#and they must learn to let it all go at some point

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?���

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo drabble #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha drabbles #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha drabble #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou

[masochistartt]

okay fuck it jamie self perception post

jamie has been signed to city since he was a child. this is how the academy system works - they recruit players (children) from local grassroots leagues and bring them into their club system, hoping to raise them up to play for their club in the future (or sell them off to other teams for profit). these players are typically between the ages of 9 and 10 when they're first recruited, but can be younger/older. they're evaluated every year, and players can be cut at any time.

i think jamie joined city when he was around 9, solely because of the fact that he said his dad started showing up when he got good at football, and georgie my beloved would not let jamie go on a trip abroad with a complete stranger to him when he was 14. i think james started coming back around when jamie was somewhere between 11 and 12, playing for city's u14 team, and his skill at that age level is how james heard about him (it's not uncommon to hear about great players who are that age. city recently signed a like. legendary 14 year old and i've heard about it (young boys should not be having their egos inflated like that at 14 but that's beside the point)).

that's a whole lot of rambling before i even start touching on the original point – the contract jamie's had signed since he was ~9 that dictates what he must and mustn't do. this is the idea that he's had of himself in his head from that very young age.

screenshots are provided from the 23/24 premier league youth development forms bc honestly i cba to go back and find anything older (i've tried looking and it's not working so you're getting this) but

the scholar here is the academy player. 5.1.3 and 5.1.4 are what interest me here. jamie was obligated to not only train & play to the best of his ability always, but he was obligated to maintain a high standard of physical fitness at all times from the age of 9.

think of the thoughts that might put in a young jamie tartt's mind. he had to be at his peak always. if he wasn't at his peak, he was disobeying his contract. he was owned by his club, and he knew that if they sell him, they'll make a whole lot of money off of him (there's a certain base fee x number of years the player was trained + extras = total homegrown player transfer fee algorithm but i don't want to do math rn so im not touching on that). i don't think jamie ever wanted city to sell him, so i think he put pressure on himself to be at his best always, to never let his standards slip, and when james came back into the picture, that pressure only grew exponentially.

it's also interesting looking at the "the scholar shall not" section of the contract. 5.3.1 is interesting bc like. if the club (city) didn't think his house on the estate was safe they could've fully just. Moved Him. but 5.3.3 is insane to me. especially the beginning. "the scholar shall not indulge in any activity or practice which might endanger his fitness". this means no fun roller skating birthday parties. this means jamie probably knew how to ride a bike before he was 9 bc if he "indulged" in learning when he was with city that might have endangered his fitness. no rock climbing. no tree climbing.

and if jamie took things as seriously as i think he did (boy really wanted to play football, that was his dream in life, i don't think he would've purposely done anything to endanger that dream), i think he missed out on some fun in his childhood solely bc he was Keeping His Body In Full Fitness For His Club.

which brings us to Adult Jamie. bc he was raised in this environment, raised with the mindset of My Body Belongs To My Club, My Body is an Asset for my Club, it makes even more sense why he'd put up with the auction at the gala without starting a fight (even if the whole manipulate keeley & possibly bribe bex thing happened behind the scenes).

his club (even though he was on loan, it was his club for the season), was auctioning off Its Own Asset (jamie's body) to the highest bidder for a night. jamie's body, from a very, very young age (does jamie remember much before he was signed to city? i don't think so) has always Belonged to His Club.

this is also part of the reason that i headcanon jamie doesn't like driving - driving is, in his mind an Activity Which Might Endanger His Fitness.

also. for the record. this stuff is also in the professional player's contracts too.

the player agrees to maintain a high standard of physical fitness at all times and not to indulge in any activity sport or practice which might endanger such fitness.

3.1.6 is another reason i think jamie went along with the stuff at the gala too. the player agrees to comply with and act in accordance with all lawful instructions of any authorised official of the club. rebecca/higgins/whoever put on the gala is an authorised official of the club. he kind of. had to by contract not put up a fight with them about this

the player agrees that he shall not undertake or be involved in any activity or practice which will knowingly cause to be void or voidable...policy of insurance maintained for the benefit of the club on the life of the player or covering his physical well-being including injury.

he still can't do anything that might get him hurt. i ignore that he engages in kink practice both in canon and in my own headcanons bc i think the heavier kink stuff really only comes in later seasons' timelines and even then he's engaging in that kink stuff with someone(s) who knows that this stuff is in his contract. they know his limits.

anyways something something jamie's body is an asset for his club (city and then richmond) and i think that says a lot about the way he views himself. you know ?

#jamie tartt #Extreme Overanalysis Of The Premier League Handbook #i have a headache so im not going into further depth rn but #feel free to ask me anything about this and ill expand !!! #i have a lot of thoughts about My Boy

[fandom-trash-goblin]

This is a chance to post your not-posted chengxian ideas if you have any. Please gimme gimme gimme gimme-

nonnie you've come at the sort of the right place. i'm like so late to fandom strolling without starbucks because in this house we boycott, and i'm sure this idea must have been done before. but. still. thanks for the ask, i put actual effort into this, hope you like it!! <3<3

A) to the point of invention AU

literally "i love you to the point of invention"

jiang yanli is at lotus pier and she dies :(. wwx and jc proceed to go absolutely feral and codependecy skyrockets

golden core melted-wwx in total breadown canon followed

until golden core transfer fails. fuck. dealers choice how

maybe smthing smthing jiang cheng wakes up to see he's being operated on. his brother lied to him about baoshen sanren and he's about to lose another sibling. #traumatised

both wwx and jc lose their core. they mad angry abt it, at the others throat- codependecy spirals. maybe they fuck. maybe they don't. anyways.

wwx invents demonic cultivation with the intent to protect-- he's mad about it being safe coz his shidi is gonna have to learn it to rebuild lotus pier and take revenge. they'd do it together. cue mad frenzy! wwx, jc handling it with the same ease he's done for years, and wen sibs watching this absolute clusterfuck wondering if these freaks are brothers or lovers or a secret third option.

demonic cultivation being so op and still mad safe because that's his shidi who he has to protect! . maybe they figure out how to power zidian through resentful energy

so you have DEMONIC CULTIVATORS! JC and WWX, both of them. rebuilding lotus pier, taking in E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E that passes their dodgy moral code. unconventional sect numero uno. super-effing-powerful. No. 1 power couple #lifegoals.

nobody knows whether these two are fucking or not. even i don't. parasitic relationship but like lichen.

Jin Ling don't exist (sad face) but Jiang Yuan, sect heir, new gen demonic + spiritual cultivator, all around powerhouse. his xian-gege and wanyin-ge are so so proud.

where's the rest of the world, isaac? where's lan zhan. oops. forgot about them. pretend they're avoiding the demonic cult. (baby there's so many holes in the plot that it's practically cartoon cheese.) I just know there's gonna be a lot of cultivation science. and politics. and worldbuilding. and wwx being shidifucker extraordinaire.

B) blur on the horizon AU

title from Lady Lazarus by Slyvia Plath. //my brother is still alive. still dead. was brought back with a lazarus shot and a slap to the face// when visibility's poor, i'm the blur on the horizon//

wwx dies. and wakes up. not in mo xuanyu's body.. but in some random cultivator's body. like. and year or two post siege or burial mounds

he travels straight to jc. lotus pier still be recruiting. the recruiters take in this shady man.. let's be real. everyone here is just as shady.

he get's the intro. gets shown the rebuilt pier, the rules and The List. The List being how to defend gongzhu from shitty people and shittier politics. he's so fawking proud bit also resentful and angry because he should have been there. twin prides on yunmeng, remember? (for once in my life let wwx be the more bitter one abt yunmeng shuangjie yeah?)

WWX tries to stay away from JC. but he can't. let's be real he cant.

he climbs up the ranks fast... everyone can see this man would give his life for sect leader jiang. cue Second in Command being WWX 2.0 . wwx, for his part is so bitter but also incandescently happy. man never met an emotion he couldn't twist.

Jiang Cheng is wondering why this random cultivator seems so familiar. it get's so bad that he uses zidian to check this one whether he's wwx every once in a while.

but Jiang Cheng is also so tired of seeing ghosts from the corner of his eyes. and jin ling likes this new SIC when he barely likes anyone apart from his jiujiu. he lets go a little. wwx can wait, for once in his life.

cue wwx gaslighting jc into thinking there's no way this one could be wwx. also him being conflicted because on one hand jc's starting to trust him, and this life is almost everything he's dreamed of, but on the other, he's doing this as Random Cultivator and not WWX, how could you forget me, Shidi?

again, for once in my life let wwx be the more bitter one abt yunmeng shuangjie yeah?

idk i havent resolved this one. but there's a scene where wwx finds out abt chenqing, and jc in a fit of anger, after a hell lot of provoking, talks abt how SIC should have been his brother's (the feared yilling laozhu's) and not some strangers. and jc thinks this guy's gonna run far away from the madman his sect leader is but he's only more loyal more sticky more everything? is everything alright up in his head??

