#having to leave. yes this is a place i am familiar and comfortable in but also i am challenged here every motherfucking day of my life and I

[jayybugg]

dreams come true

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.

Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.

Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.

“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.

“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”

Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”

“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.

“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”

Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.

“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”

He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.

“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”

Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”

You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.

“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”

Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”

You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”

Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.

The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.

To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.

“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.

“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.

It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.

“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”

You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.

With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.

“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”

You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.

“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”

Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”

He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”

“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”

Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.

“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”

He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.

Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”

Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”

Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.

Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”

“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”

“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”

“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.

“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”

Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”

Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”

You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.

“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”

“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.

“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.

“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”

Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”

“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.

“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”

You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.

Today was truly a dream come true.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #fem reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #slytherin #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #smut #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter

[cameronspecial]

I Will Use It, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Phone SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe has to go away for a work trip, but he doesn't want to leave Y/N to deal with her needs alone.

A/N: Why do I find this concept so hot? Let me know if you guys want more appearances of this particular toy because this has me going.

Masterlist

Now that he is working at Cameron Development full-time, Rafe is going to be travelling for work and the first trip is on Monday. He’ll be gone for four nights, which isn’t long, but it would be the longest they have been apart since their sophomore year. It would mean that Rafe wouldn’t be around to satisfy any sexual needs that Y/N would have while he is gone. This gets Rafe thinking because while he can get off with just his hand and one of their home videos, he knows that Y/N can’t find a release with either of those things. Plus, Y/N using her vibrator makes Rafe jealous of the thought of anything else bringing her pleasure other than him. She is fine with not using the toy most of the time because he is always there to help her when she is in need. However, Rafe doesn’t want to leave her without anything to satisfy her desires while he is gone. He is watching Neighbors when a solution comes to mind thanks to the movie. He pulls his laptop into his lap and gets to work on researching how he can make his idea a reality. 

———

Y/N stands by the front door, waiting for Rafe to bring down his suitcase. He comes down the stairs with the clatter of his bags and stops at the door. “I know you have to go, yet I don’t want you to go. I’m going to miss you so much,” she whines, wrapping her arms around his neck so she can bury her face in it. He caresses the back of her head in comfort, “I know. I’m going to miss you too, Angel. I left you a gift in our room though. I need you to promise only to open it if you need to get yourself off, okay?” Her eyebrows come to a point, yet she nods. “A little cryptic, but okay,” she agrees, giving him one last kiss before he goes. 

———

That night, she finds herself going through pictures of Rafe because she misses him. At the sight of a certain picture, a need starts to grow between her legs. His thick biceps lead her to imagine how they would feel under her grip as she rides the life out of him. She remembers the instructions Rafe gave her this morning and goes to his dresser where she placed the wrapped box. She pulls the paper apart to find a note. Call me once you open it. I want to listen. Her heartbeat picks up at his request and she pulls out her phone. “Hi, Angel. How was your day?” he asks into the phone, grinning at getting to hear her voice. She uses one hand to continue opening the box, “It’s been good. I’m opening your gift.” Rafe chuckles and leans back against the headboard. Of course, his little angel is already needy.

“Have you opened it up completely yet?”

“Nope, just getting it done now.” 

A box slips out to reveal an object the colour of his skin resting inside. She takes it into her hands and examines it. It looks familiar and she immediately recognizes it. “Is this what I think it is?” she gasps. He lets out a low laugh, “It is. Will you use it for me, Angel? I want to hear you.” Her face warms at the thought. “I will use it, Rafe. But I want to hear you too.” “I am already ahead of you, Angel,” he assures, letting her hear the sounds of his belt clinking as he takes his pants off. She follows his lead and rids herself of her clothes. He squirts some lotion into his hands, “Put it in your mouth. Get it nice and wet so it can penetrate that tight pussy.” She obeys his orders and wets the dildo made from a mould of Rafe’s dick into her mouth. As she gags from it hitting the back of her throat, Rafe’s hands begin to rub up and down his length. He hears how wet the toy is now from her mouth and gives her the next instruction. “I think it’s time for it to be inside of you. What do you think, Angel?” “Yes. I can’t wait to have you inside of me in some way again,” she moans. She brings the tip to her entrance, groaning as she pushes it in.

“How does that feel? Is it as good as me?” he inquires. He continues to pump himself at the sounds she is making. She shakes her head, “Not as good, but at least it feels like you. It doesn’t keep me warm like you do though.” She picks up her pace like Rafe would, hitting the spot inside of her that he normally can. “Good. Even though I got you it, I don’t want you getting used to it,” he growls. The pair continues to fuel each other with their noises and this eventually leads them to their climax. “I’m going to come, Rafe,” she cries out as she feels her walls pulse around the object penetrating her. Rafe’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels the same, “Do it, Angel. Come with me.” At the same time, their cum paints their skin. Rafe’s on his stomach and Y/N’s on her hand. They listen to each other’s pants as they come down from their highs. “That was amazing. Thank you for the gift, Rafe,” she breathes into the phone. Rafe grins, “No problem, Angel. I expect to do this every night while I’m away, so be prepared. Also, I need you to send me a pic of that pretty pussy for me. I think I have another round in me.” “Well, you have to send me a picture too. I want to join you in that next round.” God, Rafe loves this woman. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #obx smut #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #outer banks imagine #outer banks smut #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction

[xozombiee]

“AFTER HOURS!” | W. BONNEY

✫| synopsis: bartending in the west gets boring at times, especially when the same old cowboys and outlaws come through those saloon doors everyday. you’d thought this was it..that’s the end of your story. then a certain outlaw, who’s name was getting around, walked through the doors.

warnings: porn with little plot, mentions of death, riding, little praise..it’s always gonna be there, female bodied reader, lowk psy rubbing??, hair pulling me thinks, idk what else

note: am i doing this instead of my homework?…yes. also do i know wtf women wore in the 1800s? err no. i tried tho! this is not proofread btw

In a dusty, sun-kissed town nestled amidst the rugged landscape of the west, there stood a saloon that echoed with tales of grit and resilience. behind the polished mahogany bar, you stood tall with a fiery spirit that matched the flickering glow of the oil lamps that illuminated the room.

you weren’t any ordinary bartender; you were a force to be reckoned with. with glimmering eyes that held mystery, and a rough demeanor that you used to command respect from every patron who dared to enter the establishment. your hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved with grace and precision as you served up drinks that could raise spirits or drown sorrows.

though the town was dominated by rough cowboys and outlaws, you had carved out your own place in their rugged hearts. they sought solace in your presence, and you became a confidante, offering a sympathetic ear to the broken souls who stumbled through the doors.

as the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue over the town, your saloon transformed into a sanctuary of camaraderie and laughter. the clinking of glasses and the lively banter of patrons mixed with the soulful melodies of a lone pianist, creating a symphony that echoed through the wooden walls.

but behind the facade of joviality, you carried your own secrets and dreams. you arrived in this town not long ago, escaping a past that haunted your every step. determined to leave a mark on the world, you had chosen the life of a bartending, finding comfort in the stories and journeys of those who crossed paths with you.

with swift movements back and forth behind your bar, you served drinks to the men celebrating..whatever it was this time. they sang along with others, their words jumbled and lazy, but undoubtedly filled with passion. you laughed as one of them sung to you, his eyes droopy and a crooked smile at his lips.

cleaning a few glasses, you watch as they all chat amongst themselves, if they weren’t still singing that is. a part of you yearned to have a life like theirs. to be free to do whatever you please, and not be told otherwise. you’d liked the idea of running from place to place and meeting new people. though, that’d never happen for you.

your back turns as you gather the clean glasses together, putting them neatly side by side. the sound of the saloon doors open, a sound you were used to by now. with your back still turned, you notice how most of the attendees in the saloon had gone quiet, watching as the person and their footsteps approached the bar.

turning back around, you come face to face with a taller man. he wore a shabby black hat, a maroon corduroy jacket that sat along his shoulders, and a gun at his waist. two actually, you noted as the jacket moved when he sat at the bar.

with a polite smile, you come closer, holding his gaze with yours. “evening, sir. what can i get you?”

he gives you a tight lipped smile, “whiskey, please.”

you hold his gaze for a second longer before glancing back at the people in the saloon. they stared with either fear, or curiosity in their faces. a scowl grows on your lips, muttering a small ‘drunkards’ under your breath.

the man watches as you place a clean glass onto the bar, and grab a bottle filled with brown liquid. his gaze moves to the drink as it pours into the cup, almost filling to the brim.

“you look familiar,” your voice chimes in again. “have i seen you in here before?”

he shakes his head, gaze falling back to yours. “nah.” he replies. “just passing through.”

with a sigh falling from your nose, you try to read his expression; he looked tired. you weren’t an idiot, it was obvious he was on the run. you’d seen his face on the posters, but didn’t know what his name was or what he was wanted for.

your fingernail taps against the glossy wood of the bar. trying to hide your sympathetic expression, you glance around the room. “if you need anything else, let me know, yeah?”

he nods, watching as you walk away to tend to the other customers. the way you moved was calm despite working in such an intense environment. his eyes trailed up and down your figure before taking a sip from his glass.

it seemed like hours passed as you worked. going back and forth behind the counter was time consuming as it passed so quickly. more and more people were leaving the bar as the early hours of the next day were coming.

as you went to grab some glasses from tables, you notice as the man before was still at the bar. his head was hung low, eyes trained on his glass. he’d had about three glasses of whiskey by now, only taking sips from time to time.

you’d noticed through the night how people tried to approach him. he’d usually brush them off, or making small talk that ended in peaceful silence. he wasn’t someone that was easily approachable to the blind eye. he held a strong, cold demeanor.

after gathering all the dirty glasses, and kicking the last passed out drunkard, you slide back behind the bar. you take the bucket of dirty glasses to the small sink, placing it inside before turning the water on. as it fills, you stare at it as your mind falls else where.

before it overflows, you turn the faucet off. you pour a little soap into the mix before drying your hands off to let the glasses soak. with echoing footsteps, you turn back to the bar and are face to face with the man of the night.

“want another, or is three enough?” you ask, a slight smile at your lips.

he glances up at you, studying your expression for a moment. his eyes drop back to the wooden bar, fingers tapping his halfway-empty-glass.

“this is fine.” he answers.

your elbows come to rest at the cool wood, chin in your palm as you watch him. you’d debated for most of the night to ask him what exactly he was running from. it would probably sound stupid considering how everyone and their second cousin knew about it. all except for you, as you didn’t look much into news and such.

he stares back at you, giving you the same energy within his gaze. his blue eyes analyze every bit of you, and you almost shudder at the sight of it.

“so, how long you been on the run now?” you ask, voice interrupting each of your own thoughts.

he brings the glass to his lips, downing the rest before replying. “months.” he mutters, not even phased by your abrupt question.

you hum in reply, “alone?”

“mhm.”

with his short and simple response, you laugh. it wasn’t out of humor, but rather more of irritation. you’d think someone as well known as him would talk more. most outlaws never shut up about flaunting their reputations. it’s different.

“you’re not a man of many words.” you say, not really caring about how he’d take your tone.

he shrugs, sucking his teeth a bit. “i’ve got nothing to say.”

you raise a brow, “tell me a story or something. i hear the same shit every night from my regulars. give me something new.” you request.

pouring a little more whiskey into his glass, you watch as his eyes dart to yours. “it’s on me.” you assure, giving him a smile.

the man sighs, tilting his head a little at the thought. what could he tell you? that he killed a man? that he fought a man in a saloon just like yours right before shooting him in the stomach out of defense? no..you’d probably already heard it anyways.

“what do you already know about me?” he questions, taking another sip.

your eyes squint at him, “i know you’re an outlaw on the run, obviously..and that’s about it. i don’t even know what the hell they call you.” you reply.

he chuckles, a small smile at his lips. “you’re probably one of the first.” he says. “just call me billy.”

with another hum, you nod slowly and give him your name. “billy..yeah, i think i did hear that once or twice.”

“well, either way, i don’t have many stories to tell.”

your eyes roll, a huff coming from your nose. “tell me why you’re an outlaw. i’ve heard like three different stories, and it can’t be all of them.”

billy smiles again, eyes falling from yours and to your lips for a split second. you watch him debate in his head before taking his hat off. he sets it on the empty stool next to him, running his fingers through his hair. he had brown shaggy hair that was sprawled all over his head.

“i killed a man. it was self defense.” he says, almost as if he was pleading his case.

you deadpan at him, “that’s all i get? not even a backstory?”

“there’s not much to it. he was making accusations at me..which weren’t entirely false, then he came at me. we fought over my gun, and i shot.” he elaborates, glancing at you with disinterest as if it was a meaningless story.

you fall quiet for a moment, brows raised while processing his words. that story was heard, but you didn’t know if it was the truth until now. the other stories were about robbing a bank and killing a bunch of people. hearing the actual story now..you couldn’t understand all the fuss.

a laugh falls from your lips, hand moving to pinch the bridge of your nose. “so, all this talk is because you killed a man that was attacking you?”

“yes, ma’am.”

your smile remains for a bit, eyes watching billy. “so, what now? you just gonna keep running?”

he shrugs once more, eyes kept on his glass. “probably.”

“have you at least slept?”

billy shakes his head. you chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating multiple things in your head. if you offered him a place to sleep in the loft above your saloon, he’d probably laugh in your face. but, a part of you didn’t want him out on the street sleeping defenseless.

as a other sigh falls from you, you move away from the bar and stand straight. “i’ve got an extra room where i stay. wanna take it for the night?”

his eyes find yours, expression vague, “are you sure? i mean, i don’t wanna—”

“it’s fine. i’d feel guilty if i opened up tomorrow and my regulars are telling me you got killed in your sleep.”

billy focuses on you for awhile before taking one last sip. he lightly places the glass on the counter before moving to grab some money from his pocket.

your hand finds his wrist as he places it on the counter. “keep it. just take your ass upstairs while i finish up.”

he grins a little, grabbing his hat and standing from the stool. billy slowly moves to the door at the back of the saloon, opening it and disappearing from sight. you roll up your sleeves as you move back to the sink, dipping your hands into the soapy water to clean the glasses.

after about ten minutes, you make way up to your loft in the building. your footsteps slightly echo as you move toward the light in the living room. when you reach the floor, you watch as billy sits on the couch with his head thrown back on the edge while his hat covered up his face.

slowly approaching in front of him, you lightly kick his shin. he snaps his head up, eyes wide as his hat falls to his lap. he lets out a small breath in relief, making you smile. you watch as he sits up on the couch.

“scared the shit out of me.” he mumbles, putting that ragged hat on again.

you move to sit next to him, bouncing lightly on the cushions. “must’ve been too tired to hear me coming up the steps.”

he leans into the couch once more, eyes trained on the ceiling. you watched his expression and how he studied the whiteness of the panels above.

“penny for your thoughts?” you whisper, watching his eyes shift over to you.

billy shakes his head, scoffing a little to himself. “it’s nothing. just thinking.”

“about?”

“everything.”

you let your gaze falter, moving to the floor. “everything that’s happened?” you ask.

he nods, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. billy wants nothing more than to go back and stop everything that’s happened. to change what got him to this point.

but if he did that, he would’ve never met you. you were one of the kindest people to him since the incident. the way you carried yourself, much like him, was with confidence. he respected you, and that aspect of your personality.

“i understand what it’s like..kind of.” you say, patting down the wrinkles in your outfit. “i was never wanted, but i’ve done things. things i wish i could take back.”

billy watches as you speak, the way your lips move and the expression you hold shifts with each emotion running through you. he almost doesn’t understand what you’re saying. the only thing keeping him to reality was the fact you sounded serious.

he adjusts himself on the furniture, “what have you done?” he asks, a part of him afraid to know the answer.

