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dfortrafalgar · 3 days

Note

would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?

alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)

hope this isn’t too much!

and you’re doing awesome!

thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3

An Out.

Law x Fem Reader

Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.

Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that

Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.

There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.

For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person. He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.

Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.

Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine. ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.

Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be. If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.

And yet… he was still pushed into this.

A date around downtown with this girl. She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say. At all.

First red flag: she mentioned her ex. Three times. In four minutes. Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found. Second red flag: the clinginess. Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground. Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word. She wouldn’t stop talking about herself. Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…

He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on. He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later. It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.

“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.

“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.

“The bookstore? What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout. It wasn’t a good look on her.

‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say. Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.

The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.

“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.

Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace. Out the window. Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement. He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear. His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible. He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.

She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.

If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero. His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought. Or at least, it fucking better.

His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10. It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment. He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.

“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side. “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”

“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.

To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another. And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.

“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.

Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight. With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork. He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was. He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books. The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.

But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.

When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide. She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Law cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah, why?”

“That girl you’re with is making you miserable. You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed. Her eyes were clearly concerned. “Are you dating her?”

Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier. “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”

The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern. “Do you want an out?”

“A what?”

“An out,” she repeated. “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.” Time was running out. At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.

Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom. With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”

The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase. Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.

He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.

The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his. Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.

His first kiss.

“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.

The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return. “Baby, please just take me back! My life isn’t complete without you!” Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once. The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled. “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you! I’m in shambles! You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”

It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse. As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face. Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.

“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact. “I wasn’t. Until now.”

The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt. “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer! The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!” She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned. The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Ugh, whatever. This place sucks ass anyway. I’m going home.” She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.

And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact. He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real. “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.

The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.” Her eyes were focused on her work. “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand. Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”

His jaw went slack. “Are you serious?”

“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip. “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time. I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time. And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”

Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma. He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was. He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many. Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked. He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”

The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through. Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack. “It… It was?”

“Yeah.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now. “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”

Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him. “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan. Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh. She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.

“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself. He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.

She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again. “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”

He affirmatively shook his head. “Never. I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered. “Hence this awful set-up date.”

The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily. “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”

Law backpedaled. “What does that mean?”

She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him. She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment. “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters. And you like Sora, clearly.”

Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips. “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?” He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day. The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.

She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing. “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”

Now this was flirting. Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events. The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person. He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.

The girl excitedly revealed her name. “And your’s?”

“Trafalgar Law,” he replied. “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”

“No shit, so do I! I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement. “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime! Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft. “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”

Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer. “I think I can make an exception this time.”

The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him. She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.

Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter. When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half. She gave him a fond smile when he took it.

“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.

Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone. The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city. He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.

Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3 1125-354-9854

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #law oneshot #request fics

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 21 hours

Note

Hi! I would love to request some cuddling scenarios with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox!

SOFT MOMENT OF NON SEXUAL INTIMACY?! IN THIS HOUSE?! Yes, please!

It's implied romantic but could be queer platonic or a queer/nontraditional couple.

Lucifer

This man wants snuggles. Any way he can get them any time, he isn't required to not be physically attached to you. He really struggles with derealization/depersonalization. His depression gets bad, he isolates, and time has pretty much lost meaning to him after being around so long, so he just kinda, wastes away into sadness. It's how he and Charlie fell apart the first time, and he really doesn't want it to happen again.

Having you around to just talk to, hold hands with, sit on your lap, or you in his, it helps. It's like a reminder that he's still alive and someone wants to be around him. Someone wants to spend time with him. That you care. It also motivates him to stay in contact with Charlie instead of convincing himself she's better without him.

He still loves Lillith, regrets they aren't together, but he doesn't blame her for leaving. He's more upset with how it affects Charlie. So he makes extra effort to spend time with you, to acknowledge how important you are to him. He's so paranoid about ruining this relationship. This man has centuries of being told everything is his fault, everything wrong with the world, and is forced to face that supposed truth every day he rules Hell.

His favorite thing is just pulling you on top of him like a weighted blanket, wrapping his wings around the both of you, and laying in a dark, warm, cocoon. He'll take deep breaths, pet your hair, and just let himself finally relax. The first few times you'd stayed quiet, assuming that's what he wanted, but it just makes it easier for him to disassociate.

Now you talk to him, softly, about your day, ask about his. You slowly get him to open up about his favorite things, good memories he has of Lillith, baby Charlie, the sins, times before the Fall. It's a long process to get him to talk about it. Please be patient and gentle with him. He likes when you play with his fingers while he talks, just holding his hand and twisting and turning it, moving his rings around, just don't touch his wedding ring please, maybe you even manage to do his nails in this position.

His second favorite is when you help preen his feathers, gently massaging his wing joints, polishing each feather with the oil from his glands, using your thumbs to work out knots in the muscles around the base. It always turns into a full back massage that leaves him purring, making happy sighing sounds and little moans. He usually falls asleep like this. Don't worry though, once he wakes up, he's definitely returning the favor. He does head massages too! He prepares a little personal spa day for you.

He isn't really looking for anything more intimate when he's in one of sadder moods and is cuddling with you to feel better, he wouldn’t turn it down, he's too afraid you'd be upset, but he really just wants to be held or to hold someone. It's the little things that really make you special to him, and he cherishes every second you guys are together.

Alastor

We all know Alastor isn't a fan of being touched unless he initiates it. There are very few exceptions to this, so you have to be pretty close to him to even get the option to cuddle him.

You'll have to start slow, like holding his hand. A lot of people think he's the type to not want to do too much PDA, but like, look at how he is with Rosie and Mimzy in front of everyone. He doesn't care. Not for small things like hand holding. This eventually leads to him putting his arm around your waist as you're walking together, or around your shoulders if you're sitting next to each other so you can lean on his shoulder.

Now more intimate gestures, like cheek kisses, forehead kisses, petting his ears, those are private. He will resist at first, preferring to lavish you with attention, but be stubborn, match his energy, especially the witty banter, and eventually you'll wear him down.

It's canon that Alastor's hardly ever sleeps, so I imagine if you're a motherly type, (regardless of gender), or someone he genuinely trusts (because its not about if he's safe. He's the Radio Demon, very few sinners are a threat to him, so being a little vulnerable with you is safe no matter the level of trust) he's going to pass out.

You're in his room (or yours, but he prefers his) and he agreed to let you pet his ears. You settle on the bed, his head on your chest or lap, and he closes his eyes, soft jazz music playing from some unseen source, and maybe you're watching something on your phone, (he allows it only if it's something he can enjoy as well, but he usually winds up listening more than watching because screens hurt his eyes after awhile) more likely you're listening to a podcast, Alastor likes listening to true crime with you.

Your fingers gently run through his hair at first. You tease him about the bob sometimes, but understand that he's prone to pulling his hair out otherwise. Eventually you notice the music has stopped and Alastor's fast asleep, the small on his face is so small it nearly doesn't exist, and his breathing is slow and even. His ears twitch when you stop petting them, and he stirs a bit, so you quickly resume playing with them and he falls back asleep.

(His tail is sensitive too, if you ever wanna fluster him, just run a finger down his spine to that cute little tail and give it a gentle tug.)

Alastor is also prone to play biting, so if you're an excited nibbler who gives noms, expect your cuddles to end up with a few bite marks.

Vox

It's really hard for him to sit still long, so if he's working late and you want to spend time with him, just crawl yourself into his lap and get comfy. He'll grumble and complain about the distraction, but it's all for show. He'll put his arm around your waist and trace your hipbones with his thumb, or play with your hair, run his fingers up and down your back, just small fidgety things.

He understands his head is inconvenient for snuggles, and he may not be the most comfortable. (I headcanon his body is built like the Detroit Become Human bots, with like silicone padding to appear/feel like skin, but it's hard plastic and metal and wires underneath with biomechanical parts inside.)

He is warm, though, and has the constant hum of his internal fans and electricity, so he's great for sensory snuggles. He's great for when you're sore or have migraines (surprisingly, but he can turn his brightness down at will). He likes to do more traditional forms of PDA.

He walks with his hand on your lower back. (He and Alastor both absolutely do the subconscious walk with their partners on the inside and them closest to the streets or alleyways. Lucifer would, but he probably isn't even aware it's a thing.)

You're cooking/baking/doing anything with your back to him, he puts his hands on your waist and leans against you. He's 7ft tall so he probably won't lean his entire body on you, but enough to feel close to you.

His favorite snuggles are disgustingly domestic. Like, his all time favorite, is when you're both sitting together on a couch, enjoying a movie or show, or maybe you're reading or on your phone or gaming, and he's working, just anytime you're occupying the couch together and existing, he'll pull your feet into his lap and massage them.

It's not like, a fetish thing, he just thinks it's sweet. A nice gesture to show how much he appreciates what you do, how hard you work. He'll massage your ankles and calfs too. He's also prone to trying to play with your hair and massage your scalp when you're laying on his chest at night, but his claws get tangled easily. Settles for rubbing your shoulders/back.

He likes when you rub his back and neck too. The man spends way too much time hunched over his desk at work. His back aches from doing the gremlin hunch over his desk to standing ramrod straight in front of cameras, sitting properly and confidently, stiff as a fucking board. You once teased him about how he could just use one of his cardboard cutouts as a stand-in, and no one would know.

Other times, he likes to lay on you. The first few times he sprawled across your lap seeking affection and reassurance for his fragile ego, you'd been so nervous to crack his screen. But now you're more used to it and will even playfully try and poke it/tap it. Between you and Valentino, Vox has had to rule out ever getting a touch screen for a head, because neither of you will stop fucking with it. It does make him laugh, though, adorable little giggles he'd rather die than let the general public hear. It usually turns into a playful wrestling match and aggressive cuddles with a side of petty static electricity from Vox.

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader

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lives-in-midgard · 2 days

Text

A Little Different

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: When Bucky shows your daugther his new look you get an interesting and cute reaction from her.

Word Count: 940

Request: Can I please request a (Everyone lives au!) husband!Bucky x fem!wife!civilian reader where they have a a daughter who’s a little under a year old? [See full request here]

A/N: Thank you for sending me this request! I loved this idea so much and have a few more ideas for this family and maybe we will read more about them!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

It’s been a few years since you and Bucky met each other. Everything started like a normal day for both of you until you were on your way home from your favorite bookstore and a man followed you and then started attacking you. Luckily, Bucky was right around the corner and came to save you. You weren’t hurt too badly, but Bucky was so worried and made it his mission to make sure that you were okay. He took care of you and looked after you for the next few days. You enjoyed having Bucky around and he really enjoyed your company too. A few weeks passed when he finally got the courage to ask you out.

You went on many dates and had so much fun together. You loved each other so much that one day Bucky decided to ask you to marry him. The way he asked you was so beautiful and perfect. The place and the words Bucky chose were so special.

The wedding was so beautiful. Your friends and family came, even the Avengers came and were now good friends of yours.

A few months passed when you told Bucky that you were pregnant. He was so happy and you were both so happy to start a family together.

So, that’s where you and Bucky were now. Living in a house with your own family. Bucky, you and your daughter Luna.

You just came back from bringing your daughter to the kindergarten when Bucky came home from his mission. And wow he looked so different…suddenly he had short hair and no beard. You stood there in silence for a second, admiring him, and Bucky started to chuckle.

“Is my gorgeous wife shocked by my new look?” You blushed and walked closer to Bucky.

“A bit, yes, but it looks so good on you Buck.” You said, placing your hand on his cheek.

“Thank you, doll.” He said and then kissed you passionately. When you pulled away, you hugged each other tightly.

“I’m so happy to be home with you and I can’t wait to see Luna.” Bucky said with a smile while holding your hand.

“Oh, Luna is going to be so happy…every day she asked when you’re coming home and walked around with a picture of us.” You giggled and Bucky’s smile widened.

“But now you have to tell me when you decided to get this new look?” Bucky chuckled and then told you why he got the new look and that it had to do something with his mission, but he really liked it and so did you. The big question is what will your daughter say about Bucky’s new look?

After a lot of talking, cuddling and kissing with Bucky, it was time to pick up Luna. You and Bucky decided that you would pick her up and he waits at home to surprise her.

As you and Luna went out of the car and walked to the house, Bucky was waiting outside the house.

“Oh, look who is here, sweetheart.” You said, looking at Luna who just looked at Bucky without saying anything. You and Bucky started to chuckle because it looked like she didn’t recognize him. Bucky walked closer to Luna and knelt down when Luna suddenly shook her head and walked behind you, looking at Bucky sadly.

“Princess, it’s me, daddy.” Bucky said in a soft voice.

“NO” she said, looking up at you and started to sniffle.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s daddy.” You said again and she looked at Bucky confused.

“I have an idea.” Bucky said, taking off his jacket, so his daughter could see his metal arm better.

“Look, princess.” He reached for his daughter, who now began to smile.

“Daddy” Luna ran into Bucky’s arms, and he started laughing as his daughter held him tight.

“Missed you.” She mumbled, looking up at him and making grabby hands. Bucky smiled, picked her up and held her in his arms. Luna started giggling, and then touched where Bucky’s beard was before he shaved it and giggled. You and Bucky chuckled at your daughter’s cuteness.