C) digging your grave AU (attempted sexual assault tw. it fails and the man's dead.)

title from Richard Siken's / our father who art in heaven / our father who art buried in the yard / someone is digging your grave right now. /

all of jiang cheng's life, he's never been wanted first, yeah? His father prefers his elder, adopted brother. His mother prefers her work and if she has to interact with someone it's his elder sister. His elder sister's got her own life- a boyfriend madly in love with her- a future mother-in-law who's more of a mother than her own- and sometimes Jiang Cheng thinks even she prefers Wei Wuxian more than him. (jin guangshan was rich, and is dead, good riddance.)

the only one who's cared about him is Wei Wuxian- JC's always been his person for wwx. and that matters so much... here's the person who loves Jiang Cheng for himself, someone for who he isn't a disappointment.

so when one day, on the day of wei changze and cangse sanren's tenth death anniversary, jiang fengmian, drunk out of his mind, tries to kiss wwx, saying how he looks so much like his parents and jc watches it happen. he sees how wwx is so fucking scared.. his brother, his person, the only person who has ever mattered is terrified.. and he just. sees scared and so fucking angry that he doesn't think. it's red. grabs his mother's favourite vase, and smashes is against his father's head

there's a dead man on the floor, bleeding into the carpet. baby jc going hysterical that he killed his dad. and wwx is cold. he can think it through. he's been betrayed by a man he thought as a father... and there's no one he can trust anymore. he has to save jc.

they bury jiang fengmian in the backyard, and run. they dont look back.

years later, jiang fengmian is a homicide case, wwx is a deranged kidnapper and murderer still at large, and jiang cheng is presumed dead. meanwhile, there's two lovely men living in a backwater town, bickering like old married couples do, and it's so nice to see love is in the air. nothing strange about them, yeah? they must have had those old-fashioned prejudiced people for parents. good on them for running away.

@jcs-singular-slut-strand come see what i wrote!!

#mdzs #the untamed #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #wei ying #wei wuxian #chengxian #xiancheng #to the point of invention AU #blur on the horizon AU #digging your grave AU #anon asks #anon #asks #people are sending me fandom asks?? i'm so flattered!! #*mine: fanfic #if you guys let this one flunk i'll start crying #love my aus please

[eliteseven]

Do you have any more HC's on that doc for their baby?

I have some poorly-thought-out bullet points if that will sate you? (I usually jot down ideas and elaborate on them when I write)

More ShadowTav baby HC's:

I just feel it must be said: Pregnant Shadowheart has Tav falling over herself. She's happy. She glows. Tav is all hearteyes, all the time. She gets two (2!!!) of her favorite person to ever exist! She is ecstatic.

Teaching the baby to walk! Shadowheart is so hesitant to let her go, but she is DETERMINED to toddle to Tav across the room. She wears that same fierce look of determination as Shadowheart, Emmeline, and Arnell. She is as willful as they come. Tav beckons her and of course she comes crashing into her arms at full speed, but, like always, Serena has her. 🥰

Reading to the baby at night (...just not the smut book Wyll and Shadowheart like...). In soft hushed tones, they recount how they met, how they fell in love...(although some necessary edits are made to make it child-friendly). The baby usually falls asleep before they're more than a few sentences in. Sometimes, they keep going. I think they just like falling in love with each other all over again in quiet whispers above the baby's crib. 💕 Sometimes, Tav sweetly, obliviously recounts her first thoughts upon seeing Shadowheart, and she gets suddenly dragged to bed. Safe to say Shadowheart likes hearing those thoughts lol

The presence of Baby Jen the baby probably jogs Emmeline's memory quite a bit. Suddenly, she's full of stories about Shadowheart's own upbringing! She remembers! The presence of a grandchild quite literally extends her life. She has renewed reason to stick around, to keep fighting. I just think that is so sweet. Shadowheart notices the difference, the spring in her mother's step, and her heart is just SO FULL.

The baby sleeping between them when she's a little older and not at risk. I don't think Shadowheart can fathom having or wanting anything more in this life- on those days where she wakes up draped around Tav, with their little bundle of joy cuddled between them, and Buttons snoozing at the foot of the bed. She's in heaven.

Shadowheart teaching the baby to be comfortable with all the animals from the get-go. She grows up an animal lover just like her moms. She knows Arnell's wolf form and probably claps in excitement when she sees him like that. She watches Shadowheart talk to the animals in complete awe. She watches how gently and sweetly Tav handles them when they're ill or injured, she learns utter compassion from her household members and their animals. She loves playing with Daphne! Tav often carries her on her shoulders so she can get a nice view from up there. She "learns to ride" their horses (Tav holds her does all the work lol).

She is in complete awe of Shadowheart's magic/abilities. Healing, in particular, fascinates her. She looks up at Shadowheart like she is a goddess herself. She's Shadowheart's biggest fan (well, aside from Tav). She wants to emulate her mothers in everything she does. Shadowheart is just...flattered? Is that even an appropriate term? She can't fathom ANYONE wanting to be just like her. This child is just the world to her, and she thanks Tav every day because without her love, none of this would have come to pass.

Anyway they're just a very happy family

#nls series #shadowheart x tav #oc: serena tavyndír #anonymous #ask

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

[coolshadowtwins]

I really like “Truth Serum” trope in fanficion, particularly in Svsss fanfic because I think it’s can be a number of things- funny, angst, sweet.

HOWEVER, I feel like there isn’t enough where SY gets Truth Serum-ed, and his romantic partner, martial siblings and/or disciples get to see his absolutely unhinged thoughts.

Like, sure, you get a system reveal out of this, but I also think this is funnier if the bit where SY isn’t SJ isn’t revealed makes this so much funnier.

It’s the trial and SY is made to tell the truth, except it’s his whole thought process tumbling out and he just can’t help ‘Peerless Cucumber’ ranting and tearing apart OPM in front of everyone like the internet troll he still is deep down. Yue Qingyuan is just letting this happen.

It’s post canon and Luo Binghe is subjected to his husband’s feral thought process about him, and how great he is, and how he is definitely not gay for marrying him because come on. Look at Binghe.

It’s during the years after the conference and Liu Qingge is having to hold a ranting SY back from making the demons who got them in this mess cry, because SY isn’t going just a little too hard in his rant. Also he keeps saying how pretty LQQ is but how everyone must think that jeez, which is not helping the situation.

It’s at any point and Mu Qingfang is pretending to have a normal conversation with SY, under the cover of getting this truth serum nonsense fixed. Except SY just keeps saying the wildest shit about his health and what he does to manage it and Mu Qingfang just wants him to keep going at this point to learn the medical things that SY would never admit on a normal day.

I know this might sound like a normal fanfic with this trope, but I just feel like I have never seen one where the people who care about SY are forced to witness him being a bastard internet troll that we all know he is.

Anyway if anyone had some fanfic recs, I would love some lol

EDIT: I made a post with the fics that have been rec’ed that can be found here!

#svsss #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #liu qingge #yue qingyuan #mu qingfang #scum villian self saving system #truth serum #fanfic

[lovrspell]

Reflection

Pairing: Astarion x Afab!Reader (no gender specific pronouns used, only anatomy)

Summary: Astarion can't see his own reflection as he fucks you, but he can still see yours.

Warnings: 18+. Katoptronophilia. Body worship. Fingering. Hair pulling. Sprinkled some dry humping in there. PiV. Creampie. Astarion has an oral fixation. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Word count: 3,3k.

Masterlist.

(Screenshot ↷ by @cheekylittlepupp, I cropped it a bit)

Astarion has accepted the fact that he'll never truly know his own appearance. Denied the privilege to see himself through his own eyes, he must rely solely on others' description to gather an image of himself.

Something which makes him feel particularly vain is hearing your own portrayal of him. You make him feel so beautiful, basically flawless.

You would tell him that he has hypnotizing ruby eyes, you would tell him about the way his white strands curl around his pointy ears or about the sensual curve of his upper lip — and he'll love it all.

In your bedroom, there is a mirror right next to your shared bed, against the wall. He likes to watch you through it when you get ready for the day or, which he prefers most, when you get ready for the night. Your pre-bed routine is sacrosanct and he somewhat finds it relaxing, too. He has learned the smallest of your habits in depth.

On the other hand, during your most intimate moments, he likes to turn his head to admire the shapes of your body, or, when he takes you from behind and holds his hand in the locks of your hair, making you sink your head into the soft mattress, he notices how your cheek slumps against it; how you drool, how your face contorts in pleasure...

On all the times it has happened, it has always been the breaking point for him. That view is all he needs to come undone. Perhaps that's why he doesn't do it too often.

So it usually ends at a quick glance, nothing more.

Usually.

He had different plans in mind tonight, it seems.

It's one of those nights where having sex was inevitable. It occurs when you feel that simply being close is not enough anymore; when you feel the compelling desire to mold into a shared existence and become one.