“i’ve killed.” you reply, the tone of your voice dropping lowly. “it was in defense, like you.”

billy watches the way you bounce your knee against the flooring of the loft. the dress you wear moves along with it, and your shoe lightly taps.

“when did it happen?” he asks as his pure curiosity gets the best of him.

you look up at him, smiling a little. “i was fourteen.”

billy looks at you, empathizing with your situation. though he wasn’t that young when it happened, he still felt some sort of connection with your experience.

“i don’t regret killing him honestly, but i regret hurting my family and his. they didn’t deserve to go through that. it wasn’t any of their faults.” you say as you breathe out slowly.

in an small moment, his hand is on yours. it’s a light touch, like he’s afraid to hurt you. billy moves his other hand to the space beneath your chin, and shifts your head to look at him in the eyes.

his voice is light, “you were defending yourself. it wasn’t your fault either.” billy whispers.

the words make your heart swell. after everything, hearing those words made it all feel better. almost all the guilt left your veins. he was right after all. it wasn’t your fault. what that man did..you just did what you had to.

as he holds your gaze, you slowly inch toward him. his blue irises bore into yours, watching as you shift them to his lips. they were slightly chapped and held a small frown on them.

billy leaned closer to you and your breaths mingled, like two lights finding each other in the darkness. he could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, as all of his senses were focused on you and you alone.

he closed the distance, and his lips met yours. billy felt himself melt into you like a magnet. everything muted itself, and his hands made way to your waist. he pulled you onto him, your knees caging around his thighs.

your hands found their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. he tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin against his. the room seemed to dissolve around you as the only thing in existence was this. this perfect union.

time stood still, and you both wanted more, but neither wanting it to initiate it. then, with what restraint he had left, he pulled away, his lips still grazing yours.

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with worry. “im sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“shut up.”

pressing your lips back to his, he lets out a grunt in reply before melting into you once more. the warmth of you, your lips, your being that sat in his lap—he felt lightheaded. billy moved his hands to your waist again, slowly trailing them up your back.

you feel the buttons of your dress being undone. he stops right before taking the sleeves off, prying himself away from you. billy’s eyes look into yours for confirmation, and you give him a quick, impatient nod in reply.

with that, he pulls the dress off slowly. your lips trail from his own to his neck, putting the flesh between your teeth. he groaned, trying to focus on untying your corset.

as he removed it, he wasted no time to discard it to the floor, hands making way to take off the chemise you wore.

“all those months on the run got you impatient now, cowboy?” you mutter, laughing as he would struggle from time to time.

billy looks up at you, his gaze slightly hidden by his hat, “no, just none of the women i’ve been with wore this much underneath. i’m also not a cowboy, sweetheart.”

rolling your eyes, you grab at his wrists to stop him. he looks up at you, big eyes and all, causing the built up pressure in your lower stomach to worsen. “just leave it. i’m not wearing anything under, so don’t fuss.”

you watch him nod slowly as he started to stare, making no move to take off his clothes. “do i have to do it for you?” you whisper, hands undoing the brown suspenders on his shoulders.

he shakes his head, moving to unbutton his pants he wore. you watch the way he fumbles with them, sliding them midway down his thighs. billy’s hands eventually move back to your waist, bunching up your chemise to your hips.

billy’s eyes watch as your pretty pussy comes into view, sitting in his lap with such a prepossessing aura. he has to restrain himself from taking you right then.

his dick was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. it looked painful and it was because of you. you. you wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. you raise yourself a bit so he can align himself to your entrance. the cool touch of his hand meets your cunt, sliding a finger through the folds and collecting the juices flowing from you.

he uses your slick and spreads it across your sensitive pussy. you took a deep breath of air into your lungs. this feeling was new, since no man you’d been with ever did this, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

a small groan falls from billy’s lips as he uses it to prep himself, guiding his hand along his cock and pumping it slowly. he was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock.

you knew you would stretch around him, that your walls would be a perfect fit around his length. you were too impatient for any sort of foreplay; you wanted the stretch. you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

billy grabs your hips with his unoccupied hand, bringing you closer to him. you let out a whimper as you began to sink onto him, eyes flicking to his. those blue ones he held were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now.

his hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. it was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to almost whine at the feeling of you.

your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. your fingers weakly fist his shirt as you begin to ride him, raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. he reached the deepest spot inside of you somehow. no one had ever done that. not like this.

his cockhead grazes your spongy spot as you fuck yourself on him. arousal and his pre-cum are smeared all over your thighs. this sight made billy’s breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking him. you looked completely dissoluted like this.

your hair was a mess now, your lips glossy and swollen, hands digging into his shoulder. billy felt himself become enraptured by you and this sight. it was something he could get used to..if he wasn’t an outlaw that is.

he pulls you closer to him. one of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. his hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

watching him with a hazy gaze, you remove the hat from his head. you place it onto your own, grinning at how he stares up at you like you were the creator of all living beings and creatures on this earth.

moving one of your hands from his shoulder, you bring it to his hair and give some strands a tug. he groans, the vibrations of his chest transferring to his dick, which transferred to you.

each thrust of his was made for his selfishness in your velvet walls. the drag of his cock was perfect, his speed was unbelievable. it was like heaven itself, but without the pearly gates and clouds.

while stuck in your own brain, the feeling of teeth bring you back to reality. you let a shuddered sigh fall as billy digs into the collarbone that peaked from your square-necked chemise. he slowly kisses up your neck, bringing a hand to the back of your head.

“fuck..’s too good,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice even.

you laugh, making him groan a little. he looks up, watching as you bounce with one hand held on his hat to keep it on. “too good? were all your other girls shit?”

he lets out short breaths, his blue eyes studying the way you moved as if he was in a trance. billy would answer if he wasn’t on another planet right now. a planet where you were taking him so deliciously, almost to the point where he could pass out.

“fuck,” he says under his breath as your pussy clenches around him. “where do you want it?” his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.

you pant, “inside.”

billy doesn’t waste a second before obliging and quickening his pace, making the hat on your head fall lopsided. you could feel the pressure in you tightening, almost about to burst like a pipe.

he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and billy can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.

billy groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with his newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans echoing in the living room.

your cunt milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.

he slowly eases his cock out of you. the both of you were breathing heavily as he pulls you closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. you wrap you arms around his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“wanna share my bed?” you whisper.

tags: @m0rphys

#xozombiee #YESS I FINISHED #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid #save a horse ride a cowboy #coriolanus snow #RAHHHHHH #guys pls like #and subscribe #william h bonney

[harunayuuka2060]

Malleus and Yandere Malleus: *have mixed feelings about this wedding*

MC: *looks beautiful in their wedding dress while it is obvious on their face that they're contemplating everything*

Saint Rook: You look lovely! *to MC* If I weren't a saint, I would marry you myself!

MC: *muttering to themselves* Mom, sorry for not breaking the generational curse. You will forgive me if you've come to know that they're hot and rich guys, right?

Yandere Malleus: *chuckles*

Malleus: Child of man...

FD Vil: MC, you should look on the brighter side.

FD Vil: After this wedding, you will return to Twisted Wonderland together with your husbands.

MC: ...

MC: *on the verge of crying* What am I going to do after this? I'm not familiar with marriage... Huuu...

Grim: You can decide to not live with them for now, right?

MC: *sniffles* I can do that? *looking at Malleus*

Malleus: Yes. We can live together after you have finished your studies at Night Raven College.

MC: *turns to Yandere Malleus* How about you?

Yandere Malleus: What do you think it will be? *smirks*

MC: I'm going to divorce you! *cries funnily again*

Yandere Malleus: *laughs*

Yandere Malleus: Hunt, you may proceed.

Saint Rook: *smiles* Alright.

The housewardens: *sigh in relief*

Riddle: They're going back.

Leona: I feel so bad for the herbivore.

Vil: I should comfort them.

Kalim: I will buy them a vacation house!

Jamil: Kalim, no. The other Malleus would be angry at you if you did that.

Sebek: Waka-sama... He got married...

Silver: I want to congratulate him, however, he's sharing a spouse with another Malleus.

Lilia: What would the honeymoon be like?

Them: LILIA!

Lilia: I'm sorry!

Idia: Ortho, cheer up the Prefect for me when they come back. I'll be returning to my room.

Ortho: Okay, brother! I will take it from here!

Ace: I'm sure Professor Crewel will get mad if he hears about this.

Deuce: And Professor Trein too...

Epel: But guys, MC is rich now.

Ace and Deuce: ...

Ace: Wait. You're right!

Deuce: We should celebrate!

Jack: MC will be so disappointed with you three.

Malleus: Grim! Have you seen the child of man?! *looking furious*

Grim: Mryah! W-Weren't you just together?

Malleus: Yes! The other Malleus had taken them somewhere when it was time to leave!

MC: ...

Yandere Malleus: *hugging them tightly*

MC: ...

MC: No. We're not staying here. The three of us signed a contract!

Yandere Malleus: I know. But there is one thing I would like to do before we leave this place permanently.

MC: And that is?

Yandere Malleus: *smiles* *leans in and kisses them on the lips*

MC: ...

MC: I knew it! You were just holding back earlier! *their face red*

Yandere Malleus: *chuckles*

Yandere Malleus: I won't be holding back in the future, so look forward to it.

MC: ...

MC: Is that a threat?

Yandere Malleus: *laughs* You're so adorable, my beloved.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst yandere malleus #twst malleus #twst fashion designer vil #twst saint rook #twst grim #twst ace #twst deuce #twst epel #twst jack #twst housewardens #twst ortho #twst lilia #the end

[spiriteddreams]

“have i ever told you how handsome you are?” neuvillette glances over at you with raised brows. you lean slightly against the doorway to his office, body slumping and lazy smile on your face. he watches silently, eyes catching your every movement as you push yourself up and take one, two, three shaky steps towards him. despite the slightest hint of concern in his eyes, a smile begins to tug up on his lips. you seem to have that effect on him, no matter what state you’re in.

you hum, “a face like yours is far too pretty to sit behind a desk all day!” neuvillette stands, abandoning half finished papers as he crosses the room to stand in front of you, hands coming out to steady you as one of your hands grasps his. the other falls against his chest, fingers tightening around his clothes. your unsteady steps are a clear sign of having perhaps just a tad too much to drink, but when you’re catching up with your friend, sometimes it’s easy to let loose just a little more. neuvillette finds it rather amusing, the way you still seek him out, praising his looks and how warm he is, your wandering hands seemingly searing through his clothes. you laugh lightly and neuvillette finds himself adjusting to grasp onto you tighter. one hand wraps around your waist and you only lean into him. he’s warm, comforting, so so familiar that you can’t help but feel as if you’re melting into him. he smells faintly of the ocean, so refreshing as you look at him lazily. 

“i see you and navia had a rather fun night,” his eyes trace over the features of your face, taking in your drooping eyes and the ever widening grin on your face. he knew this would happen the moment you bid him farewell, claiming that you would likely return home late and you would meet him there. and yet, hours later, even in your drunk state, you still know that he would be cooped up in his office.

“i think it’s time i take you home,” neuvillette says softly. he can leave his work for the next day, because now that you’re here, he feels the urge to be  under covers with you wrapped in his embrace. you nod and agree, then pause. you squint up at him and your eyes widen as you attempt to step back. but neuvillette’s hold around you is strong and the hand curled around your waist only steadies you as you squirm. he isn’t quite sure what’s going on in your head but he does know that getting you home as soon as possible to get some rest is in your best interest.

“sir, i must ask you to let me go! i have a husband!” neuvillette merely raises his brows at your words and makes a noise of agreement. “i am happily married and have no intention of ever leaving him, so again, i must ask you to let me go!” 

“darling,” neuvillette leans down closer to you and you pause, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise at the sudden proximity. “i am your husband.” it takes you a second for his words to process in your mind, but just when neuvillette thinks he’s convinced you, you still try to take another step away from him.

“prove it!” your hands go to your waist as you stare at him pointedly. he chuckles softly, rather amused and somewhat proud. 

he lifts his left hand, clearly displaying the gems that sit on a ring wrapped around his finger. without saying more, he reaches for you own hand, thumb brushing over the matching ring on your own finger as he brings it to his lips. and all while making eye contact, lavender-grey eyes look at you through his lashes as he kisses your ring, then higher, and higher until he reaches your wrist. and as you stand there, dazed and held in place by those commanding eyes of his, his name tumbles from your lips.

“yes, darling?” neuvillette straightens up, now convinced that you’re aware that he is your husband.

“can we go home?” you sigh, “i’m getting sleepy. and you need rest too! you work too hard.” your hand intertwines with his, already tugging him towards the door. the chief justice makes no attempt to pull from your grasp, tightening his hand as he carefully watches each shaky step that you take. his work can wait. besides, the thought of being wrapped up in your warmth is more than tempting. he listens as you ramble about your night, going on about the latest news and gossip that had reached your’s and navia’s ears. and when you look back at him to see if he’s listening, you catch sight of his eyes, softened and amused, paired with a smile that gently tugs up on his lips. 

“you’e so pretty, you know that?” you hum. the only sign of surprise is the slightest raise of brows and a tilt of his head. but when you turn back around, you miss the heated blush that blooms across his cheeks and the way he briefly looks away. the sun seems to shine brighter the next day.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: spirit finally gets to writing and ofc it has to be for my husband neuvi <3 the brainrot has been going hard in the dms

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact neuvillette #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

[jishyucks]

My Boss Followed Me Home for Christmas — pjs

‣ pairing: CEO!park jay x reader

‣ genre: fluff, coworkers-to-something more?, traces of hurt/comfort

‣ wc: 4.0k

‣ summary: Your ability to empathize was a blessing and curse. When you see your boss sitting alone in his office on Christmas Day, you can’t help but invite him to your family party. And when he actually says yes, you’re kind of stuck regretting the offer simply because you’re not sure how this is going to turn out.

‣ warnings: none I don’t think?, implications that Jay doesn’t have the best family (they’re just realllly busy, nothing too bad), reader has a big family, implied that reader is smaller/shorter than Jay

‣ an: 3rd in the True Love Gave to Me Series! I honestly enjoyed writing this so much (hence why it’s way longer than I wanted it to be),, the filipino rly jumped out in this with the big family and the games I’m sorry (>///<) it’s honestly just what I’m more familiar with so it was easier for me to write! Anyways,, ENJOY THIS AND THANKS FOR READING!!

Series Masterlist

It was weird seeing the office so empty. 

You weren’t constantly dodging bodies on the way to your desk, you’re not overstimulated by the sounds of the printers and the ringing phones, and the place did not seem as suffocating as you usually make it out to be. 

But it was only empty because it was Christmas. There was absolutely no one here and you were only here to pick up your work agenda, which made complete sense why the office was so much more appealing. 

You wished it was usually like this. 

Your phone rings the second you reach your desk. When you go to check who was calling you, you find your mother’s contact photo blown up on your screen and you answer it almost right away. 

“Hey mom.”

“Honey, where are you? Are you on the way?” You can hear voices in the background at the other end of the line and you’re guessing your family just arrived at the party.

“I am,” you say, “I just dropped by the office to pick something up. I’m guessing I’ll be there in around fifteen to twenty minutes?” You lean against your desk. You realize your agenda is not sitting on your desk so you figured it was somewhere inside it. 

