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honestsycrets · 7 months

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playing house | single parent au: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader

❛ pairing | mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader; single parents au

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love.

❛ tags | explicit, mechanic!miguel, first grade teacher!reader, some mention of hurt, heavy themes of voyeurism (both ways), single parents, unhygienic sxconditions, Spanish not translated, very domestic fic, f!reader, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❛ request fulfilled | Miguel is a single dad, Reader is his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and he is both very obviously crushing on her and very reluctant to say it. Fortunately, his daughter isn't! "Did you know my papi likes you?" Cue flustered Miguel. + BROOOO mechanic!miguel is hot please tell

❛ sy's notes | flashback to that one time a car fell on my tio. 😅

The job was a simple part replacement. A fizzled-out chunk of metal that would cost any single mother more in labor and puff costs at any mechanic shop. But not with Miguel, who was known around the barrio for his begrudging care. He’d do any job Lyla brought to him for any madre around who needed him.

He wrung his hands out on his stained top and lifted his head out of the hood of an old but faithful car. After a click and a lock, he turned his eyes toward the dusty cover. Syncopated beats trill from a radio ring background static that he’s long since zoned out to focus on his work. He wiped his forehead and looked at the trampled grass underneath a cheap plastic pool.

“Gabriella, bring me the manguera,” he called out to his little girl, who looked at the hose in her little pool bobbing with poppy bright toys. The older she got, the worse her loneliness became. Not due to any ill-doing of Miguel who always tried his best to be present. For some reason, Miguel couldn’t bring himself to date in anything but short bursts.

“Papi, look across the street. New neighbors!” Gabriella cooed delightfully. She splashed out of the pool with the long emerald green hose in hand, bobbing over on her long skinny legs. “It’s a girl. A pretty girl! And she’s looking right at you!”

Like that was a new occurrence. Miguel turned his hand over his sun-bright daughter’s short, sodden braids that whipped just over her shoulder. She stood in place, bouncing delightfully over newcomers. There were many viejitos in the cul-de-sac, but not enough kids.

“¿Y qué, mi vida?” he asked her. His hand shipped free from her hair. “She’s probably taking in the barrio.”

“I think she is! You!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder only to find your prying eyes eating him up from across the street. You speak to a pair of movers-- but your eyes slipped away from theirs, where he stood with his little girl. The hose dumped water onto the street. Water that he’d usually be extra concerned about wasting. Today, he was more interested in a game.

His dirty white t-shirt is matted to his back, soaked in the sweat of the day. He gripped the bottom of his t-shirt on either side and tugged it over his head. It pulls on his well-corded arms, protesting its release from his body. Miguel slipped it over his shoulder and proceeded to release bits of sweat from his thick hair. An adorable gasp fell free from your lips, replaced by your hand over your lush lips, snapping back to attention.

“You’re right, Gabi.”

He took the sputtering hose from her and cracked a begrudging smile. Gabriella waved eagerly-- and to his surprise, you waved back. If it wasn’t the hot sun beating down your face, it was the embarrassment on your face. You settled the sunglasses on the cute crook of your nose. With that, Gabriella helps him wash the car until her most hated part, drying it with old towels and bits of Miguel’s ripped old shirts.

“Hola!”

“Coño,” Miguel cursed in surprise, turning around to face you. In your hand was a clear plastic bag stuffed full of the filled corn husks, warmth steamed its sides. Miguel glanced down at the bag in your comparatively soft hands, drawing his sweaty shirt over his cut muscles to wipe away the sweat that slicked his dusky skin.

“I brought you and your lindita tamales.”

“Tamales!” Gabriella cooed, her hands cradling a limonada. They made it together, like clockwork every Sunday. “I love tamales!”

“Don’t old neighbors bring new one’s food?” Miguel bit out, a bit annoyed. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate food, it would save him countless bright-ass early meals dragging himself out of bed to make Gabriella something with school right around the corner. He’s annoyed at that star-bright smile you have whipped across your face. It stirred excitement he thought he killed a long time ago. “Or are you just a show-off?”

“I teach first grade at the school across the street,” you ignored his snark and looked none the more bothered by it. There’s some magic in a woman that didn’t feed into his shit. You provided Miguel with a name that felt familiar to all the orientation packets he received just this week. “Ya tú sabes, umm, at Carillo’s.”

Of course.

“That’s where I go!” Gabriella beams. “I’m Gabriella O’Hara and I’m going to be in first grade, right papi? This is my papi. His name is Miguel.”

Damn it all. Miguel slaps his sweaty shirt on the top of the car. You kneel down, offering her up the tamales instead of Miguel. He blinks through his sudden irritation, realizing that he’s fucked now. Gabriella grabs the plastic bag, giggling delightfully over them.

“Then maybe you’ll be in my class, Miss O’Hara.”

When he checks her orientation paperwork-- there it is. He suddenly felt the pressure of the ordeal, of the pretty next-door neighbor who wore flowy dresses and apparently, loved muscles. His eye darted out to the window, the movers zipping off in a whir of color, leaving you just there, spinning around in the driveway of your new home, nearly too sun-bright.

Maybe it’s tied to being a father, but Miguel notices little things you do. Some are ineffectual. Others are dangerous. You leave your bedroom window wide open as you change. Miguel sat outside on Gabriella’s swing on his second cup of coffee for the day when he noticed it for the first time.

You come in from your shower and scurry about your room nearly naked. Then, cupping your breasts between your hands, you whirled around for a set of underwear. From this far, he can’t quite make out the color. It might be red. Not a poppy red, but a deep, soothing red he recognizes from his dead wife’s wardrobe.

He wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t just change in the bathroom, but in any case, it was… dangerous. Any freak walking by could see you changing. Mimi’s room had very well-used blinds and yours did not. He turns his attention back to the newspaper on his lap. Nueva York stalker confesses to stabbing murder in five-year-old cold case. He scrunched his nose at the news and drank a coffee that had long since gone cold.

Sometime later, your front door swung open. Mimi busted through, a little girl with long black twists and black eyes that held a similar excitement for the weekend. It was her papi time. Gabriella doesn’t have that luxury, two homes full of warmth. Just one, with a papi who loved her more than life itself. Miguel hopes it’s enough. He left his newspaper on the bench as you settled her in the car, making his jog across the street.

“You should buy blinds,” Miguel said the second you shut the door. You jumped, your hand on the locket on your chest.

“Ay dios, it’s just you. You shouldn’t walk up on a woman like that, Miguel,” you laughed. “Especially not a single mother.”

“You’re painfully oblivious. Buy some blinds for your room. It isn’t safe.”

Dry as his tone was, it was laced with concern. If there was no one in your life to tell you what he thought was obvious, he would. “You saw me? How much did you... see?”

He responds with a dull stare, his gaze falling to the red strap of your bra that set slightly off-kilter along your slight shoulders. You sucked in a breath to calm yourself, your heart beating at a rapid pace behind your modest shirt. You reached up to hide the strap. A frown marred his contrite features.

“You look beautiful in red,” he found himself muttering, pushing off of the back of the car without another word. He beat himself up for that-- stupid, stupid response. Because of course you know you look gorgeous. He didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Gracias, papi,” you called after him.

He hoped he was not flung into the creep category after that winning display.

You bought blinds for your window and a swing for Mimi’s new, sturdy tree. Its long arms offer some reprieve from the heat, casting a shadow on the small house. It wasn't long before you spent days on heaps of homework from the kids and a glitter-bright pen to grade spelling tests.

It's nice to have a little bit of company as he works on cars and yard work, even if you watch him like a voyeur, blushing if he notices, gasping if he plays into this new little game. At some point, he voided his shirts altogether. It’s not long before Gabriella has a game of her own to play.

“Psst, Lyla. Vente, Lyla.”

Gabriella sits boredly in the shop after school. Sometimes in his office, other times in the shop during breaks. One of his technicians, Lyla, sat on an upside-down bucket by Miguel’s side as he worked on a car. This time, it was a stupid simple fix. The idiot ripped off their bumper parking too far on a curb. Lyla sat in gold coveralls, undoubtedly grinning behind that black mask slapped across her face. He didn’t need to look away from the clips he was applying to know they were both up to shit.

“Yeah?”

“Papi has a crush on my teacher. I think she could be my new mami. If--”

“Miguel has a crush?” His other tech, Peter chirped up with a hunk of sandwich in his fingertips. How was he always slacking off and eating? Miguel didn't know, but he was. “I can't believe it. He hasn’t had a crush since Tem--”

“I don’t have a crush,” Miguel responded. “Less scheming, more homework, kid. She told me you’re behind on schoolwork.”

She does so well on spelling tests, Miguel, you told him at parent-teacher conferences. But she never turns in homework.

Gabriella was not behind because she was stupid. She was behind because she was a stubborn little child who, Miguel knew, was trying to set him up. Lyla abandoned the bucket to walk over near Gabriella’s unicorn table, pulling out a microsized table and looking down at the stupid simple homework. Single-digit numbers were a painful waste of time to a kid who loved math.

“She’s single?”

“Yup,” Gabi chirped, scratching away at her coloring page with a fat purple crayon. “Mimi told me.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. I double-checked. And get this, she said she would come help me with homework.”

“Lyla.” Miguel shoved the opposite end of the bumper in place, securing it carefully. Lyla was bent down by Gabriella. So Papi has more time to see her! Gabriella whispered. He may not know what you’re saying, but he knows it’s bad by the way she looks at him. As though she were a cat might with a glass it was about to shatter on the floor. “You can go home now.”

His daughter doesn’t need any more of her devilish attributes.