It's not that difficult to do something that makes the other shiver with the familiar thrill of arousal. By now you are used to it: you immerse yourselves in intimacy, in each other, ending up in a realm with no name, that is simply all yours. In moments of passion, you lose all sense of surroundings: be it on the bed, on a table, against a wall — on the floor, even. Nothing matters anymore, just the two of you.

“Come here,” he whispers against your lips, finally detaching from them after yet another intense kiss. He grabs your hips and pushes you onto his lap, his back resting against the headboard of the bed.

You follow the motion as your lips come to latch on his throat, where you plant wet kisses. Your arms reach around his back to wrap around him, bodies nestled perfectly like a lock and a key.

As you do so, you feel him doing something you absolutely adore: he lets himself go.

It's always a wonderful feeling: his muscles softening under your touch as he lets himself be touched, loved, explored; you touch him as if you are rediscovering him every single time. Moments like these remind you of how much he trusts you.

His head tilts to the side and he groans, arms snaking around your form and coming to a stop once they reach your rear, of which he grabs an handful.

He gives it a few gentle slaps, something he does to encourage you to come closer.

You oblige, scooting closer with your hips, making your sexes brush against one another above the fabric of your clothes.

His sex bumps into yours as he buckles his hips up gently one, two, three times. Enough for you to feel his cock slowly getting harder and harder under your spell.

The gentle movements earn a languid whine out of you, and you pull back from his neck only to meet his gaze.

Astarion leans in, parting his lips as his front teeth gently catch your cheek in an affectionate nibble, ensuring his canines don't intrude in it.

He adores those soft spots of yours. Perfect for his teeth to sink into.

You grin, giggling softly as you press yourself down against his hardening member; he feels the damp heat coming from your sex, even through your pants. Not surprising after your intense make out session that had been going on for at least thirty minutes.

A slow drag of your hips along his length is enough to make his nose scrunch up as he suppresses a hiss. You big tease.

His cock twitches for you.

But he's not going to let you know just how needy he is yet.

He moves his hands to your hips, bringing his lips to your ear and mumbling a gentle command: “Lie down, darling.”

You hum in understanding, but pull back from him reluctantly. The friction between your sexes had just started to feel nice.

You adjust on the mattress and as he scoots closer to you, your hands immediately reach for him again.

As he's at your side, his hands go for the hem of your trousers. His thumbs slip past the fabric so he can get ahold of your panties too, and slowly, he starts to pull them down.

Your breath is uneven already.

“Part your legs for me, yes?” he whispers, smiling wryly at you. He's awfully aware of how much these alluring commands can turn you on.

“Gods, Astarion...” you whine, biting the inside of your cheek.

He knows what that's about.

“Oh, come on. Don't be coy. You can't possibly be any wetter than what I've made you on other occasions.”

You roll your eyes, watching him as he slips those clothes past your ankles and finally, your feet.

Tossing them aside, his gaze returns to you and he gives you a knowing smile.

“Let me see it.”

You spread your thighs slowly, making space for him in between them — a space he immediately occupies. He looks down at your exposed sex, raises his eyebrow and hums.

“Could've been a lot worse.”

He takes such pride in knowing he can make you wet with so little. He'll brag about it. Tease you as if you can't make him hard as brick without even touching him.

“Oh, please. Don't start.” you reply, scowling.

“You know you love it.”

You're grateful he didn't notice the clench down there.

It is true, after all, that deep down you love it when you're left bare and exposed for him in all your glory — and sticky wetness.

Before you can muster up something to say, you feel a pair of cold fingers brush over your clit.

You gasp softly, as Astarion starts to trace delicate circular motions, swelling up that particularly sensitive spot. The pace is slow, but he puts a noticeable amount of pressure on it — enough to make your legs twitch slightly every time he touches it from a specific angle.

“How does it feel?” he purrs, persistently keeping his eyes on yours. “Feels good?”

All you can manage is a nod. Now, come on, you could've certainly saw his response coming,

“Use your voice, dear.”

You swallow, then mumble “It feels good.”

With his free hand he caresses your inner thigh, before slowly trailing it towards the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, up, up, until your breasts are left exposed.

The view is certainly pleasing to him — you could swear that you saw his ears perk up a little.

He sighs deeply, leaning down to plaster kisses all over your breasts. His lips find your nipple and he nibbles gently, sucking on it a bit. When he pulls back from it, a string of saliva still connects him with its hardened surface. You writhe in pleasure, wrapping both arms loosely around his head.

He rests the side of his face on your soft tit, his sensitive ear right where your heart sings a rhythmic armony. He listens carefully as it beats against his ear, closing his eyes. That's life flowing inside you. Your body hot and and lively and vigurous with passion is something he'll never tire to admire, feel or taste.

He can hear the noise the blood coursing through your veins makes, your heart pounding faster and harder as the pleasures builds.

In the meantime, his fingers trace your swollen clit for one last time before his fingers slide down to trace your folds expertly. When they reach the entrance to your sex, he traces a few circles around it.

“So wet,” he comments, sliding a pair of fingers inside.

They follow an agonizingly slow in-and-out rhythm. You squirm, moving your hips in the direction of his hand — it's not enough.

He feels his pants going quite tight as he works his fingers inside you, caressing your sweet spot in deep strokes.

“More,” you whine, squeezing his waist with your thighs.

He doesn't answer, but he does move his thumb to circle your clit gently.

He has to bite back a groan when your walls hug his fingers tightly and a pool of warm wetness drenches them.

You writhe underneath him and his cock responds to that unexpected motion with a twitch.

He pushes his hips down the mattress and ruts against it, since his cock is too far away from any part of your body that he could possibly hump.

He turns his head from one side to the other and as he newly nestles against your chest, adjusting comfortably.

Then he sees it.

Your reflection.

In the mirror, your arms wrapped around his head look like they're floating.

Back arched, lips parted, thighs squirming, eyes shut rightly...

You look sublime.

It's not the first time he's greeted by such view, but even so he can't refrain himself from commenting on it. You're stunning when you have any part of him inside you and you need to know that.

“Look,” he mumbles, but you don't hear him.

Lifting his head from your chest, he smoothly raises his free hand to grab your chin, turning your head toward the mirror. The abrupt motion interrupts your pleasure momentarily; his cheek presses against yours as you both face the mirror.

“Look at that,” he repeats, his fingers curling into your sweet spot deeply enough to earn a high pitched moan out of you.

Knuckles deep, his fingers now fuck you at a rather frantic pace.

“Gods, you're beautiful...” he mumbles, his eyes fixed on that image before him.

You don't even have time to process what he's saying that he's basically already grinding his hips against your inner thigh. He skillfully maintains a coordinated rhythm with his fingers even while he's pleasuring himself.

But this dance doesn't last long.

He has to be inside you.

You're about to approach the edge of an orgasm when he pulls away from you.

“Up,” he gestures with an hand, patting your thigh impatiently with the other. As you do so, taking your time, he's already unbuttoning his pants. Only when he lowers his underwear enough to let his cock spring free he does exhale a quiet sigh of relief. He pumps it a bit, glancing up at you as he does.

He's not surprised to catch you staring, lips parted to form an ‘o’ shape.

“Up, honey. On your hands and knees. And face that mirror.”

Oh.

“...The mirror?” you echo, raising your brows and searching his gaze again.

“Did I stutter?” he retorts, raising his brows in a familiar fashion, playfully mocking you. “Go ahead.”

You take a few moments to process that order but you eventually oblige, placing yourself on all fours in front of said mirror.

Astarion scoots behind you, hands coming up to the small of your back to press on it, making you arch. He hears your sigh as his hardened cock presses against your ass. His lips curve in a knowing smile when one of his hands cups your rear and squeezes gently. He drags his cock along it again, grunting.

You whine, looking back at him from behind your shoulder. “Stop teasing.”

“Patient is the key,” he murmurs, leaning onto you and planting a tiny kiss on your shoulder before his chin comes to rest on it. He observes your reflection with feline attention.

“Look up.” he orders, and so you do. You meet your own eyes, feeling a certain embarrassment; you've always found it kind of creepy how, whenever you cross a reflective surface and you're in his company, he's simply not there.

“Do I have to?”

“I'm not going to let that go unseen,” his hips press into you and he uses an hand to help himself part your damp folds with the tip of his cock. “you look so pretty when I fuck you senseless.”

You grunt as your lips part in delight, eyes fluttering closed. He fills you with his whole length, slowly, and you're already at his mercy as he begins thrusting at a lazy rhythm. Astarion's lips press on your ear and he hushes you when you whine, “I've not even started yet,” he mumbles, reaching an hand up to grasp your hair so to hold your head up. Yet again, you're forced to meet your own reflection.

“That's the problem.” you answer, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Trust me, darling, if I had let my instincts win I would have been ravaging you by now. But waiting makes the experience better, doesn't it?”

