob as he kept moving the toy inside him, his other arm wrapped under his knees, keeping his thighs pressed to his chest.

Miguel was a pathetic sight at the moment. If you could see him like this, it would've broken your heart. But you weren't there. You were at some elaborate dinner, speaking with political figures from around your world, flashing toothy grins and shaking hands, oblivious to your own neglectful behavior. The night was long, and Miguel spent it weeping.

Most people in the Spider Society were aware that there was something romantic between you two, whether it be the bashful look on Miguel's face when you walked into a room, the way you'd wrap one of your Herculean arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug before hopping through a portal for your next mission, or the way Miguel would just blatantly eyefuck you when you'd speak even just a few words during meetings. Some were surprised, some weren't. The only real surprise though was just how much more relaxed Miguel became after you’d joined the Society, trusting your intellect enough to make plans of action as well as challenge his own decisions with your ideas. Even with your silent nature, just your presence alone seemed to make Miguel’s life a lot less tense.

So when Miguel walked into HQ looking worryingly exhausted the following morning, most of the spider people spared a second glance at their boss as he made his way to his office. He couldn't cum last night. Not even once. He had to stand on shaky legs, moving to the bathroom for a cold shower as he admitted defeat. And then he cried into his pillows. Maybe he was right in his worries a few months ago. Maybe this was just a quick fuck on your end and maybe the sweet words you whispered into his ear that night were to keep him hooked on you. He sat in the office chair in front his desk as Lyla booted up the system. She didn't mention anything, simply giving Miguel a worried look as he rubbed his hands over his tired face. She knew it was about you, but she also knew not to mention it.

The door to the office creaked open as Jessica made her way in, quickly swinging up to the platform before approaching him. "You look tired." She said in a low tone, placing a coffee on Miguel's desk as she sipped at her own. "Didn't sleep well last night?" Miguel gave her a slight glare that confirmed her suspicions before turning his gaze back to his monitors. "Was busy with work." He mumbled back, clicking away on a keyboard. Jessica gave a confused glance at Lyla, who returned the gesture. She dropped down to the lower platform, approaching the briefing table as she flipped through pages and pages of documents you had filled over the past few weeks for anomalies you successfully hunted down. "Huh, y/n forgot to fill out the papers for the anomaly on Earth-XX." Jessica murmured. "I'll call him in." Miguel's half-lidded eyes widened at her words, quickly turning in his chair to rush to the edge of his platform.

Before he could even get a word out, Jessica had already sent an alert out to your wristwatch. Miguel groaned, muttering something in Spanish before nearly shouting at her. "You didn't need to call him in, he—I could've just filled it out myself." "Yes, but you wouldn't have all the details y/n has. You know how descriptive he is in his summaries." She replied, crossing her arms. She didn't understand why Miguel was being so anal about the topic. "Just... Just go, I'll explain it to him when he gets here." Miguel muttered, placing his head in his hands before receding to sit back in his chair. Jessica raised an eyebrow at Lyla, who shrugged in response, before giving him a curt farewell and leaving his office.

You didn't come. You were busy in your world, and the alert Jessica sent told you it wasn't anything immediate. Miguel could feel his heart fluttering at the idea of you visiting HQ after so long, but as the hours passed, that excitement was slowly chipping away before he was eventually left with the same feelings of disappointment he felt the previous night.

You had finally found the time to visit HQ well into the night, being able to slip away from the banquet hall before forming a portal with your wristwatch, taking a step through and finding yourself in your boyfriend's office. Miguel was already sat at the briefing table, the surface scattered with your papers as he analyzed your handwriting. You approached him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder before leaning down, pressing a kiss to the side of the silent man's forehead.

You placed a short stack of papers on the table, your hand still resting on his shoulder. "I already filled the papers out, took a copy of them home with me a while back but forgot to bring them back in." You murmured, a soft look in your sharp eyes as you looked down at Miguel, whose eyes were now focused on his intertwined hands in his lap. Just when you were about to speak again, Miguel beat you to it. "We need to talk." He said in a low tone. You pulled a chair next to him, moving to sit down as he stood from his own chair. You grabbed his hips, forcing him to face you as you looked up at him, not letting him move from his standing position between your legs. "Talk to me, cariño." You murmured, hoping to comfort him with your words. It did the opposite, tears welling in Miguel's older eyes, a flash of despair in his expression that had you shocked.