“You fucked it alright, mujer. What did you hit?”

Miguel twisted a bit of the sidewall between his fingers to gauge the depth of the hole. Never mind that the back passenger wheel whistled away until it ran flat. It wasn’t the first time someone brought him a car that was fucked. It was the first time you had.

You never asked him for anything, not at the price of your pride. You simply… made it work. Just like Miguel made childcare work by leaving his shop to pick Gabriella up and leaving her bored as fuck every weekday until he could close up shop.

Today, Mimi and Gabriella were inside, playing with dolls after a warm dinner of arroz blanco and fatty pork chops. He wasn’t much a fan of your sickly sweet platano, but he tried it tonight after Gabriella hounded him. Don’t be rude, papi! He’s gotten used to coming home on Wednesday to dinner. It’s something that he realizes he’s missed: having someone to come home to.

“A pothole,” you murmured shyly. His forehead rippled into wrinkles, holding the chunk of broken-off rubber between his fingertips. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his dark eyes, minding the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

“A pothole,” he repeated after you. No matter how many times he considered it, it did not fit. His body was ripe with aggravated energy. He’s too tired for this. The shit he’d seen in his shop and you expected him to believe that you hit-- a pothole? “Qué mierda.”

Miguel set his hands on his hip, rolled on his heel, and stepped back to inspect his future work. His body thrummed, a tightness pulling with the sight of your shy smile. The truth tittered on your luscious little lips.

“I may or may not have hit those rocks by Doña Díaz’s casita.” One look around the street revealed the chunky, pointy rocks you referenced. Miguel flicked the bit of rubber onto the top of the car and looked at you. You were guilty as the day was long. “They weren’t that far off the curb before! I know that it’s bad. Do you think you could-- fix it?”

“You’re going to have to replace those two,” Miguel gestured. “What, did you not see the massive rocks on the side of the road? What were you doing? Eres una mama, you have to pay attention, por dios. You could have been hurt.”

Your eyes darted to the wheels. The nervousness was strong, nearly all-consuming, bidding you to shut up. Though it was a good question, the shame that flecked your eyes was enough to cause Miguel to move on. He knew you were likely inattentive, your mind hovering somewhere else than the quiet cul-de-sac.

“I… had a bad date, Miguel. I was upset and dizzy and… Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The pain of being a woman. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his large hand warm on your slight shoulder. A pulse of warmth rushed through his hand as you leaned in, your cheek plastered to his stained top. He smelled of oil and sweat, but somehow, you find it comforting. Your hands come over his back, tugging on the dark coveralls.

“It’s alright,” Miguel sighed. He'd tell you not to pick shit men-- but sometimes, as he knew, that didn't matter at all. “I’ll have it fixed.”

“I don’t have that much money, Miguel,” you began. “I have to take care of the kids, my house, Mimi. I…”

“No te preocupes. You can do something else for me.”

You drew in a small, choked breath. The type that settled in your chest and did not leave. Not until Miguel’s arms wound over your waist to soothe you through the pain and pressed a kiss that lasted entirely too long to the top of your head. It’s the first time he wants another.

“She is dating,” Peter said. “You know what that means? It means you’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one!”

"I'm not concerned about it."

The one, Miguel shook his head as he paced past the car he was propping up. He never heard anything more ludicrous. There was no such thing as the one. There was only a range of possibilities to pick from. At any point, life can happen. Then your one is gone-- and you’re left with only the memories and a body to bury. Still, as he clambered underneath the car, he found that he quite didn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else... especially not men who may or may not spike your drink.

“You should ask her to a date. Like, more than playing house with sticky kids and lasagna.”

“She’s never made me lasagna.”

Peter sloppily suckled on his fingers, the juice running down his thin wrists. “Then what was lunch?”

“Pastelón,” he answers bitterly. “It’s… plantain lasagna.”

“Okay, I thought you didn’t like--”

“I don't-- I eat it because she spends time on it.”

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He’s about to say something terribly unuseful, something like how Miguel has it bad. Miguel knows he does, half-formed images of what a family could be every day he went to pick Gabriella up, homework done, and happily fed. A feat in itself.

In place of that, though, were the car’s melded, mechanical squeals. He has but a moment and a half-formed plan that goes up in smoke the next second that it falls on his arm. He hears Peter’s half-formed, panicked shout to Lyla and recalls the flurry of steps and medical attention sometime later.

Admittedly, he did tell you to be careful.

When he wakes up, so does everyone else. Lyla chastizes him with her hands balled up on her hips, Peter sobs almost twice as much as Gabriella does until the two are dead asleep against his bed. Miguel’s eyes have rolled way too far.

“Is he finally asleep?” you peep into his heavy hospital door with a ginger knock of your knuckles. Miguel throws a look at Peter’s squishy face, half slumped over.

“Hermosa, I thought he’d never stop,” he grumbled.

“You scared him.”

Tch. Miguel watched you pick up Gabriella, settling her on the stiff pull-out bed. He foggily asked you what time it was, close to the end of visiting hours. He’d need to arrange something for Gabi with Lyla taking care of the shop. It itched at his throat.

“Gabi too. Should I…”

“Take her home for me,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just a broken arm.”

“You coughed up blood, Miggy. You could have died if Peter wasn’t there.”

Miggy. You finally used the nickname somewhere between Wednesday dinner dates and a car slumping on him. Miguel throws a growl to the side, using his non-fucked hand to pet the top of Peter’s head. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

“What happens if… something happens to you?”

“With Gabi?” he asks.

"Sí. With everything."

You nod, looking idly at his little daughter, still in her school clothes. You brought her as soon as school was over, soothed the panic in her voice, the thought of becoming an orphan just because the car had cracked his arm. She wouldn’t have remembered her mother’s death, it was far too long ago now.

“Lyla. Why the face? If you’re jealous, know that was the agreement with my wife before she was murdered.”

You hadn’t known you were making a face, but you were to the trained eye. Some small pout of your lip, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. Miguel shoves himself up on the bed, straining sore muscles. It was going to be a long night. A longer month or two until he was up and running again.

“I’m not making a face. It's just... You were reckless when you're usually so careful. I'm wondering why. I'm sorry.”

"It's fine," Miguel urged you to come closer. "Come here."

You slid into his chair, tentatively sneaking your hand on top of his. Miguel wanted to tell you more. There was not another friend nearly so close, one that would take care of everything and anything he needed. He's suddenly aware of his situation. It would be difficult to make a woman secure that he'd not tied down yet. You clearly care-- based on the insecurity in your eyes.

You’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one.

He doesn't want to miss his shot. He brought your hand to his lips, straining with a pained little grunt. You stood up to help him, allowing his lips to flutter over the back of your hand in a small kiss at his urging.

“Trust me. She’s not a threat,” he said. “You’ll take Gabi with you?”

“Of course, Miggy. Anything you need.”

Securing a relationship would just have to wait.

The first day back, Miguel sent Gabriella off with Lyla. Mimi is off with her papa, leaving you with nothing but time. He finally saw his projects through without Peter loitering over his shoulder, revitalizing cars with bad radiators and fizzled-out air compressors. As if Peter was the boss and he were the employee. The grease under his fingers feels more like Miguel than any squeaky clean shower you’ve helped him take. Yes, you’ve helped him take. He could have asked Lyla or Peter, but why over-extend their lives when you lived in his home for the past month to take care of Gabriella anyway?

He wonders what you thought, stripping him down to nothing, seeing his naked thighs, watching him clean sensitive bits that, as you lied, you were not looking at. He finds it cute, the way you tried to look away, but of course-- you always snuck a look. You’re nosy by nature. He’s never been ashamed of his body, though. For all the work you did, he thinks you deserve a look.

“Miggy,” you slipped through the side door, your heels clicking over a greased-up floor. He hopes you don’t fall, arms deep in the hood of a shiny dark blue convertible. It’s nearly perfect. “I got your message. You said we need to talk?”

“Don’t slip.”

Miguel whirled a wrench into its place, slammed the hood shut, and rubbed the grease on his hands together. Like it will come off his callouses. Miguel meets you half way, offering you his greased up hand. You look down at his hand, then up to Miguel again. He half thinks you won’t take it, but you do, allowing him to whirl you in a spin before lifting you on top od the hood of the car.

“Ay Miggy--” you cursed, looking down at the car. It shone bright, its smooth metal cold under your bare thighs. He pins you in place as you attempt to wiggle off, nearly jiggling your way onto his lap. “The owner will be mad--”

“It’s mine and I’m not.” He explains. “I know what I want.”

“You want…?”

“For the work on your car.” It’s cute how clueless you act, holding your breath as his fingers course past your bare thighs. You barely manage to choke the words out, your hands inching on his. He replaces himself between your thighs. You both know that you more than made up for the few hundred dollars in repairs with the work you’d done for him in a month. Holding your breath, you nod.

“Tell me.”

“I want a night with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, leaning your trembling fingers up to the bits of dark brown hair that accentuated the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. You met his eyes, trained on your own, challenging you to respond. Words formed in a mishmash of nonsense on your tongue. You take the chance to press your lips on his, your hand suddenly cradling the side of his face for some stability. You were hardly comfortable on his car, but Miguel didn’t seem to care, biding your lower lip to open and let him in. You relinquish, savoring the distant taste of roasted coffee on his tongue, his fingers teasing along your thighs.

“That’s not an answer,” Miguel pulled back from your lips for an instant. He graces your neck with soft kisses, leaving the occasional bite and tug just in case-- he doesn’t need another man thinking he has so much as a chance. Your big man pins you down onto the car like you were weightless, any willingness to inch away tempered by his mass.