“Daddy, different.” She mumbled.

“Yes sweetie, you’re right, daddy looks different, but he’s still the same.”

“The same.” Luna mumbled and hugged Bucky. You and Bucky smiled at each other and then he softly kissed Luna’s forehead. Then your and Bucky’s daughter looked up and laughed.

“Love you daddy, love you mommy.” She looked at Bucky and then to you before laying her head back on Bucky’s shoulder.

“We love you too, snugglebug.” You said, placed a kiss on her cheek and then on the cheek of your husband.

“I love you” You told Bucky.

“And I love you, doll.” Bucky said with a smile.

“How about we go inside and cuddle.” Bucky asked when he noticed how sleepy his little princess got.

“That’s a good idea, right honey?” You looked at her and softly stroke her hair with your hand.

“Cuddle” She said in a sleepy voice. You followed Bucky inside the house and into your bedroom. Bucky gently placed Luna in the middle of the bed and laid next to her and you on the other side, so she was in the middle. After you placed the blanket over you and Luna, she hugged Bucky tighter. You smiled and then gently hugged her from behind.

After a while Luna fell asleep and so did you. You and Bucky love your family so much. Bucky is so happy and still can’t believe that he is finally living a happy life, especially after everything he has been through. Finally, he has everything he ever dreamt of.

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tarjapearce · 2 days

Text

Mi Dulce Cereza

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Synopsis: Revenge's path is never an easy feat. Not when love for the enemy and other feelings get in the way. Would it rise and come out as a victor? Or would it succumb to the sweetest of beings?

WARNING: Novela level drama, Toxic relationships, character introduction, mild and brief sexual tension, No use of YN, Family feud, scheming, disingenuous behaviors. No proofread

Summary: Miguel's revenge is set into motion.

A/N: Centuries later, here it is <3, hope you enjoy this new version! So nervous about this jskjs. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 for the help <3

"Ma!"

The ten-year-old boy called, desperate as he searched and scourged the house he lived in, to eventually find her mother in his younger brother's room.

Ravenous and long curls adorned her back. Brown beautiful eyes stared with adoration at the little six-year-old boy, carefully tucked in her arms as she combed her child's wavy strands away from his innocent face.

"Ma!" the boy called a bit more urgent as he tugged on her skirt, earning him a hushed grunt from her.

"Gabriel está durmiendo, Miguel!" (Gabriel is sleeping)

"No, Ma! Debes venir a la entrada! Hay gente buscando a George!" (You gotta come to the door! There's people looking for George!)

Conchata quickly put Gabriel into his crib and darted to the entrance. Panic and bile rose in her insides.

The banging on the feeble and rusty metal doors alarmed Conchata the more she approached the main hacienda's door.

Much to her and Miguel's surprise a group of men, awaited outside. Dressed in the blue and white colors proper of a Santa Margarita's Town police officer.

Miguel's eyes wandered over the guns that nested on the men's hips as they rode their horses haughtily. But paid special attention to the man leading them.

Hardened and weathered face, partially obscured by his camel brown Stetson hat, dressed up sharply, letting his belt and the overall imposing aura to do the talk for him, same as his horse and everything that donned his body. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Conchata.

"Miss Stone. I believe it's the third time I ask for you to leave" He acknowledged sternly.

A surname that made Miguel's churn in utter discomfort, but his mother always told him to give that name to strangers, since the O'Hara was only for the family. But even that one didn't sit right in his heart either. Not when the provider of such surname had been long gone from their lives, with no intention of returning.

And the men before his home were everything but familiar, strangers at best. Invaders. Trespassers with a penchant for intimidation as they were all armed to the teeth.

"The hell you want?!" Conchata crossed her arms and returned the steely glare the handsome and powerful man gave her.

His mother's bravado was certainly something Miguel could look up, despite the woman not being her best title of mother with him. But her bravery made him courageous.

"For you to leave my property."

"What are you talking about?! This is not your property, Anderton!"

A man like Pastor William was hard to ignore, not when power and influences oozed from him by merely existing.

"It is. You're living in Edenton's. Half the area is mine now."

"I have my property papers! This is outright ridiculous!" Conchata huffed as she sent Miguel to to get them.

"My lawyer is here. So we can have this settled once for all."

"There is nothing to settle!, I told your people I wouldn't sell my home and now you're acting far from someone that believes in God to get it!, maldita rata!" (fucking rat)

William narrowed his eyes at the last words that spilled with venom from Conchata's plump lips. He wasn't a man to give easily into anger, but his patience wasn't something to be tested either.

He had bought a good chunk of Edenton's territory and much to Conchata's dismay her home was right in the middle of said property.

The boy wasted no time into retrieving her mother's proofs of ownership as she opened the door to see the man that ground her nerves in seconds. Face to face.

And when the policeman and lawyer took a brief look at them, they could only snort in derision upon reading them.

"Not only are they outdated, but the important signatures are missing. This is fake."

Conchata paled, and she clutched her chest. Her heart pounded so hard she had to grab Miguel's lanky arm to support herself. Everything was slowly falling apart.

"Ma?"

Her boy looked up at her, concern plastered over his young yet understanding face

"T-That cannot be! George left it all arranged before leaving!"

"He didn't. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

William gave the papers to his lawyer as he climbed off the horse and Conchata immediately tried to get them back, but tore them im the process

"No! No! That's not true! My papers " She shrieked and the police officer intervened as soon as she tried to go for Anderton's lawyer.

"Stop! " Miguel was held back after kicking the officer's shin.

Conchata freed herself from the guard's grip, only to deliver a hard slap on William's face.

"La vas a pagar caro cabrón! A mi nadie me sacará de mi casa!" (You'll pay for this. None kicks me out of my home!)

The officers held Conchata back and Miguel, since the boy attempted to defend the remnants of his mother's dignity. But there was little they could do.

Conchata's land was prosperous, and so far it provided a good income to live rather peacefully and away from the rest. Until now.

William was rather strict and apprehensive about his properties. He owed half the town, and for Conchata to live there, right in the spot he wanted to build his home for his new family, rendered nothing but a black and ugly spot to his future dream.

Buthe would erase it. And if he needed to get over the law, to get it, he would. Influences had their perks. And these worked to his favor without a hitch.

"I'll give you three days for you to pack it up 'n leave."

"Three days?! Where am I going to find a place to live? My children... I can't leave-"

"I'm sure the local shelters will take you in gladly. Be grateful I got you time."

William seethed with his usual calm, sending shivers down Miguel's spine, as the boy held onto his mother's skirt.

The men turned around in their horses and soon began galloping away, but William got up on the beast back, remaining high and proud. Looking down at him.

For a man to make Conchata to clutch and hold on to him so protectively, meant she had no power at all. That she had been defeated. Something his childish brain thought impossible.

It reminded him the ways she sometimes protected him and Gabriel from George in his usual drunk fits.

That day, Pastor William Anderton remained forever engraved in Miguel's core memories and in his heart's growing rage.

Resentment wasn't often a feeling a boy so young like him should experience. But there he was, memorizing every dip, pore and soft wrinkle from the man's features so his heart and mind wouldn't forget him.

So he wouldn't forget who had been the monster that forced his family to leave and abandon everything he had known so far.

Miguel O'Hara had no longer a home.

But if there was something William had forgotten, was to never scorn a woman. Much less one with a fiery temper and a heart full of fresh wounds.

He had doused her wounded heart in salt, rubbed with it and then tossed it to the fire. To let it break and burn to ashes.

William hadn't shown mercy, despite the word coming from his mouth every Sunday in his church as part of his speech to the masses.

But Conchata's mind was already turning and plotting.

----

Miguel's upbringing was everything but easy, but that didn't stop him from achieving whatever goals he proposed.

Shelters and rental homes were left behind, and soon he earned a scholarship into a college, earning him a degree and masters in agronomy and large-scale management.

Gabriel in the meantime helped Conchata around the house. Having little side hustles for himself.

But as he grew up, so did his hatred for the Andertons. It didn't help that Conchata threw more dry hatred bones to the vengeful fire with her bitter tells. She always boasted on whatever little thing the Andertons did with spite and hatred in her heart.

William's face remained intact in Miguel's brain. Ever hardened and cruel, impassive to anyone else's suffering. Indifferent to his mother's pleas.

The day they left everything they knew, scarred him to this very day. Miguel sworn to one day, he'd owe his own estate, full of everything he always wanted.

He wouldn't have to sojourn through shelters and temporary homes ever again, having a hard time sleeping because of his mother's safety. He wouldn't have to look down in fear and shame when people that breathed and exhaled money, talked to him.

He wouldn't have to see his mother, shitty as she was sometimes, breaking down for not having for the most basic of needs. And he definitely wouldn't let himself to be trampled all over again by anyone. Not rich, nor poor.

Now, with a master's degree in his pocket, a new project rose in his mind. Train and rehab horses professionally. An emerging and blooming business within Santa Margarita.

Everything out of hearing that William entered a new venture. Purebred horses.

Of course a man like him had to be in the mouth of every people in town.

William ran the biggest church in the city, had multiple successful and clean business thanks to his estate, Cherryville. And now, the horses.

A novelty in town. He'd often see through the newspaper images of William and his wife, Rosaura, telling how wonderful and valuable they were for the community, and how much their philanthropic tendencies helped those in need. The man was rotting money after all.

Oh, the irony. Miguel sometimes wondered if William did it out of genuine vocation, cause he had to give the man some credit for keeping a saint facade in front of the rest for so long. He was doing it go hard or go home.

If people only knew the scum he is.

If everyone truly knew who Pastor William J. Anderton was, none would spare him a glance. None would look at his way twice to spare him some kind words. Everyone would shun him and mark him a fraud. His world would collapse. Something Miguel needed to achieve.

The purebred training horse's business opened his contact list, and with his smarts and the follow of his intuition, it took him a couple of years to get him in the map of those that were in dire need of help and could afford it.

Cause if he could exploit the rich, he wouldn't waste the chance of earning good money. Not when his personal estate was under construction and renovations, away in it's own heaven, outside Santa Margarita.

He stopped introducing himself as Miguel Stone long ago. He didn't want anything to do with that surname that stirred nothing but hatred and suffocating anger, towards the man that harmed his little and already broken family even more. And the O'Hara had earned him a bit of reputation.

A credible and respectful renown to meet people that gave him the chance to not only learn from the best horse trainers, but gave him the chance to apply everything he knew. Adding even more value to his resume.

Gabriel also graduated college, following Miguel's steps. Although the latter was more inclined to production than management. He was a more practical man than the over thinker of his brother.

Together they made a phenomenal duo, but when separated, months could pass before they saw eachother again.

But with Miguel's plan running, Gabriel promised him to remain close and available as possible to see it through.

In fact, William sought him out himself to ask him if he could train his horses and took full on responsibility of his farm.

-----

He was ready to set his plan into motion. None other than his number one enemy had hired him.

Miguel's body buzzed with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Being the best to get hired was scratched off his list.

Soon all the hatred festering in his heart to the man that destroyed his childhood and family, would come to fruition. But there was a remaining distraction.

Dana.

"Remind me again, why are you going to a farm to be exploited and mistreated by rich people?"

The soft voice behind him echoed in his room. Miguel sat naked on the bed, as the short-haired brunette with blue eyes hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek and neck.

"Gotta make it as believable as possible if I want to expose the Andertons."

Dana just hummed, seeing him so determined and focused into getting this family feud, settled once and for all, amused her to no end.

Dana rolled her eyes while resting her chin on his sharp and well worked shoulder, "But no need to be so serious."

It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes and stand up, reaching his underwear in tandem.

"Don't be cold, Miggy. I just wanna see you again, once you're victorious, so we can keep celebrating"

Miguel chuckled with derision as he took a towel and wrapped it up loosely against his waist.

"I'm good, thanks. And there's no we in this."

"Are you sure? I mean, I spread word around on you and look at you now. The best trainer. I'd say I'm also part of this too"

Her voice irked sometimes whenever it got like this. Sickly sweet and full of lies. Even more when she purred nothing but half truths.

In truth, he had met Dana for the past six months, all thanks to Gabriel that suggested her as a contact link to those he wanted to get at. Filthy and obscenely rich people that needed someone to help them out with their properties as soon as possible, to salvage them out of sentimentalism.

Even though the initial chemistry was undeniable, it had worn out thanks to her insufferable and possessive attitude. And no matter how many times he'd tell her a plain and outright No, she kept insisting. She was the one that always returned and always ended up in his bed.

"Yeah, no. Look, I don't want you snooping around. And I mean it."

The only that believed that they were something. Sure, Dana served his purpose to keep those physical urges away, but other than that, there was nothing substantial about her he could say he was attracted to, besides her contacts.

Dana's hands tried to reach him, but Miguel stepped away from her touch, recoiling with haste and heading for the shower.

"If you ruin this for me, I swear, We'll have problems."

More than they already did? Impossible.

Dana just laughed, "Don't be mean, you gotta reward me one way or another for your clientele."