You quickly stood from your chair, sliding your hands up to wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you. You felt confused as you felt his gloved hands weakly press against your chest, trying to create distance between you two. You gave him only a few inches of space, though you kept your arms tightly wound around him. “Oh, baby.” Your voice was soft at the sight of a few stray tears trickling down his pretty face as his hands stayed pressed against your chest. It would've been comforting if he wasn't still pushing against you. "Miguel." You said firmly, your tone prompting him to stop resisting, instead resting his hands in their position as he leaned his head forward, his forehead pressed against the top of your suit vest.

Miguel was trying so hard to stay angry with you, but you looked so damned good in your full black suit. How dare you come to his office dressed to the nines after depriving him of sex for so long? Your hand came up to hold the back of his hair, your chin resting on the top of his head. "Was this a mistake?" Miguel asked in a whisper, his eyes screwed shut when you grabbed his shoulders, pulling away to look down at him in shock. He was immediately filled with regret when he opened his eyes again to be met with the hurt in your gaze. "Where is this coming from?" You asked in a low tone as you looked down at him, taking notice of the extended fangs peeking out of his mouth. A sign of frustration. Frustration from what exactly?

"Are you serious?" Miguel responded with a hint of anger. "Yes?" You were quick with your response, trying to get to the bottom of Miguel's attitude as you wiped at his tears. Miguel pouted slightly as he pushed out of your hold, turning away from you as he used the back of his hand to wipe at the rest of his tears. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's up, Miguel." Miguel spun around, looking up at you in irritation, his clawed hands balling into fists at his sides. The average person would cower under his gaze, but you took a step towards him, knowing that the man wouldn't hurt you. At least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. Miguel took a step back in response, prompting you to grit your teeth in irritation. "Don't play this game, mami." You spoke in a low, almost predatory tone. "You know I love a chase."

A wave of arousal traveled up Miguel's spine, the combination of your threatening words and the fitted black suit adorning your strong physique causing a tingling feeling in his pants. No. Now wasn't the time to get all horny and shit. He was mad at you, and he was staying mad at you. "I shouldn't have to tell you the obvious." "Clearly it's not obvious if I'm sitting here trying to drag it out of you." You snapped back. "You're frustrated, Miguel, I can see it in your face." Your tone was softer now as you gestured to his sharp talons. Miguel cut his eyes shut as he spoke in a harsh tone. "Just leave, y/n, you already brought what I needed. Just go." Miguel flinched when he opened his eyes, his view blocked by your broad chest as you towered over him.

He couldn’t push away in time, enveloped by the warmth of your burly arms as you pressed him flush against you, tucking his head against your neck. “Get. Off.” “Why’re you always so cold?” Miguel could hear that calmness in your voice, but it only seemed to irritate him more. He leaned his head back, though he couldn’t move his body with your limbs wrapped around him. He glared up at you, but you kept a neutral expression, a softness in your eyes. “You’re always cold. Whether it be your hands, your nose, or your ears.” Miguel was confused. The fuck are you talking about? “You’re just too damn warm.” To be fair, he was right. Your body seemed to emit heat like it was the sun itself. Miguel flinched when you leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose against his colder one.

His bottom lip trembled. You took notice, not wasting a second in his moment of distraction as you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. Miguel flinched again, a moment of hesitation before he returned it. But he was rough. Much rougher. His tongue immediately slid into your mouth, fangs nipping at your lips as his clawed hands grasped at your blazer, tearing the fabric. Fuck this suit. And fuck whatever event you had to wear it to, further keeping you from him.

You were still so gentle in your kisses, to the point that it pissed him off. Maybe make up sex was necessary, but you were going to be gentle with him in foreplay at least, take your time breaking him down. You pulled away, staring down at him with star-struck eyes before leaning back in, pressing tender kisses along his face. The corners of his mouth, the skin below his eyes, his high cheekbones, before eventually returning to his lips. Miguel's anger seemed to just melt away under your touch, returning your gentleness in the kisses, his way of apologizing for his previous aggressive behavior.

You pulled away again, looking down at his teary eyes. “You gotta tell me what’s up, sweet thing. I’m not trying to act oblivious.” Your voice was a murmur as your hands rubbed circles into his back. “I need you. I’ve needed you for weeks now.” Miguel muttered, a hint of guilt on his face at the sight of your abused lips from his fangs. “Well, you gotta tell me when you do. I’m not with you only for this.” You patted his butt, chuckling at Miguel’s bashful expression. Miguel loved the little romantic gestures that came out of you after becoming exclusive, something he never thought he'd experience since you'd always been so robotic prior to him making a move.