Every word whispered brings sweet shivers down your spine. His lips move down the nape of your neck as he makes sure you feel every single inch of him as he pushes in and out. The pace picks up gradually and his eyes never leave the immacolate vision ahead of you.

You look in absolute bliss, lip twitching up whenever he speeds up a bit. It's impressive how you seem to forget about the rest of the world in a flash whenever he takes you.

Astarion starts to get impatient with himself. His cock is straining and all he wants is to get straight to the point and fuck you into oblivion until you're a sobbing, stuttering, trembling mess. But he insists on fighting against that urge; he always plays this ‘edging’ game with himself. It makes it all the better, somehow.

“You there?” he asks after a few seconds, given the fact that you've gotten silent and dropped the whining. He lifts off your back and straightens his own. His hand leaves your hair, trusting you to keep you head up on your own.

“Hm,” you hum in response. It seems you've gotten quite fond of the slow, gentle rhythm.

He has to fix that.

Can't have you falling asleep now, can he?

His hands find the soft curve of your hips and he gives them a strong squeeze that only lasts for a second, like a warning. It seems to stir you up a bit.

He angles his hips in a way that ensures that each movement he makes meets your deepest spot. He switches to a rapid pace so suddenly that it almost makes you lose your balance and slip your hands past the edge of the bed.

Fortunately, Astarion is there for you.

He grabs you by the hair not so gently, pulling you up. Your back arches naturally as a yelp escapes you.

He grins, letting out quick puffs of breath with every thrust. One of his hands finds your throat and his fingers curl around it, while the other rests on your ass for good measure. He tilts his head back, loosing himself in the warmth of your wet walls.

But he quickly raises his head back up towards the mirror. Your breasts, partially covered by the shirt you didn't bother to take off, bounce with every thrust. And as if that sight isn't enough to make his dick twitch inside you, he catches a glimpse of you rubbing your clit as he's fucking you.

This view somehow encourages him to give you more. So much more.

Until you can't handle it.

He uses the hand around your throat to pull you against his chest: an hoarse moan rumbles in your chest and fills the room as the movement chokes you a bit, but you don't mind.

His hand leaves your neck and find the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts further. His other arm snakes around your stomach and your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder.

Astarion doesn't miss the opportunity to plant kisses all over your neck, nibbling here and there and leaving a few scratches with his sharp fangs. He doesn't make too much of an effort to find the point in which your pulse pounds, pressing his parted lips on it and sucking.

When he makes sure he has left an hickey, lips find your earlobe and he bring it in between his lips, suckling it gently. “Such elegance in your every movement,” he sighs, voice low and alluring. “impressive.”

You whimper in response, and as he tilts his to the side, he catches your hand trembling in the reflection.

Your brain fogs up and you reach that moment in your ecstasy in which you go limp, letting yourself go completely. Your stomach slowly twists in a knot as your orgasm approaches.

“Let me do it for you,” he whispers, gently pushing your hand away, replacing it with his own. His fingers circle your clit in quick movements that match the pace of his thrusts, which, however, gets messier and sloppier as he approaches the sweet edge as well.

He groans as his free hand gropes you all over, squeezing and pulling on the softest spots of your body he knows by heart by now. You manage to open your eyes and see clearly for a couple of seconds and, well, you're surprised to notice that the view ahead of you does turn you on some more.

There's just... Something in the way you know that it's Astarion reducing you to such a mess and and most of all, it's to be witnessing it in real time what earns a clench of your walls around his member.

The way your sex responds to that vision can't go unnoticed when Astarion is balls deep inside it.

He smirks, biting the shell of your ear as he rams inside you, chasing both yours and his orgasm. Your moans sound breathless as your clit swells with arousal under the tips of his fingers, aching for a release. You raise an hand up to grasp his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. You tilt your head so that you can meet his lips for a messy kiss, which Astarion reciprocates.

However, he breaks away with a growl when you start panting into his mouth. He watches the climax happen on your face, then your body: you tremble, losing control over your hips that chase those fingers on your clit and his cock. Both your shaking hands find his hips and you grip them tightly, dipping your nails in his flesh.

Your clit swells and your walls clench deliciously around his member, squeezing him in.

He stares, eyes wide and basically glowing.

His pace doesn't falter, not even for a second, although he pulls his hand back from your clit in order to focus on his cock straining inside you.

He whimpers desperately, getting impatient to come, which results in sloppier thrusts. His name leaves your lips in a sobby moan; you lose balance, letting yourself sink into the mattress.

He sounds so good. You grip the sheets tightly and he leans down, lips against the nape of your neck.

“Just a little more, a little bit more... I know you can handle it,” he mumbles breathlessly, feeling his cock twitch and balls tightening.

He looks up to meet the blessed view of you, squirming and spent as you cry into the mattress, muttering phrases of ecstasy he doesn't quite catch; he finds it adorable how you kind of... Lose your ability to speak properly when you're drunk on his cock.

His hips falter and he groans, sinking his fingers into your flesh and pushing you down against him. He feels his knees abandon him for a second or two as he spills his semen inside your aching cunt. The thought of pulling out didn't even cross him, not when you clench around him so tantalizingly.

He grunts, mumbling your name a few times as the last thrusts guide him over the wave of his ecstasy.

Next, he collapses on top of you.

You lower your ass under his weight, grunting. It takes a few moments, but he eventually lazily pulls out of you, unable to contain a small, content grin at the sight of his cum spilling out of your puffy sex.

He lays on his back beside you, making the mattress bounce gently with his weight as he settles. You turn your head to him, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He's following your every movement with his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, hand raising to caress your face.

You snuggle against the cool palm of his hand, giving up on trying to keep your eyes open. You give a slight nod, then ask: “Are you?”

“Do I not look like it?” he replies, smiling lovingly, fangs peeking at the corners of his mouth.

A comfortable silence falls between you two, but you're the one to break it:

“I might be into this whole mirror thing, y'know.”

He grins, narrowing his gaze. “Oh, love. I always knew you were a bit of an exhibitionist.”

“...It was your idea, I shall remind you.”

“And you went along with it.”

“I did.”

You yawn, leaning in to rest your head against his unmoving chest. He wraps you up into his arms and you do the same, lifting your head up to print small kisses all over his face.

You both lay there for a while, not bothering to get cleaned up right away: it has been like this ever since you've grown more comfortable around each other. You take it easy, savoring the aftermath of passion and the softness that comes with it, between giggles and stolen kisses.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x fem reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x afab reader #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

[kestalsblog]

Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing

I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!

-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.

-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.

-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.

-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.

-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."

-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).

-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.

-Use a consistent verb tense.

-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.

-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.

-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.

-There's no need to start tossing out every character trait if it's not relevant to the story.

-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?

#writeblr #writing community #writing #writers on tumblr #for writers #writing advice #kestal #text post

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 257

Now Danny loves space. He loves everything about it, to the point his core quite literally is space. And he’s also a baby ghost, even if he could argue he’s not in human form. But see, being baby has an honestly great consequence once it’s noticed- despite the Observants’ best attempts at hiding it, the assholes. 

Of course he would be far more worried- and even a bit pissed- if his caretaker wasn’t who it was. Look, he’d never met Clockwork’s siblings before, but apparently everyone was really against Clockwork himself adopting. 

But Clockwork as his uncle is fine. Besides, his caretaker is Space! Space itself is holding him, cooing gentle words in the sounds of the very cosmos. And they’re huge, like parts of their body going through portals so they can fit outside Long-Now sized big- and apparently Clockwork can get just as big and they can get even bigger- 

Okay, he needs to take a breath- even if he doesn’t need to breathe- to stop his squealing because holy Realms this is so cool. 

Space is awesome! And he’s getting so much more rest than he did in Amity- and even if Space sort of shrugged at the idea of school at first, they did help him set up online schooling. So there’s that, and it’s just the start! 

He gets to learn so much about space and it’s honestly kind of… nice? To be taken care of? And he can do whatever he needs for his Core and Obsession with only a few interruptions to take care of his living needs. Erm, sort of living needs? 

But even that gets turned into a bit of play or even a lesson too! He’s honestly having such a good time right now! He’s learning so much about spaaace! And dimensions! And interdimensional portals and- oops! No one saw that. 

Ahem- But he’s learning so much about space and getting to explore other dimensions with Cosmos! And sure he no longer looks as human as he once did and all that, but he’s seen so many people who also don’t look human that does it really matter? 

Of course it doesn’t, and he matches his sort-of-dad! Even though the streaks of color in their hair are more of a brown-red like they’re literally bleeding out the cosmos around them instead of it fading to void and space like his own. But still! They match and it’s fun! 

And they’re going to go on another trip from the in-between to one of the dimension realities! He’s going to start a game of tag this time he thinks! But no cheating with portals or bending space! Tag! 

Look, the Justice League? Not paid enough for this. In fact, technically not paid at all due to being volunteers (not that it stopped them from finding money in their accounts) but still. 