“Okay, hon,” your mom acknowledges your reply, “Take care on the way here, the roads are slippery.” She says something to someone next to her, and before you can even reply she hangs up. 

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and pull your desk cabinet open, immediately finding your agenda on top of everything. You mutter a 'there it is' before you push the cabinet back shut, turning to leave. 

It’s before you leave that you notice the light on at the end of the long hallway to the left of your desk. It was a hallway rather hidden from the main office, so you hadn’t taken notice of it at first, but now that you did take notice, curiosity had gotten the best of you. 

Because who in the world was here on Christmas? 

You’d take a good guess and say it was a caretaker, but you didn’t think any of the caretakers were even paid well enough to be here on a major holiday. So if it wasn’t a caretaker, who was it?

You quietly make your way down the hallway, passing empty offices along the way. Then once you’ve just about reached the seemingly occupied room, you halt and use your neck to peek around the corner. 

A gasp almost audibly leaves your lips when your eyes catch sight of your boss sitting alone at his desk. His brows are furrowed as he stares up at his screen, eyes looking rather intently at whatever he was working on. You can tell that he didn’t expect anyone to catch him at the office, dressed in a simple designer hoodie. 

You hate how one of the first thoughts that enter your mind is how attractive the man looks just sitting there and typing. But you were human, after all. 

“Sir?” 

Jay jumps at your voice, swearing under his breath, “Y-Y/N? What are you doing here?” His cheeks heat up in embarrassment, he makes brief eye contact with you before he avoids it altogether. 

“I was just,” you hold up your agenda, “Picking this up… what are you doing here, sir? Don’t you have any plans for Christmas?” Sure your reply seemed a bit inconsiderate because in the back of your mind you knew not everyone celebrated Christmas or the holidays… but your boss had a mini Christmas tree sitting at the corner of his desk, so you figured he did celebrate the season in some way. 

Jay’s still slightly taken aback, frozen in his seat as he studies the random lines on his computer, “I… don’t.” You watch the way his lips flicker into a frown for a quick second before he plasters a fake smile, “But it’s okay! I have a lot of work to do anyway for Wednesday! Better to catch up befo—”

“Sir, I know I don’t really have a right to say this, but you should take the day off and relax,” you frown. 

Jay is unsure how to reply. He sits in his seat for a few brief moments and his mouth bobs open and closed like a fish. Cause, frankly, how can he reply to that when he wants to do anything but go home to an empty house? Why did it have to be you who had to catch him?

If it were anyone else, they would have left him alone. 

If it were anyone else, it would have been easier to send them off with some dismissive reply he can muster up in his head.

“I don’t really want to go home,” Jay says quietly. It’s so quiet that you almost don’t catch it. But you do. And because you do, you catch the way his lips remain downturned. He just thinks you can’t see it behind the miniature Christmas tree.

You feel a tickling feeling in your chest and without thinking, you ask, “Do you want to come to my family’s Christmas party tonight?” It’s funny because you don’t regret your question (well, just a bit, but that’s beside the point). In fact, a small part of you was actually glad that your mouth had decided to choke the question out before you could hold yourself back. 

Jay gulps. He wasn’t against it, but wouldn’t it be odd for him to come? 

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

You take a step forward so that you can now clearly see him. His eyes were running over the keys of his keyboard over and over, trying to keep himself from looking at you. “You won’t be a bother. My family’s pretty big so there’s a lot of space.”

“It’s really okay, Y/N, I’m fine spending time here.” 

“Sir, I promise you, it’s fine,” you press, “My other family members bring guests all the time and we don’t care.” You take another step forward and now it was harder for Jay to avoid your gaze. 

He’s forced to look up at you and that was his mistake. Jay feels his chest explode with warmth because he now just realized that you were dressed more casually than he was used to. You were wearing a pair of baggy jeans and underneath your long coat, he could see Rudolph printed on your ugly Christmas sweater. He admits to himself that you looked adorable, but to remain professional he keeps that thought at the back of his head. 

“If… if you insist,” Jay replies slowly, unsure whether or not he should turn his computer off 

Your eyes light up, “Well, I’m going there right now. You can follow me to my house.” 

“Right now?” Jay’s hesitant to move, hand frozen on his mouse, “As in right this second?”

The answer was yes. Right that second. 

The next thing Jay knew, he was following you up the stairs of your front porch and he was not even sure how to act. He was a CEO for God’s sake. Why was he nervous about joining you for a Christmas party when he’s always up at the front of a business room speaking? It wasn’t like he was meeting your family as your boyfriend or anything (and it for sure wasn’t because he wanted to make a good impression on your family…). 

“Where are my damn keys…” You’re standing at your front door, wrist-deep and rummaging through your small bag. Jay awkwardly stands behind you, teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet like a little kid. 

Before you can even find your keys, the door swings open to reveal a short older woman with a kind smile. Her eyes light up at the sight of you and when she exclaims “Honey! Finally!” Jay immediately figures that the woman is your mom.

“Come in, come in,” she quickly says, “It’s cold out there. Oh! And you must be…?” Your mom leans over to look at Jay who’s unsure whether he should actually move. 

You speak up for him, “Um, mom, this is my bos—”

“I’m Jay,” he interrupts, “I’m–uh–Y/N’s coworker and friend.” 

“His family is–uh–busy for Christmas so I invited him,” you quickly add, “I hope that’s okay with you, mom.” 

You look back at him with a questioning look but he quickly dismisses it, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” 

“It’s no problem, the more the merrier! And oh, just call me Auntie! There’s really no need for those kinds of formalities,” your mom laughs. Then she looks over at you with a smirk ghosting her lips but she stops herself, “Everyone’s just waiting to eat.” 

You let your mom walk ahead and you stay back, “Sir, what—”

“Y/N, we’re not at work,” Jay points out. And hearing you call him sir was sort of irritating him right now, “It’s… Just call me Jay… besides you invited me into your home right?” Then he repeats what your mom said just moments ago, “No need for those kinds of formalities.”  

You can’t help but laugh, side-eyeing him, “Fine, if you say so, Jay.” 

You lead Jay into the house, and he’s greeted by your family members sprawled out all over the living room and kitchen. When you said your family was big, you weren’t kidding. He had no idea how he was supposed to approach this situation. 

When Jay turns the corner, trailing you closely, he’s met with a room full of people, all dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters like you were. A few of your older relatives were sitting at the dining table chatting about something seemingly interesting. At one corner of the nearby living room, right by the Christmas tree, were kids shaking presents, trying to take good guesses as to what they were receiving this year. And huddled on the couches was a group of young adults around your age—he’d guess they were your cousins—and they were having their own conversation, too. 

And though Jay should be feeling out of place because not only does he not know anyone but you, he wasn’t wearing an ugly Christmas sweater like everyone else was, he simply doesn’t. 

The atmosphere felt welcoming—that was his first impression. And he couldn't have been happier when you started introducing him to everyone, making him genuinely feel welcome.

Your aunts and uncles gazed at him with large eyes, curious about who this boy was despite you clearly introducing him as your friend. And when you brought him to meet your cousins last, you were surprised that Jay easily clicked with your guy cousins. It was like you were seeing a whole different side of your boss, one that proved that he was your age and not the uptight CEO you face at work.

“The dress code for this year was ugly Christmas sweaters,” you say once you both settled with your cousins, “But I’m guessing you already noticed.” Jay sits cross-legged in the empty spot next to you.

Jay nods, “Your family all seem so nice.” 

“I’m glad you think that,” you grin, “I take pride in that, if I’m being honest.” Then you realize that the topic of family might be a bit too sensitive for Jay and you try to change it, “Anyways, after dinner, we play games. You better join.” 

“I’ll try?” Jay questions. You can tell he’s growing more comfortable with the situation, but he’s still trying to keep himself composed. 

“Trying is better than nothing,” you shrug, “But I promise you you’ll have a lot of fun.”

There’s a brief silence between the two of you and Jay has this sudden urge to thank you. Because, well, it made sense in this situation. He could wait ‘till the end, but he was itching to just shower you in thank yous.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“This took me a while to find deep in your dad’s things but I finally found it!” Your mom comes out of nowhere, arms slipping between the two of you to reveal an ugly sweater, “I know your dad had another from years ago!”

“I’m confused,” you say.

“For Jay!” Your mom holds the sweater out for Jay to take, a bright smile stretched across her face. She jokes, “Don’t want you sticking out like a sore thumb in pictures. Why are you wearing black on Christmas, hm?” 

You almost facepalm, seeing your mom treat Jay like he was your boyfriend. Sure, it was great she was trying to make Jay feel even more included, but the gesture seemed so… odd to be doing it with just a friend of yours. You’re hoping that Jay isn’t getting the wrong idea because, frankly, it would be embarrassing if he did.

“Oh… t-thank you auntie…” Jay gulps and you see his eyes flicker toward you. He wonders if you think it was weird for him to take it. But he didn’t want to say no to your mom, not when she went out of her way to find the sweater, “I’ll put it on right now.”

“You better,” your mom jokes one more time before leaving you both and back to your other relatives. 

You watch as Jay goes to take his hoodie off, revealing a white t-shirt. At first glance, you don’t process what’s printed on his shirt, but when he fumbles with the sweater, you realize that it’s an old Christmas shirt from when he was a kid. The text reads Christmas 2010 and the picture is a picture of him and his parents. You figured that the shirt was probably his dad's.

You smile sadly, eyeing the shirt as he throws on the sweater. You don’t notice, but the corners of Jay’s lips lift upward into a small, subtle smile. He looks up at you, “How does it look?”

“It looks good,” you say, “A little bit big, but it’s fine.” You can see the way the sleeves bunch up at Jay’s wrists. He looked rather adorable in the sweater (and again, you don’t say anything).

The games began soon after it was established that everyone was finished digesting their food. 

One of your older cousins, who had planned the games, started the games with the kids first. You secretly knew it was just a tactic to get them tired for later, hoping that they’d settle while the adults and older kids played their own games.

Then when that was done and over with, she moved on to the first game that you and Jay could participate in—the island game. The premise of the game was to step onto a sheet of gift wrapping paper and, along with a partner, fold and manipulate it so that they both could stand on it without touching the floor. 

“We need six groups of two!” 

Two by two, you watch your cousins as they group together, stepping up to get the secret prize sitting in a gift bag. 

“You two should join!” your mom urges, “What fun is it just watching? Jay, you must be clever right? Go try!”

Afraid to say no to your mom, Jay turns to you, “I’ll do it if you do it… you said it’d be fun, right?”

You hesitate for a quick moment. Yes, the games were fun, but you were talking about the relays or the simple, single-player games. You weren’t sure if you wanted to play with Jay, simply because it involved having to get all up close and personal with your partner. 

You look around and notice that a handful of your family members are waiting for you and Jay to join, and that pressure is something you can’t take. You nod and plaster a smile on your face, “Right! Let’s go!” 

Nervously you walk to an empty sheet sitting flat on the ground and Jay follows you, standing at your side as your cousin runs over the rules. You wait for Jay to realize the mistake he’s made by suggesting to play, but instead of a look of worry, he’s smiling. He looked rather excited, a hint of determination ghosting his face. 

Before you both know it, the game begins. The first round was the easiest—you both had simply stood within the two-feet by two-feet sheet of paper. But as each round passes, the area that you and Jay can stand on gets smaller and smaller. And as the area shrinks, so does the space between you two.

You’re so close to him that you can smell his perfume and you can feel his breath against your forehead. Your heart betrays you because you can feel it pounding against your chest. You only hope that Jay doesn’t hear or feel it. 

You look down at the folded sheet of paper. It was less than half of its original size and something is telling you that the next round was going to be difficult. 

Your cousin cues for the next round to begin and you and Jay get off the paper to fold it. He mumbles, “I don’t think we can both stand on this. Or both our feet at least.” 

“We can each balance on one foot,” you suggested. You test out the size and place your foot on it. There was barely enough room for two feet.

When Jay notices this he shakes his head, “I don’t think that would work… we’d just fall over. I think I’ll have to carry you.” His suggestion makes you look up and you find him staring back, “You can get on my back?”

“Can you balance on one foot with me on your back?” you question. It’s suddenly getting hot in the room. Was it your sweater? You hope so. You don’t want to dwindle on the thought any longer. 

He nods, “I think I can.” 

“O-Okay,” you say quietly. You glance at the other teams and see that your cousins are on the brink of tears trying not to laugh because if they laughed, they’d lose balance with the ridiculous poses they’re somehow pulling. 

Jay kneels down, one knee touching the ground before he gestures for you to get on. And you do, though you get on carefully because you’re still not processing the situation. Once you hop on his back, Jay gently guides your legs around his torso and he pulls your upper body closer to his back with a tug on your sleeve. When you are secured on his back, he easily stands up. 

Now you’re afraid that he can feel the way your heart’s beating against his back. There was absolutely no way he couldn’t. 

“It’s easier for me if you’re like this,” he says to you. You nod even though you’re right behind him, “Stay as still as you can.” 

Jay steps onto the folded piece of paper, waiting for your cousin to tell the teams that it is time to hold positions. Once she had given the signal, Jay raised his left leg in the slightest, balancing on just his right foot. 

Almost immediately, your cousins fail to keep themselves from touching the ground and, somehow, you and Jay are the only ones left standing. You don't process it until it is announced.

“Congratulations to Y/N and Jay for being the first adult winners of the night!” Your cousin cheers. You notice that she has tears in her eyes from laughing as she approaches you both with the prize. A bunch of the older adults are clapping in amusement, heads shaking from the entertainment. 

You quickly jump off of Jay’s back, and out of habit, you grab his hand, shaking it out of joy. You repeat a ‘we won’ a couple of times and Jay couldn’t help but beam at the string of events, watching as you receive the present for the both of you.

Jay has never in his life played party games at a family party. Sure his family was too busy to even have parties like this, but even if they did have the time to plan out a party, his family was too small for these games to even be considered fun. 

And if he were being honest, this party was the most fun he’s had in so long. 

“What is it?” Jay leans in close to you, trying to catch sight of whatever’s in the bag. You both have settled on the couch while the next game begins. 

You pull the prize out to reveal two big bags of your favourite expensive holiday chocolate and your eyes gleam at the sight. You drop one bag and then hand the other to Jay, “Here you go. That was fun!”

Jay nods, a smile settling upon his lips. “It really was.” The adrenaline from the game is beginning to vanish and he’s coming down from his high. “Let’s play the next one?”

When it was getting late, Jay decided that it was time to leave. It wasn’t like he was leaving to escape from the party, because truly, he had spent so much time on games and picture-taking that his energy was beginning to diminish. He’d love to stay, but he knows that tomorrow, he’ll have to be back at the office doing work. 

He wonders how this night will change the way you guys are in office. Surely, he’ll keep his professionalism at work, but he can’t just pass by you tomorrow and act like you didn’t willingly invite him into your home to spend Christmas with your family. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir!” You say at the doorway, “I hope you had fun.” Jay is silent for a few long moments and you can’t help but call out to him, “Sir?”

“S-sorry, I just started getting you used to calling me by name that it threw me off,” he replies sheepishly. 

“Oh… um, I’ll call you whatever you’d like.” 

“When we’re out of the office, just call me Jay okay?” Jay shuffled forward and he’s closer to you now, “It’s more fitting, don’t you think?” 

You nod and you huff out a large puff of air that shows up in front of you, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jay.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” Jay echoes. There's a lingering feeling in the cool air that engulfs the both of you. You couldn't quite put a name to it, but it was a nice feeling. It was warm. Then, before you know it, Jay finds himself giving you a hug. And not one of those half-assed side hugs, but one that you could easily tell he needed.