“What do you need tonight, cariño?” Miguel thought for a moment before looking up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You promised me something that night. I want it.” You were confused for a moment, trying to recall the memory from months back. ‘Can’t wait to fuck that pretty mouth of yours when I’m out of here.’ Oh. “Miguel…” You wanted to be gentle tonight, since you didn’t get much of a chance to with the suddenness of your first time with Miguel. “You promised.” “That technically wasn’t a prom—” “Y/n. I need you. Just give me this one thing and then you can be as gentle as you want.” A moment of silence. “Tap my thigh twice if you want me to stop, yea?”

Miguel's back was pressed flush against the wall as he sat kneeled between your legs, your feet planted next to his thighs as you steadily fucked your cock into his mouth. The room was filled with the muffled gags coming from Miguel's throat as he struggled to fit his lips around your girth, unable to escape your deep thrusts with the back of his head pressed against the wall.

Miguel was such a whiny bitch, thick tears streaming down his cheeks at your pace, barely giving him room to breathe. His clawed hands dug at your thighs, tearing into your dress pants. The pain only added to the experience as you increased your pace, placing your forearm against the wall as you looked down at him. He looked up at you, a pleading look in his teary eyes as fluids leaked down his chin, saliva bubbling around his puffy lips as you slid your cock out of his mouth.

"Open your throat." You growled out before shoving your cock back into the warmth of his mouth. You sunk in even further, the tip of your cock slipping a couple inches down his throat as Miguel's eyes rolled back. He made a muffled noise, sending vibrations up your length as you groaned, your hips jerking forward and sinking even deeper. You held your hips in place for a bit, watching Miguel's eyes get gradually more hazy at the lack of air as his throat constricted around you.

Repeating the motion, you slid your thick cock out a few inches back, watching Miguel inhale desperately through his nose, his abused lips wrapped around you before thrusting your hips forward, burying yourself nearly three quarters of the way. You groaned at the sensation, running a hand through Miguel's hair as he looked up at you in awe. "This what you wanted? Hm?" You said in an undertone, rolling your hips slightly. "Wanted my cock down your throat?" Miguel nodded, or at least he attempted to.

You wiped at his flowing tears, your thumbs brushing against his eyelashes as you cooed to him. "You got me, baby. I told you, I'll give you everything, all of me. You just gotta tell me when you need it." You stroked his hair as you slid your cock out of his mouth, saliva connected between his swollen lips and your leaking cock. Miguel dragged his tongue up the underside of your cock, collecting his saliva and the precum dripping down your length into his mouth before swallowing. "You missed it, mami?" You spoke breathily. "Mhm." Miguel's response was short, wrapping his pretty mouth around the tip of your cock as one of his clawed hands reached up, stroking your shaft.

Your eyes shifted down to his hard cock, straining against the fabric of his suit. How were you so irresponsible? This man had been pining for you for months and when he finally let himself be vulnerable with you, you distanced yourself. Even if it was unintentional, it was unforgivable in your mind and you'd be spending the next few weeks making it up to him. "I'm close, baby." You grunted out, your eyes focused on how Miguel's soft tongue laved over the slit of your cock, his pretty lashes damp with tears from your previous brutality.

Miguel took the hint, sinking his mouth down on you as much as he could. Resting his hands on your thighs, he looked up at you, waiting for you. You reached a hand down, gripping Miguel's brown locks before moving his mouth on your cock. It was mesmerizing just as much as it was filthy. Watching your cock disappear in his mouth, steadily sinking deeper with each thrust as the sounds of Miguel’s muffled gags and choked whimpers bounced off the walls of his office. His mouth slid over every vein, your milky fluid building up around the corners of his reddened lips every time you got to his throat's limit.

“Such a pretty mouth.” You murmured, groaning as you increased your pace, snapping your hips forward to meet the harsh pulling of your hand. Miguel relaxed in your hold, letting your cock sink into his throat with each thrust as he felt you getting closer to your climax. When you did, you held him in place, your cock nestled deep in his warmth as your thick release coated the walls of his throat. You kept yours fingers intertwined behind his neck as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back, his throat constricting around your length as he attempted to swallow your cum, forcing more out of you. Milking you.

When you finally released your hold, you leaned forward, pressing your forearms to the wall as you breathed heavily. Miguel lapped at your cock, cleaning you off as he looked up at you, adoration in his blown pupils as he tried to steady his breathing.

“You know, I’ve never been to your place.”