“Depends,” you answered. “I want this to be an every night kind of thing.”

“Consider it a trade.” He chuckled against your neck, the heat from his lips traveled across the valley of your breasts. You complied with his desire and let him slip your breasts free from your romper. His mouth closed his mouth over your nipple. His greasy hands melded your breasts between his desperate hands, tongue prodding your nipple fat. Your legs met his hungry performance by pulling him forward, his scratchy belt against your clothed cunt.

“Careful,” he teased. His hand fell to his bulge, unbuttoning his stained pants. You watched him pull himself free, pulling panties and romper alike to the side of your lips. Your lips parted, much like that very first day you met him, sundered by the sight of his cock. This time, fully hard. He doesn’t enter your cunt-- no, he’s patient, slotting himself between your folds for a teasing grind. His dick twitched in response, eager to finally fuck you. “You’ll fall off.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked over dinner.” He greets your complaint with a nod, flicking your other breast. He envelops the other nipple between his mouth, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. You take a long breath, hips leaning up against his firm length.

“Like that would be anything new. We always have dinner,” Miguel murmured in protest. “A far better use of our time is soaking your pretty cunt with my cum on this car before dinner.”

He felt your cunt clench at nothing. His hips, thrusting against your mound, nudged over your wet little folds, knocked against your greedy clit. Before you could respond, Miguel popped off your nipple again, “You like that thought? Going to dinner leaking?”

“Miggy, por dios,” you complained. “Stop dry humping and give it to me.”

He huffed darkly, snatching one of your thighs and leaning back. He spreads your lips, inspecting his work. You were wet, but not just wet, soaking his car. Miguel brought his other palm to wipe your wetness away, jerking himself with the fluid. He tests your reaction by nudging the head of his cock against your unprepared hole.

“Miguel,” you bit out, this time a warning.

“Ya te oigo,” Miguel loomed over you, pinning your shoulder back to his glistening car. You don’t debate him on that, allowing him to say whatever he wants if it would just get him inside. Miguel relinquishes control, pushing inside of your tightness. He bit back a groan, pushing past your body’s resistance, throbbing against your core. Your hands fisted his dirty shirt, cunt split wide on his cock, and glad for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands securing themselves on your hips. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls nearly free, slamming forth just a moment later. Breath punched out of your throat, his cock rocking your cunt nice and full. You loved this-- looking beautiful and full just for him. He knew it too, “Hermosa.”

Miguel held his arm tight around your thigh, holding you flush against his rutting hips. His balls slapped your ass, pulling tight. You were distantly aware of his thumb at your clit, leaning your hips into his thrusts the best you could. You could only squirm to keep yourself upright on his car despite feeling your body sliding into his. His thumb worked in insistent, tight circles, forcing the pleasure to burrow in your low belly, tightening over him. It’s no marker of your performance, you think, hoping he’d give you another chance to be anything but a toy on his cock.

“No, no puedo--” you whined, your hands dipping under his shirt to scratch at his finely cut muscles, knowing you were about to gush.

“Do it,” Miguel grunts in response, his thumb more insistent. You’re not entirely proud of the way you came, creaming his cock desperately. He held strong, smothering his own groans if only for the pleasure of hearing your passionate cries. You come to moments after, Miguel’s thrusts now intent on his own pleasure.

“Come on, papi,” you worshipped. “Cum in me.”

“Fuck,” Miguel complied, his dirty nails causing sharp indentions on your thigh and hip. His sticky cum fills you in a few deep thrusts, each more forceful than the last, and he’s spent. If he was dirty before, he was filthy now. Miguel catches your lips in a lingering kiss, going soft in your body. He knew the second he pulled out your cum was soaking his now-dented car.

His eyes peeled open to find your gaze on him, tracing fresh superficial scratches on his belly. Of course, you are-- you’re a hungry addict. Miguel pulled himself free and looked for a cloth that wasn’t grease soaked to clean your cunt with. You piece yourself together and slide off his car.

“Let’s go.”

“¿Qué?” he zips himself back into his pants.

“You promised me dinner.”

He sighs-- just as long as it wasn’t lasagna.

There’s something attractive about your love of children.

He thinks it’s likely because he’s never had that himself. His mother was a beast of a woman. Never affectionate. At least, not with him. After his wife’s subsequent death, life proceeded in a vacuum. The years passed: first one. Then six. Then he was here, holding a bundle of jewel-bright roses against an uncharacteristically clean button-up, walking down the dull blue carpet of the beige hallway to the pod that usually held the kids. For all the days you tolerated him smeared and slathered, you deserved a good display.

They were usually alight with noise, rambling on about their latest toy or prattling on about a mommy that Gabriella just did not have. The more she grew, the more important it became to have that for her-- maybe it was more for himself. Today, that hall was dead of life.

“Gabi, I hear your papi,” you called from somewhere inside. He hears her subsequent pitter-patter of feet across the carpet, popping out with Mimi from the door before he can open it. Miguel cocked his head, a sigh working on his lips. They whirled the door shut. Gabi bolted to your would-be desk and slapped her tanned palms on the tabletop.

“Maestra, maestra!”

Ah, damn it all. Miguel’s hand hovers around the knob, chewing on the next thought. He couldn’t really blame the kid for what she was about to say, because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

“¿Mande?”

“I have something to tell you, it’s really important. Papi likes you, did you know my papi really, really likes you?”

There’s a pause. Then a slight, amused giggle from Mimi. It’s short-lived as he pulls open the door, loathing this dumb thing called Teacher’s Week that leaves him with a bundle of flowers and instant regret.

“Sí, Gabriella. I know he does. I like him too. He’s so cute.”

If he weren’t so dark, he’d worry about the flush in his face with the embarrassment of being outed by his little girl. He stares at your hands on Gabriella’s, then at the small sea of desks and colorful name tags to break some of the tension, hardening his face to shield it from the embarrassment. Was he really so obvious?

“Hola Miggy.”

You scoot out of your chair.

“Hola,” he sighs, remembering he was holding flowers. He slides them into your hands, hooking his hands on his slender hips. “This is… Gabi wanted to give you flowers.”

“I never said that,” she chirped, bouncing his way. “You said--”

“Gabriella.” Miguel hisses, his tone sharp at her interjection. She goes dead silent by Mimi's side, staring up at him with watery eyes. He jerks his head in the direction of the quartet of desks she sits at. “Go get your things.”

“I think Papi is embarrassed,” you whisper, crouching down to rub her little back, soothing down her milky white top. “I’ll talk to him and make it better, okay? Go with Mimi.”

“Okay.”

Mimi bounded off behind Gabi, stuffing her bag with her colorful work and chunky crayons. Miguel exhaled air, staring at her powdery blue backpack for something other than the complete and utter embarrassment that yet someone else had called him out. If it wasn't Peter, it was his daughter.

Had he been this obvious the whole time?

“Don’t be too hard on her tonight,” He peered down at you, small in the grand scheme of his height and musculature. You pecked a small kiss on his lips, stroking his week-old stubble, just enough to cool Miguel’s teetering nerves. “It’ll be better when she finds out.”

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munchmemes · 8 months

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hozier lyrics, unreal unearth edition

❛ your reflection can't offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself. ❜

❛ no closer could i be to god or why he would do what he's done. ❜

❛ what you live in, it finds a way to live in you. ❜

❛ your heart has such darkness. ❜

❛ i wanna be gone. i wanna run so far, i'd beat the morning. ❜

❛ before the dawn has come, i'd block the sun if you want it done. ❜

❛ let all time slow. let all light go. ❜

❛ i don't need to know where we begin and end. ❜

❛ i'd still know you, not being shown you. ❜

❛ the first time that you kissed me, i drank dry the river lethe. the liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same. ❜

❛ some part of me must have died the first time that you called me baby. ❜

❛ some part of me came alive the first time that you called me baby. ❜

❛ these days, i think, i owe my life to flowers that were left here by my mother. ain't that like them? gifting life to you again. ❜

❛ oh, to share the space with simple living things infinitely suffering but fighting off, like all creation, the absence of itself ... but anyway. ❜

❛ some part of me stayed alive each time that you called. ❜

❛ whatever keeps you around, it keeps you around. ❜

❛ when i was young i used to guess, are there limits to any emptiness? ❜

❛ how could you think i'd scare so easily? ❜

❛ my life was a storm since i was born. how could i fear any hurricane? ❜

❛ i would do it again if i could hold you for a minute. ❜

❛ what good would it be on the far side of things? ❜

❛ i would not change it each time. ❜

❛ heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i. ❜

❛ i feel lighter than i have in so much time. ❜

❛ how could i fall when i am lifted by every word you say to me? ❜

❛ if anything could fall at all, it's the world that falls away from me. ❜

❛ if you need to, lean your weight to me. ❜

❛ if we fall, i only pray, don't fall away from me. ❜

❛ i'm starving, darling. let me put my lips to something. ❜

❛ you can't buy this fineness. ❜

❛ we can celebrate the good that we've done. ❜

❛ we had nowhere to go and every desire for going there. ❜

❛ i heard once, it's the comforts that make us feel numb. ❜

❛ it was just our turn being blamed for a world we had no power in. ❜

❛ i haven't felt it since then. i don't know how the feeling ended. ❜

❛ i know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done. ❜

❛ we knew what our love was worth when we had nothing. ❜

❛ i miss when we did not need much. ❜

❛ you were steering my heart like a wheel in your hands. ❜

❛ all i needed was someone when the whole wide world felt young. ❜

❛ hold me like water or hold me like a knife. ❜

❛ you and i burned out our steam chasing someone else's dream. ❜

❛ how can something be so much heavier but so much less than what it seems? ❜

❛ you only feel it when it's lost. getting through still has its cost. ❜

❛ if there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right. ❜

❛ we didn't get it right but we did our best. ❜

❛ knowing that everything will end should not change our plans. ❜

❛ all things end. ❜

❛ there are some things that no one teaches you that come natural as a dream you didn't know that you were in. ❜