There is some sort of figure… being… thing… zooming around the asteroid belt, about the size of Earth itself. Let them repeat themselves. A planet-sized creature (are those hands or paws? Tail or simply its body stretching? Hair or the Abyss-) is currently darting around the asteroid belt like a child running through grass. 

That is, without noticing or caring if something bug-sized might be crushed. And they are very much bug sized, as the governments are concerned about. Like really concerned about. Like talking about trying to nuke the entity if it wanders closer sort of concerned. 

Which they are all very concerned and very much like, against. Because it isn’t seeming to notice the asteroids it’s knocking into their area. It’s like… not a space whale or eel or anything like that but also is something like that. 

And they would also maybe like to see if they can attempt to talk it down first maybe and-

oh. 

Oh. 

That creature is the baby. And mama just arrived, stretching across the entire galaxy, from them to Pluto and beyond, like something took the cosmos and shaped it like clay into some sort of form. Like reality itself has wandered into their galaxy with what they are suddenly realizing must be a very young child. 

Shit, they really have to make sure no one tries to piss either of these things off-

#Prompts #DCxDP #DPxDC #Danny is like Lil Baby Man compared to Cosmos #But he’s the same size as the world too lol #Space Core Danny #Clockwork is a triplet lol #Clockwork Chaos & Cosmos the children of Infinity & Reality #Let Primordials & Ancients be Eldritch #Are those stars or eyes? Hair or strands of time? Clothes or the fabric of reality? Wound or black hole? #Danny: I am doin good at hidin- the best at hide and seek #Cosmos veery slowly floating after: Oh nooo where has my ghostling hid where could they have goone to *knows exactly where he is* #Can they *technically* go smaller? Yeah but they’re used to where All of Space-Dimension-Portals meets #Danny is Not ghost king he’s bby Space Ancient #Why were people against Clockwork adopting? He never finished divorcing Pariah before he got thrown in the nap box

[teal-sharky]

The literally only impressive thing about SpaceX Starship test is that it shows how incredibly dumb the audience is at this point.

People keep comparing Starship to SaturnV, because tentatively, if it ever became a space worthy vessel and orbital delivery vehicle (it's not); it'd be the largest and most powerful one in history, with SaturnV its only near peer (sorry, N-1, you really didn't qualify).

And the first "integration test vehicle" (read: the actually whole complete thing, that's literally the point of that kind of test; it's meant to be all the pieces, already tested and proven on their own, finally assembled into the final thing to make sure everything plays nice when together)

So lets see how did Saturn family development go in comparison? How many "integration test vehicles" did the Saturn project obliterate in the process?

ZERO. They blew up ZERO Saturn first stages, ZERO Saturn second stages, and ZERO Saturn payloads.

It's not fucking normal to blow up rockets this size and complexity, because they're expensive and dangerous! You build SMALLER, SIMPLER prototypes, you test those, you do all the "risky" tests on your separate parts of the system, and test the integration at less ambitious scales and stress levels. That's how you do rocket science. Iteratively, yes! But the iterations must make sense!

And let me stress

They got Saturn to moon and back in the SIXTIES, when simulation was in diapers (partially, literally invented within projects like the Saturn series).

SpaceX exists at a time where they can (and should) do 90% of the raw, grueling development with lot of painful failures in digital simulations, or tests where you build a small, simple thing and enhance the simulation based on what you learned there.

And the worst of it all is that another thing that Elongated Muskrat has at this disposal is all of the Saturn research. It's been DONE.

Saturn and other projects paved the worst of this goddamn slog. They did all the dirty, awful work already. They literally gave us the textbooks that you study from if you actually get a science degree (Elon does not have one).

And again, the most embarrassing thing isn't Musk and his poor, toxic, overworked circus that's SpaceX. The most embarrassing thing is the "space science enthusiast" crowd that's cheering on this launch as some sort of tentative success.

The king is fucking ass goddamn naked, and you all yes-men are an embarrassment to this doomed goddamn species. You're not supporting the effort to give Humanity a "chance at survival", you're hooting and hollering around a basementman dumpster fire that's literally immolating what's left of the scraps of natural and human resources we have left.

#SpaceX #Elon Musk #I fucking hate Elon Musk #Con man

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

[writingouthere]

neighbor!sukuna x singlemom!reader. Sukuna picks up your daughter from school, he makes quite the impression and we learn more about his background.

cw: None really here except I guess this is low key becoming a slow burn, idk.

You were stuck at work and didn't have anyone else who could go get your daughter so you had asked Sukuna. The tattoo shop was usually slow in the evening this far into winter anyway, and he couldn't imagine saying no to you even if he'd been fully booked.

It felt strange to be going outside when it was still light out but Sukuna took in the sights as other people walked around, other parents clearly in the process of picking up their children from school.

Not that Bug was his kid, at least not as far you knew. Yet.

Sukuna didn't do things halfway, just wasn't in his nature. He knew he was moving fast, he had put up with his little brother Yuji's nervous protests at dinner the week before when he had explained his new living situation, but he wasn't going to slow things down when they were going so well.

For a long time, it had just been him and Yuji. There had been other relatives, like Yuji's grandfather and his freak of a mother, but the two had mostly bounced around foster homes and made due until Sukuna was old enough to take care of them both. Yuji was graduating college in the spring and Sukuna had been alone since he left for the dorms and now he had an apartment with some friends from school. Sukuna was proud of his brother, he was one of the only people he really gave a fuck about. Their lives had been hard and that had made Sukuna even harder. Yuji had never been like that, he had come through even kinder than the average person and Sukuna could admire the strength that showed in it's own way.

The point was, Sukuna had paid his dues. He had done right by his brother even when the world had done them so wrong and now he was ready for his reward. You and the little girl he was about to go get.

The daycare was inside of a little beige building, decorated with those tacky outlines of children playing and some fucking mural with birds that always seemed to cover the walls of places like this. Parents, mostly moms, walked out with their children in tow, asking about their days and zipping up coats. Sukuna noticed the double takes as they took him in, the way the adults seemed to pull their little ones closer. That was fine by him, he didn't want any of these fucking rugrats near him except his own.

"Ryomen Sukuna, mom should have added me to the pick-up list," he told your daughter's teacher, showing her his ID. She didn't react to his tattoos or general aura with anything but a smile and he supposed that childcare workers must be aware more than most that they really do let anyone be a parent.

"Of course, I'll go get her while you sign here," she said handing over a clipboard with the names of all the kids in the center along with blue pen with a fuzzy pompom attached to it. While he was signing his name he heard a familiar squeal and looked to see your daughter running towards him as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Sukuna!"

She tripped on some particularly tricky air and Sukuna moved forward to pick her up before she could face plant on the hard tile.

"Careful there bug, told mom I'd bring you home in one piece."

She ignored him and started babbling nonsense about her day that Sukuna could only really catch half of, but he nodded and hmmed as he finished signing her out and with a quick nod to the amused staff member, he headed out.

He shifted her on his hip so he could finish zipping up her coat. What was it with kids and their refusal to just zip up their damn coats? He remembered Yuji had been the same.

Bug continued to regale him with tales of her day until she eventually squirmed on his hip, the universal signal for "put me down until I get tired and whine for you to pick me up again" and Sukuna put her down on the sidewalk but took her backpack which he slung across his shoulder and then grabbed her hand with his. He could see people take second looks at the two of them and he supposed they cut quite the picture. The tall scary guy with tattoos carrying a pink princess backpack and the little girl pulling him down the sidewalk.

"We in a rush or something?"

Your daughter laughed and said something about being hungry for dinner with mommy which he could get behind. You both had only been living with him for a week but you already had a bit of a routine. He made breakfast in the morning while you got the kid ready but you always made dinner that was ready when he got home. It was nice, domestic. It felt like what he imagined life was like for people who had normal families when he had been a young kid. Holding a crying, hungry baby Yuji on his lap while they ate whatever he could scrounge up in whatever shithole they were in that week.

He remembered when Yuji had been the same age as your daughter and the idea of her ever living in the places they had, or going through the things they had made him pull her a little closer.

He wasn't going to lie to himself and say he was a good man or that he wanted you, the both of you, for some pure love nonsense but he knew he wanted you all the same. He had done terrible things and he would do them all over again if it led to this moment where he watched as your daughter cooed over the neighbor's dog. Said neighbor looking at him in confusion and fear as he told your daughter they needed to leave the fleabag alone and go home.

Later, when Sukuna was working on dinner and your daughter was sitting on the counter, "helping", he heard the sound of a key in the lock.

"I'm home," you called out and Sukuna called out that they were in the kitchen.

"Hey, thank you so much for getting her. I just wasn't going to make it in time," you said, picking up your daughter.

"No worries, we weren't busy at the shop today anyway." You hummed and smiled at him.

"Still."

"You can go ahead and change," he told you and you looked ready to protest when he went to grab your daughter from you but then Bug went willingly and he saw how you melted at the two of them. Good.