When the two of you went back to his apartment, you found his little ‘toy’ while searching for lube in his drawers, forcing him to ashamedly confess to his attempts to edge himself. Miguel was filled with a bit of fear at the wolfish look in your lustful eyes as you practically growled at him. “Show me.” And that’s how Miguel ended up in the exact same humiliating position from the previous, lonelier night, his arm wrapped under the backs of his knees as he kept them pressed to his chest, laid on his back as his other gripped at one of your knees. Tears slid down the sides of Miguel’s face, getting lost in his ruffled hair as three of your thick fingers slid along his sensitive walls. His soft cries filled the room as his greedy hole took your fingers in to the last knuckle.

“I wanna—hic—I want your cock. Please, please, m’ prepped enough.” His cry of your name was choked off by a whimper when he felt your tongue roughly glide up his length, his back arching into the sensation. “You feel this area here?” You curled your finger slightly, pressing against a spot that had Miguel reeling, a shaky moan escaping him at the feeling. “This is that sweet spot you were trying to reach, baby.” You further emphasized it by massaging the pads of your fingers against that beautiful area, causing Miguel’s eyes to roll back as his back arched off the bed, quavering pleas tumbling out of his mouth in his native tongue.

Just when you felt him start to flutter around your fingers, you pulled back, watching his pretty hole clench around nothing as his cock dripped precum onto his abs. Miguel cried out in despair, new tears flowing down his flushed cheeks at the deprivation of his orgasm. A part of you felt guilty for making him cry so hard, but that was quickly brushed aside as you watched a drip of lube leak from his pretty hole. God, you couldn’t wait to bury yourself in that.

You pulled your cock out of your dress pants again, already hard as you stroked it. You were taunting him, Miguel could tell, kneeled in front of him, still in your full suit minus your tattered blazer, lost somewhere on the floor of his bedroom as you stroked yourself. “Please.” Miguel whimpered softly, his eyes trained on your moving hand. You looked so fucking good, having rolled your sleeves up a while back, exposing your thick forearms and the muscle that traveled well up the covered section of your arms.

You removed your hand from your cock, moving back in. Just when Miguel thought you were ready to fuck him, his hopes were quickly extinguished when you pressed the tip of his little toy to his hole. “I want you to show me exactly what you did last night.” You said in a low tone as Miguel looked up at you with his teary eyes, nodding at your command. His hand moved from your knee to the base of the toy, slowly sliding it inside his fluttering hole. You weren’t worried about him cumming from it, confident that it couldn’t compare to the sensations your own girth gave him. You returned to stroking your cock as you watched him pump the toy into himself, your other hand rubbing circles into his hip.

“Look so pretty like this, doll.” You murmured, the tip of your cock dangerously close to his moving hand. Miguel flushed in response, biting his lower lip as his eyes focused on your weeping manhood. His hips were propped up on a pillow, giving you a delicious view, his ass being presented to you on a silver platter. Miguel wiggled his hips around a bit, trying to lure you to just bury that mouthwatering cock inside him. You gave in. Or at least he thought you did. “Take it out.” You growled out in frustration. Miguel quickly slid the toy out, a giddy smile spreading across his face that was quickly cracked by a broken moan spilling past his lips at the feeling of you laving your wet tongue over his hole, feeling it twitch at the rough texture.

“I—mmmngh—y/n—wait, please—” Miguel couldn’t even get a full sentence out as his head fell back against the sheets, both of his arms wrapped under his knees and pressed to his shoulders, giving you full access. You gripped his hips tightly, yanking them higher and giving you a better angle. Miguel let out a squeak when your tongue slid into his hole, your lips pressed against his skin as you fucked your tongue in and out of him. Miguel was hypnotized by your actions, his eyes clouded with lust as soft whimpers spilled past his drooling mouth.

Miguel was on the verge of cumming by the time you slipped your tongue back out and the sight of you sliding your pants midway down your hefty thighs as you knelt between his legs wasn’t helping. Your thighs were fucking beautiful, solid muscles carved into thick flesh that was further accentuated by your prominent v-line. God, could he convince you to ride him one day? Get the blessing of watching those powerful thighs flex and contract as you moved in his lap? Had you ever even bottomed before? If there’s someone out there who got to experience such a luxury, he’d find them and kill them himself.

The horny idiot was on the verge of blurting these questions out, but was quickly distracted by the feeling of your heavy cock pressing against his puffy hole. “Tell Lyla to clear your schedule for tomorrow.”

Fuck, maybe those thoughts could wait another day.

heyyy 😀 it’s been like two weeks since I posted heehee 😁 so sorry, I was busy with work and other personal events. Forgive me 🙏

Feel free to let me know about any typos, this was all done on my phone

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #astv miguel #x male reader #dom male reader #sub miguel o'hara #sub!miguel o’hara

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