"Dios mio... Con qué loca me vine a enredar" (My God, what a crazy woman I came to get involved with)

He mumbled while stepping into the shower.

"I'll see you soon, baby." Her giggles had his eyes rolling with annoyance and his shoulders squaring.

He'd leave in a couple of hours, to start what his whole self had been preparing for years. Soon the Andertons would know him.

----

Returning to the place he grew up had his stomach in a tight and anxious knot, tighter than a hair's tangle.

The once colorless and rusty metal doors he loved to slam with his soccer ball while playing with Gabriel, were now turned into sturdy, iron structures that moved automatically. Sliding to the side to let him in as soon as he reported himself through the camera's speaker.

A Stony L-shaped wall held a metallic letters into another metallic structure. Cherryville Ranch.

He had arrived and his heart beat at the uncomfortable sensation of seeing his home destroyed and turned into a colonial-like resort.

Where there was a modest yet firm built, one floored home, was now a two floored manor that extended left to right. A vibrant sunset orange dressed the walls of the structure, adding enough color to the place sumptuous grandeur.

The staff ran up and down, bustling and moving like busy ants through the anthill, obeying the queen. Or rather monarchs.

His black Chevrolet Silverado parked outside, following the instructions of a man that gave him the ok with a good smile.

He had arrived ten minutes earlier, just in case. Miguel stepped out and put on his hat.

A black and brown flannel dressed up his torso snugly, a pair of jeans that did a wonderful job into containing his well worked legs, the belt just hugged his narrow waist, accentuating his sculpted physique.

The man offered his help with his suitcase, but Miguel refused with a polite smile.

"Keep going straight and you'll get to Mr. Anderton's office. It's the only brown door in this floor."

Strong hands clenched at the name of his enemy.

"Thanks."

Miguel had to take a moment to breathe in and take his surroundings.

Everything he remembered from his childhood, gone. His heart felt mike coming home to a stranger's home. Foraying in someone else's territory.

A someone that obliterated every single bit of his childhood, every piece of memory he created with Gabriel, forever gone and buried.

Replaced with over the top decors, a fake sense of coziness, hidden lies embedded in the sunset like sturdy walls, and people he once strived to be like. All now trespassers and inconnus.

Conchata always fed his brain into believing greater things, alway encouraged him to keep the hatred alive.

Would she be proud to see how far on his plan had he gotten? Probably. Even if she was busy with her new boyfriend that provided everything.

Some women shushed and spilled their gasp as he passed, leaving his presence alone to do the talk for him regarding the effect he had on women.

But this land, his once forgotten and forlorn home, would be his again.

With steadfast steps, he ventured in the enemy's territory, passing rooms and people that unavoidably watched him with brief curiosity.

But all those hubristic thoughts sapped away as soon as his eyes came in contact with the door.

A thrilled and anxious chill ran down his spine upon hearing the terse voice of his sworn foe, giving orders to someone in particular. Miguel's throat felt arid.

His heart thumped a miles per second, his breath paced into a more agitated pace and his eyes kept blinking, readying themselves to face his nemesis.

"Come in."

He obeyed and his nose flared, releasing a shaky exhale when seeing William. Same weather and cold face, the only difference was him looking a bit more rugged and his white hairs even more prominent.

It was as if time had barely passed over him.

It took every single cell and fibre of his body to control the urge to punch him in the face. But the satisfaction of having the reversed roles for a moment brought satisfaction like no other.

This time William had to crane up his head to see him, and a chill ran down his spine when meeting Miguel's red-ish brown eyes. Piercing and judging with all the intention of doing so, as if the very man before him knew his deepest secrets.

The door shut with a quiet click and Miguel stepped closer.

"Mr. O'Hara." William stood to meet him with a brief and firm handshake.

"Sir."

William nodded with a brief smile and gestured for him to sit before him.

"Must say what people say about you, do you justice."

"Good things I hope."

"Now. The property you'll be in charge is in a bit of a mishap, I've barely had the time to fix it-"

"S'alright. It's part of the barn you said?"

"Indeed. Your functions are detailed in the contract, payment is every fortnight, unless you'd like to choose another type of payment time."

"Fortnight is alright."

William pushed the contract to Miguel, and this wasted no time in reading it and taking a picture of each page.

"Any doubts you, can call me and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Miguel signed and pushed the paper back to him. William put it on a folder and then put it on a file. He turned off his computer, and lead the way towards the stables.

"I've tried everything, and nothing works. People have told me to sacrifice the horse, but I can't do that."

Miguel wandered after William through the never ending halls of the estate, there was nothing left of his home. Not even the built in stone oven, where he'd watch Conchata prepare dinner and he'd help out with the tortillas.

Now full of modern equipment and full of people cooking different things he couldn't name.

Miguel had to admit that the stables were his favorite part from the whole dollhouse. William knew no concept of budget. But that was alright, cause every horse in it was worth every single penny and had turned it into a lovely stable aisle.

Each horse had its own fortified enclosure, well kept and clean. There were no bad odors, dirt, mud. None of that. Matter of fact, his eyes blinked when seeing some horses having a swim in a giant custom made pool.

Everything in Cherryville oozed with power and money.

Having revenge and interacting with horses he only dreamed of while getting paid, felt the ultimate fantasy came true.

The angry neigh of a horse snapped him out of his thoughts. The black Friesian stallion kicked and nipped another brown horse nearby. The caretakers immediately separated them both.

William sighed deeply and defeated. And Miguel approached to inspect the brown mustang horse.

"That's Joaquín. The black one is Agustín."

Miguel quirked his brow at the name choices but was glad to have something he was familiar with.

Miguel chuckled and nodded

"Do you know spanish, Mr. Anderton?"

"The amount enough to understand when my wife is angry."

"I see."

As much as he wanted to let out an array of insults here and there to test his words, he'd keep his sharp tongue for himself.

"You can start tomorrow, I'll let you get installed. The barn is in good conditions to suit your needs. If anything is missing, ask any of the helpers around."

With a final and firm handshake, William left.

Miguel gave himself a tour. He wanted to familiarize with the property as much as he could. He didn't like to rely on others for the simplest of task.

Even his way to the barn had been paved and well lighted. No longer being the muddy a d dark road he loved to splash his feet in, even if that meant to have his ear pulled by Conchata later.

The barn, like the rest, took his breath away. It looked like a house for himself.

He wasted no time into admiring the work, and effort put into it. The tack room was sure a thing, but his bedroom and office were even better conditioned. It was a place worth of his skills and knowledge.

Miguel begun unpacking and installing himself. From his window he could see yet another extension of property, Bodegas and the staff living quarters he supposed.

One thing he had forgotten about the place were the torrential rains that always seeped in. Sometimes the blackouts were so common he'd rather be candle lit.

And another entrance to the whole facility adjacent a couple of blocks from his barn.

---

He had finished his shower after spending his evening trying to get acquainted with Agustín and the rest of his crew. Overall and so far it seemed the perfect place to work, but also a challenge.

Thunders roared outside and rain kept flogging every surface it could, permeating to the core. He was ready to make his bed and call Gabriel when the lights were out.

A loud whir echoed through, before the lights returned, the generator wasted to time into working.

What alerted him was the main entrance opening and closing shut.

Had a worker slipped in?

Another blackout happened as he approached to the door only to find a soaked and gorgeous woman shivering on the entrance.

"Ma'am?"

----

Your friends had promised to be a casual party among the singletons in town, nothing more, nothing less. But time and drinks kept going, like the fun.

Until you had enough. As an Anderton you had a reputation to keep, but you were glad your friends made you feel a normal woman, free of keen and expecting eyes and societal etiquettes.

Free of the overbearing role model you had to be for being the Pastor's daughter.

But right now all you cared for was to get inside the barn to give your body a rest from the cold.

The once lovely dress you wore was now hugging you with a vice like grip, suffocating your curves like a second skin. The red and short cardigan around your shoulders did little to nothing to protect you from the unforgiving rain. Hair stuck to your shivering face, teeth clattered as you looked through the window. The rain had no intention to stop.

Your hands removed the cardigan, then tossed the clothing piece to the floor, as you rubbed some heat back.

"Ma'am?"

The rich and deep voice got you jumping in your spot.

"Oh, my god... I'm-" You swallowed when seeing the handsome man before you, dressed up in nothing but his grey sweatpants and some slippers. A towel hung loosely on one of his shoulders.

His brow quirked as his face remained serene.

"I-I'm sorry didn't know the barn was occupied."

You kept rubbing your arms, hoping for the rain to drop. A loud thunder made you recoil from the door, while the drip drops scurrying off your body rolled down to the floor, joining into a puddle beneath your red heeled sandals.

If it wasn't for your hair sticking on your cheeks, the man would definitely see the profuse blush emerging on them. Shirtless men weren't in your everyday occurrence, much less handsome and tall men with beautiful eyes that seized your soul.

A smirk came on Miguel's face, as he retrieved another towel from the bathroom and he approached.

"I got installed today, it's ok."

He gave you the towel, and you took with a grateful smile. Immediately pat drying your face, neck and arms.

He watched you with sharp eyes, following your hand's movement as he slicked back his hair.

You were gorgeous. And drenched to the bones. That little dress did little to keep his eyes wandering to your thighs, marveling at the soft and plumpness of them. He had to look away as soon as his eyes stopped on your chest. The outline of your nipples poking out the dress, gave him enough distraction for a moment.

You didn't look past twenties.

"Uhm..." Your sweet and stammering voice made him curious.

Such a polite girl.

"Yes?"

"Can I use the barn's phone, please?"

He shook his head softly and opened his office. Letting the door open for you to enter.

"Of course."

"Sorry for the floor."

Your arms crossed on your chest, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage. Then fetched the phone, the number however made him frown as it was William's personal contact number.

"Hello? Papa? Can you send someone to the barn with an umbrella, please?"

Papa

Miguel blinked as he stared your way from the door frame. This was even better than he anticipated.

He was so deep in his scheming that forgot William's family. So far he knew, the Anderton man had only one child. And he was now looking at said person.

He could see some bits of William in you, specially in your nose and cheekbones. The rest was your mother's doing.

And what a good job they've made.

"I know, I'm sorry. Got too caught up in the party."

Miguel luck couldn't truly get any better. He could even taste his revenge through his mouth. It was sweet as your perfume.

"Thanks. Love you!"

You hung up the call and smiled his way.

"Thank you. Mr...?"

"O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara."

You gave him your name with a sweet smile as he shook your hand amiably.

"Right. So you're the new trainer?"

His lax frame slanted against the doorframe, blocking your way from the entrance with his form. His eyes fixed you with an enigmatic smirk.

Your nervousness was making your mind a jumbled mess by simply being around him. Half-naked men and men were off the list. Mainly because your parents' strict beliefs. And the man that would get you, would be your future husband. Without discussion.

"I am. Yes. Quite impressive the settlement you've got."

"Ah, well. Dad takes seriously his businesses, and he needs all the help he can get. So thank you for coming."

"My pleasure to help, señorita."

His lip curled, almost imperceptible upon your flustered reaction. Your skin remained with goosebumps.

"Come. Let's get you warmed up."

You followed him to the fireplace and soon he got another towel since the one you had was soaked through.

You sat in front of the fireplace and he draped your shoulders with the dry and cozy towel to then sit across you.

"Thanks" You gulped and extended your hands towards the fire, gaining a much needed wave of heat.

He couldn't wait for you to leave and call Gabriel to tell him everything he had seen so far. Everything was beyond perfect, like if the universe itself had delivered his revenge on a silver platter.

A couple of minutes passed before a familiar voice to you echoed from outside the barn.

"Mi niña! Let's go!"

The ever familiar voice of your nana called, and you stood.

"Thanks for the help, Miguel."

"Anytime, señorita."

He nodded with a softened smile, that didn't reach his eyes and watched you leave.

"See you soon!" You waved and headed back to the main doors. Your heels clicking on the floor.

"Vicky!" you squeezed under the umbrella after your nana secured the towel.

You wanted to give Miguel a last thanking but the latter had already closed the door. You left to the manor.

Miguel rushed to fetch his phone and immediately called Gabriel. He picked up after the third ringing.

Miguel talked and rambled about everything he had seen, and Gabriel could only listen. Expectant.

"Lemme get some months in and then you can come. That way we gather more evidence."

"What about that woman? Anderton's daughter."

He sighed with a dreamy heave.

"She looks the type that's perfect for luring."

"Use her to your advantage. Hit em right where it hurts."

"I'll do it. Don't worry. She's too kind and sweet. Won't see it coming."

With this new piece of information, Miguel could do so many things. But his goal was clear.

He'd hit William right where he dared hit Conchata a long time ago.

He'd go after you. And if that meant to act like he adored you, then so be it.

His revenge was finally in motion.