❛ the awful things we do to make the head go quiet. ❜

❛ you may never know your fortune until the distance has been shown between what is lost forever and what can still be known. ❜

❛ i don't wanna be anything but i would do anything just to run away. ❜

❛ go look another way. ❜

❛ look, i wanna be loud. so loud, i'm talking seismic. ❜

❛ i will not be great but i'm grateful to get through. ❜

❛ the memory hurts but does me no harm. ❜

❛ the moment i knew i'd no choice but to love you. ❜

❛ there's a part of me, i'm afraid will always be trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life. ❜

❛ you know, the distance never made a difference to me. ❜

❛ so, i thought you were like an angel to me. ❜

❛ it ain't the being alone. it ain't the empty home. you know i'm good on my own. ❜

❛ so much of the living is the being unknown. ❜

❛ do you know i could break beneath the weight of the goodness i still carry for you? ❜

❛ there are some people who are better unknown. ❜

❛ darkness always finds you either way. ❜

❛ after this, i'm never gonna be the same and i am never going back again. ❜

#lyrics rp starters #rp starters #rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #lyrics rp meme

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author-morgan · 2 years

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Title: Rise by the Birdsong Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: In which you soothe Daemon's wounded ego and pride after he loses in a tournament. Warnings: Typically Westerosi shenanigans.

HE SUMMONS YOU to his chambers in the hours after the tourney and feast —the taste of defeat still bitter on his tongue. Hubris cost him the victory. He had the Merryweather boy cornered. It should have been easy, yet he was forced to yield the champion's title and purse. Daemon Targaryen drapes his arms over the side of the tub and thinks of who he would have named as the Queen of Love and Beauty had he won. Certainly not Rhea Royce —the old bronze bitch. He’s more apt to name one of the sheep before her. The thought fades when the doors creak open, his guards letting you pass into the prince’s chambers.

Steam fills the room, as does the scent of Myrish oils. Your skin prickles with heat for reasons that have nothing to do with the warmth of the air when your eyes settle on Daemon at the center of the room. You wondered where he’d gone so quickly after the feast. His eyes flash open as your footfalls echo on the stone floor until you stop beside the tub and kneel. “My prince,” you greet. He’s always liked how you say his title, sweet and taunting, nigh like a songbird. Glancing away from his face, your gaze follows the line of his arm and the planes of his chest. He’s all lean and lithe muscle, sculpted from years of training and battle —the most seasoned warrior in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daemon takes your hand, reclaiming your attention. His fingers curl around yours, then he shifts and leans toward you, head dipping down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles —a knightly and unexpected gesture. He lets your hand go and settles back in the tub, and the look of an arrogant prince reclaims his expression. “Take off your dress,” Daemon demands, flicking the surface of the water. Ever the dutiful lady, you rise and reach for the ties of your nightdress —shedding the pale linen, baring yourself to Prince Daemon Targaryen.

He's been soaking for nigh half-an-hour, and the water is still warm —fire cannot harm a dragon, he told you once whilst he held his hand above a candle, toying with the flame. You sink into the water and find the space he’s made next to him, head half-resting on his shoulder. Daemon drapes his arm around your shoulders, and wordlessly, you begin tracing mindless patterns on his chest. “You fought well today,” you tell him after a while, thinking of how handsome he looked in his dark steel suit emblazoned with the sigil of House Targaryen and decorated with rubies.

“I lost,” he reminds you, no lack of bitterness in his voice. He’d find a way to best the Merryweather boy, somehow.

You reach for his hand, and he lets you take it, curious brows raised. “Yet they all speak of how commendable your effort and skills are” —your fingers find the scars on his knuckles, the calloused pads of his fingertips. “Reputation is its own victory,” you tell him, placing a kiss to the center of his palm before he retracts his hand.

Daemon looks down at you. “Trying to mend my broken heart?”

You trace a curving line over his breast and up his neck, caressing his smooth and sharp jaw. “It’s I who am heartbroken, Daemon,” you say, smiling. He cuts his eyes at you, something dangerous lurking in his stare. “You told me you’d gift me a crown of roses upon your victory, and here I am, crownless.”

His lips quirk upward. “Dare speak to your prince with such impertinence?” His touch against your cheek is gentle, but you can still hear the slightest hint of a laugh in his voice. It’s the look in his cool eyes that speak of danger, though —he’s always been as wild and unpredictable as his dragon. You hold your breath as you look at him, expecting his kiss when he careens forward in the water, and when he leans in to meet your mouth, you’re struck by how desperate it feels in comparison to all the other times.

You’re impatient for more —always more— feeling his smile growing as he kisses you again, and you’re happy to give the Rogue Prince whatever he wishes. He always brings out your worse impulses. Sighing against his mouth, his tongue brushes against yours. He tastes like the spices from dinner, warm and enticing, and there’s still a hint of sweet wine lingering on his lips. Not even a maiden could refuse Daemon Targaryen after a single kiss like this —you hadn’t been able to either, but now all that is in the past. His fingers run along your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and the little moan you make is music.

“Who else would keep you on your toes if not I?” You question, breathless. Daemon hums his agreement against your neck, lips trailing further down your pulse.

He pulls you close against him until you’re nearly in his lap —his cock twitches against your leg, but he brushes you off when you try to reach for him. He’d not summoned you tonight for a quick fuck. Daemon’s hands trace along your ribs to cup your breasts and feel your nipples stiffen in his palm, and his slight hum of approval makes your thighs squeeze together instinctively. Tonight, he’s more interested in having his hands on you instead —reparations for his failure to give you a rose crown.

“Open your legs,” he orders, a hot whisper at your ear, and you do so without a second thought. His hand slips between them, teasing briefly over your inner thighs before he’s touching you. Your voice is a breathy whimper as you feel him stroke slowly over the folds of your cunt and up to circle your clit. He doesn’t enter you yet, not until he can get his fill of watching you squirm and shudder from such simple attention. “What would Lord Mooton say if he could see precious his daughter like this?” Daemon relents to your soft pleas and slips two fingers into you. You shudder against him as he works in and out of you, breath catching. Your father is the last thing you want to think of with Daemon’s fingers buried in your cunt. “You like this?” He asks, well aware of how quickly he has you rutting into his hand for more stimulation.

“Yes, Daemon,” you insist, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck to draw his lips down to yours. His thumb rolls across your clit, and your head falls back.

His kiss is less fierce this time, deep and slow until your lungs ache. You can sense his mood improving as he fucks you with his hand, relishing all the little noises you make for him. “You’re mine, little dove,” he breathes in your ear, and you can’t disagree when your cunt is already squeezing so tight around him. He brushes over your clit again, and you lean your head forward to his shoulder this time. “I won’t let you wed another.” You know he speaks true.

You whimper when he nibbles at your earlobe. Cautiously, you move to touch him and slowly trace down his stomach and past his navel, earning you the smallest laugh of amusement from him. Permission enough to touch him. You take his hard cock in your hand, and he lets out a pleased sigh as you begin to stroke him. Watching him is mesmerizing, his movements as graceful as ever even as he rocks his hips into your touch, though his own rhythm between your thighs stutters momentarily with distraction. “Yours,” you agree between long kisses. The Seven and the Old Gods be damned, you’d made your bed among the dragons and intended to lay in it.

Both of you stay like that for a while, enjoying the feel of your bodies as you work to get each other off. He’s better at it than you are —this Lord of Flea Bottom— and it doesn’t take long to have you panting hard with every brush of his fingers inside you. He can tell you’re close from the way you’re clenching around his fingers, his tongue muffling greedy moans.

“Let me see you,” he says, and you’re powerless to deny him when you lift your head from his shoulder. His thumb brushes over your clit harder, and the tension in your body snaps, your arms wrapping around his back and holding him to you in a desperate need to ground yourself as you come on his fingers. Daemon’s fingers keep moving inside you, teasing you through your orgasm until you’re a dazed mess for him. You give yourself several long moments to recover, breathing in the perfumed steam of the bath to slow your frantic heartbeat. He withdraws his hand from between your legs, and you can’t hide your disappointment at the newly empty feeling inside you.

Daemon rises from the water —his cock hard and straining against his belly— and offers his hand to help you out of the tub, leading you over to his bed. You lay back as he wishes, and he parts your thighs again, rubbing along the wetness he finds there and lifts his fingers to his lips to taste you. The noise Daemon makes is a promise of next time, but you’re given no time to dwell on the thought when he crawls over you and settles between your legs, the head of his cock just pressing into your cunt —unexpected, he usually takes you like a bitch in heat.

Your hips rut up towards his impatiently, and a moment later, he’s inside you. He hisses sharply but can’t stop the roll of his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you. It’s a newfound boldness you do not wish to relinquish. “Behave,” Daemon scolds, but there’s none of the usual annoyance or ire in his voice. His mouth eager on yours as he guides your arms up to pin your wrists above your head. “Stay still.” You do. Relaxing into the down blankets and pillows while he laves your neck and breasts with affection.

His thumb brushes over your nipple, and he hears how you stutter out his name, and it only spurs his need to have you like this. “What a good little dove you are.” Daemon smirks, and you have to look away, almost ashamed of how red your face turns at his praises, but you squirm beneath him as he strokes along a sensitive spot inside of you.