You hesitate at first, but then you slowly return the gesture.

After what felt like a while, he stepped back, “S-sorry I... I'm just really thankful for tonight. Tell your family thank you, too.” There’s so much more that Jay wants to say, but for now, this will simply suffice. 

“It’s nothing,” you say, still slightly stunned, “I expect to see you next year, then.” 

One corner of Jay’s lips jerks up and he laughs, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

When Jay leaves, you turn back to rejoin your family, who’s looking at you expectedly. 

“What?”

“Did you guys kiss?” One of your cousins joke.

You brows furrow and you burst out laughing, “Ha! No way!” What the hell was this guy even talking about? You and Jay kissing? He was your boss for god’s sake. Isn’t that like… forbidden or something? 

You try to change the topic because the thought was mind-boggling and you didn’t want them to catch the way your cheeks and your ears were heating up at the thought. “He says thank you,” You say and move to sit next to them, “And I told him he should come next Christmas.”

Your mom betrays you, “As your boyfriend?” Of course she would say that. 

Another laugh leaves your lips and you shake your head, “I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”

(Or so you think.)

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi

an: ughhhhhh I really love this pair (ಡ᎔ಡ) it would be soso cute to see more of them but I can'tttt I need to write the other ones,, pls leave comments cause I love hearing your thoughts!,, n e ways I hope you enjoyed this! Renjun is up next, so please look forward to his!

#Enhypen #enhypen imagines #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #park jongseong #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #jay imagines #park jongseong imagines #park jongseong scenarios #Kpop #kpop imagines #my writings #enhypen x reader #Jay x reader #Park jay x reader #Park jongseong x reader #Jay park x reader

[spacebarbarianweird]

Little Bundle of Darkness

Synopsis: Astarion becomes a father.

Tags: fluff, comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs, pregnancy

Alethaine's age: newborn

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @lobster-risotto for beta-reading!

Astarion wants to leave the house, just to distract himself a bit. Just to take a break.

A cry of pain pierces the air. 

The vampire starts moving objects in the room mindlessly. He hates dissociating but at this moment he misses this feeling of not being present in the moment.

It's been years since he felt so useless, so doomed. And so scared.

Another cry, louder than the previous one, and Astarion clenches his fists as if being ready to attack an invisible enemy. 

He and Tiriel have been through a lot. He has seen her in blood and pain many times - his fierce warrior-wife who wields a two-handed axe with the same elegance he uses daggers is unstoppable and unbreakable.

But this… this is different. 

"I - I can't!", he hears Tiriel. "It hurts!"

Whatever she wants to say next, drowns in yet another cry.

Astarion casts a glance outside. The sun is still shining so he is locked inside the house. Helpless and useless while Tiriel is suffering in agonizing pain only with a midwife to be by her side.

...He had no idea it was possible. He is an undead. Undead men don't impregnate mortal women. Besides, it had been twenty years since they met. If it had been possible to conceive a child, it would have happened a long time ago.

But – 

One day her blood just tasted different. And Tiriel was so tired she couldn’t lift her weapon on their back home from the wilderness. She was claiming everything was all right and he had to drag her to the town’s healer.

She came back much sooner than he expected, and he immediately sensed something was utterly wrong. Tiriel sat in front of him in the chair, eyes firmly fixed on her hands.

"My sweet, what did he say?" Astarion asked. By this moment he started feeling a wave of his own panic. Tiriel is mortal. She is a warrior, yes, but she isn’t immune to curses and, after all, death. And besides he had never seen her like that.

"Astarion, tell me one thing. Have you heard about children born from vampires?"

"Yes, I have. Dhampirs. It’s like being a vampire without downsides,"he got so carried away that he basically gave a lecture to Tiriel, and then stumbled. "Why do you ask?"

And then she put her hand on her belly.

“He told me I am pregnant.”

… The next months were intense. Sometimes everything was good. They could even sit and talk about the future – sure, the child was going to be an elf with just a bit of human ancestry on Tiriel’s side. 

But more often than that they both were scared. Tiriel had insane mood swings and she would burst into tears after some innocent mockery from him. He had nightmares and panic attacks. Everything he thought had gone for good returned the instant he’d learned about pregnancy. 

And Tiriel… Well, the thing is women die at childbirth even if the child is mortal. Even if before the woman has challenged the gods.

Cries from upstairs are unbearable to hear. Astarion wants to be there with Tiriel and, at the same time, he wants to be miles away. And it’s all his fault. 

If she dies, it will be his fault.

Fuck it.

Astarion goes up and with a bit of hesitation pushes the door. The smell of familiar blood makes his head spin.

“Go away, idiot! I told you not to come here!” the midwife curses. “There is too much blood!”

“No, please!” Tiriel begs, reaching out for him, “Don’t go!”

Astarion kneels beside her and squeezes her hand. “I am not going anywhere, my sweet.”

What if something is wrong? What if the child is some monster, not even resembling a sentient being? What if…

And suddenly Tiriel goes silent.

A squeal, full of fury and distress, pierces the room.

“Well, this one looks like a healthy girl”, the midwife places the baby in Tiriel's arms. 

The tiny Elven baby with long pointy ears stops crying, feeling her mother’s skin against hers.

Astarion stares at the child in shock.

“Didn’t really take after me, did you?” Tiriel adjusts herself a bit in the bed. “My lovely beautiful girl”, she presses a kiss against the baby’s forehead, “Look at her ears, they are like yours!”

Astarion can’t take his eye off them. His child. His and Tiriel’s. His daughter. Not a monster – just a baby. 

The long pointy ears twitch, and Tiriel starts caressing them.

“Tiriel… My love…”, he finally manages to speak again, “Her ears are very sensitive, don’t touch them too much”.

“Oh, I am sorry”, Tiriel stops. “But they are so cute!”

“They are.”

Astarion can’t decipher what exactly he feels. All these months the child was just an idea, something he couldn’t feel attachment to. But now that the baby is born, the realization that nothing will be the same hits him. That his life has just changed forever.

And this is good. The worst thing that was happening to him all the centuries of enslavement was the understanding that nothing would ever change. Nothing would get better or worse because everything would stay the same. And now, it’s something new. Something natural. Something he thought was available only for normal people, not someone so twisted and ruined like him.

Tiriel touches his arm softly.

“Hold her.”

“What?! No! I am not…”

“It’s your child, Astarion”

Astarion stands up and recoils. “Tiriel, I will hurt her! Look at her, she is small! I will… I will do something to her!”

It seems like his voice scares the newborn and she starts crying again. 

“Sit with me”, Tiriel asks. “Please”

Astarion hesitates but obliges. Before he says anything, the little bundle is already placed in his pale arms.

He freezes. The girl cries even louder demanding to be returned to her mother. Astarion touches her forehead with his fingers – the skin feels delicate like silk”

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir, salen damia”, he whispers in Elven.

And the girl stops crying. She looks at him with her dark eyes and suddenly smiles. The newborn stretches her tiny arms as if trying to reach out for his face. 

And Astarion bursts into tears. Sobbing, he cradles the baby in his arms, hearing the fast heartbeat within her delicate rib cage. 

It’s his daughter. His treasure. The reward for everything he’s been through. The sign that he has been doing the right things all these years.

Tiriel puts her chin on his shoulder and wraps her hands around his waist.

“Thank you, my love”, Astarion says to her. “This is a gift.”

They sit like that for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Tiriel breaks the silence.

“She needs a name.”

Astarion studies the girl’s face as if looking for a hint. Then, the name comes to his mind, though he doesn't know where he could have heard it.

“Alethaine. My love, can we call her Alethaine?”

Tiriel nods. “It’s not like I have any other suggestions. I was scared to death the whole time. It’s beautiful. Let’s call her that”.

It’s already night when the midwife leaves the house. Astarion helps Tiriel to get to the bed with clean sheets and then brings her sleeping Alethaine.

Astarion watches how Tiriel pulls the collar of her shirt freeing swollen breasts and then places the girl that way so her mouth in front of the nipple. The girl makes sucking movements and her ears twitch simultaneously.

Tiriel starts humming – and Astarion recognizes a human lullaby he’s heard from Tiriel maybe only once or twice. 

He carefully puts his head on Tiriel’s lap so he can see both his wife and daughter.

“How are you feeling?” he finally asks.

“Tired. Happy. And you?”

Astarion chuckles. “You pushed a whole Elven baby out of your body and wonder how I am feeling?”

“Actually, yes”

“I feel … alive.”

Tiriel reaches to his silver curls and strokes the hair with her free hand.

“Thank you for giving her to me”, she whispers.

Ai armiel telere maenen hir, salen damia (Elven) - you hold my heart forever, my child

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #alethaine ancunin #astarion being a dad #dadstarion #astarion fluff #astarion x you #spacebarbarian fics #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #pregnancy #giving birth #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel

[sleep-deprivedracoon]

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

word count: 3680 Summary: Satoru doing his best to get you out of your downward spiral. He failed Suguru but he won't fail you. Author's note: based on this prompt. I think I speak for most of the fandom when I say we all need some extra fluff and love from Gojo after the week we've had with the anime and manga. So this one is for all of us Gojo wives. Ngl, I am literally shaking right now as I dare to post this. I don't know if y'all will like this or if this just flops. CW: depression, food habits, angst, implied relationships, patterns of isolation, fluff, angst to comfort, helplessness, mentions of smoking

Satoru Gojo stood before your door, an unusual sense of foreboding gnawing at the edges of his normally self-assured demeanor. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, one that clashed against the confident façade he typically wore like armor. He couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something was terribly wrong with you, something that went far beyond the physical injuries. It had been weeks since you returned from that mission, and something had changed in you—It was as if something was tearing you apart from the inside.

He'd delved into the mission reports, scouring through the details, looking for any signs of what might have transpired. The mission had been a success, technically flawless, with only a handful of unfortunate bystanders caught in the crossfire. You'd managed to take down a first-grade curse with no fatalities—by all accounts, it should have been considered a triumph. So why had it left you so shattered?

As the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side, his sharp eyes caught the flicker of a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Your smile, once a beacon of light that never failed to brighten his day, now seemed a mere shadow of its former self. It was as though the spark within you had dimmed, leaving behind an empty echo of what used to be.

"Toru," you greeted, your voice a little too forced, a little too brittle.

Gojo pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation he couldn't quite put into words. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that had become second nature to him, a silent declaration of affection. “Hi, sweets.” he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

As he held you, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, that the ground beneath him was unstable. He hoped beyond hope that he was merely overthinking, that you were stronger than he feared. But deep down, he knew. He knew something was fundamentally wrong.

You gently pulled away, and he followed you into your apartment, his senses immediately assaulted by the disarray that greeted him. Sure, you were a chaotic person, but there was usually an organized chaos to your living space. Books strewn haphazardly on shelves, art supplies scattered on tables, and the comforting scent of incense in the air—all elements of your usual environment. The chaos was familiar, a reflection of your vibrant, unpredictable personality. But this... this was different. There was an air of neglect, a sense that even your usual disorder had lost its usual rhythm. He took in the scene—the scattered papers, the toppled books, the forgotten articles of clothing strewn across the floor. Each item seemed to whisper a tale of neglect; a story of a mind too preoccupied to care for its surroundings. He saw the remnants of a once vibrant spirit, now muted and worn.

He followed you into the kitchen, concern etched into his features. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

You mumbled a half-hearted "yes," but he wasn't fooled. He opened your fridge to place a few drinks, and his heart sank at the sight. It hadn't been stocked in a while; the shelves almost barren. It was a stark contrast to the usual assortment of ingredients and snacks he was accustomed to stealing. He glanced at you, silently noting the tired lines etching your face, the weariness in your eyes that belied your attempt at a smile

You stood beside him, trying to deflect his concern with a forced smile and a weak excuse. "I've been lazy, just ordering takeout."

He glanced at the trash can, noting its emptiness. He saw right through the lie, but he didn't push it. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, taking in the disheveled state of your hair, the dullness in your eyes, the weight loss that had left you looking frail. It was a familiar dance—one he had witnessed before, with someone else he had cared for deeply. That smile you offered him, that empty, hollow smile with closed eyes, it hit him like a tidal wave of dread. It reminded Gojo of Suguru after Amanai's death—their once lively friend reduced to a mere shell, hiding behind a facade. The parallels between you and Suguru's descent sent a shiver down his spine.

The weight of helplessness settled like a leaden anchor in Satoru Gojo's chest. He cursed inwardly, the bitter taste of regret mingling with the dread that had consumed him. How was it happening again? Why was it always the ones he cared for the most? The memory of Suguru, his once-vibrant friend reduced to a mere shadow of himself, haunted him. He had failed Suguru, and that failure still weighed heavily on him.

The mantra of his own strength echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. He was the strongest, but in this moment, he felt powerless. Weak. Useless. Helpless. As you stood before him, offering a smile that barely masked the turmoil within, you felt so distant, so far away. It was as though an impenetrable barrier had risen between the two of you.

It had started weeks ago, with your return from that fateful mission. Even then, something had felt off. You had been fatigued, weary, and Gojo had been there for you, trying to help you unwind and recharge. But you barely spoke of the mission, your words guarded, your gaze distant. In the ensuing weeks, he had watched as you withdrew, not just from him, but from their students. He noticed how you declined Nobara’s invites to go shopping, how the playful banter with Megumi had all but disappeared. Even your calls with Yuta who was overseas had become brief, the once-lively conversations now reduced to strained exchanges.

He caught a whiff of smoke around you one evening, a scent that hung in the air like a lingering secret. He knew then, without needing to ask, that you had turned to cigarettes for solace. There were signs, always signs. The subtle shifts in behavior, the hollow looks, the moments of silence that stretched on longer than they should. But he had chosen to give you space, believing that time would allow you to heal and find your way back. It was a mistake, one he deeply regretted now as he saw the signs he had missed piling up.

Gojo's gaze settled on you once more, his heart heavy with concern. You had lost weight, your eyes dulled, your once-lustrous hair now a tangled mess. It was as though a part of you had withered away, leaving behind a hollow shell. The pain in his chest intensified as he realized that he couldn't afford to stand by and watch you slip away. He had to act, to break through the barrier you had unknowingly erected around yourself. But how? That was the question that haunted him as he searched your eyes for a way to reach you, to pull you back from the abyss you seemed to be falling into.

He turned to you, his eyes tracing the weariness etched into your features, the fragility in your frame. "Sweets," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of concern and determination. "We can't keep going on like this. You don't have to face this alone.”

As Gojo's concerned gaze bore into you, he couldn't help but notice the immediate defensiveness in your body language. Your chuckle, dry and forced, cut through the air like a fragile attempt to push his worries away. "I'm okay, Toru," you insisted, your voice wavering just slightly.

"(Y/n) …" he urged; his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to pretend with me. I can see that something's eating at you. You can rely on me, you know that, right? I'm here to shoulder whatever burdens you're carrying."

You met his gaze, eyes guarded, and shook your head, a hint of stubbornness in your expression. "Toru, really, I appreciate it, but I'm okay. You're worrying unnecessarily.”

You remained closed off, a wall of resistance that he couldn't breach. Your insistence that everything was fine felt like a dagger to his heart, but he understood that pushing you further at this moment could risk you shutting him out completely and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.

So, he accepted your words, even as they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Alright, sweets. Just remember, I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

Ordering takeout seemed like the most rational thing to do, a glimmer of normalcy in the midst of the storm. He chose a spicy Chow Mein with Gyoza on the side, knowing it was a combination that never failed to put a smile on your face. As the two of you sat in silence, he couldn't help but notice how you toyed with your food, pushing it around on the plate rather than really eating.