----

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227 notes · View notes

dazednmatthews · 2 days

Note

could you write stressed college gf headcanons for chris too 👉👈 matt's are so damn cute

chris x stressed college!gf headcanons:

-something about chris you’ve noticed since you’ve been together is that he has a habit of feeding off peoples energies, but possibly in the worst way

-so when finals come around and you’re an anxious, stressed mess, so is he

-and because of that, he’s constantly looking up the material you have to study and telling you random facts about it in hopes that it helps in anyway

-“hey babe,” he says while you sit as his computer desk, highlighting things in your notes. “yeah?” you say, not tearing your gaze away from your notebook. “did you know that 95% of the ocean is still unexplored?” you do glance at him that time, eyebrows furrowed. “yes i did. why do you mention it?” “well i’ve just been reading about marine science for a couple hours and that’s just fucking insane to me”

-it never really adds anything to your review, but it makes you smile regardless at how hard he’s trying

-his support is absolutely unwavering, so as soon as you start to doubt yourself or talk down to yourself, he’s there to put a full stop to that shit

-“i’m never gonna fucking pass,” you flop back in his bed, blowing a frustrated breath out. “i can’t remember any of this shit and it won’t matter how long i spent studying because i’m gonna get in the exam room and absolutely choke-”

-“stop talking about yourself like that.” he’d cut you off. “you’ve been working nonstop to pass this test and you’re like the smart person i’ve ever met. i don’t wanna hear any of that. the more you say it, the more you’ll believe it and it’s just not fucking true. understood?”

-it makes your heart do backflips

-i think he’d be the type to pack you a big of snacks or a meal for days he knows you’re gonna be in the library all day studying

-you’d come up to the living room with your bag slung over your shoulder and your hair still wet from the shower and place a kiss on his cheek as you leave. “i’m going to study, baby. i’ll probably be back late.”

-“thats fine, ma. don’t stress yourself out too much.” he’d pause the show he was watching and turn in his seat on the couch slightly. “i made you some food to take with you. make sure you eat it, i worked hard on that.”

-“chris, this is so sweet. you’d didn’t have to do this.”

-he’d give you a strange look. “why wouldn’t i? i need my girl to be taken care of. plus i knew you would ignore me if i told you to eat. shit is so annoying.” he’d roll his eyes while you shrug.

-“oh fuck off. sometimes i just forget.”

-he would also help you study, using all the guides you’ve done. he’s soooo the type of bf to give a kiss for every right answer too. it keeps you motivated and keeps him happy. kissing you is his favorite thing to do after all.

-when you would get so stressed and anxious about failing you would cry, his heart would actually break

-you would be on like hour six straight with no breaks and he would close your books, starting to put everything away

-“chris, what the fuck are you doing! i have so much more to do.”

-“no. you’re driving yourself crazy and it’s not good for you. you’re done for tonight. i’m gonna run you a bath and then we’ll watch a movie.”

-you’d pretend to be mad but actually be so grateful he could see you were close to breaking down. to be loved is to be known

-chris goes with you in the morning and waits for you in the car while you take your test

-he’s waiting for you outside on the hood of your car when you come out, wringing his hands nervously to hear how you did

-when he sees the sad look on your face he instantly goes to grab you and make you feel better

-but when you told him that you passed w flying colors he is so proud of you he nearly cried.

-“yes! that’s my girl! i knew you could do it, baby. my girlfriend, the scholar.” and he’s peppering kisses all over your face while hugging you tightly

-you soak in the moment with a warm heart because you have the best boyfriend in the world and it baffles you just how much he believes in you. you are so in love with him

-and he loves you exactly the same

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feyhunter78 · 2 days

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Think I'm Gonna Call it Off

Description: You have been Prince Aemond's secret for years now, but a certain visiting Stark opens your eyes to what could be.

Inspired by the line “think I’m gonna call it off, even if you call it love, I just wanna love someone who calls me baby.” From Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan

This was ridiculous, you are a Lady of a fine house, virtuous, beautiful, intelligent, kind and your embroidery skills have been praised by Queen Alicent herself and yet here you sit waiting for Prince Aemond to return. To return and not spare you a single glance. Not until you are tucked away from the prying eyes of the court, until he is confident no one can hear your conversations.

You wonder if it is foolishness that keeps you sitting there, leaning against one of the many windows in the library, searching the skies for Vhagar’s great form set against the clouds.

You have rejected a number of suitors, worried your father and mother, made yourself seem all but undesirable in the eyes of the court, all because the prince swore that he would tell his mother. That he would announce to the whole of the realm that he loved you, and that you would be wed as soon as possible. He does not want a Valyrian wedding he said, he has no taste for it, he wants to honor you, honor his mother, and the Seven whom he worshiped.

“Lady y/n?” Lord Cregan Stark’s voice rolls through you like thunder, the deep baritone, the rouge northern brocade that made him pronounce your name just slightly different from everyone else, just enough that shamefully it makes you feel special.

You turn your head away from the towering window and give him a small smile. “Lord Stark, I did not expect to see you here.”

He returns your smile and leans against the wall; arms crossed over his chest.

Seven help you, he did have such strong looking arms, the sight of them never ceases to distract you. Even his thick tunic, and his dark-colored cloak could not hide them. Truly, everything about Lord Stark seemed strong. Queen Alicent said it is common of a Northmen, that they must be strong to survive the winters, while Lady Frey said it was the wolf’s blood in his veins. That all Starks had unnatural strength, speed, and stamina granted to them by the Old Gods. Neither woman’s explanation accounted for the man’s looks though.

Lord Stark is quite handsome, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones with a close-cut beard, more stubble than a full beard though, and gray eyes like a winter storm. His dark hair is around Prince Aegon’s length, though often tied back and much better cared for. His lips are full and healed, having been cracked and dry from the drastic change in temperature on his trip down south. A small scar runs through the corner of them, on the right side, giving him a more roguish appearance. He said he had gotten it as a child, playing around with his father’s sword. And he was tall, so, so tall, towering over you in a way no man has before.

Then he laughs, the sound warming you to the bones, making a blush rise to your cheeks. “Do not tell me you think me a barbarian, as the others do. I thought you knew me better than that, little fox.”

The name he has graced you with never fails to make your heart stutter and disrupt any coherent thought you might have had. It is a reference to your house sigil, you know that. But the way he says it, how his accent wraps around each syllable, makes it seem far more…intimate than simply a friendly moniker given to you by a man who does not know your customs.

Aemond calls you his, or some sweet term of endearment in High Valyrian in private, sticking to Lady y/h/n in public. You wish he would use your name, you have told him time and time again, even the Queen and Princess Helaena use it. You have been at the Red Keep for nearly a decade now, been in the Princess’ inner circle of friends for almost as long, it would not seem strange to others.

“Lord Stark—”

“Cregan, or Lord Cregan if you must add the lord, as I have told you before.” He corrects you, but not unkindly, his lips curling up into a fondly exasperated smile.

“Lord Cregan, I did not mean to imply I believe that libraries were not your preferred place to spend your time, only that I thought you would be joining the other men on their hunt.”

He glances out the window towards the Kingswood. “And I would think you would be taking tea or sewing with the other ladies.”

You have been caught.

“Ah yes, well, as you know, Prince Aemond is to return today and Princess Helaena asked me to keep watch. She loves her brother very much but has to entertain the other ladies so could not watch for him herself.”

You pray Helaena will forgive you for involving her in a lie.

Cregan hums low in his throat and his eyes flicker to you, picking you apart. “Did she now?”

You nod, not trusting your own voice.

“The prince is lucky to have such a vision of beauty to return home to.” He says, running his eyes down your form, drinking in every detail with something akin to reverence? Though you know you must be seeing things. Cregan Stark would not look at you in such a way, there is no reason to.

“Princess Helaena is quite beautiful.” You agree, trying to keep an air of propriety around you even as your mind screams at you to flee for fear you will say something utterly stupid.

Cregan reaches out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment caressing your cheek. “Aye, but she is not who I speak of.”

You? He means you?

You duck your head, cheeks warming once more. “You flatter me.”

He shifts forward, invading your space, the scent of forest air and woodsmoke filling your nostrils. “Is it flattery if it is true?” He is so close, still a respectable distance but close enough that you can reach out and touch him, can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I believe that is a question for the maesters.” You tease lightly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You are a smart girl, little fox, I am sure you can figure it out.” He teases back, a glimmer in his eyes that excites you.

No one teases you; no one jests or challenges you like Cregan does. You assume it is because they all know Prince Aemond has claim on you, or because you are a lady, but you are educated, and strong-willed, you enjoy a good challenge. You enjoy Cregan speaking to you like an equal.

“Truth is relative, as they say.” You offer, cocking your head innocently, barely able to keep a smile off your face.

“Aye, some say. Though your beauty is truth, relative or not. Surely you must know that.” He counters.

“Vanity is not a virtue.” You say, meeting his gaze. The storm gray of them has softened to a dove gray, mirth dancing within them.

“Neither is lying and yet…”

“Are you accusing me of lying, Lord Cregan?” You gasp in mock outrage.

“About knowing that your beauty is what every man dreams of returning home to? Yes.” He says, his tone light and blithe, but his words, and the way his eyes darken for a moment? It takes your breath away.

“Your beauty, little fox, is one that haunts men’s dreams, that keeps them fighting when they are the last standing. That they keep in their mind as they clash swords, traverse through snow and sea.” He continues, holding your gaze, voice no longer light, but heavy with intent and promise. “It is a beauty one wishes to see the moment they return home before all else, or any others. A beauty that should be admired in all lights and shadows. The setting of the sun and its rising, the summer days and winter nights, one to be cherished.”

You break away from his gaze, a twinge of sadness in your chest. Aemond has never spoken to you in such a way, he has waxed poetic about your beauty, flattered you, lavished you with sweet words, but it has never felt the same as Cregan’s did now. Guilt replaces the sadness, and you toy with the edge of your sleeves. You should not be engaging with Cregan in this way, it was not right, even if it made you feel…something. “You are too kind, My Lord.”

Cregan reaches for you, breaching what was proper, and taking your hand in his. They are so much larger than yours, so warm, so gentle. “Have I spoken out of turn?”

“No, no, I am just—I am a maiden of the South, Lord Stark, I am not used to such forwardness from a man I am not courting with.”

“Honesty, it is honesty, though I apologize for my forwardness.” Cregan says, subconsciously stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Either way, I am not used to it.” You say heart calming with each stroke of his calloused thumb.

Cregan’s brows furrow. “I have heard tales of—the other noblemen, they speak highly of you. Of your beauty, your kindness, your wit, are they all struck dumb by your very being, is that why no one has praised you as you deserve?”

You feel you should say something about Aemond, but what could you truly say? There is no formal betrothal in place, he has not publicly staked his claim beyond a possessiveness that those who spent enough time in court could see. But nothing is ever outwardly stated.

You go to speak, but Cregan stops you. “My apologies, I should not have asked such a thing, how are you to know what lies within the minds of man?”

“You are correct, I do not know their minds.” You say instead and bury down any explanation involving Aemond and his invisible claim.

A dragon roar fills the air, the window vibrates with the force of the sound, and your eyes shoot back to the window. Prince Aemond is home.

“Or they fear the mind of one man and thus hold their tongues.” Cregan says, releasing your hand.

“The prince? I—he—we…it is not—” You cannot get the words out fast enough.

“I will take my leave.” He says, remaining for a moment searching your face until it seemed he had found what he is looking for, and left.

You watch him go, admiring the strength in his stride, when he turns back, a strange look in his eyes. “At the feast tonight, might I have a dance?” He asks.

“With me?” Your heart is pounding against your chest.

He nods.

Footsteps rush by the open library door, and you can hear Princess Helaena calling out to Prince Aemond.

You stand, smoothing out your skirts with shaky hands, why did he make you so nervous? Or is not nerves, but excitement? “Of course, Lord Cregan, I would be honored.”

“I will hold you to that.” Cregan smile, then he disappears down the hall, and you are left alone to hurry after the princess.

Aemond does not call for you until hours after he has returned. When you knock on the door to his chambers, dressed already for the feast, he bids you to enter in a soft voice, exhaustion tinging each word.

You hurry to his side, clasping one hand between your own. “My Prince, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you have returned safely.”

He uses his free hand to cup your cheek, that half smile, half smirk he wears so well on his well sculpted face. “I was only gone for a mere moon, and I was never in any danger, did you doubt your Prince, ñuha nūmio?”

“No, of course not, but…you would not tell me where you were going, no one would.” You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“That is simply because it was not information you needed.” He says, brushing the pad of his thumb across your lips.

“But if I am to be your wife, would it not be prudent if I were to know where my husband is?”

Aemond’s eye, a brilliant amethyst, hardens, then he looks away and sighs. “Lady y/h/n I have told you patience is a virtue, and your virtue is what I adore most.”

You bite your lip, internally chastising yourself. You know better than to rush him. “My apologies.”

Aemond frees your bottom lip from between your teeth and brushes his lips across your forehead. “Do not take my words so harshly, your eagerness is quite endearing, and I to wish for us to be wed, but it is not yet time.”

You lean into his touch, “I understand.”

“How have you been amusing yourself while I was away, ñuha nūmio? Did anything exciting happen?” Aemond asks, his thumb resting beside the corner of your lip.

“Not much, it seems you had taken all the excitement with you. Though as you know Lord Stark’s arrival has caused quite a stir and now two moons later still is. Many ladies are jockeying for the position of Lady of the North.” You tell him, giggling at the memory of some of your friends’ actions.