"Okay, but when I get back I'm taking over dinner."

Sukuna agreed and he watched as you walked away, admiring the way your clothes hugged your frame. He was glad the only witness to his hunger was a toddler who was more interested in poking his cheek than observing social cues.

The rest of the evening passed peacefully and Sukuna felt what he could only describe as content. When your daughter started to nod off on your shoulder, you got up from the couch to take her to bed, telling Sukuna he should stay and that you got it. With your daughter on one hip, you used your free hand to press against his shoulder and lean down to where he was still on the couch. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your lips pressing gently against his cheek and then with a quick goodnight, the two of you were in your room, the door closing with a quick 'click'.

The gesture had been so innocent and Sukuna would have mocked anyone he knew who got so flustered over a gesture as meaningless as a kiss on the cheek.

But how could any gesture be meaningless when it came from you?

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x singlemomreader

[wqnwoos]

dating seventeen (hyung line ver.)

hyung line (95s & 96s) x gn!reader — cw mentions of food in some — written while sleep deprived (heavily) and not proofread

maknae line ver.

seungcheol

is he your boyfriend or is he your sugar daddy. unclear.

would literally pay for everything if you didn’t stop him

also just sooo soft n cuddly with you :(

sits you in his lap and when he’s especially clingy he’ll literally just hold on

like he will refuse to let go and get all pouty and whiny and starts kissing up your neck and you’re like sir i love u too but please can i just go take a piss

ALSO 😭 probably gets jealous if you’re cuddling w kkuma and not him

or if she likes you better than him… he’s never going to get over it

i feel like he’s the type of bf who would take the couch when you guys fight — like no matter how mad he is, he would point blank refuse to let you take it

pulls out all the pet names for u too, ur his baby angel love darling sweetheart and there’s nothing u can do about it!!!!!

jeonghan

MENACE

constantly teasing you omg

but like in the most endearing way possible so you can’t even get annoyed at him

big on leaning. like leans his head on your shoulder and loves it whenever you do the same

also feel like he’d love to just plop his head in your lap and have you play with his hair

like he just drags your hand to it wordlessly and if you stop for a minute he starts whining

scolds you if you don’t eat properly or miss meals and stuff like that,, he hates it so much and it makes him worry :(

do not ask him if he would still love you if you were a worm. the answer will not be the one you want.

probably replies with “i might step on you”

or even “i’d go fishing with you as bait” and then convince you — because you love him so much that you want him to eat well, don’t you???

probably squishes your cheeks at random intervals just because he can

baby talks you while he’s doing it too 😭 like “my pretty baby, so cute”

boops your nose

also makes faces at you across rooms at parties to try and make you laugh in the middle of serious convos 😭

but also the best comforter whenever you’re nervous about something; holds your hands and breathes with you :((

joshua

guys this man is sO boyfriend i don’t even know where to start. it’s kind of sickening actually

i just see him being flirty asf,,, like u guys are already dating but he’s still being so SMOOTH

also classic gentleman — holds doors for you and helps you in/out of the car

opens up all your packets and cans and everything so you don’t have to struggle

probably kisses your hand too (like ok prince charming we get it)

demands cheek kisses,, like he will just wordlessly offer his cheek to you

and if you don’t supply them he will be very upset

also hear me out: little spoon joshua

ITS A CONCEPT I MUST SHARE like i can see him being both but also just the idea of him being little spoon is cute ok

also type of bf to carry u out the car and upstairs when you’re tired (where do i find a joshua plsplsplsplsdolsdkhfje)

worst texter please just call him

teases u like HELL if u want kisses. but also supplies them in the end so who’s the real winner 🤨🤨

jun

makes grabby hands whenever he wants you to cuddle him (which is a lot)

MAKES U BREAKFAST <3

and if you don’t eat breakfast (like me) you’re about to get a lecture on the benefits of it and all the reasons you shouldn’t skip it

feeds you random parts of his meals and he literally just does it unconsciously it’s like second nature to him

learns how to make all your favourite foods too :(

giggly kisses !!!!

this is something very important to me !!! giggly kisses !!!!!! smiles into it and u guys pull away laughing and he kisses other parts of your face and u guys are still laughing and idk just giggly kisses <3

also likes to bump his nose against yours after a kiss

also random but i feel like he would genuinely be so distressed if he saw you cry like that would physically pain him :(

if he’s taller than you then probably rests his cin on your head and does that thing where he opens and closes his jaw on top of your head (idk if this is too niche or what but it’s definitely a concept)

hoshi

FOREHEAD KISSER

like would randomly cup your face in his hands and give u a big smooch on your forehead and the only reason he gives is “cause i love you”

his lock screen / home screen is almost definitely a selfie of you two doing the horanghae (with faces all squished together and smiling and

makes you do the horanghae at the end of every facetime call

buys you tiger plushies (demands to see them whenever he comes over)

also has named them all different variations of his name (hoshi, soonie, hosh, horang…)

AND omg. drunk hoshi does NOTHING except talk about you

him just sobbing into mingyu’s shoulder like “i love them sO MUCH mingyu”

(mingyu is just patting his head and wondering if it’s too late to get you to come pick him up)

i feel like he’s so cuddly too like he just squishes u in his arms -squish-

also feel like he would get so worried if you’re sick??

especially if he’s away from you

like orders delivery to your door or sends a friend over to your house to check on you and texts you every hour like “have you eaten??”

and you’re like. babe i love you but i don’t need to eat soup every hour.

wonwoo

head patter. just keeps patting your head. reasons unknown.

(probably because he thinks you’re the cutest thing to walk the planet but like whatever)

i’ve mentioned this before but i feel like he just lets you do anything

want to try on his glasses? they’re all yours. want to play games and rUIN his killstreak? go ahead!! he does not mind!!!!!

also if you wear glasses too then he’d swap his for yours just to try it

hot take but he loves having you in his lap whenever you guys are at home — scoots to the side when you’re about to sit to make u sit on him and tease you

also sits you on his lap when he’s gaming

omg if you like reading he prob recommends books to you too

like you guys just reading your books together in the same room in comfy silence wow i’m so sad

also feel like he’s another one who just squishes your cheeks when he feels like it

just does the most heart fluttering things sooo casually and randomly 😭

like he’s telling you he loves you while you guys are doing laundry or you’re making 3am ramen and he’s like wow you’re so gorgeous or he calls you cute 47374 times a day

woozi

omg best person to just like. coexist with

you guys just in his studio and he’s doing cool music things and you’re just reading or something in the corner and you guys aren’t even talking

but it’s very comfortable and sweet and it just feels nice idk if this making sense

also such a hypocrite because he’s sending go to bed texts to you knowing damn well he’s staying up for another 4 hours

pretends to cringe if you say something cheesy but also kisses you on the temple to let you know that actually he’s obsessed with you

also so cliché and overdone but that’s because it’s TRUE — makes music for you

and lets you listen to random stuff he’s making on the side (but refuses to give you seventeen comeback spoilers no matter how much you beg)

even lets you mess around with his equipment and teaches you how to use it (if u don’t know already)

one of those bfs that has an arm around u always btw

like even when you guys are with friends, 9/10 times his arm is resting on the sofa behind you

laughs extra hard at your jokes only (zendayafied!!!)

also if his members are teasing you he will defend u <3 even if you’re wrong or saying something he doesn’t agree with (like milk before cereal)

an / hopefully will do the rest of the members soon!! also i’m sorry this is so unhinged and i formatted i’m running of like 3 hours sleep but i hope you enjoy!! i’ve been xompiling this for a while whenever i cant sleep 😭

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen headcanons #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader

[toxicanonymity]

i had dream about this lol. reader is naive/innocent/virgin, they know about sex but not much about masturbation. reader tells joel that they’ve been having this problem at night (usually) where they get all hot and achey down there. joel’s like well i know a way you can fix that feeling!! hopefully this isn’t too outrageous, i just love perv!joel lololll

Aches

900 / Joel x virgin!Reader / joel master

✨ prequel: fires | sequel: thoughts

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag. fingering, grinding. mention of Joel being a girl dad.

You can't sleep.  You scoot your lower body forward and away from Joel's crotch.  

"You okay, sweetie?" 

Not really, but you don't know how to talk to him about it.  You’ve been sharing a sleeping bag with Joel ever since yours was lost in a scuffle.  Joel's is big enough for both of you, but barely.  You’re settled in against him with your head on his bicep trying to get to sleep, but he was poking into you again, and it makes you ache.  The feeling between your legs is so distracting, so overwhelming you can't sleep.  

It seizes you and won’t let you relax, but you don’t know what to do about it.  You’re a grown woman, of course you’ve tingled before, felt the warmth between your legs, thought about sex, hoped to have it one day.  But this aching, throbbing feeling worries you.  It’s so beyond anything you’ve ever felt before.  It's extreme and sometimes it hurts. You worry something has happened to you from sleeping so rough, not having the right products people used to have for their periods.