He teased gently, "You know, you're starting to remind me of a kid being forced to eat their vegetables. Come on, at least take a few bites for me."

You glanced up, a faint glimmer of amusement in your eyes, and complied, taking a few bites to prove a point. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It was through these small steps, he realized, that he needed to slowly guide you back from the darkness that threatened to consume you.

After dinner, he bid you farewell, his footsteps heavy as he walked away from your apartment. Once out of your sight, he clutched his hair in frustration, a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him. He couldn't bear to see you like this, not again. He couldn't let another person he cared for slip into the abyss.

With a determined exhale, he removed his shades and reached for the black blindfold that he rarely wore when it was just the two of you. He tied it securely and looked back at the window to your apartment. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't let you slip away. He would fight for you, even if it meant stepping into the darkness alongside you.

-------------

In the days that followed, Gojo remained steadfast in his determination to pull you out of the suffocating depths of depression that had ensnared you. He knew he couldn't do it alone, and admitting that fact was a monumental step for someone as self-reliant as him. It surprised even Shoko, who had known Gojo for years, to witness his newfound vulnerability.

He started with small, manageable gestures, well aware that overwhelming you would only push you further away. Slowly, he began to tidy up your apartment, one step at a time. He organized the scattered papers, straightened the toppled books, and restored a sense of order to the chaos that had overtaken the space. He did it in small iterations, so as to not catch you off guard.  He knew that even the semblance of cleanliness and organization could bring a sense of calm. Another day, he arrived with a bag of groceries, quietly slipping into your kitchen to prepare a meal. At times, he found himself sneaking food into you, taking advantage of moments when your mind wandered elsewhere. He'd feed you, offering fruits and treats while you mindlessly chewed on it, lost in thought. It was a silent promise that he was there to support you, to ensure you took care of yourself.

Then came the day he dragged you out, insisting that you join him and his students for a shopping excursion. It was an attempt to remind you that there was still joy and fun to be had, even in the midst of the world's worries. He made sure to bring his students along, Yuji and Nobara, who shared a single brain cell with their hairbrained schemes, and Megumi, who often found himself the target of their antics. As you wandered through the bustling market, you couldn't help but be drawn into the silliness that surrounded you. Yuji and Nobara's playful banter, Megumi's exasperation, and the way his students relied on you for the silliest of things slowly began to chip away at the darkness within you. There were moments when you couldn't help but smile, caught up in the absurdity of it all. Watching Yuji and Nobara embark on their ridiculous plans, seeing Megumi squirm in embarrassment, witnessing the camaraderie among his students—it all served as a poignant reminder that life held moments of levity, even in its darkest corners. Gojo reveled in these small victories, each one a testament to your gradual recovery. His approach was slow and deliberate, mixing moments of genuine concern with his signature goofiness.

"Hey, sweets," Gojo said, nudging you playfully as Yuji and Nobara attempted to outdo each other with their ridiculous purchases. "You see what I have to deal with every day? They're a handful. Why do I always end up taking care of brats?” He sighed in exaggeration.

The sound of your giggle was a melody that resonated in the depths of Satoru Gojo's being. He couldn't help but be drawn to the warmth in your laughter, a glimmer of the vibrant spirit that still lived within you. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, a gentle caress that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He leaned into the touch, his heart leaping at the connection.

"You know," you teased, patting his cheek affectionately, "you adopted these brats yourself. You're such a mother hen, Toru."

His lips curled into a playful smirk. "Well, what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for the misfits." He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "And I'm glad that this mother hen has you as my favorite rooster to come back to whenever I need a break from these rascals."

Your laughter, though still fragile, filled the room, a welcome sound that eased the weight in his heart. He was getting closer, step by step, to uncovering the vibrant spirit that resided within you.

------------------------

Several days later, the Tokyo Jujutsu High planned a retreat to an Onsen resort in Gunma. The students shared rooms, and Gojo, in his usual annoying fashion, had managed to finagle Yaga into assigning you to share a room with him. After all, you were both teachers and adults—it shouldn't have been a problem.

Gojo sat on the tatami floor of your room, dressed in a yukata, having just returned from the baths. He sipped on cold coffee milk, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere of the traditional inn. When he heard the sliding door open, he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. You looked ethereal in the Yukata, the fabric draping gracefully over your form. Your hair was still damp from the baths, strands clinging to your skin in a way that made his heart race. There was a newfound fullness to your cheeks, a healthy flush to your complexion that spoke of progress.

In that moment, he realized just how far you had come. The bags under your eyes were still there, but the overall transformation was striking. He clicked his tongue several times, pulling you gently to the tatami floor in front of him. He reached for the towel that hung around your shoulders and scolded you gently, "Sweets, you need to dry your hair properly. You'll catch a cold like this."

His fingers moved through your hair with a soothing touch, the room enveloped in silence save for the rustle of fabric and the soft hum of the night outside. He was meticulous, his actions deliberate as he dried your hair strand by strand. As he continued to pat your hair dry with gentle strokes, he noticed that you were trembling. Frowning, he stopped, his concern growing. And then he heard it—the soft, muffled sniffle that escaped your lips. In an instant, he turned you around to face him, his eyes widening as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes.

Before he could say a word, you began sobbing, your shoulders shaking with the force of your emotions. You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn't brush away your tears or offer empty reassurances. Instead, he let you cry, allowing the dam you had built around your emotions to finally break. He could feel the warmth of your tears soaking through his yukata, the shudders that racked your body, and the tremble of your hands as they clung to his robes. It was a raw, vulnerable moment, and he was there to bear witness to it, to share in your pain and offer his silent support. Gojo's touch was gentle, his hand stroking your back in a steady, rhythmic motion. He didn't speak, understanding that this moment was about you and your release. His heart ached with each anguished sob that wracked your body, but he remained a steadfast anchor, giving you the space you needed to let it all out.

As your sobs began to subside, your words spilled out in a torrent of emotion. You spoke of the mission, of how it had torn open old wounds, making you confront shadows from your past. The cursed technique of the first-grade curse had exploited your own memories, forcing you to relive the pain and uncertainty.

Gojo had been privy to your painful past, as you had confided in him long ago. He understood the emotional scars that had marked your journey, and now, he could see why you were descending into darkness.

Your voice trembled as you confessed your fear. You longed to return to the person you used to be, but you were terrified that you had lost yourself in the process. The fear that in losing yourself, you might also lose him gripped at your heart.

Gently, Gojo cupped your cheek, his sky-blue eyes locking onto yours. He removed his shades, allowing you to see the sincerity in his gaze. "No matter what version of yourself you present to me," he said, his voice soft but resolute, "I will love you. Whether you're happy, sad, angry, or anything in between, it doesn't change a thing. If you somehow turned evil, I'd love you. If you don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore, I’d love you. Even if you transformed into a worm, I'd love you. I will love every version of you that has been and that is yet to come, (Y/n). " He couldn't help but inject a touch of his signature playfulness into the moment. "Well, unless you turn into Gakuganji," he added with a mock shudder, "then you might be pushing it. But hey, I'll even love you if you morph into that old fart. Just… just don't test me on that one." He kisses your trembling lips gently. “I don’t think my heart could handle that.”

A small giggle burst from your lips, and you playfully swatted his arm, the sound like a gentle chime amidst your tears. It was a moment of relief, a brief respite from the weight of your emotions. Gojo couldn't help but chuckle in response, his grin boyish and goofy. “I will always love you (Y/n). Even if you lose yourself, I will walk with you to help you rediscover yourself. I am great at helping people find things. These six eyes are here for a reason, you know?”

You gently shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to kiss Satoru Gojo on his lips, your gratitude and affection evident in the tender gesture. "Thank you," you whispered against his lips, "for being you."

His lips curved into a soft smile as he returned your kiss, savoring the warmth of your affection. "It's been my pleasure, (Y/n)," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “After all, nobody is best at being Gojo Satoru other than Satoru Gojo himself.” He winks.

You continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know what you've been doing, Toru. All these days, you’ve been taking care of me, helping me even if I didn't want to admit it to myself. But I needed it, and I needed you."

Gojo's eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "If the roles were reversed, you would've done a far better and more efficient job," he admitted, a hint of shame coloring his voice. "I should've seen it sooner, (Y/n)."

You silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips, his mock pout making you smile. "Don't blame yourself, Toru," you murmured. "I didn't want you to find out, and it's not your fault. I feel lighter now than I have in days, although I am still struggling to cope.”

In response, Gojo spoke with unwavering determination, "I'll be here beside you, sweets. However you want and in whatever form you need.

“Whatever I need huh?” A wistful smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe turning myself into Gakuganji would help," you mused, a playful glint in your eyes. “won’t it, Toru?”

Gojo groaned dramatically, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His fingers danced along your sides and ribs, eliciting giggles and laughter from you as you squirmed beneath his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. His fingers attacked your sides and belly, evoking peals of laughter from you. The tatami floor beneath you seemed to come alive with the sounds of your giggles and Gojo's playful laughter. As he tickled you mercilessly, Gojo's thoughts were clear—he would do anything to keep that light in your eyes, to see you smile, even if it meant turning into Gakuganji himself. Anything at all. And with every joyful laugh that filled the room, he knew he was one step closer to bringing you back to him.

Taglist - @hiraethsdesires Note to @hiraethsdesires: thank you, Hira. I thought I'd never be able to get back into writing again. I thought I had lost it. But it felt so nice to dive right into this again. The first character I had ever written for in this blog was Gojo. It feels just right to get back into it with him again.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen one shot #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo oneshot #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru oneshot #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo angst #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru angst #gojo x you #gojo sensei

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place. 

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm. 

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part. 

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily. 

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head. 

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties. 

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you. 

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed. 

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd. 

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key. 

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction. 

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out, 

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words. 

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?” 

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were. 

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply, 

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father. 

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?” 

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!” 

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?” 

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess. 

But in his daughter’s eyes… 

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella. 

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips. 

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him. 

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?” 

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent. 

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure. 

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not. 

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber. 

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small. 

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort. 

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces. 

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly. 

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable. 

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you. 

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.  

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time. 

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of. 

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure. 

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children? 

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur. 

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself. 

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling. 

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more. 

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening. 

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself. 

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax. 

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside. 

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom. 

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it. 

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly. 

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column. 

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance. 

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside. 

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him. 

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly. 

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk. 

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in. 

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home. 

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute. 

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries. 

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home. 

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness. 

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.” 

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is? 

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had. 

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible. 

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you. 

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

[cptnleviackerman]

candles and cuddles

spencer reid x gn reader

Spencer comes home from a day out in the city and finds you feeling overwhelmed and tired, so he helps you get the rest you need to recharge yourself. content - fluff, comfort, cuddles words - 2.2k

The keyrings rattling outside in the hallway stir you from your thoughts and you smile briefly, knowing that this means Spencer will be walking through the door any second now. You can hear him struggle to get the key separate from all the keyrings, and you can’t help but feel giddy. Despite the fact that you know he likes to keep his keys fairly free and accessible, he still uses all the keyrings that you’ve gotten him from the various trips you have taken, both with and without him.

“I bought this really cool book. Come and read it with me?” Spencer asks, his voice alerting you to his presence, now inside your shared apartment.

You look up from your spot on the sofa, tilting your head to indicate your question. 

“Would you like me to explain what the book is about?” His voice is gentle; in the same way a hot bath can soothe achy muscles, his voice soothes the aches in your soul.

You nod your head in response, straightening your back and stretching your legs out in front of you. You had been sitting in the same spot for the last few hours, waiting for Spencer to get back from town. He had been out shopping and had stopped for lunch somewhere with Derek, leaving you to fend for yourself at home for the afternoon. You’d managed to get a couple of the chores done from the long list you’d given yourself, but for some reason once the dusting in the lounge was completed you had found yourself almost completely devoid of motivation.

“Are you sure?” He pauses before adding, “are you okay?”

He puts his bag down without looking at the floor, and steps towards you. His eyebrows knit in worry and confusion, your lack of words seemingly causing him to be concerned for you. 

You clear your throat before speaking. 

“Yes I'm sure. I'm okay, I promise.” You give a small half smile to try and back up your words, and to try and convince Spencer, but by the look on his face you know he doesn't believe you. Goddamn profilers. 

“Did you have a good afternoon?”

You hope that asking him a couple questions will help to ease you back into talking, but your voice is very small when you first speak, and you assume it's because you haven't spoken out loud since he left. 

“Yes, we did, thank you. Derek was unhappy about being dragged around to all the small, dingy bookstores, his words not mine, but I think he forgave me after I bought him lunch.”

You can't help but let out a small laugh at that, it does sound a lot like Derek, he loves to tease Spencer. Even more so when they’re both out shopping and Spencer is trying to buy new books, he’s said to you before that Derek finds his need for over checking and going back and forth a million times between stores a little excessive sometimes, all to ensure the perfect book is bought, but you know Derek only means it lovingly. He'd never say or do anything hurtful towards Spencer intentionally. 

“That sounds about right.” You answer with a laugh. 

Spencer is right in front of you now, having removed his scarf and coat, leaving them untidily thrown about on the nearest chair. 

You feel the sofa dip under Spencer’s weight, and you can tell by his short sigh that he wants to ask you if you're okay again, but you speak before he's able to. 

“It's okay Spence, I really am okay. Just tired I think.”

Spencer nods, willing himself not to keep prying. He knows if something was really wrong you would tell him, he just needs to give you some time first. He has come to know your ticks and quirks quite well now, the two of you had decided to move in together almost a year ago now, and you had been friends long before your romantic relationship started, so he is familiar with how your brain works. 

He watches you as you shut your laptop and place it on the table, his eyes following your hands as he shuffles back into the sofa to get comfortable. As you lean back Spencer puts his arm around you, bringing you closer to his side. You let out an audible breath of relief at the contact, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer. 

“Do you want to take a nap with me?” Spencer asks, squeezing your shoulder with his hand. 

“Spence, you know I'm not good with na—”

“I know, but resting can help with feelings of exhaustion, even if you don't actually fall asleep. It's important to let yourself rest in order to help boost your mood, and resting can also help reduce stress and improve your creativity and motivation.” He pauses, tilting his head to look at you, before adding, “I don't want you to burn yourself out.”

Spencer punctuates the end of his sentence with a smile, and you can't help but smile back. The ways in which he wants to help and look after you never fail to make you happy. 

“Okay,” you agree, “let's go to bed for a bit.”

You can tell Spencer is happy you said yes by the way he jumps up almost immediately, extending his hand toward you and practically pulling you to your feet. You let out a laugh as he drags you to your shared bedroom, watching as he struggles to hold your hand and get the room organised enough for you both to relax on the bed comfortably at the same time. 

“Spence, it's okay, I'll sit.” 

He looks at you as if he'd forgotten you were still attached to his hand, almost as though he'd become so used to your presence beside him that he hadn't even thought to let your hand go, even if it meant he'd be able to organise the room better. 

Spencer had long considered you a part of him, almost since the very first moment he had met you. The way you seemed to light up the room as soon as you entered, your smile was warm and inviting, and your voice… He had never heard anything like it. He hadn't turned around upon your entrance on that first day, he knew that Emily had invited a friend to the bar, but he was focused on watching Derek play pool against Rossi. Although, more accurately, he was focused on telling Derek the precise ways in which he was bound to lose the game; the way his stance was wrong, the way his hold on the cue was wrong and how he was breathing at all the wrong times in order to make the perfect shot. But as soon as he heard you introduce yourself to JJ and Penelope his head had whipped around, his eyes falling on you immediately. There was no mistaking his feeling in that moment, he needed to know you. 