You feel his lips ghosting over your closed eyelids, and you peek one open to watch him. There’s the faintest flush across his face as he stares down at you with such raw hunger it feels like you’re going to burn up from the heat of your bodies —like Caraxes has bathed you both in flames. You want to touch him, to run your fingers through his silver hair and down the toned muscles of his shoulders and back. You flex them impatiently but keep your hands obediently where he’d placed them.

He pinches a nipple between his fingers, and you jolt, letting out a shaky moan that has his cock throbbing inside you, and it rips a harsh groan from his lips. You reach for him without thinking, dragging your nails across his scalp before he takes your wrists and presses them harder into the bed. You wriggle under him and only earn a quick nip to your earlobe. “Told you to behave,” he reminds you sternly, but his scolding only makes you clench around him tighter. Daemon curses and his next kiss is hot and demanding, and you part your lips for his tongue without a moment’s hesitation.

“Please, Daemon,” you whimper, and he knows what it is you want and gives a small nod of agreement. You reach for him again, going for his silver locks to bring him back down into another kiss. You hold tight to him when he tries to separate, keeping his chest flush against yours, whispering and whimpering his name like sacred prayers as he presses himself deeper into you —his pelvis grinding against your clit.

He thrusts into you harder while stroking your clit, and you unravel for him, tension running through you like dragonfire until you’re unable to do anything more than shudder beneath him. “Daemon,” you whimper, muscles twitching uselessly as he teases you through it. You’re too focused on your blood pounding in your ears to fully appreciate his reaction to you, his breaths ragged, and pupils blown wide with his own arousal at how you spasm around his aching cock. It’s a sight you’re not like to see again —you very well may never see your prince like this again.

You try to wrap yourself around his waist and pull him further into you —wanting to help him find his release— but instead, your legs are pressed firmly into the bed. “No,” he says through rough kisses, the last one nipping sharply at your bottom lip. He groans, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation of release.

Daemon pulls out of your cunt and leaves you empty. You almost complain, but he shushes you by dragging your hand down to his cock —slick and throbbing from all your efforts— and you follow his lead without instruction. His fingers are warm around yours as he guides you. He looks tragically beautiful when he comes, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open in a sharp gasp at the shiver running through his body. His cock twitches in your grasp, coating your hand and stomach in his sticky seed —he won’t risk a bastard child.

He moves to lay beside you, more relaxed than he’s been in a fortnight. You roll onto your side and look him over. This is far from your first time entertaining the prince in his bed —even being of noble blood, you know how this works. All the Seven Kingdoms know you are his mistress, even true love perhaps, but he is already sworn to another, and you must act as though the whispers and rumors are lies. It always hurts when you must leave, but you’d been foolish enough to cast your heart to the son of the dragon, and now you must suffer the price. “Do you require anything else, my prince?” You query.

Daemon turns his head to look at you, flushed and glowing. “Mmm” —he reaches for you, fingers trailing along your cheek and back into your hair— “stay.” The request surprises you, but you’ll indulge him and your own heart. A comfortable silence lingers until Daemon shifts, gathering you up in his arms to lay you down on the bed properly and offers a rag to clean yourself with as he does the same. When he returns to your side, Daemon rests his head on your breast and lets you hold him, humming sweetly as the songbirds, to an age-old lullaby. We'll sleep when the morning comes, and we'll rise by the sound of the birdsongs. And the morning will come too soon.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @erzsebetrosztoczy @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon x Reader #Daemon Targaryen Fanfic #House of the Dragon #Matt Smith #my writing #setting for this fic is before HotD and the DotD begins #he came for me y'all and i cannot help it #between him and Criston Cole woo boy #if i wasnt sold on the casting i am now #soon to be everyones favorite bastards

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snowywolf1005 · 2 months

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JOYBOY LUFFY X MOON GOD FEMALE READER 🌙

THE SUN AND THE MOON

Warning: blood, curse

Luffy was defeated by Kaido, and now Kaido is attacking everyone. The strawhat thinks Luffy has died, as for you .

You were injured, badly injured so bad, you just passed out while luffy asked Law to put them in a better place.

You were with Nami, marco, and tama. "Luffy dead!? Now, way! That's ridiculous!" Nami cried. "When he says he's gonna win, he'll definitely win, at any cost!" She yelled.

Then Nami began to cry, "So stop lying, you disgusting snake! Luffy, I know you can hear me! Please don't make (Y/N) cry!" She yelled. "Keep your words as always!"

Luffy lay on the ground, and his heart started pumping, playing music. So, as you, your heart starts playing like shamisen.

Zunesha heard the sound of bumping and the shamisen. "momonosake," he said, "what? Zunesha!?" Momonosake asked.

Then the drum started playing in music. "Momonosake! I can hear them!" Zunesha yelled.

"It been a while..." he said, luffy hand start twitch. Momonosake looks confused, "you can hear them? It's been a while? Zunesha, what are you talking about!?" Momonosake yelled.

Luffy body started steaming. "I can hear the drum of liberation. I'm hearing them for the first time in 800 years! I'm positive that they are here!" he yelled.

"wh-who's here?!"

"Joyboy, lunala... has returned!" He screams. Luffy hair turned white, and his body started jumping. Red and white lighting flying everywhere.

Luffy lifts his body. "What happened... to me?" he said, standing up and trying not to fall. " How come I can still stand up?" He asks, then Luffy starts smiling.

" I lost the battle," he said, smiling. "But this is getting fun!" He laughed, falling to the ground. As for your body, it started moving a little.

"Joyboy! Lunala!" Momonosake yelled, "luffy and (Y/N) is joyboy, lunala!" Yamato yelled. "Is that what zunesha said!?" Yamato question.

Luffy laughed, rolling on the ground, and couldn't stop laughing even more. "This is getting fun!" He said, his clothes turned to white, his eyes turned pink.

In the performance floor. Everyone was shocked to see on above, "What? Is that straw hat man?" Said hyogoro, then he smiled.

"Straw hat!?" Said marco, he turned to Nami and tama, who were hugging each other and you too. "Hey! He's still alive-yoi!" He yelled.

"Luffy's not dead?!" Nami yelled, crying. "Big bro's still alive?!" Cried tama, "That's great!" They said crying. "(Y/N)! Luffy is alive!" Nami cried, hugging your body.

Luffy laughed, jumping.

In the mary geoise, pangaea castle, the hall of power. The five elders were in the meeting.

"Sacrificing one of our best agents... only to enrage kaido is like putting the cart before the horse," said warcury.

"But what if it's better than the alternative? It's better to eliminate a risk factor." Said Saturn.

"The world government... has always tried to get hold of the gum-gum fruit and the moon-moon fruit, but it never came into our hands. For 800 years!" Said nusjuro.

"It's as if... the fruit is evading us... That not entirely implausible," said Mars. "Zoan type devil fruit have a will of their own." Said Peter.

" Furthermore, that devil fruits bears the name of a God. Another name for the gum-gum fruit and moon-moon fruit is..." said warcury.

"The Zoan, human-human fruit, mythical type, model... 'nika' 'lunala'. They say that his body had the exact properties of rubber, as for lunala. She can shapeshift and illusion. They fought as they fancied and made people smile." Said Peter.

"The warriors of liberation and the moon queen, also known as... nika, the sun God! Lunala, the moon, God!" Peter yelled.

"Awakening it is said to give its user's rubber body and the shape shifting body even more strength... and freedom. I heard that it's the most ridiculous power... in the world, " said Peter.

Luffy jumps in the sky, jumping on the ground, clapping his hand. "I can do everything I wanted to do! I think I can fight a little bit more!" Said luffy.

Jumping around, dancing around. "My heartbeat sounds funny!". Luffy jumps high, "This is our peak! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Luffy laughed.

"This is it! Gear five!" Luffy yelled, letting out all lighting go nuts around. And you, you opened your eyes and it full of red. 'What going on?' You question.

'How come I can't feel anything pain at all? What is this?' You keep questioning yourself. Then you hear drums, 'what that sounds? It sounded familiar? Why can't I remember?'.

Luffy jumped around, clapping his hand. Smiling, bouncing, dancing. Being all goofy all that stuff and started laughing.

As for the bottom, everybody was shocked to see full lightning. 'What going on? What happened to luffy?' You question, luffy grab his tumb and stared blowing on it.

His arm became bigger and bigger. "Hey, what on?!" Someone yelled, "someone's color of the Supreme king?!" They yelled.

"Where is it coming from?!" Someone yelled two, kaido looked above and saw someone outside above. "What's that on the roof?" Kaido said. He looked a hole on above, then a huge hand burst out and grabbed kaido.

"L-luffy?" You said with a lower voice, luffy pulled kaido up, Law and kid was surprised. "Straw hat?!" Said kid, "is that luffy?!" Chopper scream.

Luffy pulled kaido way up, kaido scream. Then luffy pulled his pruple rope on his waist and became muscles. "Muscles! Muscles! Muscles!" Luffy yelled, luffy flew to kaido face.

And punching him, luffy jumps back and grabs kaido body. "Here we go!" Luffy yelled, luffy spin kaido body around, then slamming his body on the ground.

Luffy keeps slamming kaido body on the ground. You, on the other hand, are still injured. You can see Nami, tama, and marco taking, "l-luffy," you said.

Nami turned around to see you, talking. "(Y/N)! Aaaaaa!! I thought you were dead!!!!" Nami cried as she hugged you. "Luffy, I got to help Luffy," you said, trying to stand up.