“But not you?” Aemond asked, his tone making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“No, I am yours, why would I wish to be Lady of the North?” You reassured him, brushing back a lock of silver hair from his face.

For a moment, you are struck with the feel of Cregan’s fingertips, rough and calloused but gentle against your skin. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his gaze, the earnestness of his words. What was he looking for when he stared into your eyes, when he took in every detail of your face?

“If you are too distracted, you may leave, My Lady.” Aemond says, the irritation in his voice drawing you from your thoughts.

“No, no, I am not, I am just so happy you have returned.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgement, dressed in his feast finery as well. “I have missed you.”

Your heart flutters. “I have missed you as well.”

He releases your chin to trail his fingers down the column of your neck. His cool touch causes goosebumps to follow in his wake, and he dips his head low to press his lips to your cheek, then begins to follow his fingers with his lips. “I have missed you, your voice, your smiles, your touch.”

You shiver in response, grabbing onto his doublet.

“Do not touch, you will wrinkle the fabric.” He warns, even as his hands grip your waist.

You remove your hands, clasping them behind your back.

“I will not be able to dance with you tonight, mother has brought another girl for me to try and charm.” He says, into your skin, his silver hair brushing against your exposed décolletage.

Your heart sinks. “Not even one dance?”

Aemond sighs and presses a final kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You know I detest it as much as you do, but it is my duty.”

You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to appear on your waterline.

He smooths down your hair and turns you towards the door. “I will try to find time for one dance, but I cannot make any promises.”

His words lift your spirits, and you smile at him. “Thank you, Aemond.”

“Prince Aemond, we have guests tonight.” He reminds you, then he shuts the door, and you hurry back to your chambers.

The Great Hall is decorated beautifully, and you sit at your table with the other ladies of Helaena’s circle. A wine glass in hand as you watch Aemond dance with Cerelle Peake, her brown hair pinned up with a net of gold and sapphires, her umber gown flowing beautifully as she twirled.

“Come now, y/n, you will never be asked to dance with such a scowl.” Johanna Swyft says, poking your cheek goodnaturedly.

“No, she will never be asked to dance because the prince glares at anyone who tries.” Mina Redwyne says, clinking her glass against yours in silent sympathy.

Johanna shoots her a look. “Do keep your voice down, Mina.”

You take a long drink from your glass, emptying it, then setting it down, scanning the crowd for another servant. “Perhaps I do not wish to dance.”

“I am crushed to hear that Lady y/n.” Cregan’s presence makes every lady at your table sit up straight, and you turn to face him.

“Lord Stark.” You say, bowing your head in his direction.

He holds out a hand, and you remember how it nice felt, the phantom warmth still lingering. “I do believe you agreed to a dance, earlier today?”

“Lucky.” Mina hisses, as Johanna juts her elbow into your side to prod you up and out of your seat.

You stand, and take his hand, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in your side. “I did.”

Cregan leads you to the dance floor, and you can hear your friends giggling behind you, much to your utter embarrassment.

“Your friends seem quite encouraging.” Cregan says, barely holding back a laugh.

“When they learned I have no sisters, they decided that they would act as such, apparently that means acting in a most embarrassing way.” You say, falling into the rhythm of the dance.

“I knew you had brothers, but I did not know you were the only daughter, that must make you very precious in your father’s eyes.” Cregan ventures, his large, warm hand pressed to yours as you circle each other.

“I would like to think so.” You smile, your heart aches for a moment with homesickness. “He could not attend this feast, he is too ill to travel, my eldest brother is here on his behalf, accompanied by my second-eldest brother who is here to drink and presumably enjoy the Silk Streets.”

“I never had a taste for brothels.”

“Nor I.”

Cregan smiles and twirls you. “I thought not, for I have heard you are far too virtuous.”

You shrug. “It is more, I do not wish to spend the coin.”

Shock flashes across his face then he laughs, repeating your words quietly with a chuckle, and as you are spun back into his arms you cannot help but laugh as well.

“You are clever, little fox, I will miss you when I return home.” He says, his eyes searching you once more.

Your heart stops, and you trip over your feet. “You are leaving?”

His grip on you tightens as he helps you right yourself. “Aye, I have here for two moons, that is far too long, my people need me.”

You do not want him to leave, you will miss him dearly, his laugh, his expressions, his stories. You will miss the walks you had taken together, the discussions that ran late into the night, just outside your chambers, the men standing guard pretending they were not listening. The way he presented you with the pelts of animals he had hunted, regaling you with the tale of how he felled it. Who would challenge you now, who would make you laugh, would listen to your words, and respond as if you were an equal, as if your sex did not diminish your intelligence?

“When will you leave?” You ask, unable to keep your voice steady, so you spin away from him to give yourself a moment to smother your emotions.

Cregan pulls you back into his arms, trapping you with his steady gaze. “In a few days time.”

“Oh…” You manage to choke out, swallowing hard, your eyes on your feet.

“I have been meaning to tell you, there just never seemed to be a good time.” Cregan says sheepishly.

You nod, still staring at the floor. “Well, I will miss you.”

“I will miss you too, y/n,” he says softly, then he slips a finger under your chin and lifts it gently. “In all lights, in all seasons.”

Tears blur your vision, and you hastily blink them away, not even noticing he has said only your given name, no title attached. Cregan’s warm thumb catches any stray tears that fall, and you lean into his touch, desperate for more of that something he had made you feel before. That something you realize he was always making you feel, and that he is making you feel right now, though it is tinged with grief. “Cregan, I—”

“Lady y/h/n, I believe I promised you a dance.” Aemond’s voice is steel, ice, the frigid fear that ran through the veins of Vhagar’s victim, and you hurriedly wipe away any remaining tears plastering on a false smile, before you turn, Cregan’s other hand still on your waist.

You drop into a curtsy. “My Prince, that you did.”

Cregan’s hand lingers, and your heart lurches in your chest when the warmth of it is finally removed.

Another song has begun to play, one you love dancing with Aemond to. It allows for close movements and lingering touches that you always long for with him.

“I thought you did not wish to be the Lady of the North.” He says, his eyes picking you apart as Cregan’s did but there is a cold methodical feel to it that makes you feel utterly and horribly exposed.

“He was merely being kind, no one else had asked me to dance.” You protest, falling into the rhythm as you had before.

“No one else should, you are mine.” Aemond say, spinning you out, and then back in.

His hands burn through your gown, your skin, meeting bone, and before you would have loved it, relished the feeling, but now you feel they are too hot, your skin prickles uncomfortably.

“I like to dance; I do not get to dance when you are occupied, and you are often occupied.” You say quietly, your head bowed ever so slightly.

“I had them play your favorite song, as a reward for your patience.” He says, ignoring your words. “Do you like it?”

“I do, thank you.” You smile and raise your head, hoping to catch his eye and find it brimming with affection. That would soothe your wounded heart, would banish the grief you feel at Cregan leaving.

Instead, his eye is elsewhere, you follow its gaze to see it land on the Peake girl. You do not blame her, do not hate her, though your blood turns to fire in your veins, and you brace yourself for what you are going to say next.

“When are we going to be wed, I have been patient for many years, and you never tell me when my patience will be able to end.” You say, holding your chin high. You are not a Peake, but you still have pride.

His eye flicker back to you, his grip tightening. “Are you truly asking this now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am, because I am tired of waiting, tired of watching as you charm others, tired of being shunted to the side because even though you will not claim me, no one else is allowed to.” You can no longer keep your emotions contained. “I want to be happy Aemond, I want to be happy with you, but I am not happy.”

“Not everything is about your happiness, Lady y/h/n.” Aemond snaps.

You reel back as if you have been struck. “I did not say it was. You have been the one saying you wished to marry me, promising me you would tell the whole of the realm how deeply you care for me. I have done nothing else but dote on you and be patient.”

Guilt flashes across his face, and he reaches for you, but you push his hands away. “It is not so simple.”

“Do you see my face in your dreams, does it keep you fighting, keep you marching on, am I the first person you wish to see when you return home, do you wish to see me in all lights, in all seasons?” You throw Cregan’s words in Aemond’s face and wait for a response.

Aemond laughs, taking your hands, and bringing you back into the dance. “You have picked up a new book of poetry, I see.”

You cannot find it in yourself to be angry, the shock settling in, muffling everything until it is as if you are floating underwater. The rest of the night passes that way, you go through the motions, avoiding Cregan, your friends, shooting you concerned looks.

Then the feast ends, guards escort those too drunk to find their chambers, all others dispersing to their places for the night, or into Fleabottom for more revelry.

You try to sleep, but it will not come, Cregan and Aemond’s words echoing in your sleepless mind, until finally you throw off your blankets and wrap a robe around your nightshift.

You creep through the halls, no true direction in mind, letting your feet take you where they wished, when a flicker of umber catches your eye. Pressing yourself behind a pillar, you wait a moment then peek out.

“Lord Stark, might I be allowed to enter?” Cerelle Peake’s voice is soft, as was required for the late hours.

“Lady Peake, might I ask why you wish to enter my chambers?” Cregan asks, his words thick with sleep. His hair is loose, his night shift exposing his broad chest.

“I thought perhaps you might enjoy some company.” She says, as she takes a step towards him, moving to run a finger down his chest.

Cregan catches her hand and gently returns it to her side. “I do not wish for your company, Lady Peake. Please return to your chambers quietly, and I will not speak with your father about this.”

Cerelle scoffs and turns on her heel, storming down the hallway. You wait until Cregan’s door closed then follow her.

Halfway there, you know where she was going, you have walked these halls many times. Not wanting to further your own pain, you turn back to your own chambers, but your feet disobey you, and you find yourself in front of Cregan’s door.

You knock before you could stop yourself and the door swing open, a tired and angry Cregan standing before you. “Lady Peake, I do not need any comp—” His words die on his lips as he realizes it was you and not Cerelle. “Y/N?”

“All those things you said, about my beauty, about me, did you mean them? Truly?” Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, your chest tight, your bottom lip trembling.

Cregan rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Do not tell me you woke me only to hear more flattery.”

A sob escapes your lips. “I thought you said it was truth, not flattery.”

Cregan snaps awake, pulling you into his arms. “Little fox, I am sorry, I was half asleep, yes, yes, it is truth.”

You cling to him, gripping his night shirt, your face buried in his chest as you sob, every fear, every pain spilling out into his warm embrace. “Tell me you meant it, that you see me in your dreams, that you want me, in all lights, all seasons, that I am not destined to wait forever for someone to love me.”

“I love you, y/n, I love you, you do not need to wait, I will tell you as many times as you desire. I meant it, all of it, you haunt my dreams, you plague my waking thoughts, I want you in at any time, in any manner, or light, or moment I can have you.” He says, his voice is steady, and you can feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest, alongside the sound of his beating heart.

“I want to go with you to Winterfell, I want to be your Lady of the North, or even just your mistress if my house is not a good enough match, Cregan I do not care. I love you and all I care about is that we are not parted, that we are never parted, I do not think I will be able to breathe if we are parted.” You confess, looking up at him afraid to see what you saw in Aemond’s eye.

Cregan cups your face and kisses you, the taste of honeyed ale on his tongue, his hands warm as he keeps you close, using his foot to kick the door closed so he can press you against it.

Now in the safety of his chambers he breaks the kiss, your breaths intermingling. “You will not be a mistress, you will be my wife, none will come before you.”

“Will you tell your people, will they know?” You ask, your lips brushing against his with each word.

“I will wake the whole Red Keep to announce it now if you wish.” He says, his forehead resting against yours.

You reconnect your lips with his, his stubble brushing against your skin, but you pay it no mind, letting Cregan devour you, his hands moving into your hair, as you loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

He groans against you, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, delving in when you part them and exploring every inch of you. “My little fox, my y/n, my wife, my beautiful, clever wife.” He presses the words into your skin, heated lips trailing down to your pulse point.

“Husband.” You sigh, tilting your neck further exposing yourself to him, his teeth sinking into the skin claiming you as his own.

“Say it again for me, my wife, tell me who I am.” He breaths, sucking, and nipping at your neck, returning to darken the marks between creating new ones.

“You, Cregan, my husband.” You say, eyes snapping open when he releases you and stalks over to the window.

He threw it open and stuck his head out, shouting. “Y/N Y/H/N, is to be my wife.”

You rush forward and pull him from the window with a scandalized giggle. “Cregan it is the middle of the night.”

“Then at the very least a few guards heard.” He says, pulling you close and kissing you again, in full view of the window, the moon, anyone else who might look up, and it is exactly as you want it.

HOTD taglist: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305

#meg's writing #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #aemond x reader #this one is so long omg #it hurt me to write Aemond like this I love him so much #cregan stark

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rainylana · 3 days

Text

“I don’t like the way I look.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

requested by anonymous

summary: your insecurities of your postpartum body finally come out.

warnings: postpartum, insecurities about the readers body, lots of tears, language, angst, eddie cries. i’m not a mother nor have i ever been pregnant, so i hope i did this justice.