And he hasn't lost that feeling in all the years he'd known you, it had grown and changed as the two of you had become more and more familiar. What once was needing to know you, had then changed to needing to hear you, needing to see you, and now, needing to be near you.

Even as he gently let go of your hand and watched you quickly sit on the edge of your bed he wished he was nearer to you. He wished he could feel your soft skin against his, and feel your chest rise and fall with your breathing.

His longing made his organisation an entertaining thing to watch. His steps were hurried, his feet tumbling over each other and you were surprised he hadn't fallen head over heels yet. You placed your hands on the bed behind you, leaning back onto them slightly as your eyes followed Spencer around the room. He was caught in his own world and luckily didn’t notice your staring, although you could feel your face heat up at the thought of him catching you. He was focused on clearing the bed at first, he had moved the scattered papers and books left there from your morning in bed, and had moved them onto the chair beside you. Next he had ensured all the curtains were closed, only left open the tiniest crack to allow some of the air to flow in from the open window. He had then flicked off the main overhead light, choosing to turn on the warm bedside lamp on his side of the bed instead. And finally, he fluffed up your pillow, turning to you when he was done and extending his hand towards you, stretching it as far as you could in a bid to get closer to you.

Smiling, you accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet and lead you towards your side of the bed. He had left your favourite green fleece blanket at the end of the bed, and as soon as you laid down he wasted no time before placing it over your body. You smiled, wiggling a little to get comfy. Spencer checked the room one last time, as though he needed everything to be perfect for you, and paused. You weren't sure what he was doing. At first all you could see was his back as he rummaged through a draw, but it didn't take long for you to realise his idea once he turned to face you. He was holding a matchbook.

“Which scent?” He asks simply.

“Hmmmm,” you tilt your head and purse your lips while you think. “I don’t know, there’s so many— Oh! How about the white jasmine and sandalwood candle you got me last week? I haven't had a chance to use it yet.”

Spencer nods, and wordlessly walks to your bedside to light the candle. He smiles as he watches you slowly close your eyes, happy that you’ve given yourself some time to rest.

“Spence? Are you going to continue watching me, or are you going to come and join me under this blanket?” 

His smile widens to a grin at your words.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.”

And, true to his word, after barely a minute he is next to you. 

You curl your body towards his, lifting your neck so he can slot his arm underneath it. You can feel Spencer bouncing his foot ever so slightly underneath the blanket, and you smile, leaning further into his chest. You hadn't realised how tired you had been, but you feel it now. You take a deep breath, wanting to relax yourself even more. You can smell the outside on Spencer’s shirt, a fact that, although is not unsurprising, does make you a tad disappointed. Until you met Spencer you never realised how addicting it can be to be enveloped in a partner’s smell, you never realised that a smell could make you feel so relaxed and so calm. Draping your leg across Spencer’s body you take another not so subtle sniff, trying to smell that familiar mix of vanilla, coconut and coffee.

“Are you smelling me?”

You bury your face in his chest before answering, and you feel Spencer squeeze your arm.

“Yes.” You whisper.

“You like how I smell?” His question is genuine, but his voice is small—almost as though he was afraid of the answer.

You crane your neck upwards to look at Spencer.

“Yes.” You whisper again, with a smile on your lips.

You feel your cheeks warm as Spencer looks at you, you think he must be looking for a sign of teasing on your face. 

When he doesn't find one he pulls you even tighter against his chest.

“Thank you.” He breaths, the words barely perceptible. 

You smile, wrapping your arms around him as best as you can from this angle, and you feel his other arm lay on your side. His touch completely surrounds you, and you can hear his heart beating in his chest. The rhythm relaxes you, and coupled with the candle and the dim lit room, you find your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You know sleep is not far away now. 

“I love you Spence.” You whisper. “Thank you for looking after me.”

Spencer watches you as you finish speaking, he loves that he was able to help you this afternoon. And, despite your regular insistence that you can't nap, he feels your head go heavy and he can hear your breathing change. He knows you must be practically asleep now, but he doesn’t mind, he always has his thoughts to keep him company, and luckily when you’re in his arms he knows it will always be the good thoughts, and never the bad ones.

“I love you too, baby.” 

Spencer’s voice is quiet so as to not disturb your peaceful rest, but he hopes you hear him. He hopes you are able to hear what his actions say to you.

I love you, I love you, I love you

You mean everything to me

#i love him so much:( #he means the world to me actually:( #i need him to comfort me and give me cuddles #hes so baby #i love him love him love him lots #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #sage.fics

[changetyre]

MORE OSCAR SMUT PLEEEEEASE. The last one slapped. maybe where he rescues you from a creep? Idk. Thanks in advance!

Please II Oscar Piastri ⓈⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: After a scary encounter you seek comfort in your savior..

WARNINGS: **18+**, creep, violence, assault. Not proofread.

A/N: I'm a little behind on requests but with Christmas coming up I've been busy with gift finding, uni, seeing friends and family, and whatnot. Also, I'm really shit with endings so...srry.

"Yes, Dad I'm on my way back I promise." You spoke to your dad on the phone as you walked back to the hotel from a Red Bull party a few blocks down.

Being the daughter of a team principal came with its perks, being able to travel for free and meeting really hot Formula 1 drivers were just some of them.

Tonight you'd been invited to a Redbull party at the Las Vegas GP where you weren't even half surprised to see a Redbull car hanging from the ceiling. You hadn't even realized how late it was only intending to be at the party for a few hours knowing the next day would be busy.

Your dad had asked you to text him when you were on your way back and thinking you'd forgotten your dad had gone to sleep only to receive a text nearing 3 am where he decided to call and scold you...as usual.

"Dad calm down, there's literally people everywhere it's not like I'm completely alone, and besides I'm here in the lobby already." You rolled your eyes at your dad's dramatism.

"I expect you to be up and early tomorrow." Your dad simply said before hanging up.

You laughed as you walked to the elevator. The doors were about to close when a hand stopped them from shutting completely and they opened again.

In came a man who looked completely wasted already making you stand up straighter, warning signs going off inside your head. The doors shut and the second warning sign came when he didn't press a floor button.

You made yourself small trying to not grab any attention tucking yourself into the corner hoping the man would just leave you but as soon as you saw him slowly turn to you and smirk you knew that wouldn't be the case.

"what's your name baby girl." He stumbled all the way to you trapping you in the corner. You turned your head avoiding his face, the stench of alcohol dizzying you.

"Please get away from me." You tried your hardest to sound firm.

He laughed. "c,mon we're just having fun." He let his body fall onto you, his weight trapping your hands beside you.

"GET OFF ME!" This time you screamed louder fear present in your voice.

"Just relax." The man then whispered as he put his mouth on your neck trying to plant kisses all over as you tried wriggling away with all your strength.

"HEY!" You had completely missed the fact that the elevator had stopped and apparently so had the creep since the next thing you knew he was getting thrown off you.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the fact he was finally off you and even more at seeing a familiar face.

"y/n?" Oscar realized it was you which only angered him further. "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!" You heard Oscar scream before landing a punch to the man's jaw.

The next few minutes were a blur, you saw a hotel maid run by to see what was going on before guards were called. Oscar demanded they arrest the man and check the security cameras in the elevator to which the hotel staff assured they would do so and more and apologized greatly to you and him for what happened.

You simply nodded and gave short answers but wanted nothing more than to simply get away from all of this already.

"Hey let's get you back to your room." Oscar placed a gentle hand on your arm. You leaned into his touch and he put his arm around your waist keeping you close as he walked you to your room.

"Thank you." Your voice was still shaky but you felt much better now that it was over.

"Oh no don't need to thank me, he should've never touched you," Oscar replied.

You arrived to your room and you opened the door, turning around on the doorway to face Oscar.

"Uhm Oscar could you-"

"I'll leave you-" Oscar spoke at the same time as you.

You both froze waiting for the other to speak but you took the opportunity. "Can you please stay with me?" You asked him.

"Are you sur-" Oscar didn't want to overstep.

"Please. Please Oz." You begged.

And that's how Oscar found himself lying beside you in the hotel bed. It was awkward, he wasn't sure what to say or do and his nerves only increased when you'd scooted closer to him laying your head on his chest.

"uhm you okay?" Oscar chose to break the silence noticing neither of you were even close to falling asleep, you drawing circles on his chest a good indicator.

"I'm better now." shivers filled Oscar's body at the change in your tone, your voice was softer but more sure now. You looked up at him and Oscar just about stopped breathing at the closeness.

You weren't sure what it was exactly but the closeness you felt with Oscar had made you feel...warm in all sorts of places and you wanted more. Propping yourself further up you pressed your lips to Oscar.

You could feel the initial shock from him before he started kissing you back, combing your hair back with his fingers as he deepened the kiss.

You let out a soft moan at the fact things were quickly getting heated but were frustrated when all of a sudden Oscar pulled away standing up and taking a step away from the bed.

"No...no this isn't okay you've just- I can't- you're vulnerable and-" Oscar stuttered, it didn't matter how much he really wanted this he couldn't take advantage of the situation like this.

"Please Oz." The way the words had such different meanings from just a few moments ago. "I want this...I really want you." You said as you kneeled on the bed facing him.

The way Oscar's dick throbbed was criminal enjoying the way you so prettily positioned yourself on the bed wearing nothing but an oversized shirt which didn't do much to hide the space between your legs and he'd be blind not to notice the way your nipples poked out.

"Fuck-" Oscar cursed himself.

"Please Oz make me feel good." Your innocent voice almost made him pass out right then and there.

Look, maybe he was a horrible person for this...but he couldn't resist.

Stepping forward Oscar pulled you towards him by placing his hand on your neck, he knew you liked it as soon as you moaned into his mouth.

He slowly pushed you back onto the bed as he got over you not breaking the kiss. With his other hand, Oscar used his thumb to play with your nipples loving the way you squirmed at his touch.

He began kissing down your neck while his other hand began caressing your bare legs inching higher and higher slowly.

"Ah, shit...ah." He smirked at the reactions he was getting from you taking the time to tease you a little as his fingers just grazed over your panties but not just yet putting any pressure.

"Oscar just touch me already...please." Oscar had never felt anything like it when you grabbed his hand and brought them closer to you.

He let you partially take control as you began using his hand to rub it against yourself for a few seconds before curling your fingers through the back of his hand and placing it inside your panties.

"Holy shit you're gonna kill me," Oscar whispered to himself as he felt the way you guided his fingers through your folds before rubbing circles on your clit.

Oscar let you do what you please with his hands as he continued kissing the rest of your body not caring the way he was leaving marks practically everywhere.

"Please fuck me." You then asked.

The way you seemed to ask for everything so nicely only made Oscar want more and more of you.

"Of course baby." He whispered as he pulled his hand out of your panties with a little reluctance from you so he could strip himself off his clothes.

He saw as you were about to take your shirt off. "Leave it on," Oscar demanded, there was something about you in an oversized shirt with the idea of being bare underneath that just made the ache between his legs a little bigger.

You smirked noticing the desperation in Oscar's voice. Once he freed himself Oscar climbed back over you before holding his dick and rubbing it through your folds a few times.

You rolled your eyes back at the anticipation just waiting for him to fill you up already and it didn't take long before your wishes were fulfilled.

Despite the fact Oscar wanted to fuck you senseless he reigned his needs in and took his time thrusting into you, letting you adjust to his size and length.

"Fuck that's so good." You muttered breathlessly. "Faster Oz please."

You begged the knot in your stomach building up with each second.

Oscar propped his elbows beside you to steady himself before he started setting a pace, loving the way you immediately wrapped your arms and legs around him trying to pull him closer.

"sh*t you're so tight." Oscar could feel the way your walls almost clawed at him every time he pulled back out. "It's like you were made just for me, right baby?" Oscar had never truly been vocal during sex but there was something about you that just made him want to talk.

"Yeah...yes." You replied breathless again having a hard time focusing on his words from the overwhelming pleasure that was building up.

"You're taking me so good." Oscar smiled as he noticed the way your moans got louder and your breath quickened.

"Oz I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum." You cried out.

"Cum baby." Oscar was close too but to be honest he didn't care if he didn't finish as long as you did. After a few seconds, he could feel you clenched around him before your body shivered underneath him. His pace initially quickened before gradually slowing down fucking you through your orgasm.

And even though he thought he'd need more the sight of you coming undone seemed to be enough for Oscar as he pulled out pushing your shirt a little higher as he shot his load onto your stomach.

"Fuck." Oscar groaned at the sight of you clutching your breasts as he came onto you. "Shit, that was amazing." Oscar panted as he came down from his high.

"Yeah...you made me feel so good Oz." You replied innocently once more as if you hadn't just done the filthiest thing with him.

"Any time." He smirked as he helped you clean up.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #smut #f1smut #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1fic #formula 1 #changetyre #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #op81 smut #op81 x reader

[cambion-companion]

Hugging the Elves (blorbos)

Elrond ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Elrond is a healer, of both body and heart. His home of Rivendell is where those blessed enough to gain entry find refuge for their spirit. Elrond would hug like a father comforting his child, he would wrap you into a secure embrace. He smells like familiar spices and fresh warm cloth as you bury your head against his shoulder. The long sleeves of his robes wrap around your body and offer solace under their weight. He will smile down at you gently, a fond crinkling around his eyes full of wisdom and starlight.

Glorfindel

Sunshine incarnate, Glorfindel's hugs are enthusiastic and don't be surprised if he lifts you into his arms and twirls you around once or twice, especially if he has been on errantry and not seen you for a while. His long golden hair would get in both your faces and he would laugh, bell-like, as he gently brushes it away. He smells of a fresh summer breeze carrying the light scents of flowers and evergreen trees as you press your cheek to his chest. I also see him as being fond of taking your face in his hands, enjoying looking into your eyes and reading your emotions there. When you are in need of comfort be assured Glorfindel will always be ready to offer you a warm embrace as you bask in his glowing presence. His very touch is enough to chase away any creeping darkness from your mind. (yes I am madly in love with him can you not tell)

Arwen

Arwen doesn't hug very many people, so when she opens her arms to you it is a gift indeed. She smells of lilac and midsummer nights spent by the lake under the stars. Her hair is as soft as goose-down and the gossamer of her sleeves slips between your fingers. She holds the back of your head lightly as you lean against her, closing your eyes and enjoying the feel of her chin tucked against your head. Arwen will also peer into your eyes, as they are windows to your soul, and give you a soft understanding smile before engaging you in light conversation and laughter.

Thranduil

(as a brief aside, I do not at all like the characterization of Thranduil in the movies as they turned him into King Thingol of Doriath who is much different in temperament. thus, this will be based on his book self)

Thranduil is regal and guarded, yet he has a warmth about him you have grown accustomed to receiving from the Elves. Like Arwen he does not embrace others readily, but will receive your affection with a broad smile and happy chuckle. His hands placed securely on your upper back as you lean against him, breathing in his scent of juniper berries and pine. This hug will be brief but meaningful and leave you feeling elated and refreshed. He will then invite you to dine with them and perhaps accompany his folk into the forest to dance and frolic to the sound of harpists and singing.