"(Y/N), you have rest!" Marco yelled, and then you finally opened your eyes. Nami screamed, Marco and tama looked at you and was shocked.

Your eyes turn to red, "(Y/N)?" Tama asked, then you stand up. Your skin turns white, and pruple lightning comes everywhere on your body, and a pruple smoke sorm around you.

"(Y/N)?!" Nami yelled, your body turned to blue, then you transformed into a gaint shadows monster.

Like this:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" Nami and tama scream. Then you fly up, everybody looks at you in horror, "What is that!?" Someone yelled. You look up to see a hole lend to outside.

"Luffy's," you said, you go through the hole and make bigger holes. You looked to kaido turn black.

Like this

And luffy laughed when luffy looked at you.

You flew over to luffy, and you turned to your human form. And luffy was shocked to see you alive. He put his hand on your cheeks, "(Y/N)!!!" Luffy laughed, and he hugged you tight.

He started kissing you all over your face, and you kissed him on the cheek. "So you're alive as well?" Said kaido, you look at him and transform your monster form.

You and luffy V.S kaido, let see who wins.

PART 2 COMING RIGHT UP!!!!!

If you want more, just leave a comment below!!!!!

#one piece x reader #luffy x reader #luffy joyboy x reader #joyboy #joyboy luffy x reader #luffy joyboy #joyboy luffy x god reader #one piece joyboy #one piece luffy #one piece luffy x reader #joyboy x reader

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sonknuxadow · 3 months

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not believing the sonic generations remaster rumors unless it gets officially announced somewhere because people are going "bro.... this sonic game is totally gonna get a remaster soon..." literally all the time but if it is true . why sonic generations. it holds up fairly well i dont think it needs to be remastered what is the point. the only reason i can think of is making it more accessible to current gen consoles but even then. why cant they just port it without changing anything. why put the effort in for a full on remaster. also sonic generations is such a forgettable nothing game im sorry there are so many others that would have deserved this more

#between this and sonic colors ultimate i dont think sega is thinking logically when it comes to choosing which games to remaster #i dont hate sonic generations btw i like it from a gameplay perspective but story and impact wise its literally nothing im sorry to say #also agian with the ''omg sonic generations is the only sonic game not on sale rn its getting delisted soon''#its literally not the only one though??? every other game that costs 20 dollars or less is excluded from the sale too #not saying the remaster thing is impossible but i dont think the steam sale has anything to do with it

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satrs · 10 months

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𝙐𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨.

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; you two just divorced but he can't find peace with the fact of letting you go.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; Michael Kaiser x fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 2.1k

ᴛᴀɢꜱ; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI! angst. fluff. hurt to comfort. oral (fem! revieving)

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎ having an intense kaiser brainrot rn. I'm tired so sorryyy if it seems rushed aaaa

It was all over.

With a simple and quick swing of his hand, he was the one to complete the divorce papers, feeling bitter at the feeling.

He noticed your demeanor relaxing at that, clearly irritated by your action. Why do you seem so relieved? Did you really anticipate this moment that much? Was he really the person you painted him to be?

He knew that he made mistakes, grave ones even. But there is nothing that couldn’t have been prevented by a serious talk between the both of you.

But you were just so over his antics, leaving you alone for nights on end, not answering your calls, and making you worry about him- just overall not giving you the attention and love he once did at the beginning of your marriage.

Of course, you knew that he had a lot to do as a professional soccer player, but not being able to spend the little free time he had with his wife? That’s just ridiculous.

And to be honest, looking back at it, he didn’t really recognize your pleas and worries- until it was too late.

„Y/N don’t you think we can still talk about this? I know I was an asshole but we can still work things out.“ You scoffed at his pleas, taking ahold of the signed divorce documents before turning on your heels to walk out of the room, not sparing him another glance.

„You wanna talk things out now? After I tried so many times? We're done, Kaiser. That’s where your stubborn head is bringing you.“ He gritted his teeth at the sound of his last name, not daring to say another word, watching you walk out of his sight as he felt his heart sink.

He lost you. The one and only person he loved and cared for. His lovely wife. Why did he let things come so far? Why did he not listen to you and talked about your troubles? Why. Why. Why. The only word filling his mind.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Every day after the incident when he stepped into your once-shared home, a wave of coldness wrapped around him as he felt how lonely it was without you here.

You would usually greet him with tons of kisses, a bright smile on your face regardless of his sour expression, trying to cheer him up with food, a movie marathon, cuddles, or sometimes, mind-numbing head.

He plopped down onto the couch, sadness washing over him as he let out a shallow breath. Oh, how he missed cuddling with you, kissing you, touching you.

He just now realized the consequences of his reckless actions. He realized that you had slipped through his fingers. His head fell into his hands, fingers brushing through his hair in frustration.

He can’t believe it. And he doesn’t want to. Don’t you know that he needs you? Loves you? You knew how hard he would be before entering the relationship, knowing his nature. So why would you give up on him- on the both of you so fast?

Did you find someone new while he was gone and overseas? Was that the reason for your quick decision? He felt sick in the stomach at the thought of someone other than him by your side. He couldn’t stand the thought, face growing bitter.

His head soon came up into view, low eyes gazing around the empty room. He couldn’t let you go, not in the wildest of his dreams could he imagine you away from him. So he knew what he had to do.

His body moved on its own, strolling into the bathroom to take a quick shower, cooling off from his steaming thoughts.

He will get you back at any cost. He will prove to you that he is still the same Michael you became fond of, the one you dedicated your life to by the vow around your finger.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

The doorbell rang and he swiftly moved to open it. But as he saw who was standing at the doorstep, he felt his heart sink into his pants. "H-hey. How're you doing?" Your eyes halted right at the towel wrapped around his hip, torso bare for your eyes to see, blue rose tattoo still how you had in your memory, the inc decorating his toned figure. Then your gaze lifted to his face, hair damp and still wet from the shower, some waterdrops gliding down his neck, his wedding ring still attached to his finger.

You got back to yourself, pushing past him and ignoring his caring questioning. You just wanted to get the rest of your clothes, that's it. No need for small talk or anything else. He is no longer your husband, so you shouldn't feel obliged to answer him, or do anything for him.

But as you made your way through the place you once called home, you noticed how messy the place was. Of course, it would be, since he was barely at home, who would clean up the mess? You found yourself mouth open, close to questioning Michael about - this. And about his well-being. Even if you didn't want to admit it to yourself, deep down you really missed him those past weeks.

You missed his presence, and the feeling of his lips on yours whenever he came home, or the way his hands caressed your hips, asking you what was on the menu today. And you also missed those special intimate moments with him, when the both of you were so vulnerable for one another, moans and groans filling the bedroom as you gave each other your whole.

"Please Y/N, let's talk. It's been a few weeks and I really miss you." Careful steps approached your figure as you stood in front of your closet, picking out what you came for. "I just came to get my clothes. Like I said last time, there is nothing to talk about."

You purposely kept your back turned to him because you knew- you knew the moment you would turn around and look into those eyes of his, you would give in.

"Baby please," he began, hand softly placed on your shoulder, causing your movements to halt. "I miss you." His hand traveled down your arm, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you felt his hands intertwining with yours.

You promptly turned around, shoving his hand off of yours, heart filling with guilt at your action. "Don't you baby me." But you had to. It was over and the both of you had to move on.

Your furious eyes soon turned soft at your thoughts, eyes sparkling guilt inside them as you felt your eye sting, tears threatening to escape. He noticed, his hand flying up to your face to hold it, thumb stroking your cheek and making a mental note as you leaned into his touch. As he saw your hand ball into fists he noticed that you to still had your wedding ring on.

He pulled you towards his chest, your tears now flowing down with no way of stopping, taking out all your frustration and anger that you build up over the past years on him. "You're an asshole. Never once did you want to talk but now? Now after everything is done?"

He cooed at you, trying to stop your tears. He hated seeing you cry and he hated it even more that he was the reason for it. "I know. I'm sorry. Please just give me one more chance. I will prove it to you."

Your teary eyes stared up at him, sniffling as you inspected his face for any reaction. As you noticed the painful and guilty look on his face you made your decision. Your arms flew around his neck, lips attacking his, surprised gasp leaving his mouth before he leaned into the feeling.

God you missed this so much. Him, his lips, everything that was about him and him only- Michael. You softly moaned into his mouth as you leaned into the feeling you've missed for so long, one leg wrapped around his hip as the towel slightly loosened around it.

He himself couldn't think straight anymore, groans escaping his lips as he felt your lower region press up against his. He swiftly took ahold of your rear, lifting you up and moving to your once shared bed, intending on proving himself to you. He had to show you how sorry he was and how much he really loved you, all the pain and sorrow he had caused for you shall disappear.

He carefully lays you down, as if you were made out of glass, towel around his hips now long forgotten as he hovered above you, lips back on yours again. His hands traveled over every part of your body, not leaving one single spot unnoticed.

"Stop teasing", you whined in frustration, earning a low chuckle from the man above you. "I'm sorry baby. Just missed you so much." His fingers made quick work to your pants, finding their way into your panties, a soft sigh passed your lips.

Michael's lips attacked your neck, hot and wet tongue attacking your skin as his hand worked wonders in your panties. "So beautiful." His other hand sneaked under your shirt and bra, softly fondling your breasts. "My beautiful wife." You subconsciously moved into his touch, moans escaping your lips at his words.

His mouth moved down your neck, littering wet kisses onto your stomach, stopping with his face right over your clothed heat. "Love you. So much. Never letting you go." He growled at the sight of the wet patch visible on your panties, impatiently tearing the small cloth from your body, taking in the sight of your glistening heat.