You were one of those people who were extremely confident in their looks. You knew you were hot. You had hair girls were jealous of, and a figure, too. You had beautiful green eyes that looked gold in the sun. Pale skin that made your jaw line sharp and features prominent.

Eddie liked having you that way. He loved your confidence and everything about you. However the day you had your baby, it all changed. The nine months of pregnancy went by smoothly. You’d obviously put on an enormous amount of baby weight, but you had assumed you’d drop it once the baby was born. You weren’t, and no matter how little food you ate or how much exercise you did, you couldn’t get it off. Besides, you didn’t have time to really put in the work for dieting, not healthily, anyways. Not with a baby.

You loved your daughter. There was no question in that, but you couldn’t admit it to yourself, or anyone, that you now hated how you looked. You had a pouch in your belly that you’d never had before, the skin on your sides had turned to love handles, your legs still stolen. You cried yourself to sleep so many times during the night, watching your daughter sleep. Little Patricia Munson. Patty.

You were good at hiding it. Eddie had no suspicion of your struggles. Nobody did. Only you and the mirror.

Motherhood suited you. To Eddie and your friends, you were glowing. You were so good with your baby. You knew how to get her to calm down, to sleep peacefully through the night. Having a child was a new kind of love you never thought one person was capable of feeling. Eddie loved watching you with her, the way you held her and sang to her. He was absolutely mesmerized when you breastfed her.

You looked like you could do it all with a crown on top of your head, and nobody knew just how badly you were feeling.

Tonight was a particularly bad night and you had no idea why. You were sat in the rocking chair of Patty’s nursery, holding her in your arms and softly patting her. She’d been asleep for quiet some time, but you weren’t ready to put her down. It was almost one in the morning, and you knew Eddie would wake up soon and wonder where you were.

The room was dark, besides the Winnie the Pooh nightlight that illuminated an orange glow around the room, plastic stars stuck up on the ceiling for extra light.

You were humming lightly, your finger sweeping over her swirl of dark hair. She was only seven weeks old, and every day she looked more and more like Eddie. You didn’t think it was exactly fair, considering you were the one who carried her for nine months, but you couldn’t deny how cute it was having a mini Eddie in your arms.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your voice breaking mid hum at the disapproving picture you received. Your face used to be so slim. And though it hadn’t changed dramatically as the rest of your body, you missed it what everything used to look like. You knew you should love your body, considering what it did to make little Patty, but you feared what Eddie thought of you now.

Sex with him hadn’t faltered or was forgotten. On the contrary. It had done nothing but flourish since you had your baby, but have the time you had to force yourself to cum, thinking nothing about the pleasure and only if he was judging you the way you judged yourself.

Soon enough, you heard the bed squeak in the other room and his feet hit the floor. You sniffled, wiping your stray tear quickly before he could find you.

His head of dark curls, white shirt and boxers decorating his body came wondering in the room, smiling sleepily when he quietly came over to you. You smiled up at him, puckering your lips for a kiss. He kissed you, then bent down to give his baby girl a soft kiss on the forehead. He tapped her little nose and grinned, chuckling softly.

You knew what he was thinking. I can’t believe she’s mine. You smiled, too.

He stifled a yawn and brought over the other rocking chair and sat in front of you, leaning back so he could get comfortable. “I’ll sit with her for awhile, darlin’. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“No.” You shook your head, smiling at him briefly. “I can’t sleep, anyways.”

Eddie thought this was when you were the most beautiful, holding his baby. You were both his babies. “I can’t believe she’s ours sometimes.” He admitted tiredly, trying to wake himself up. “I never thought I could love someone so small so much.”

“I know.” You nodded. “It’s scary sometimes.”

It was. Loving someone so much. You knew your life would be over if anything were to ever happen to her.

“I’d do anything for her.” Eddie said, his curls a pillow between his head and the wood of the rocking chair as he lay back comfortably watching the two of you.

“I know.” You said once again, full of emotion. You didn’t want to cry, but hearing Eddie talk about how much he loved her got you emotional, especially because you wondered if he loved you as much as he used to. “Me too.” A lone tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek and dropping onto your bare knee. It was so quick you hoped he hadn’t noticed it. You were wrong.

“Hey,” Eddie perked up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” You sighed heavily. “I’m alright.”

“But you’re cryin’, angel.” He frowned, sitting up in his seat to lean over closer. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You gave a firm nod, but your voice broke, betraying what you had just said.

He gave you a look before glancing down at your daughter. “I think you’re tired, honey. Why don’t you-”

“I’m not tired.” You said firmly, looking up to him with glassy eyes. “I just want to be alone.”

He chalked it up to your hormones being out of control and nodded, offering a quiet ‘alright’ as he shut the nursery door behind him. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a hushed sob, bringing Patty closer to your chest. You laid your head against her’s, giving her a crying kiss. She barely even stirred.

You weren’t as quiet as you thought you were, because Eddie was back within seconds, coming to squat down beside you and gently take the baby from your arms. He shushed her softly and placed her down in her crib before turning back to find you missing.

He found you outside on the porch, sobbing like you had a broken heart, arms crossed and holding your body like you’d break at any second. It was starting to sprinkle, but you didn’t care. You knew if you woke up Patty this late it would take you forever to get her back to sleep.

“Baby,” Eddie said sadly, coming up behind you. “What’s got you so upset?” He didn’t touch you, a hand only ghosting the fabric that covered your back.

“I’m fine.” You said through sobs, the air cold and bitter against your skin. You only had on a long t-shirt, but the trailer court had all turned in for the night. “Go back to bed.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not without you.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, wishing he could leave your pity party for you and you only. He wouldn’t understand how you were feeling, and worst off, maybe your fears were true. You didn’t want to know the truth. Did he still find you attractive? Did he still enjoy sex? Did he still love you as much even though you weren’t skinny?

“Eddie, please,” You turned around, tears running down your face, red and blotchy. “Go back to bed.”

He stared at you, frowning and brows knitted in concern. “You know I can’t do that. We made a promise, remember?”

Damn it. He always threw down that card.

After vecna, you both were broken shells of what you once used to be. Everyone was. You made him promise you he wouldn’t shut down. He had to talk when his heart was aching, and in return, you promised the same. You promised to talk when your heart ached, and right now, it was.

You sighed, nodding softly. You did remember, but that didn’t make it any easier to talk about. You quickly turned around to hide your fresh set of tears, biting your tongue. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It might make you feel better.” He moved to stand directly beside you, leaning against the wood railing that was growing damp from the light rain. “Please, honey. Talk to me.”

You sniffled and looked away from his stare. “I’m scared of what you’ll say. I don’t know if I want the answer.”

“Answer to what?” He said confused. “Baby- just tell me, okay? I promise whatever it is, it’ll work itself out.”

But would it? Would you ever be as beautiful as you used to be? Would you ever be skinny, never have to worry about what you ate? That’s all you thought of now, worrying about what you put in your mouth. You were petrified of gaining more weight.

“I don’t like the way I look.” You finally said crying, looking over at him. “There, okay? I don’t like the way I look. I look in the mirror and I’m just disgusted with what I see.”

His eyes were wide. You had shocked him. His brows were creased and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“I love Patty.” You sobbed. “But I hate what being pregnant did to me and I feel so guilty for feeling that way. I’m not beautiful anymore and I miss it.” Your voice broke deeply, crackling like tv static that couldn’t get a proper signal. “I don’t feel pretty for you and I’m scared that you think it too.”

“Okay, wait,” He’d heard enough, speaking quickly as he straightened himself taller. “I don’t- y/n, you’re talkin’ crazy.”

“Am I?” You retorted. “Because the mirror doesn’t lie, Eddie.” You stood your ground. You were right and Eddie wasn’t going to sweet talk you out of the truth. Facts were facts. “I’m not beautiful anymore and you know it. Stop lying to me!”

“Y/n, what the hell-” He backed away. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I’ve never said anything like that to you ever. Where is all of this coming from?” He shook his head in absolute disbelief, trying to be calm and rational to understand where you were coming from. A part of him wondered if it was just a hormonal, postpartum outburst, but your tears and attitude told him otherwise.

“You didn’t!” You snapped. “But you don’t have to. I know. I look at myself in the mirror every day and wonder if you’re attracted to me anymore. I don’t look like how I used to.” You were bawling, snot leaking from your nose and eyes bloodshot red. Your hair was starting to get wet from the rain.

“Why the fuck does that matter?” Eddie argued back, his sense of cool becoming too hard to handle. He couldn’t stand to hear you talk so negatively about yourself. “You are you and it doesn’t matter what you look like. You just had a baby, sweetheart. You’re obviously not going to loose all the weight overnight. You’re being too hard on yourself.” He tried to speak soothingly to calm your cries, his hands holding your elbows, head dipping down like he was speaking to a child.

“And even if you don’t,” He continued. “I’m going to love you just the way you are because you’re the mother of my child.” His hands went up to your shoulders. “You gave me the greatest gift of my life, darlin’,” To your surprise, his eyes teared up.

“Please,” He pulled you in to hold you. “Don’t think like that, baby, please. I can’t bear to hear you talk like that.” His voice broke, a guilt sinking into your heart that made you feel foolish.

“I’m sorry.” You rushed, wrapping your hands around his back. “I’m sorry.” You found yourself saying, desperate to keep him from crying.

You realized then, how wrong you were. Because if he thought the things you thought of yourself, he wouldn’t be out here in the rain with you, holding you close, crying, over what you had said. You realized then, just how much he loved you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #angst #request

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days

Note

can I request batboys with an s/o who shows affection with biting?

it’s kinda stupid, but it could be cute, or they’re weirded out.

I don’t know, whatever you think ❤️

Idk why but I like the idea of Tim absolutely reading people to filth, this might just be me but I like it.

Dick would yelp when you first bit him on the neck, instinctively pressing a hand there and look at you with a pout.

‘I know I’m an absolute snack but I didn’t think I’d see the day where you’d try and take a bite out of me.’ He whined as he rubbed his neck, feeling exactly where you bit him from the teeth marks and wetness you left behind.

He loves it when you bite him but he can’t help in being dramatic when your bite marks are left in the most visible places where anybody could see them and speculate.

‘What if people ask if I like being bit?’ Dick would gasp, looking at the marks through the mirror, whimpering slightly when lightly grazing them. ‘What if they think I like being marked?’

‘Well you obviously do because not once had you stopped me once from biting you. Not once.’ You replied from your place on the bed, looking up from your phone to stare at him through the reflective surface. ‘If anything I think I heard you whimper a few times whenever I bite your neck.’ You add, smirking upon seeing Dick’s face grow flustered.

Dick wouldn’t admit it but he did like it when you bit him, probably more then he should, but he loved the fact that whenever you bit him you were only reassuring him that he was yours and you were his, albeit in your own unique way of affection.

Jason would bite you back purely out of retaliation but it’s mainly on your cheek or shoulders that he bites.

He lives for the little yelps you give when he does bite down on your shoulder lightly, smirking like the cheeky shit he could be at times.

He’ll proudly display the bite marks to anyone who was getting too comfortable with him for his own liking, by pulling down the collar of his shirt and showing off your bite marks across his collar bone and says with his whole chest ‘I’m taken.’

Once you both were lying on bed and were just about ready to fall asleep, but your eyes honed in on his bare upper body, more specifically his big tiddies. Jason -who had just put down his book after finishing a chapter- gave you a look and said ‘don’t you fucking dare-‘ but it was already too late as you opened your mouth and bite down on his left tiddy, staying there for a good deal of time.

Jason only sighs and pets your head, pressing a kiss there and whispers. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ To which you respond cheekily with. ‘Love me?’

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I can think of a few ways to do that.’ But before you could ask what he meant with that, he then proceeded to bite down your neck, causing you to squeak.

However when Jason bites you, it looks at though you’ve been bites by a fucking vampire, mainly because he’s got four distinctly sharp dentures and you had developed somewhat a love/hate relationship with it, much to Jason’s amusement.

‘Hey! You do it to me so why shouldn’t I do it to you?’ He’d say with his hands raised but a smile on his face and mischievous glint in his eyes. He loves it more than he lets on, he just likes to meet you on equal footing.

He calls you his little piranha.

Tim would look at you as if to say ‘are you done?’

He’s perpetually tired from everything, so you biting him to show affection doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

You could bite his bicep and he’d be like ‘love you too you menace.’ Before taking a sip from his mug as he went about the rest of his day, uncaring of the bite mark already forming on his bicep.

However whenever Tim feels as though he’s missing you, he’d just brush his fingers over the bite mark and remind himself that you were waiting for him to come back…and probably bite him as a way to show him that you missed him also, but he really didn’t mind.

If anything his only request is that you don’t bite him anywhere his brothers could see them, they’ve already teased him enough about being with you that seeing a single bite mark would send them into utter insanity. They’d would never him live it down and would forever tease him into hell and back for it, especially Damian and Jason.