The feeling is at its worst when his dick gets hard and presses up against you.  That makes you suspect it's sexual. But you never learned how to get yourself off, and it's too late now.

"Um, yeah," you whisper. "I'm okay."

You squirm uncomfortably and dig a hand between your legs just to stay there.  

"What's wrong honey?" 

You sigh. "I just feel funny, that's all. You can't help. It's girl stuff."

"Now, hold on. Gimme some credit. I was a girl dad remember?  You havin' cramps?"  He gently rubs your lower belly, making the throbbing between your legs even worse.  

"No, not like that," you groan.  

He lifts his head up and gets more serious. "What's goin' on, sweetie? Where's it hurt?" 

Your face burns as you start to try to tell him. "In the front between my legs." 

His breath hitches.  "What's it feel like?" 

"It just aches and tingles and feels like a lot of pressure." 

He inhales deeply. "Anything else that goes with it?"

"I get wet," you say. "But I don't think it's like normal. This is really a lot, and I'm afraid something's wrong." 

He's quiet for a moment. "Nothin's wrong with you, baby," he murmurs. "Imma try somethin', okay? Tell me if this makes it worse or better."

"Okay." You're desperate.  Plus, you've been traveling with him for weeks and you're past the point of modesty.

He nestles in behind you and grinds his hard cock into your ass. "Worse or better?" 

"Worse, worse." 

"Okay, now we know what the problem is. It's just tension, baby. Built up pressure. Your body's reactin' to mine."

"Okay. . ."

"Just gotta relieve that pressure. It's okay, we all do it. I can give ya some space if ya want" 

Your heart rate speeds up.  He must assume you know how. "I don't do that," you whisper. 

"Ya gotta. Not gonna go away on its own, sweetie."

"I never figured out how. maybe something's wrong with me"

"Nothin's wrong with ya sweetie." He's quiet for a moment then he strokes your abdomen reassuringly. His hand finds yours between your legs. "Want some help?" He asks. 

"Um, alright." 

You move your hand out of the way and Joel's replaces it, first feeling you over your underwear. He whistles silently when he feels how wet you are. Then he slides his hand into your waistband.  "This okay?"

"Yeah." 

He backs up and urges you to lie down flat on your back.  His hand wedges between your thighs and you move them apart, making space. He watches you watch his hand. He bypasses your clit to wetten his fingers with your arousal. "This okay?" He asks and you nod. 

His middle finger prods at your entrance "can I go in?"  You nod again. 

He scoots up and presses his hard cock into your hip as he swirls his finger, then inserts it to the first knuckle and your mouth falls open with the intrusion. "Real tight," he mutters. 

"What's that mean?"

"Nothin', baby."

He proceeds to insert his whole finger, then adds another.  He slides his fingers through your folds then finds your clit and begins to rub wet circles. "Tell me when it feels right," he says. 

He tries a few angles, speeds, and techniques until one really hits the spot and you say "that."

"Good girl." 

He rubs you just how you like. "Now if you wanna touch your nipple or somethin', sometimes that helps, too." 

You slide a hand under your shirt and lightly caress your breast. You feel your lower belly heating up, you're getting more tense but also feeling so good with his hand between your legs.  He grinds himself into you as he fingers you and watches your spine begin to arch. 

"Come on, sweetie. Let it happen."

You whine from the pressure. "Joel, I - I don't know how"

"Sure ya do, baby just let go, let it happen," his voice is soothing and low. 

You whine again and pinch your eyes shut. 

"I know baby, you're almost there;" 

A few more strokes and you see stars.  You ride massive waves of pleasure and relief. It feels so good you cry. 

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. I got you."  He caresses your face. "You're okay, I got you, sweetie." He presses a kiss to your temple.

SEQUEL: Thoughts

-

Thank you so much for reading. I always love your comments 🥹🙏

If you're into innocent readers, there's more where this came from. . . My ongoing series Left in Lincoln has an innocent, naive, virgin reader. And my master list has a virgin section lol.

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fic #perv!joel miller #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal #pervy!joel miller #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️

[hedgehog-moss]

I meant to go admire a frozen waterfall yesterday, but I'm scared of driving on slippery roads so I ended up abandoning my car and my dreams and just wandering about by foot, following random roads.

(These first two photos are a little bit blurry because I took them while walking, but it does give them a certain je ne sais quoi... They look like childhood memories)

The soles of my boots had zero grip and were therefore great for sliding, so I ended up taking two sticks and using them like cross-country skiing poles to propel myself forward on the iciest portions of the road. It was fun! Pandolf thought I was insane. He was being extremely prudent on the icy patches, testing each step:

At the beginning of our walk he was prancing as usual but then at one point his front paws slipped forward without warning, turning him into a very long slinky dog. It was pretty funny. I laughed. I admit. He wasn't hurt but definitely a bit vexed.

We did leave the icy road on numerous occasions, to slip under fences and cross promising pastures (promising = lots of footprints; potential friends.) We met several creatures! Like this adorable shetland pony—I tried to take a photo from afar, with Pandolf nearby for scale, to show how scandalously tiny he was, but that turned out to be impossible because he was too friendly. Every time I took a step back he took two steps forward. Clearly he thought he was even better-looking from up close.

We also ran into the darling goat I mentioned yesterday, and I was told by several people on here that she looked more like a ewe.

Sorry for the mistake! But also I tried to look further into this and became more and more confused, as every source that mentioned a foolproof way to tell goats from sheep was disproven by another source—I found one that said sheep had a split upper lip while goats didn't (and my mystery friend didn't), but then another website contradicted it. I ended up with 32 tabs open with photos of goats and sheep of all kinds, some of which looked downright bizarre (what's with the Jar Jar Binks ears), and I began losing my grasp on the concept of animal species altogether. I understood how Darwin must have felt when he tried to figure out the differences between species of barnacles and asked people to send him various specimens and ended up with giant teetering piles of wet smelly boxes full of barnacles in his study that threatened to collapse and bury him alive. Then I closed my 32 tabs.

Honestly ever since learning that some sheep have horns and some goats don't, I've been lost. Not to mention, our mystery girl had a sheep-like tail but a goat-like beard. Are there sheep out there with beards and if yes, how do we make sense of the world? We should be able to point at a mammal with a goatee and say "goat" without doubting ourselves. That's my manifesto.

Whatever she was, the goat-ewe was very sweet, and she baa-ed a lot—at first I thought she was making conversation and I politely baa-ed back, before realising she was calling her horse bodyguards, just in case. Two horses soon showed up from behind a tree, very "What seems to be the problem ma'am?"

I offered nose scritches to the friendliest of the two and she went to report to the goat like "We've neutralised the threat."

Let me insert another (blurry) photo of a travelling Pandolf to symbolise the passing of time before moving on to our last encounter:

... I also had trouble taking photos of this one at first, because she kept coming closer to inspect my scarf—I thought she wanted to explore my pockets for potential treats like Pirlouit often does but no, she was very interested in the smell (texture?) of my scarf specifically.

The sky had cleared as we went down from 1300 to 1100m, as if we'd slipped under the clouds, so I tried to take a photo of this nice late-afternoon sky, and the horse finally stopped focusing on my scarf and instead started insistently positioning herself between me and my beautiful landscape.

Look at this lovely golden light in the snow over there which I was almost able to capture!

Meanwhile her pasture mate was eating a whole broom plant, slowly and thoughtfully, which makes me jealous because my llamas are supposed to eat brooms and they mostly don't, they think they're too good for brooms. They eat the very young ones but not adult brooms, so I have to do the work of three llamas and cut them myself. I wish I could send the Pampses as interns in this pasture, to learn the art of brush-clearing from this wise old horse.

I tried to take one last landscape photo and gave up when the aspiring model came to pose again.

Where was Pandolf, you might ask? Pandolf doesn't trust horses, especially large farm horses, and was quietly and insistently trying to convince me to leave. When Model Horse tried to greet him (it looks like she's chasing him but no, she was just stretching her neck to sniff him) he beat a hasty retreat toward the icy road, his former enemy. Some guard dog.

It may sound like Pandolf didn't have a very fun time on this walk, slipping on ice and running from horses, but don't worry, he found plenty of suitable empty pastures to practise his favourite hobby! Though I think at this point he has moved beyond a hobbyist and is ready to play in professional leagues. He does this thing now where he jumps up a bit to gain momentum; I don't remember him doing this last winter. He's an entirely self-taught dog (in the art of snow diving) and I'm proud of him.

#crawling along #(* edit because the first sentence said 'today' but this was yesterday) #(i got distracted by my goat vs sheep studies last night and didn't have time to finish this post!)

[yuki-world]

那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; TEACH

summary | you're just so sexually inexperienced, surely neuvillette, someone who has lived for millenniums, could teach you a thing or two about pleasuring someone?