You let out a cry of pleasure and tangled your fingers into his hair as you felt his mouth on your pussy lips, tongue drawing what seemed to be hearts on your puffy clit. The odd but familiar feeling caused a shiver to run down your spine, toes curling in euphoria.

The grip on his hair tightened as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge. There was no way to deny it- you really did miss your husband. And the wonders his tongue worked inside of you too.

"J-just like that Micha' fuck." Your mind was clouded in pleasure, unable to keep a straight mind. The man moaned, no- whimpered into your heat at the sound of the nickname rolling off your tongue. He was determined to fill your whole body with pleasure, ignoring his throbbing cock as he moved his hand under your shirt to get ahold of your soft tits. "Give it to me. All of it." His growl against your folds threw you over the edge, loud moan erupting from your throat as your thighs clenched tightly around his head, nearly suffocating him.

You were panting as you came down from your anticipated high, meanwhile, Kaiser crawled back up, close to your face now as he caught his breath. "Please baby," he began, hand creeping up to hold your face, eyes full of love and devotion as he looked at you. "let's try again. I'll make up for every second we lost."

You hesitated, shying away from his touch as your lips formed a thin line. "You won't regret it Y/N. I swear to you from the bottom of my heart that we'll go back to how it used to be. Don't you want that too, baby? Like the good old days?"

Your eyes met his, gaze wandering between his features, admiring his beauty. Of course, you wanted to. You really did. Another try wouldn't hurt, right? Maybe you did overdo it with the divorce. All in all, the both of you had your wrongs to correct, no one was in innocent.

Looking back to it, both of you did overcome so many burdens and struggles. So who would say you couldn't manage this?

You let out a sigh as you came to your conclusion. "Okay." Your simple word caused the man's eyes above you to light up, he quickly embraced you in a tight hug as he lifted you up and spun the both of you around, peppering you with lots of kisses as you giggled at his action. He then threw the both of you onto the bed, laying next to you as he drew shapes onto your hip, a lovestruck expression painting his face. "Stay?"

His question caused you to look at him, soft smile on your lips. You nodded, getting up on your elbows as the man raised an eyebrow at you when you straddled his lap, flashing him a sly smirk. "Nonono, I'm fine you don't need to-" Your lips against his cut his words off, sigh escaping his lips. Your still needy cunt was seated right on top of his hard length, your movements causing him to lowly moan as he held your hips in an attempt to stop you.

"You don't seriously think I'll leave you like that Micha'?" Your question was rather rhetorical. "Let me go next with making it up to you, 'kay?"

And how could he refuse his loving wife when she sat ontop of him so cutely, hips needily grinding onto him?

"I'm all yours."

ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°

#◛⑅·˚ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ #♡˳ᴮᴸᴸᴷ #michael kaiser smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk michael kaiser #blue lock #blue lock x female reader #michael kaiser blue lock #blue lock manga #bllk #michael kaiser #kaiser michael #need me a michael in my life #x reader

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wonily · 1 year

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀🎀﹕butterflies, butterflies!

♡ — giving enhypen butterflies

warnings : mentions of food & metaphorically passing out (ni-ki's part)

[ lily’s rambles : another repost from my old blog <3 this was one of my favorites and... i wrote it during my first period class ]

other members under the cut!

heeseung !

when heeseung put up an ad for a roommate (to split costs because he’s a broke college student :<) he did not expect a very, very cute person to see the ad. when he opened the door the day you were supposed to take a tour of the apartment, he did not expect to see a very, very cute person in front of him.

except he did :D and he forgot how to breathe. you were so cute !! and you were just smiling at him from his doorway with the biggest, kindest, brightest smile ever and he had to shake himself out of his trance to welcome you into his apartment. and that’s when he saw the steam rising and he could’ve sworn that his heart exploded.

you were holding a tray of ramen :( the same one he said he really liked on the ad he had posted. he had to stop himself from dramatically falling to his knees and clutching his heart because butterflies just exploded inside of him because wowie he thinks he just met the one, the only love of his life.

jay !

GAHH!!! you’ve broken him from the moment he laid eyes on you but he’s never going to let you know that. you were a new employee at the cute little dessert cafe he frequented and the moment he walked in, you took his breath away and replaced it with butterflies.

considering it was your first day, you didn’t know his usual coffee order so he took it as an opportunity to talk to you and when you told him it was your first day, he even asked you what your favorite dessert was !!

you shyly handed him his order and he retreated to the table that he always sat at (that was seemingly reserved just for him at this point) and his coffee tasted even better today because you had made it.

before he left, he bought the dessert that you had said was your favorite, smiled kindly, and handed it to you, now effectively leaving you flustered and, because he comes in everyday, him buying you a dessert became a tradition because he was still a little too scared to ask you out :< but it’s all worth it because the butterflies in his stomach go crazy around you.

jake !

he met you at the dog park while he was with layla :( layla was so happy to be running out and about, especially with her other friends that she had met the other times she’d come to this dog park.

but !! she spotted a new little dog shyly hiding behind someone (your) leg and immediately ran up to it and barked happily. the dog whimpered, still scared of its new surroundings and jake, seeing this, ran to tell layla to relax a little and he did, but he immediately closed his mouth after because he saw you and you were so cute :(

you giggled and assured him that it was okay and your dog would eventually warm up to layla and he just nodded because he was too scared to open his mouth, because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from blurting out “YOU’RE CUTE”.

but he eventually started conversing with you because your dog was now besties with layla and they were practically attached to each other and then, he regained his confidence and asked you to go to the park again because layla would miss your dog :(((

sunghoon !

there’s no specific thing that you do that gives sunghoon butterflies… it’s more like your whole existence just makes his heart flutter. for example, when he first saw you outside the ice rink.

it was just a passing glance, he was just scoping out the area to make sure that he didn’t have to hide and the moment his eyes fell on you, he actually thought he was part of a kdrama where they play excessive music during an intense staring scene except he was the only one staring.

but of course, life is not a kdrama and he entered the ice skating rink. but, it turns out, he was absolutely positively wrong because his life is a kdrama !! he was just minding his own business, doing a little twirl in the air when he felt himself collide with someone and he immediately turned around to see you on the ice.

he helped you up, stammering apologies profusely and he was absolutely mortified when he realized that you were the very, very cute person he had seen outside. he was kind of frozen for a couple seconds as you assured him that you were fine and :DDD sunghoon’s back !! so what does he do? he takes on his ice prince duties and offers to buy you a hot chocolate (and when he doesn’t buy one for himself, he says it’s because he doesn’t like hot chocolate but that’s a lie !! he’s just feeling all warm and fluffy inside because you give him butterflies !!)

sunoo !

sunoo didn’t even realize he had a crush on you :< he’s always assumed that the fluttering feeling in his stomach when he saw you were simply friendly feelings because he’s always had such a bright outlook on life.

but oh, did he forget how to breathe when one day, you walked into class and gave him the brightest smile he’s ever seen. it was like fresh flowers were blooming out of his chest and butterflies were fluttering around in his heart and that was when he decided your smile was his happiness.

and from that day on, he tried his best to make you smile because the only thing that made him happier than your smile was the fact that he was the reason for your precious smile.

he literally lives for your smile :> if the two of you weren’t close before, you certainly are now because bit by bit you became friends and you, of course, have no problem with it because he’s literal sunshine !! and you smile whenever he smiles so :3 it’s a win-win for both of you– you smile and his heart goes boom boom !!

jungwon !

jungwonnie was just walking home one day from school when he felt raindrops starting to fall from the sky :( and he didn’t want to get wet so he zoomed into the nearest flower shop only to find himself face to face with the cutest person he had ever seen in his life (you, who quite coincidentally goes to his school & whom he’s had the biggest crush on for a good part of high school)

his cheeks went all pink, which is saying something because his cheeks are naturally rosy, and he stammered an apology. your smile made him so flustered and he was so scared that you’d think he was weird :( and he just zoomed right back out of there.

but then !! then !! he heard a tiny voice shouting back at him, “jungwon, jungwon, wait!!” and he turned around to see you running after him, with an umbrella over your head. you handed him the umbrella, flashed a smile, and ran back into the flower shop with your hands over your head.

jungwon just stood there stunned for the longest time before he realized he was soaked in rainwater because the umbrella you had given him was held loosely by his side. he ended up running home that day with your umbrella with the biggest smile on his face and that night, as he laid in bed, he couldn’t get your smile or your kindness or the way your hand brushed his out of his mind.

ni-ki !

it was a cold and windy day when he first felt the butterflies but it was a very welcome feeling because he felt like he was going to freeze into a popsicle while waiting in line for bungeoppang.

but when he walks up to the bungeoppang stall, he’s internally freaking out because oh my gosh !! the person working (you, a high school student in need of money) is so cute !!

his throat felt all dry when he tried to ask for one bungeoppang and when he finally did, you laughed and he nearly passed out from how pretty your laugh sounded. and then your hand brushed against his when you handed him his bungeoppang, which was bundled warmly in a napkin and he only managed to splutter a little ‘thank you!’ before practically zooming away, cheeks burning.

he came back every single day after that without a fail. he eventually got to the point of holding cute little conversations with you but it took some time because he was so shy :<

he always managed to slip in a little joke in your conversations just to hear you laugh and warm happiness would bubble in his chest whenever you did. and don’t tell anyone but he was so glad you never really questioned him.

of course, you just thought he really, really liked bungeoppang and don’t get him wrong, of course he loves bungeoppang (especially now because it brought him to meet you) but he likes you so much more.