Even if you did accidentally leave a bite mark on a viable part of him and someone teases him for it, all he has for do is look them in the eye and say ‘at least I got someone who makes me really happy, and who isn’t afraid of showing me that they love me just as equally without feeling ashamed.’ He stops and looks them over with a look. ‘Which is more than I can say for you, the only real relationship you have is with a box of tissues, lube and a shitty computer system that’s on the verge of collapse.’ He adds before stalking off, leaving the person to wonder how Tim knew about the shitty computer, a shitty computer that was currently being held together by duck tape of all things.

All in all, Tim doesn’t mind you biting him in a display of affection, just don’t do so in areas where his family will take notice of and start asking really uncomfortable questions…

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netherfeildren · 2 days

Text

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him.

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it.

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse.

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you.

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want.

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks.

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come.

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too.

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do.

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby.

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to.

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap.

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also.

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you.

Sameness.

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as.

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms.

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it.

“Good girl,” he says now with voice.

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved.

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else.

Your love too.

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now.

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper.

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness.

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance.

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up.

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now.

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership.

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous.

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking.

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude.

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world.

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise.

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you.

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well.

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now.

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house.

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail.

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him.

He stares up at them now.

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie.

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then.

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game.

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

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yoursweetwife · 1 day

Text

female!reader

Aventurine is a very faithful partner. If he truly loves, then other people, no matter how beautiful and influential they are, will not force Aventurine to give up his love. Because their motives are too obvious for someone as insightful as him.

At the same time, you allowed him to remember what it means to be loved, to feel sincere care. Your support helped him even in the worst days, when he thought that life had no meaning at all.

Aventurine lost almost everything, so he learned to appreciate what he has. And Aventurine knows that you love him, but often uncertainty takes over.

For a long time now he has not paid attention to what the young woman circling around him are talking about. Their attempts to get his attention seem somewhat pathetic, which makes the shadows on the floor look more interesting. Instead, he watches you laugh at the young gentleman's joke, making Aventurine's stomach twist with an unpleasant feeling.

He clearly sees the young man's interest in you; would he be a good partner if he interrupted the conversation? Would you be angry with him if he came up, kissed you in front of all these people, picked you up and carried you away?

You feel his gaze burning holes in the back of your head, and you meet his neon purple eyes. Aventurine's breathing stops for a moment as you smile sweetly at him, the unchanging smirk turning into a real smile meant just for you. (He sees that the man is looking at him with envy, and the ladies are hopelessly trying to turn his gaze on themselves.)

Aventurine leaves the crowd and imposingly walks to the place where you are patiently waiting for him, without looking away. His hand finds its rightful place on your thigh and you don’t miss the opportunity to rest your head on his chest, allowing Aventurine to feel the peace he’s been missing since you were taken away.

He good-naturedly tells your friend his name, as if mocking the man who knew exactly who he was dealing with.

"Do you mind if I take this beautiful lady from you?"

There is a hidden threat in his soft voice, and the young man simply nods, not wanting to meet the intense violet eyes.

"Wonderful."

As soon as you enter your room, Aventurine presses you against the cold wood and desperately kisses the soft lips that he has been secretly looking at for the last couple of hours.

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, leaving almost no space. You've never met a person who loves touch as much as Aventurine. This always helped him get all his worries out of his head.

A hand runs through his golden hair, and Aventurine hums in satisfaction, enjoying your gentle touches.

The laughter leaves your lips while Aventurine continues to kiss your face.

"Did someone really miss me?"

Aventurine smiles softly and strokes your face with his thumb.

"Stronger than you think."

#aventurine x reader #female reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine fluff

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nonuify · 2 days

Note

Kissing him shut, svt reaction 💖🥰

Or accidentally drinking tea/coffee from the same side svt drink, their reaction 🤭✨

ᝰ.ᐟ 🐇 — SVT ; ! kissing him to shut up

sfw is included ! [ fluff ] ꩜.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ;

okay so, imagine you & him arguing not full on, just innocent bickering, you’ve had enough of his bullshit but he looked so hot when he’s frustrated, so when he was gonna continue his rant you grabbed his neck & fully gave him a passionate kiss which led to you & him making up ;).

YOON JEONGHAN ;

he would be in a photoshoot asking if he looked good in the outfit that the stylist picked out, to which you answered of course. i mean he’s a greek god you would tell him he’d look gorgeous in a potato sack “please baby tell me the truth do I look go“ your lips landed on his, he widened his eyes then quickly responded by deepening the kiss, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

HONG JISOO ;

josh would be talking about his day, while you were here admiring his pretty pretty face, god you just wanted to kiss him badly. “and when I we-, baby are you listening?” he quirked his eyebrow then suddenly you gave him a peck “sorry couldn’t resist” you sheepishly said, he just smiled then pulled you in for another kiss but this time it was longer.

WEI JUNHUI ;

idk but it I have a vision of him calling the other members & like while he’s talking about the most random stuff on earth you’d just walk in & give him the sweetest pecks here & there, he would get flustered 100%, like my boy gets so shy when you kiss him infront the members.

KWON SOONYOUNG ;

craazy take but you & him in the practice room him getting frustrated about not getting the move right & starts blabbering his worries away, you wanting to comfort him went to kiss him lovingly then reassuring him that he’ll nail it in no time but he doesn’t need to beat himself up to it :((

JEON WONWOO ;

wonu :( ugh he would be a dummy not giving you attention because he was all caught up on a game on his phone & you just wanted his love & care, but of course he was too busy playing away, annoying him to give you attention he would say “y/nnn!!” whining then you’d kiss him & he’d forget why he was mad & just kiss you till infinity.

LEE JIHOON ;

you would be sitting on his lap playing with his hair & being all giggly to whatever he was saying then kissing him do shut up “did anyone tell you that you’re the prettiest person ever?” you said against his lips, he felt really shy about it then continued to kiss you, what can’t you just compliment your boyfriend??

LEE SEOKMIN ;

we all know how seokmin is a little ball of energy when he gets comfy with someone so imagine his partner hes excited about everything that has happened while he’s away, & you just stared adorning how he looks & the shimmer of excitement in his eyes while he was talking about something that happened in soundcheck you grabbed his cheeks & kissed him deep with a rush feel of love.

KIM MINGYU ;

I just vision you helping mingyu with shaving his stub, aaaa omg!! like you’re trying to shave him & he’s all squirmy & a gaunt it saying how he doesn’t want to do it just being an absolute brat about it & you just kiss him to shush, my man would be shut.

XU MINGHAO ;

minghao loves to paint right like he’s so artsy showing you his work, you’re amazed by his creativity & talent, he dares to utter that it isn’t good? how dare he! he’s literally better than picasso you said passionate about your statement, he felt doubt as he continued with his words, you came up not caring you’d be needed by the paint kissing him & reassuring him it’s amazing like him.

BOO SEUNGKWAN ;

okay so you & seungkwan out on a karaoke night him singing his heart out with you, looking at him so tenderly you just have the instinct to kiss him so much, like how can someone looks so attractive by just singing?? you were so lucky to have your boyfriend, he continued to sing suddenly he got cut off by your lips smashing on his, he was surprised at first but then welcomed your kiss by kissing you back & hugging you.

CHWE HANSOL ;

you & hansol would be out on a date to a museum or such, you would ask about a painting he took liking of, he would explain to you with full details!, you would be giddy about him being excited about telling you about all the details the painting had contained of, cutting him off by a small peck on his lips, you’d smile then say “continue” the smile widening by the second, he would be surprised & really flustered he’s at a loss of words when goes back to explaining

LEE CHAN ;

chan would be drunk & would be telling you how much loves & cares for you, now you being a little tipsy but sober, you understood everything he said & it made your heart warm up, “i love you so so so muchhhh~” he would pout saying how much love he has for you, grabbing him you kissed him on his lips then all over his face saying how much you love him too, he would get soo shy, cheeks burning up in a red-ish color

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! weewoo my first all fluff, I hope you like this anon !!

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kindestofkings · 5 hours

Text

espresso

lando norris x reader

dets: an international pop star and a f1 driver could never be secretly dating right? right?

authors note: this is kinda chaotic but its been still in my drafts since that damn espresso song came out, how is it so good?

faceclaim: sabrina carpenter

yourusername

liked by ynfan1 and others

yourusername me laughing at all y'all trying to figure out who my hot songs are about LOOLLLLLL you'll know when I want you to know MWAH xx

melbourne tonight :)))

view all other comments

ynfan1 you are so unhinged I LOVE

charli_xcx just tell them its me !

yourusername you're right sorry wifey xx

ynfan2 wait are they still around??

ynfanupdates wait whats happening in melbourne tonight ???

ynfan3 she's so secretive, I didn't even know she was dating anyone

landonorris

liked by martingarrix and others

landonorris tralia mate

view all other comments

danielricciardo looking fresh mate

landonorris thanks babe xx f1fan1 landos longest relationship right here f1fan2 bahahah for real man is chronically single

oscarpiastri 👍👍

f1fan1 best of luck this weekend !

yourusername just posted to their close friends!

[caption: baby just had a great weekend at the office <3]

replies:

maxfewtrell disgustingly sweet

↳ jealousy is a disease, better get checked out xx

alexalbon ugh you two make me sick

↳ oh yeah and yourself and lily aren't worse 😐

yourusername

liked by martingarrix and others

yourusername missing tour hours, should we do it again??

view all other comments

ynfan1 PLEASE COME BACK

oliviarodrigo you never rest queen

yourusername lol duty calls ynfan1 huh? hasn't she been off for ages ? ynfan3 singers can have other responsibilities you do know that right

ynfan2 I just want to know who you're dating..

ynfanupdates

liked by ynfan1 and others

ynfanupdates yourusername out in monaco tonight !

view all other comments

ynfan1 huh wonder what has her in monaco? she's there alot recently

ynfan2 looooveee the orange

landofan1

liked by landoupdates and others

landofan1 firstly tell how is a man so hot?? also look at how much he's vibing to yourusername's feather remix??

view all other comments

landofan1 I could take him (not in a fight)

ynfan1 he is just like me fr

f1fan1 no WAY whats he doing playing yn? 👀

ynfan1 I mean she is one of the biggest pop singers in the world rn f1fan1 orrrrrrrr ynfan2 haha you wish

yourusername oooh whos he ?

landofan1 bahaahahha girl, you are everything I want my popstars to be

yourusername

liked by chapellroan and others

yourusername pookie is away (again) so heres some pics of me looking hot for pookie, and pookie only <3

view all other comments

ynfan1 what boyfriend would ever leave you??

yourusername I know right?? poor me !

chapellroan need a sub ?

yourusername I don't know what you're abbreviating but yes. yes please.

reneerapp god DAMN

(liked by yourusername)

f1fan1 hmmmmmmhmmm away? and theres a grand prix this weekend

lando.jpg

liked by ynfan1 and others

lando.jpg returning the favour x Race weekend was gud

view all other comments

landofan1 people died.

oscarpiastri such a poser

lando.jpg my lady loves it 🤷 landofan1 IS HE IN A RELATIONSHIP landofan2 since when wtf

f1fan1 I don't even care how delusional I am, he'd be so hot for yourusername

ynfan1 Ikr but they don't even follow each other :((

yourusername just posted to their story!

[caption: pookie has returned <3]

replies:

landonorris I don't know how I feel about pookie...

↳ but POOKIE I love it (and you)

↳ landonorris ugh okay fine (love you too)

charli_xcx this soft launch is mean, and I know who it is

↳ hehehhe lol its SO fun tho

f1fan1 is that papaya ?

yourusername just followed landonorris!

landonorris just followed yourusername!

yourusername

liked by landonorris

yourusername need a pick me up ?

Espresso 4/11 @ 8pm ET,

Music Video 4/12 @ 10:00am ET

view all other comments

ynfan1 woooo queen is back

ynfan2 LOVE the vibe of this

landofan1 is that the JOLLY ???

landofan2 do we think lando is in the video?? cause thats defo him!

landonorris uber rating ?

yourusername 4 stars out of 5 ! missing star is because you kept making me laugh during filming landonorris always knew being so funny was a double edged sword. georgerussell sorry just confirming, do you think YOU are the funny one? ynfan1 what a random friendship, but so cute

f1fan1 finally followed each other, my delusions don't feel so crazy

landofan1 I would loveee if they became friends

landonorris just added to their close friends!

[caption: we just hard launched via music video and people are thinking FRIEnDshIP ?]

replies:

yourusername babyyyy they're so stupid

↳ told you it's crazy you're dating me..

↳ yourusername UGH no enough of that

danielricardio the landonorizz lore is to deep I'm afraid..

lilyme cons of dating a hottie

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others

yourusername guys this is my POOKIE! I just hardlaunched my muse, y'all should be blessed !