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, slight corruption, first-time blowjob, throat bulge, face-fucking, cum swallowing, praise kink, mentions of virginity, 1.9k words

a/n : you have no idea how down bad i am. pt 2 here —> learn

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

neuvillette is not amused.

he’s always open to sharing his knowledge with others; in fact, he has been teaching you a plethora of things, more than you could’ve imagined. you admired neuvillette, he knew that very well. experience was definitely something he didn’t lack.

but some things… aren’t meant to be shared, especially not whatever you were asking for.

“its not that big of a deal,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “you said you would teach me anything.”

“please, it's unwise to joke about things like that,” neuvillette says. he looks at you for any hints of a smile, a giggle, anything to indicate that you were joking. he sees nothingー just you with your head slightly tilted, waiting patiently for his answer. quite cute, he must admit.

look, he understands that you are a curious person; you’re always up for expanding your knowledge. but isn’t this… a little too much? asking him to teach you how to give a blowjob? it's not like he didn’t have experience with… that. but this topic wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he said you could ask him anything.

but neuvillette has a soft spot for you; he’s come to grow fond of you. what started from him finding it annoying how you pester him on the daily, to him looking forward to seeing you as an escape from his work. you’re like a breath of fresh air. he has no obligation to, but he feels like it's his job to guide and protect you.

the room fills with silence, and you attempt to draw an answer out of him again. he’ll probably give in, you think. after all, he does have a soft spot for you. “oh, but i’m not joking,” you rebutted. “why won’t you teach me?” you try again, hoping your question would be answered.

its silent yet again, the lack of response making you click your tongue. its hard to figure out how he’s feeling, because the look on his face tells you nothing. that’s when you thought you could tease him a little to get a reaction out of him, if that would even work.

“how disappointing. i suppose i’ll just have to ask someone else, maybe wriothesley? i’m sure he’ll be happy to teach me.”

the mention of another man’s name has his attention back onto you immediately. sure, he’s hesitant on teaching you about pleasuring someone. but no way is he going to let you ask someone else about this; he won’t allow it. won’t even consider it. the image of you sucking another man off has him furrowing his eyebrows.

“what do you think? or maybe i should askー”

“i think that’s enough, y/n.”

at this point, you think you might’ve actually made him angry. he’s never sounded this strict with you before, it almost sounds like he’s about to give you a whole lecture on why you shouldn’t be asking for these types of things. but he doesn’t.

it’s such a dirty act, it feels terribly wrong, but he simply couldn’t deprive you of such knowledge. if something like this piques your curiosity, then he will go along with it to satisfy you.

neuvillette clears his throat, composing himself. “i will only teach you onceー once and we won’t speak about this again. does that sound alright?”

he sees your face light up in an instant, nodding eagerly. “thank you, neuvillette! i will be forever grateful!” you exclaim, and he feels his cock twitch in his pants. fuck, he thinks. you’re going to be the death of him.

“kneel for me,” he asks of you, and you lower yourself obediently. you’re directly facing his crotch, and embarrassment creeps onto you. you shy away from the image in front of you, nervously playing with your fingers. your face is flushed red no matter how hard you try to hide it.

he notices immediately, hand reaching to stroke your hair, intending to provide some sort of comfort and reassurance. “are you nervous?” he questions, and you nod slowly.

“oh, love. don’t be nervous. i’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

your heart jumps at the pet name, eyes widening. that felt way too good to hear. you don’t ask if he called you that by mistake, partially because you were too eager to proceed, but also because you didn’t want him to correct himselfー if it was even a mistake at all. “please do, neuvillette,” you urge.

he finally releases his cock from the confines of his pants, hard and erect as it lightly slaps your cheek when he pulls it out.

you almost start drooling at his length. it was so large, so long, so thick. you haven’t even put it in your mouth and you’re already starting to think about how it would feel inside you. the pink tip leaks pearly drops of pre-cum. your hands reach up to his cock immediately, and he hisses.

“eager now, are we?” he teases, while you’re still in awe over his impressive size. he silently chuckles at how you admire his length, almost like you just found treasure. “have you ever seen a cock, y/n?”

you’ve… seen a few. not in real life though, and definitely none similar to his size. it's different, in a good way, seeing it up-close. it’s even more special because it's neuvillette. “not in real lifeー not like this, no.”

“i see,” he says, exhaling as he pulls your hand off, giving himself a couple of pumps. were you really that pure? it makes him so hard.

“are you ready? listen very carefully, yes?” he guides his cock onto your lips, tapping a few times. “take it in slowly, and ensure your teeth don’t touch,” he tells you.

he taps his cock on your lips again, and you open your mouth again without any hesitation. he guides his cock into your mouth inch by inch, and you taste his pre-cum on your tongue immediately. a tad bit salty, but you can take it.

“y/nー oh…” he sighs in pleasure as he feels your mouth wrap around his cock-head. he was in heavenー your mouth was so warm and wet, he could barely control himself from fucking into your face. he should be the one composed, he should be the one staying calm, he’s the one teaching you for fuck’s sake; yet he’s the one struggling as you start taking his cock further into your mouth.

“just like that, a little moreー mmh… thats it,” his breath hitches when he feels the tip hit the back of your throat. he was so deep in, but he wanted to just thrust it in further. you took it so well, he thinks. not even gagging like he expected you to, and no teeth just like he told you to. how obedient.

you adjusted your mouth on his cock as your drool started dripping down onto your lap. your hand reaches up to stroke what you couldn’t take in, and it elicits a gasp from him. he doesn’t instruct you to, but you start moving on your own as if you’ve done it before.

you drench his cock with your saliva as you suck him off, your hands holding his thighs for support.

“such a good girl, y/n. you take my cock so wellー don’t even need to teach you,” he praises and you hum around him as a form of thanks. you take that as motivation as you suck faster, occasionally swirling your tongue on the tip. you tongue his slit, licking up every drop of pre-cum that leaks.

he throws his head back when you take him particularly deep in your throat, and he almost couldn’t take it anymore. he stops you, pulling you off his cock. copious amounts of saliva drip out, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth.

this was a sight he could only ever see in his dreams. your lips swollen, cheeks flushed red, your eyes tearyー god, he loves you, he really loves you. he thinks you look absolutely beautiful even with your face covered in your own spit. this does it for him.

“stay put, and let me fuck your face, alright? can you handle it, love?” there it was again, calling you ‘love’. you’re smitten, you’d do anything after hearing him call you that. “iー i can handle it.”

neuvillette smiles, wiping off some of the drool on your face before he slides his cock inside your mouth again. “as expected of my good girl.”

his hands hold the sides of your head for stability, slowly thrusting into your mouth to test the waters. when he’s sure you’re okay, he starts fucking into your face, making sure you feel every inch of his cock down your throat.

he can’t stopー he’s addicted. truth be told, he’s been deprived of sexual pleasure for so long, it felt like heaven. you took him so deep with no complaints, you deserve so much more for being so good to him. he can’t stop thrusting into your mouthー it feels like he was fucking a pussy.

and then thoughts of fucking you invade his mind. if you’ve never given a blowjob before, surely that would mean you’ve never had sex, which makes you a virgin. fuck, he wants to take you so bad. you’d be so tight, so warm, so sweet. would you like to know about sex too, then? would you let him take you?

he’s brought back to reality as your hand grips his thighs, signaling for him to stop. he thinks he might’ve hurt you, but you continue to your administrations. he’s so close, he feels his climax approaching, but he needs slightly more.

“give me your hand,” he requests, and you raise your hand up. he takes it gently, guiding it his balls as he squeezes them. “yeahー ah, keep doing that.”

what a fast learner you are. you massage his balls as you continuing to deep-throat him. the grip on your hair was getting tighter, louder groans coming out from him. “you’re going to make me cum, love. god, i’m so close.”

he breaks when you take him in so deep, he sees a bulge in your throat. it was his last straw. “ohー fuuuck…” he thrusts into you as he blows his load straight down your throat. you didn’t even have time to taste him or even react, widening your eyes as he throws his head back.

he pants, pulling his cock out slightly till only the tip was left in your mouth, pumping out weak spurts of cum. you swallowed it all, even going so far as to licking him clean of any remnants of cum.

neuvillette is a mess. you’re a mess. he’s so far gone, he still feels the effects of his climax. he pulls you off his cock, helping you up before tucking himself back in his pants.

“are you alright, y/n? are you hurt? my apologies, i should have asked for your permission,” he caresses your cheek, referring to how he came in your mouth. you shook your head. “it’s fineー i… liked it.”

“oh? how naughty,” he scolds, smoothing your messy hair down from how he gripped it earlier. “so, was this a helpful lesson, y/n? do you know nowー how to pleasure someone?”

you nodded. “really insightful. thank you, neuvillette. but…”

“but?”

“maybe... you can teach me what an orgasm feels like next?”

“i see. i will gladly indulge.”

ー @yuki-world

#雪| 那维莱特 neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader smut