Legolas

Legolas is full of laughter and wit and will accept your hug with joy, squeezing you tight against him as he ruffles your hair about in an affectionate manner. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale the smell of leather and woodsmoke. He will hold you against him for as long as you wish, even rocking you side to side if you remain in his arms for long. When you do pull away Legolas will grasp your forearms and beam at you, making a witty comment, his countenance brightening when you laugh.

Finrod

(Yes, I have to include this golden boy)

The first among Elves to befriend humans, even the first to see them, Finrod has a special place in his heart for his mortal friends. He loves giving and receiving hugs and will wrap you in his arms readily and with reverence. His golden hair tickles your face and he laughs, looking down at you as you scrunch your nose at the sensation. Finrod smells of the ocean winds that form the waves and the carpet of moss that covers forest floors. He is Valinor mixed with Middle Earth, belonging to both and yet neither. There is a sadness to his grip as he brushes a stray hair from your face after you pull away. But as ever with his kin the sadness in his eyes swiftly turns over to mirth and he takes your hand before pulling you along with him to your next adventure.

let me know who else I should write these for!

#elf imagines #lotr elf imagine #finrod imagine #elrond imagine #legolas imagine #thranduil imagine #glorfindel imagine #arwen imagine #lotr imagine #silmarillion imagine #finrod #glorfindel #middle earth imagine #glorfindel x reader #thranduil x reader #legolas x reader #arwen x reader #finrod x reader #lord of the rings imagine #elrond x reader #middle earth headcanons

[luveline]

Wait! Hotch x stripper!reader was so good. I want more of their potential relationship!!

"I want a private dance." 

You look up from your seat at the bar in surprise. Yes, you're in lingerie, and yes, you're in a strip club, but the patrons here usually leave you alone at the bar after a few dances. 

"I'm not doing private dances tonight, honey," you say, sipping at your drink, condensation wetting your hands, "sorry." 

"Are you kidding?" 

You wipe a droplet off of your naked thigh. You should've gone into the dressing rooms and changed, but you'd been dancing for a long time without a break, and craved a little drink to numb your headache. "Not kidding. Sorry," you say again, though apologising makes you feel sick. It's not your fault, you're allowed to say no to private dances, but you've learned that saying sorry helps minimise their anger. 

"That's what you're here for." 

"No," you say, looking away from him. "'M just a dancer. Private dances are done at my discretion." 

"You could at least look at me when I'm talking to you," he says sharply. "Don't be a bitch, sweetheart." 

"That's enough." 

You look up, then, at a familiar voice cutting in. Agent Hotchner stands tall, dark and handsome where he stands behind your disgruntled patron. "Talk to her with respect or don't talk," Agent Hotchner continues. 

"Who are you?" the patron asks. 

He doesn't even need his badge. Hotchner just looks at him, waiting. It's impressive how stony one man can look, how much authority he can carry in little but his stance.

The patron throws you a disgusted look and leaves the way he came. You breathe a sigh of relief, though you're pissed too. You explained yourself twice and it didn't matter, but Agent Hotchner's scolding was enough to send him running. 

"Thank you," you say. 

He shakes his head at you. "You shouldn't have needed my intervention in the first place." 

Your chest hurts with a weird queasy shame. "I know, I should've– I mean, what did I think was gonna happen, sitting here." You laugh awkwardly. 

His frown deepens. "That's not what I meant… I'm sorry." 

"What are you sorry for?" you ask, turning back to your drink. You scratch at the salt along the rim. 

"That it happens, Y/N. That you have to deal with it." 

"Thanks, Agent Hotchner," you say. 

"You can call me Aaron, if you're comfortable."  

He'd said the same a few weeks ago. You'd shown up at the BAU to meet Spencer (who'd been indisposed of, playing an intense game of chess against himself) and he offered you a ride home. He insisted you call Spencer first. He did everything he could to make you feel safe, which is more than most. 

"Aaron," you say, tucking your hands between your thighs. What would his colleagues think of him, here, standing opposite of you and your lingerie? Your chest craned forward ever so slightly, the softness of your stomach and your bruised legs? "I don't know why you're here." 

"I have some questions for you." 

"Am I in trouble?" you ask. 

He gives you a look. You imagine it to be something similar to, No, but I might be. It's a nice fantasy. "No. You were a great help with Lawley. I was hoping we could use your expertise again." 

"Is this going to get dangerous for me?" you ask, tilting your head gently to one side. "Snitching?" 

"I'd never let anything happen to you. And if you were to keep talking to the FBI, we could even facilitate compensation." 

"I sell enough of myself." 

He holds your gaze. "I understand. But I'd really appreciate your help with this." 

"Okay." You slip out of your chair. "Can I get dressed, first, or…" 

"Of course. Take your time." He doesn't gawk at you, doesn't stare, only meets you head on with that familiar furrowed brow. "Does it happen often?" 

You let yourself picture him as neither a customer nor an agent with work to do. For a moment, he's a handsome man, striking heartfelt conversation. "All the time." 

You change into your clothes and meet him again at the bar, where he asks you questions about a patron and you answer to the best of your ability. Before he leaves, he gives you his card. "If you need me," is all he says as he goes. You put the number in your phone and tuck the card into your dressing table, wondering what definition of need fits the bill. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[doumadono]

I am your annoying lil friend, so I also jump in yet another time with yet another request... but since we are celebrating… LET'S DO THIS!

❛ missed my touch that much, did you? ❜ in form of a little fic with...

Kiribaku x fem!reader :3 bc why not!

I can just imagine our poor reader missing her two Pros while they are away on a mission or something like this. After coming back, they have to make up for time they were away :3

A sultry greeting - Bakugo x Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: oral (m receiving), unprotected & rough p in v, dirty talking, Bakugo & Kirishima are aged up 21+, f!reader, bukkake, dom!Bakugo, boys kissing at the end Synopsis: after a long mission, Kirishima and Bakugo return home, ready to make up for their absence to you A/N: kocham cię mocno! I hope you'll enjoy ♥

MASTERLIST

You stood at the window, gazing at the starlit sky, your thoughts consumed by the absence of Kirishima and Bakugo. They had been away on a critical mission for the past few weeks, leaving you to miss their touch and presence dearly. Every night felt colder without them, and you longed for the warmth of their embrace.

One evening, your heart skipped a beat as you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching the front door. Rushing down the stairs, you flung open the door and saw Kirishima and Bakugo standing there. Their smiles widened upon seeing you, and before you could say anything, Kirishima swept you into a tight hug, lifting you off your feet.

"Long time no see, princess," he greeted you with a tender kiss placed to your cheek.

"Kiri!" you giggled loudly and looked above his shoulder at Bakugo who was leaning casually against the wall, smirking. Your heart swelled with happiness. You didn't realize how much you had missed them until that moment.

After getting inside your shared apartment and having a first decent meal in a while, they told you about their adventures and the challenges they faced on the mission. You listened attentively, feeling a mix of pride and worry for their well-being. As the night went on, the conversation turned lighter, filled with laughter and teasing.

Finally, after the dishes were done, you found yourselves alone in the living room.

Kirishima and Bakugo exchanged a knowing glance, and then Kirishima took your hand, leading you to the couch. The atmosphere became charged with affection and desire.

"Let us make up for the time we were away," Kirishima said softly, brushing his lips against your temple.

A faint "yes" escaped your parted lips. As your fingers firmly gripped the collar of Kirishima's shirt, you drew him nearer, and with intense passion, your lips met in a fiery kiss. Your tongue eagerly explored the space between his parted lips, igniting a fervent connection between you both.

"Hey! You've got some nerve, being all cuddly and sweet with the fucking Red Riot, ignoring me while I'm here, too," Bakugo growled, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, approching the couch.

You laughed, knowing he was just needy. "You know I missed both of you equally, Katsuki. You're just as cuddly when you want to be."

His cheeks reddened slightly, but he didn't let his guard down. "Don't get any weird ideas, idiot. I'm not that soft."

Kirishima chuckled. "Come on, man, you are a little mushy at times."

Bakugo scowled at him. "Tch, whatever. I just missed her, that's all."

You leaned closer to him, smirking as you reached out and took his calloused hand in your palm. "Missed me and my touch that much, did you?"

He grumbled, trying to hide his smirk. "Shut up. It's not like I needed it or anything, dumbass."

But his actions spoke louder than his words. He took a seat on your left side and found every opportunity to steal kisses from you, his touch becoming more affectionate and possessive. Bakugo sometimes was yanking you out of Kirishima's arms, just to hold you a little longer in his strong arms.

Soon, you found yourself sitting on Bakugo's lap, leaning comfortably against his broad chest as he lovingly wrapped his arms around your waist. A low, affectionate growl escaped his throat, and you could feel his longing for you as he gently humped against you. Responding to his yearning, you pressed back into him and tilted your head, inviting the flurry of tender kisses that trailed along your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.

With each open-mouthed kiss, Katsuki's hands caressed your body, hidden under the delicate fabric of your silky nightdress. One hand found its place on your breast, while the other gently gripped your chin, tilting your head back so you could gaze up at him. Bakugo leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You instinctively parted your lips, allowing his tongue to take control of yours. His hand released its grip on your chin and joined his other hand in rubbing your breasts. As your nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric of your nightdress, his fingers immediately found them and tightened around them.

Kirishima sat right beside Bakugo, closely observing the scene while palming himself through his dark cargo pants that already grew too tight. "I'm here too, princess," he reminded as ne of his hands stealthily slipped beneath your nightgown and moved up your thigh. Kirishima chuckled abruptly, amused by the discovery that you weren't wearing any underwear as hi calloused index finger circled your clit lazily. "Oh, you little naughty shit."

Bakugo wasted no time in lifting the back hem of your nightdress, revealing your alluring ass that never failed to catch eyes. "You're such a naughty slut indeed, going without panties," he remarked while unzipping his pants. "Now, get rid of this tatter and on your knees."

As a compliant and dutiful girl, you adhered to Bakugo's order and gracefully vacated his lap. Positioning yourself before the couch, you began to undress sensually, swaying your hips in sync with the rhythm resonating in your mind, aiming to be as seductive as it was possible. As your nightdress cascaded to the floor, you gracefully sank to your knees.

Bakugo exchanged a glance with Kirishima, prompting them to stand up together. Subsequently, Kirishima proceeded to remove his shirt, and Bakugo followed suit. Soon, they shed their pants and boxers as well. Both men possessed impressive physiques, boasting well-built, toned arms and legs, accompanied by a sets of defined six-pack abs.

However, what truly captured your focus were their cocks. While they weren't fully erect, their impressiveness was still undeniable. You blushed.

"Oh, look, Kacchan," Kirishima mused, "our doll is blushing! Isn't she the cutest little girl?"

Bakugo nodded, running his tongue along his lower lip. "Indeed, she's an adorable fucking pet. I've trained her, after all, ha!"

You took their cocks in your palms and started pumping them. Soon, you leaned to Kirishima and slowly swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

Kirishima let out a low growl, quietly uttering a string of curses to himself.

You continued to massage the head of his cock with your tongue, and moved your hands down to his balls and fondled them while stroking Katsuki's shaft with your other hand. Soon yet you let go of Kacchan's cock to take proper care of Kirishima. You could feel Kirishima's cock start to slowly harden in your hand and it only encouraged you to take on more. As you took the tip into your mouth, you let out a low moan at the taste of his salty precum. It sent a shot of heat straight to your core as you continued to lavish him in your mouth.

Bakugo firmly grasped a handful of your hair, pulling your head back. "Tch, remember, there are two of us," he growled sharply.

You instantly wrapped your lips around Katsuki's tip and slid your mouth further down the throbbing shaft, your lips stretching as your hand shifted down to the base of his cock and slowly pumped it. As you bobbed your head up and down, your spit began trailing down his cock. You came up for air and used both of your hands to jerk his cock quickly, making sure the whole length was coated in your saliva before diving back in and bobbing your head vigorously.

In the meantime, Kirishima slowly caressed his shaft with his hand, grunting, slipping his other hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

"Fuck yeah, dumbass, sucking my fucking cock so good," Katsuki growled, slowly bucking his hips to facefuck you. He kept both hands on the back of your head, groaning each time he felt his cock press up against the back of your throat. Each time you gagged and moaned, he felt his self-control slipping even more. "Fuck yeah, cunt. That's it. Fuuuck!"

With a loud "pop" sound, you removed Bakugo from your mouth and shifted your focus to Kirishima. As you looked up at the red-haired man with your most innocent doe-eyes, you gracefully moved your head back and forth along his thick, already throbbing shaft.

"Yeah, such a good girl, just like that, keep doing those stuff with your sweet mouth," Eijiro growled, his eyes never left your beautiful face. He tightened his hold on your hair as you dug your nails into his thighs and forced your mouth forward, taking his full length in and holding your mouth down, gagging yourself. The feeling of your throat gripping his shaft and your lips kissing the base of his cock had his eyes rolling a little. "Fuck! M'gonna fucking cum!"

After a few seconds of this, you pulled back and sat on your knees, panting, appreciating your handiwork as you eagerly stroked Kirishima and Bakugo's cocks, smirking at them.

"Enjoying yourself, huh?!" Bakugo growled lowly and caught yur elbow, yanking you efortlessly up.He positioned you on the couch, on all fours, with your ass sticking up in the air as you rested your head on your arms that were gripping the back of the couch. He firmly gripped your hips and directed his rock-hard cock towards your dripping entrance, then eased into you with one powerful thrust. "Fuck you, bitch! So fucking tight!"

You gripped the back of the couch hard as Katsuki's cock pressed deeper into your needy cunt until his entire length was inside of you. He rapidly pulled back until just the tip was inside, then rammed it back into you, making you cry out his name. "Fuck, Katsuki!"

"Address me properly!" Bakugo snarled, smacking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint on the plush flesh.

"AH!" You moaned loudly. "S-sorry, Mr Dynamight!"

"That's fucking better, dumbass," Bakugo growled lowly, delivering few more smacks to your ass.

Eijiro positioned himself on his knees before you, his hands gently holding your hair as he moved closer, trusting himself into your mouth, which you willingly opened for him. As he pressed against your lips, your body inadvertently nudged back against Bakugo, leading to both of you emitting low grunts of surprise. "My good doll," Kirishima praised.

In response, Bakugo firmly grasped your wrists and pinned your arms behind your back, maintaining a raw, primal rhythm as he fucked you, shoving you forward on Kirishima's cock with each of his powerful thrusts.

Kirishima was letting loose all his pent up lust on your mouth, stroking your chin as he was slowly thrusting back and forth. "My good, little doll, just like that, suck daddy's cock like a good girl you are. That's it princess. Fuck you take us both so well. You're such a good girl."

You could tell they were getting closer. Their thrusts were growing erratic and their cocks felt like they were trying to pierce your insides.

As you attempted to speak, Eijiro withdrew himself from your mouth, asking, "What's on your mind, princess?"

"I want you both to cum on my face, pretty please?" After looking at Kirishima, you looked above your shoulder at Bakugo, making the most innocent eyes.

Bakugo let out a furious roar, but he still managed to nod as he withdrew his cock out of your abused cunt. "Switch, I want her mouth now," he commanded, casting a gaze at Kirishima.

Swiftly switching positions, you found yourself being taken from behind by Eijiro, while your mouth remained occupied by Katsuki's shaft.

"Oh my goodness, she's so tight!" Kirishima exclaimed cheerfully, gently rubbing your hips where Bakugo's touch had left some bruises earlier.

"Of course she fucking is, you idiot! We trained her diligently, after all!" Bakugo exclaimed, thrusting viciously into your mouth, gagging you with his throbbing length; the tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat with every thrust, making your eyes rolling back.