(last pic is not mine but like look at how he looks at me teehee...)

tagged: landonorris

view all other comments

landonorris love of my life fuck

ynfan1 damn y'all are in love love aren't you

fan1 this is crazy to me lando and THE pop it girl??

yourusername me and THE lando norris who is a professional hottie and my pookie xx landofan1 ugh im obsessed with you two

ynfan1 you're telling me you've been dating another celebrity for at least 3 years and we've seen ZERO pap pics?

f1fan1 for real tho we would've seen her at a grand prix, theres thousands of cameras landofan1 yeah seems suss yourusername ugh guys !!! why are you making me spell everything out for you landonorris time to cook darling

mclaren finally the parents are insta official

yourusername get hyped to see me at a gp wigless xxx

ynfan1 you wear wigs??

yourusername have you worn wigs?? landonorris will you wear wigs??? ynfan1 omfg I get it now

landonorris

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris meet my three year pr relationship x

tagged: yourusername

view all other comments

yourusername yes sorry guys the warming climate is all our fault !! just so fucking hot we cant help it eek

oscarpiastri you two are so unbearable already please go back to being a secret landonorris after 3 years of norizz jokes, I thinkkkk no !

landofan1 THREE yEaRs ???

mclaren wearing papaya off season? oh shes a keeper

ynfan1 heheh admin gets it

danielricciardo rip norizz it was fun while it lasted..

landonorris fun for WHO??

[finished]

hehe im working lateeee, cause I procrastinated doing assignments all day xx

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #smau

191 notes · View notes

faetreides · 3 days

Note

modern!feyd thoughts? is he crazier than modern! coryo? i feel like modern feyd would be like a underground boxer or something

this ask is crazy because it’s so good. like i haven’t even considered modern!feyd before but the underground boxer element is 😋, went with the typical opposites attract hello kitty s/o trope again SORRY, mdni (AFAB reader)

Yeah something that like or mixed mma, i do imagine him in a more athletic field but it’d have to be one where he’s allowed to make a spectacle of being violent. The rookie that has a borderline demonic reputation because he’s so vicious. And sometimes he doesn’t even go into fights with winning being the first thing on his mind, he wants a good show as much as the audience does and he wants blood in whatever capacity he can get it.

He’s for sure crazier than Coryo, like lock them into a room together and Feyd’s skinning and deboning him like a fish. Still far removed from how he is in canon obviously, but i think that he does do the same extreme facial expressions during a match to psych his opponent out. Feyd wants to make it big, yes, but more so because he wants a bigger “stage” to have more people see him at his most raw and real.

But he stays because he knows no professional organization worth their salt would turn the other cheek when he loses control and kills his opponent. Not that that’s a common occurrence or anything, but the chance of it happening is never zero.

(His uncle definitely has a hand in the betting that goes on at his matches, and even places his own bets from time to time. Feyd’s resentment grows with every rigged match. He’s an unhinged freak with a penchant for blood lust, but he does still want to win at the end of the day when he’s done playing with his food)

You’re in the crowd for one of his matches. Attracted by the mystery and the taboo nature of what he does. You look nervous, rocking from side to side as your eyes follow every punch and dodge. You’re out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb in your tennis skirt and hello kitty necklace. There’s no date hanging on your arm or friend chatting your ear off, which leaves you ripe for the picking.

He keeps an intrigued watch on you out of the corner of his eye, hollering and crowding his opponent against the ring. He hopes you’re watching as he pummels his fists into the sorry bastard’s face. The low lights and the cheers from drunks and gamblers get his blood pumping. Even through all that background noise, he hears you softly gasp as teeth clatter to the floor.

Underground Boxer!Feyd who stares you right in the eyes when he’s declared the victor of the match, clocking how much you’re playing with the hem of your skirt. He smiles, a gross expression stained crimson and spits at his feet. It’s a good thing you’re so strangely accepting, his muscles are too sore to chase you down through back alleys and city streets.

He’ll burn through his winnings to give you the life you deserve, and he’ll wash the blood off you both when you get home after a fight. He can’t wait to see how you react to the motorcycle he’s got parked outside.

Fucks you against the cage when no one else is there and on his motorcycle. Gives you backshots in the shower, killing two birds with one stone. Bends you over his prize money and makes you squirt until you pass out on top of it.

Mean mean mean bf but he loves his favorite cheerleader with everything he has.

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suguru-getos · 2 days

Text

-> 𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕤 - 𝕘𝕠𝕛𝕠 𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 𝕩 𝕗!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

a/n: it’s been a while since i wrote something comforting w/ my baby 🥺🩵 | warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, smut, oral, breeding, baths 🛁, aftercare

the weekend! the bloody weekend! you could swear everyday at work you’d wander off to the thought of getting some much needed rest, getting some solace & some soft and tender slow-ness to your otherwise fast paced routine. it was getting mundane — coming home from work, having dinner with your husband, sometimes (oftentimes) having dinner alone, and then being too exhausted to do anything but surrendering to slumber.

satoru was couped up in missions, busy as ever. being the gojo clan’s head and one of the key members of sorcerery had it’s disadvantages. sigh. at this point, you’re starting to get cranky with just how much you ache for him, just how much you miss him.

your thoughts are hazy, the only thing that’s keeping you going despite the sheer exhaustion your body is going through is how satoru will lose it. he bought your last company — because they wouldn’t give you sick off. you snickered at the rollback of memories. now that company is one of the prominent ones in japan. you could may as well be the ceo & enjoy, but satoru knows, or as he says, “you’re a masochist aren’t you princess? love tormenting yourself?” yeah, you kind of… do. you just want to work because it helps you not get bored… and makes you realize that you could have it if you wanted to; without anyone’s help. so, when it comes to your job, you truly try your best to keep satoru at bay.

you drive home and get inside, opening the locked door. your beautiful cat comes and nuzzles against your leg, and you kneel, kissing his forehead & letting him boop his nose against yours. the smell of home was always divine, always soothing & always comforting. you wonder if satoru does something to this god damn gojo estate to make it so inhabitable.

“oh? jesus he’s trying to compete again?” his footsteps echo and your blush creeps in instantly at his voice. despite being married for a few years, he still manages to give you the same butterflies as he did on the very first date. wearing cushioned slip ons, walking towards the door as looming & large that he is, his soft baby grin is demanding a kiss. “i told your little kitty that i’d be the first to kiss mama. look at him though.” he grins, leaning in to reach your stature and capturing your lips in a soft, exquisitely gentle kiss. the pads of his fingers grip your chin, his hunger for you is insatiable yet, satoru makes sure to love you in a way you’ve always needed. you often wonder how he does that — how he knows when you need your guts rearranged and when you need reassurance. you suppose you’ve just gotten lucky in choosing the perfect man to exist.

“i missed my baddie.” he winks, leaning away, his usual glossed lips shining so much more with your saliva coating them. “come on~” he coos, holding your bag and letting you rest. the next moment you’re embraced princess-style, leaning against his chest & all thoughts whatsoever frighteningly subdued with his cologne. “i love you, toru, missed you.” you managed to mumble out, barely audible.

it’s truly magnetic, how he manages to make such a putty out of someone so formidable & so unbending, so firm & so stern with anything & everything. if the people around you would see you with your husband, they’d get confused with your entire being.

“i love you so much more, missed you every second, every minute of the day.” he hums, nuzzling his nose against you & kissing the crown of your head. “i’ve ran a bath for you pri-”

you cut him off, not your fault he looks entirely godly, unfathomably devoted & so nurturing. you had to cut him off with a kiss. lips hungrily devouring his, hands threading against his hair and scratching his undercut. it’s like you turn a different switch on whenever you teasingly caress his undercut. it smells so good — he’s already making you loopy.

you’re the only one who cuts off the kiss, leaning back and panting softly. “or… maybe she can have a bath after.” satoru coos, gentle as ever. leaning in and exhaling against the shell of your ear. “after she’s given what she needs… mm?”

and just like that you’re nestled against the plush mattress of your master bedroom. the lighting dim enough to unwind, satoru’s large & looming hands threading through your clothes and unlayering you. “my sweet present!” he chirps, grinning and rewarding you with sweet kisses with every layer of clothing that’s discarded.

your giggles echo through the room when you’re finally naked, his own tee leaves his body, granting your parched senses the sight of his abs. he smiles, holding your wrist and letting your palm brush against his abs. “all yours.” it’s like a prayer, no — it’s the inverse of it, it’s like he’s declaring something for the both of you. that no matter what the ring on his finger & the name on his heart will always be yours.

“wan’ you so bad.” you managed to whine, needily glazed at his face & pouting. “me too, little baby. want you so bad. need to feel you, need to taste you.” he smiles softly, leaning in and holding both your wrists in one hand, pinning him atop your head against the mattress while his mouth continues to labor against your supple skin. muzzled! satoru needs to get muzzled — with how his teeth graze at your skin, how his mouth marks and breaks your skin with prominent hickeys.

your submission is evident with the way you squirm under him, panting heavily. “please- mm~” the sweet ache in your pelvis is too much to bear. especially when his mouth wraps around your tits, suckling softly, nibbling at it softly. “that’s it, sing for me.” he hums, kneading the other one & pinching the lonely nipple.

your wrist is having a mind of it’s own, struggling to touch him, to feel him. it enables a soft smirk out of him. it’s always nice to have an example of you wanting him as much as he does. his hand leaves your chainned wrist, rendering you free & letting you touch & caress his muscular, broad back, play with his hair, respond with kisses and hickeys of your own.

a soft trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts to your sternum, reaching your waist, followed by a needy inhale of your dripping cunt disarrayed your thoughts completely. “aw she missed me too.” satoru nuzzles his nose against your puffy, needy clit, spreading your pussy-lips with his thumbs. “my little girl missed me too~” he always talks to you down there, how could it not make you hoplessly throb?

he chuckles when you do so, “yeah? wanna kiss me?” he leans in and starts suckling at your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“gah- toru! nn~” you moaned out at the warmth of his mouth against you, at the way his tongue flicked at your clit over & over. so skillful, all-knowing of your pleasure points. his thumb comes to play again, pushing the protective hood up & exposing your clit bare. your eyes widen when he starts licking and suckling rhythmically and you scream out at the soft, but firm nibbling of your nerve bundle. you could come undone so easily it was almost embarrassing.

“m’ close! sah- mm~ toru- oh god-”

your moans are making the tent in his pants ten times harder to bear, pre-staining him as he continues to ravage you senselessly. parched. hungry. starving…

your body betrays you as you topple off the apex of pleasure, shivering like a dried autumn leaf beneath him and letting the powerful waves of pleasure take you for a ride. satoru’s tongue mercilessly rides it out for you, half-lidded at the taste of you. you’re molten sin.

“good girl, that’s it.” his lips shine with your essence coated, and he licks em’ with his tongue and grins. high on you. dazed on you. the sound of his zipper echoes through the room, dwindling with your panting.

a sinful moan escapes you when his fat mushroom tip plunges against your sobbing hole, his own disarrayed groan prominent. the stretch and the ache is undeniable, your hands helplessly latching onto his back and your pussy twitching & clamping to get used to him. satoru is big. you’d think you’d get used to him after all these years but not quite so…

his tongue wraps around your nipple as he hums. “so warm and tight, so fit to be my breeding baby.” the words out of his mouth are filth. and yet with the way you helplessly twitch around him he knows you love it. his cock starts to move inside you, rutting against the sweet spots you have and smirking at the lewd noises your cunt makes for him. “fuck- fuck- feels s’ good! ca-can’t oh my god-!” you cry out, eyes losing focus, mind and body tamed just right.

“yeah? m’ your god baby? the honored one? hmm?”

satoru hums, leaning in and kissing you passionately, eating away at your moans and your helpless whimpers. your nails have indented & scratched his back just right. the dull ache of it only makes him rut against you harder.

his fingers trail down again, pressing against the sweet bundle of nerves and rubbing in circles. you need to cum with him, you have to cum with him.

you’re seeing stars soon, the ache builds again, ragged breaths and bated pants echoing through the sanctuary of your bedroom. “yeah baby, i know- i know- you’re close, go on. show me what my princess can do. milk me like a good girl. don’t waste a drop.” he groans, leaning his head back as his adam’s apple bobs. his own thrusts are getting sloppier. he needs you carnally.

“gah- shit! fuck- fuck- mmgh~” it’s not too long before you tip off the edge again, gummy walls clamping and massaging the shaft of his cock and stopping only at the taste of his seed in your womb. stopping only at the familiar warmth soothing your bruised pussy.

satoru kisses your jaw, muttering soft, apologetic praises. “that’s it baby, you feel so good, you take me so well, couldn’t do it without you-” you’re latching onto his every word, half-lidded and drunk on pleasure, hugging him softly. now comes the wave of content exhaustion.

satoru keeps you cockwarming him and hugging him as he leans you against his chest, hands caressing through your hair and peppering soft, feather-like kisses all over your face. “i love you, sweet girl.” he muses, “love you too- toru,” you respond back, sighing happily at the warmth of his skin.

satoru takes you to the bathroom, and your eyes gleam at the way he’s prepared your bath. you could almost cry from the intense spoiling. your favorite space-galaxy lamp, your favorite scented candles, flower-petals, bubbles just right, jaccuzi working just fine. “see? told ya~ gonna help you unwind.” he croons. smiling when your eyes light up at the setup. he knows you loved it.

he’s quick to kiss your forehead and settle in with you, hands massaging your body and letting you nap on him. these are the times when satoru considers himself the most lucky. he has someone he loves with the entirety of his being — and they love him back? how fucking lucky!

and you do, you do love him back with all your heart & soul. you’re blessed to have someone like satoru gojo.

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