Bakugo, sensing he was approaching his peak, intensified his thrusts, gripping your head firmly. "Take it, take it, fucking cunt," he growled, relishing the sight of your teary eyes and saliva dripping down your chin.

You exerted maximum effort to pump your hand up and down on Katsuki's cock while sucking him off while trying to maintain your balance amidst the forceful thrusts delivered by Eijiro.

"Fuck, I'll fucking cum!" Kirishima reached around you and circled your clit with his index finger. "But I want you to cum on my cock first, princess, I know you can."

Kirishima's words triggered your orgasm, causing your insides to tighten around his shaft and your juices covered him in extreme wetness and slickness.

Both Kirishima and Bakugo withdrew.

You were nudged by Bakugo and managed to find find balance and kneel on your knees as the pair of men stood on both sides of you. You immediately reached out and started stroking their cocks furiously, using your juices and saliva as a lubricant to easily work their throbbing dicks. "Mm, yeah, suck Red Riot's cock, dumbass. Taste yourself on him, slut," ordered Bakugo.

"Yes, Mr Dynamight," you said before leaning over and engulfing Kirishima's cock between your lips, quickly bobbing your head up and down on him while using your hand to stroke whatever wasn't in your eager mouth.

"Holy shit!" Eijiro howled in pleasure as he gripped your hair. "She's about to make me fucking cum!"

Then, your focus shifted to Katsuki, and you teased his throbbing shaft with your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip until he got all riled up.

"That's it, bitch, suck my cock, suck it. Fuck, nngh!" Katsuki snarled, his head rolled back. "Fuck!!!! Cumming, cumming!!!"

The first rope of cum shot out and splattered across your face, followed by another that smacked you in the cheek and another that landed in your mouth as you sat there holding it wide open for Katsuki. His cum quickly sputtered out and you took the head between your swollen lips, sucking out what was left.

Just when you had finished enjoying your treat, your head was yanked away by your hair and you were forcibly turned to face Eijiro, who held his cock over your flushed face and stroked it as he came on you, groaning the whole time. Unlike Bakugo's load, which shot out in a couple of large spurts but died out pretty quick, Kirishima's cum came out in multiple, short bursts that painted your face. He used his hold on you to move your head around, making sure he got some of his cum on every inch of it. "Fuck, holy fucking shit!"

Suddenly, Bakugo firmly grasped Kirishima's chin, drawing him into a passionate and intense kiss. The kiss was electric, fueled by a combination of desire, and genuine affection. Their lips met with urgency, their breaths mingling as they explored each other with fervor. It was a passionate dance of tongues and lips, a display of raw emotion and connection. The intensity of the moment left them both breathless. Eijiro moaned in the heated kiss offered by Katsuki.

When Kirishima was done cumming, he released your head and you sat back on the floor, your back against the couch. Unable to contain your immense joy, you let a huge smile spread across your face, completely content with how your night had unfolded.

The two men collapsed onto the couch, each sitting on one side of you, and the trio panted heavily, still catching their breaths.

Kirishima rolled his head back, finding support against the back of the couch. "Damn, I'm so damn exhausted."

Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Tch! Quit complaining like that, pussy boy. The night's still young, and we were gone for so long. We've got to make up for it now, you fucking idiot."

Kirishima let out a dark chuckle. "Yeah, I get it, I get it. Take it easy, man. So, how about another round?"

#kiribaku x reader #kiribaku smut #kiribaku #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x you #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #eijirou x reader #katsuki bakugo fic #eijirou kirishima fic #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #bakugo smut #mha x reader #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x you #x reader #divider by cafekitsune

[whorediaries-09]

okay, what if, reader (james gf) got jealous of lily tutoring james and told james abt it and james tells her "i would never date anyone else other than you" and also "you have all rights over me. you OWN me." and then smut where they're kissing, and reader suddenly says stop and james DOES stop to prove that he belongs to her???

hi honey <3 i'm sorry it took so much time to get around the request, but here you are, i hope you like it xoxo.

dark red

pairing(s)- james potter x reader warning(s)- stupid teenagers in love, 18+ content. a/n- uggh it was so hard to find proper pictures for the header, my feed is full of sirius black shit 💀🫢

ps- dark red is so james potter coded. (he dances on chammak challo, don't ask me how i know okay now bye)

masterlist

only you, my girl, only you, babe only you, darling, only you

'hey, darling,' your boyfriends' voice echoes in your ears. your eyes sink deeper into the words printed upon the paper of the book you'd been reading. they seemed like plain words on paper, which made no sense as your mind subconsciously made note that the one you loved so dearly was near you.

he sunk beside your bed, his quidditch sweater hugging his body in a form fitting way. he runs his finger through his curls, the familiar flowery, damp smell escalating off his body which burned your heart. through your peripherals, you see him smiling, a subtle hint of color on his brown skin. you feel the mattress sink beside your legs, as he pushes his legs into the silk duvet you were covered by. his fingers roam over your feet, applying a comforting amount of pressure.

he hums mindlessly under his breath, and you shift under the warmth of the duvet. you flip the book shut, keeping it on your nightstand. you free your feet from james's grasp, sitting up, moving closer to him. you stare at his face as you sit in front of him, knees touching.

'honey?' you whisper, nibbling at your bottom lip. it's like a sudden change of atmosphere, as he places his hand on your thigh, and he's staring at you, his brown eyes scanning yours.

'where were you?' you ask, even though you know the answer. his demeanor changes slightly, as he furrows his eyebrow. he'd told sirius to inform you about his tutoring session with lily. did the prick not tell you, he wonders.

'i was with lily,' he replies. you respond with a curt nod, biting your lip.

'because you needed academic help am i right?' you inquire. he swipes his tongue over his teeth,

'yes m'love,' he responds. you're not sure how to frame your next statement. the air feels stuffy around the both of you, and you intertwine your finger with his curl. his finger draws mindless shapes on your thigh.

'james,-' you begin, a heavy breath leaving your mouth, '-i'm gonna need you to stop these tutoring sessions with lily.' your mouth feels dry as you spill out the words from your throat. his eyes widen,

'i'm in heavy need of help in potions! otherwise i might fail!' he protests. you stare at him, stubborn to not let him dodge your demand.

'you're a fucking illegal animagus. what do you need help with potter?'

'well brewing a sleeping potion- hang on what's all this about?' he inquires, his former statement unheard.

'you know very well,'

'no i don't, enlighten me.'

'god are you really that daft?'

'if you think so, yes.'

'i'm fucking jealous, potter!'

his eyes widen with realization. as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water all over his face. his hands grasp your face in a swift move, his eyes boring into yours. he's breathless, your confession firing a puddle of guilt into which his heart drowns into. he treats you like a fragile piece of glass as if you'd break if he said the wrong words.

'jealous? because i liked her previously?' he questions, his forehead touching yours. your eyes burn with anger, with a clandestine stab upon your heart,

'yes,'

in a swift move, you're on your back, pinned to the mattress, his lips roaming into your mouth, as his mind screeches screams of guilt, an urge which echoes in his head, to prove to you that he was yours. just yours.

he bites your lip, pushing his leg between your thighs, and you moan, the rough fabric of his trouser providing you a lewd friction against your crotch.

'james,' you slur, huffed breaths leaving your mouth. he furrows his eyebrows,

'god,-' he holds your face closer to his, resting his forehead on yours, 'i'd never date anyone but you,-' he plants a soft kiss over your nose, '-god, i love you so fucking much.' he completes. his confession breaks through soft words, paired with broken breaths.

'i love you too, i'm sorry i doub-' he places his finger over your swollen lip, shushing you.

'let me show you how much i love you? let me show you i'm yours? just yours? let me show you how you have total rights over me?' he questions. you nod your head, and with your approval, he unbuttons your shirt.

*****

your nails rake on his bare chest, as he pushes his cock deep into your sopping cunt. you bottom down on his cock, your cunt throbbing. it was like high, as his hand place themselves on your hips, his rutting into yours. your breasts bounce deliciously within his vision, as he thrusts into you.

you pepper kisses all over his chest as he thrusts into you, his cock hitting your g-spot so perfectly, you feel like you'd drool. you gasp as his finger rubs over your swollen clit, rolling your eyes back, curling your toes as you feel the orgasm within you bubbling with a vigorous hotness which creeps all over your body. goosebumps erupt on your skin as his hot breath gazes over your skin,

'i'm yours, all yours, my girl,' he assures. you bite your lip,

'you're all mine. fucking mine.' you respond. he gasps at your words, and your walls clench around his cock, as your rub your clit. your orgasm bubbles within you, and consumes you from within, tearing into every cell of your body. it's as if you're on fire, as you feel the coil in your stomach tightens. it's as if you're glowing with lust, as your heart beats against your ribcage. it was like a shattering carnal desire to authorize your ownership over him.

'you're all m-mine- i fucking own you,' you moan, your lips meeting his, as you consume him, consume the feeling of his cock, consume the warmth of his touch, consume the cozy feeling of his words.

'only yours, my girl,' he says against your lips.

it's a dwindling mercurial high, a paradise shaking and pacing with your heartbeats, as the both of you release together, the mixture of cum and yours leaking through your sopping cunt.

#james potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders headcanon #the marauders #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter one shot #james potter fic #james potter x regulus black #marauders fanfiction #james potter fanfiction

[levisfavoriteteashop]

HOLIDAYS WARMTH

summary: you meet levi's family for the first time during the holidays

content: husband!levi x female!reader, fluff, the ackermans being a happy family, modern au

note: sorry this is a bit rushed i hadn't enough time to write something very elaborate

word count: 1.2k

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“Are you sure they’re going to like me?” 

“Yes, dummy. They’ll like you.”

A happy christmas song was playing on the radio, resonating in the car’s stereo as the vehicle was speeding down the snowy highway. You were leaning against the window on the passenger’s side of the car, watching as the snowflakes flew in the air. The driver’s seat was occupied by your new husband, Levi. He was busy driving the car for the past hour, and reassuring you about your first meeting with your in-laws, a subject that made you anxious ever since Levi announced that you’d be spending christmas with his family. 

“But what if they don’t..?”

“Darling…” Levi detached his eyes from the road to look at you warmly. He reached to take your hand in his, keeping the other on the steering wheel. 

“Listen. My family will love you. Just like I love you” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, smiling and squeezing his hand. “Aw Levi, that means nothing, you’re saying that to comfort me. 

“Well is it working?” he grinned at you.

“Maybe it is” 

The car drove into town, as the two of you were getting closer to Levi’s childhood home. You were being quiet, calming your nerves. This was it, your first meeting with Levi’s parents. Levi became your husband a few months ago, and despite the fact that the two of you dated for a while before getting engaged, you never met Levi’s family. Levi grew up on the opposite side of the country, and he only met you because he had decided to move into your hometown, where the two of you went to college. 

For that reason, you only talked to your in-laws during video calls, but never in person. However, you wanted for it to change, and so when your husband proposed to spend your first holidays as a married couple with his mother, uncle and brother, you immediately agreed, despite the fact that this was making you nervous. Terribly nervous.

You got pulled out of your thoughts when your husband parked the car in the driveway leading to his house. It was a nice, two-story suburban house. Totally a place you expected Levi to have grown up in. Your man got out of the car and opened the passenger’s door for you, taking your hand. 

“Are you ready, love?”

“I…think I am.” you said, exiting the car. Your husband flashed a smile in your direction and went to pick up the different bags from the trunk. You took the moment to observe the house and to calm your nerves. It’ll be fine. 

You took Levi by the arm as the two of you walked onto the porch, knocking on the front door. You felt your husband squeezing your hand, a silent gesture of reassurance. Soon enough, the door was being opened by a beautiful woman. Levi’s mom, Kuchel.

She was a pretty woman with long, raven black hair and dull grey eyes, just like your husband’s. She wore a warm expression on her face, delighted to see her son and his new wife. 

“Hi mom,” Levi said with a soft smile. Kuchel smiled right back at him, bringing him into a quick and tight hug. You smiled at the sight, standing next to them. As soon as his mother released him, she turned to you.

“Hello! Welcome my dear, I am glad to finally meet you” her warm smile reassured you. 

“Hello, Mrs. Ackerman.”

“Oh please," the woman chuckled, “call me Kuchel. Please come in, it’s freezing outside.”

The two of you followed Kuchel inside the house, leaving your coats and bags in the entryway. The interior of the house was just as beautiful as the exterior: it was warm and cosy, decorated with different portraits and christmas ornaments. There were plenty of family’s photos, and you smiled at a picture of Levi during his childhood. Even as a little boy, he had that familiar grumpy look that you knew all too well. 

As soon as you stepped into the living room, you were met with the rest of the family: his uncle, Kenny, and his younger brother Furlan. You nervously followed your husband to meet the two of them. 

“Oh Levi, is that your beautiful wife with you?” Kenny asked with a grin, shaking Levi’s hand before smiling at you. “I’m Kenny, this brat’s uncle. Nice to finally meet you.” 

“Likewise! Levi told me a lot about you.”

“Oh he did, did he? I hope he told you the good stuff, eh Levi?” the man chuckled, flashing a teasing look toward his nephew. Your husband simply rolled his eyes playfully, ignoring the remark. 

Very quickly, you familiarised with his younger brother Furlan, who looked a lot like his brother. The four of you were comfortably installed in the living room, in front of the warm fireplace. Levi was sitting on the couch, one arm around your shoulders and Kuchel on the other side, while the two other men were comfortably propped in armchairs. The ambiance was merry and cosy, and you were slowly getting more confident and comfortable with the Ackerman family. The evening was passing by quickly, as you all ate dinner and talked, laughter and joy filling the house. You had to admit, you had grown fond of them very quickly. Your husband, throughout the evening, watched as you smiled and laughed with his family, and the simple sight of you all getting along warmed his heart.

“Oh, y/n, dear, I forgot. I had something for you.” you tilted your head, curious, as Levi's mother said those words to you, You watched her stand up from the couch and reach for a package under the christmas tree.

“For me?” you asked, your voice full of intrigue. You noticed that your husband exchanged a grin with his brother, which left you a bit confused. 

You smiled at Kuchel as she walked toward you, handing you a beautifully wrapped package. You looked up at her as she signed for you to open it. You proceeded with a little smile.

Your eyes widened as you carefully unwrapped the present. You were holding in your hands a red knitted sweater. It was big, warm and detailed. Not only dated, but your name was stitched on the front of the sweater. You looked up and saw your mother-in-law smiling at you warmly. 

“Oh dear, don’t look so surprised. I have a tradition to make these sweaters for each member of the Ackerman family, every year. And you, my dear, are a part of the family now.”

You were speechless, looking at the sweater in awe. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t believe that your mother-in-law welcomed you so warmly into the family. You turned to Levi, who was watching your reaction. He chuckled at the look on your face and leaned in to place a quick peck on your forehead.

“Aw, love…Do you like it?” 

“Like? I love it! Thank you, Kuchel…thank you everyone…” you said softly, the corners of your mouth turned up in a smile. Kuchel quickly leaned in to embrace you in a hug. 

“You’re welcome, dear. We are all happy to see you join our family in such a way.”

You were overwhelmed with all the love you were receiving. You came here dreading this encounter, fearing that the family wouldn’t approve of you. What a wonderful way to show you that you were wrong. In that moment, you knew you belonged. Not only as Levi’s wife, but you also had your place in the Ackerman’s family, and that was undeniably one of the best christmas presents you could receive.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi x reader #levi #levi fluff #aot x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #christmas