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my-corneroftheworld · 1 year

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Child without love

Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.

Word count: 1,1k

Tags: Smut in later chapters (no minors allowed), "water-bender" reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, talk of climate change, asphyxiation, the deep sea being a bit scary, war, violence, harsh language, Wakanda forever spoilers, the usage of y/n, afab reader

Ps. if you read the preview before you can start reading after the divider. I barely made any changes other than grammar-related and wording. If you want more chapters I would greatly appreciate some constructive criticism in the comments

Masterlist

Chapter 1

I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. "You can't just go behind my back like that! There are set rules and hierarchies that keep our organization running smoothly!" Adeoye yelled while he was walking frantically back and forth. He never could handle stress well. " You're little outburst may have cost us our one shot to get the right people's attention!"

I want to say I'm sorry and that it was rude and petty of me. But I couldn't because I did what I thought was right. They have ignored our every attempt to better their policies and today's presentation only opened my eyes to how blissfully ignorant they allowed themselves to be. He stopped his pacing and rubbed his eyes under his big ill-fitting glasses.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked abrasively. I knew that he wasn't really angry at me. He was frustrated with everything. The board director's nonchalant attitude, the over-looming doom of the deadline we've got in 2 months and my little outburst were certainly not making things better.

"No" I answered.

"Well if that's the case then you give me no choice other than to suspend you for 2 weeks" he sighed. I wasn't surprised. Cussing out the board due to their lack of ethical consideration whilst ignoring every warning I and others have worked tirelessly on proving wasn't really considered to be professional. " I understand," I say solemnly and start picking up my notes. 5 years of studying and 3 years of diligent work have come to this, being pushed aside so that rich people can profit off of dangerous means at the cost of the health of our seas. And having no power to change anything

I drove home in silence, with nothing but the wind from the window creek as my companion. I think I'll have to practice today to let off some steam. After arriving and leaving my notes by the kitchen counter, I changed into my swimsuit and went down to the beach. Moving here was mainly so I could get to work within 15 minutes but having the sea outside my back door has definitely changed my life. I never liked using my powers in front of others. Mutants aren't really welcome unless they're wearing suits and have fancy names. So there aren't many moments where I can use them to their fullest extent. When I do I feel at home. I feel free of everything. My worries and concerns are washed away.

Once I reach the water I breathe in and allow myself to feel its pull. Imitating the waves with my hands till it starts to imitate me, following my every command. I slowly start walking in allowing myself to be surrounded then I dive keeping the water from reaching my face and requiring no movements though I still haven’t passed 5 minutes at a time. Maybe I’ll make it at 6 today. I decide to explore a little further than usual, seeing what I can find on the sea floor and cleaning up small things that shouldn’t be there.

It was then I noticed it. The entity that has been watching me from afar. It barely moved and I couldn’t really make out its shape. But I knew it was looking at me and it stayed completely still. I was scared. My bubble was slowly shrinking so I began to slowly make my way back to shore. As soon as I did the shadow got closer and closer which made me anxious to reach land. I finally burst into the sea, gasping for air. I lay down on the beach, trying to catch my breath then a voice called out.

“Who are you?”

______________________________________________________________

I quickly turned around and faced what seemed to be a man. Out of panic, I summoned water at my side and launched it at him with full force. He then began to levitate and dodge my advance with.. wings attached to his feet? Shocked I ceased fire and looked at him again. He was otherworldly. His dark eyes stared at me with a hint of confusion and irritation. His hair was a dark brown and wet from the swim, framing his face ever so slightly. The sunset made his warm terra-cotta skin glow along with his pearls and gold accessories. He was beautifully serene, like straight out of a dream. If I didn't know any better I would’ve thought that he was a god. As I scanned his body so did he with mine before stopping at my eyes demanding an answer to his question.

“Who are you?” He asked again urgently, stepping closer to my frame. I tried to move back as a response.

“I- I’m y/n l/n.”

“That is not what I meant. I mean where are you from? Are there more of you?”

“I’m from here. I’m not sure what you mean by more of me” I answered hesitantly. Why is he asking all these questions? I mean from the looks of he’s most definitely some kind of mutant. He’s a bit too good of a swimmer to think otherwise. Not to mention the literal full-functioning wings at his feet.

“More who can manipulate water.” he clearifies.

“No.. I mean none that I know of” I say and start rising slowly from the ground. “Who are you?.. Are you perhaps like me?” I have never met another mutant before. Let alone someone connected to water. Hope starts swelling up. Maybe..just maybe I am not alone.

“No I am not like you. As for who I am it is not for you to know.” He says bluntly. And just like that my sliver of hope is gone. “Then what do you want?” I ask while noticing he’s pointed ears adorned with what seemed to be jade earrings.

“That is yet to be decided.” He begins circling me around slowly. “There are threats that are making it hard for me to perform my duties and your power, though meager, may develop into what I need to avoid any more...complications.”

Duties? Complications? What the hell is he talking about? He studied my face, assessing it possibly looking for a way to find out what I was thinking. Does he work for the government? Is that it? I’ve heard of mutant agents who were forced to do sketchy shit that higher-ups didn't want to be associated with.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. Though I am grateful for the consideration to recruit me, I have my own “duties” to attend to.” After voicing my intentions I decided it was best to leave. As soon as I turned around I heard him say. “I’m afraid I cannot take no as an answer” and before I could react, everything went dark and my last thought was how warm he felt in his arms as he took me back to the sea.

#kukulcan #ku'kulkhan mcu x reader #namor x reader #mcu namor

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rebelfell · 6 months

Text

Needed a hit of modern!wealthy!Steve that’s kind of an amalgam of all my favorites (wcil, dcmb, pbv, I’m looking at you 👀). Only alludes to smut, reference to rimming, and a whisper of dom!Steve. Otherwise just bunch of fluff. 2k

I’m just in a mood where I want to be spoiled within an inch of my life is that so wrong?? 18+ MDNI

Throbbing. Aching. Pounding.

Your head was on fire when you awoke—basted in sweat, somehow also shivering as you dragged yourself out from under the blankets you had twisted yourself up in during the night.

Steve’s bedroom was dark and cool as a cave, thermostat turned way down and the ceiling fan set to its highest setting, though it barely made a sound. Sitting on the bedside table was a chilled Voss water bottle and a small ceramic dish with some Advil in it that was beckoning.

It had been years since you were this hungover. Close to a decade, almost. You remembered the feeling well, though you were far less equipped to shake it off in your “advancing” age.

Eagerly, you took the much needed pills and gulped down the water. A shudder ran through you as you recalled how, in your twenties, you would cure a morning like this with bottomless mimosas. Just the thought made your stomach churn. It was a miracle you hadn’t thrown up.

You didn’t do this anymore. You went out, sure. You got a little tipsy and sometimes maybe that turned into a lot tipsy. You were supposed to be smarter now, though. Older. Wiser.

But when your old college friends called and said they were going to be in town for just one night—and you just so happened to be getting off work early, and you had the next day off…

What exactly were you supposed to do?

Evidently, the answer was mainline tequila and dance to 90s music until your muscles went limp—not that you even felt it with the liquor coursing through your body. All to end the night stumbling across the threshold of your boyfriend’s swanky penthouse at nearly two in the morning.

You only half-remembered getting to Steve’s, incapable of resisting the allure of him and his Savoir bed in your drunken state. You had sunk into the plump mattress and practically floated, weightless as you drifted off to sleep. Steve still refused to tell you how much it cost, fearful you would never agree to sleep in it again after you found out. But you’d googled it and holy fucking shit was he right to be worried. It was so nice, though—stuffed (apparently) with sheep’s wool, pure cashmere and Mongolian yak hair. Of all his rich guy stuff that both perplexed and allured you simultaneously, that one was your favorite.

The sound of Steve moving around in the kitchen as well as the clinking of his stainless steel cook-ware drew you out of hiding. You shuffled out of his room sluggishly, hugging your glass water bottle to your chest like a teddy bear.

“Hey, killer.”

Steve’s smile was so dazzlingly bright it actually made you wince. How did you not noticeyou were dating a damn Crest commercial? Grumbling your good morning, you squinted at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment and had to resist the urge to hiss.

“Whoops—sorry, baby, hang on.”

He quickly tugged his phone out of his pocket and swiped his thumb across the screen, tapping it on some controls. There’s a soft electrical whir you know well, and the apartment goes from painfully bright to comfortably dim as his remote controlled curtains begin to descend. Rather than the blackout shades drawn in the bedroom, he’s opted for the regular ones so a bit of natural light can still filter through as he makes his breakfast.

Or, at least what you thought was his breakfast.

“I didn’t think you’d be up this soon,” he said with a chuckle, sliding a freshly poured cup of coffee across the counter to you.

“I’m not,” you muttered. “I’m pretty sure I’m dead and astral projecting what’s left of my soul.”

A steaming plate of eggs piled with cubed ham, green pepper and cheese promptly appeared in front of you as you took a seat at his vast kitchen island. It sits in a scrambled heap, not the pretty omelet you were guessing Steve had planned to present you with. But it looks divine regardless.

“Another failed attempt?” you chuckled, taking the fork he was holding out.

“I’m gonna get it one of these days,” he replies with an easy smile.

With an elaborate flourish you know is for your benefit, he slapped the dish towel in his hand over his shoulder and leaned on the counter as he waited to watch you take your first bite.

“Ugh,” you moaned as you brought the fork to your lips. “So fucking good.”

Your stomach quivered with relief at finally having something in it that wasn’t liquor, but you willed it to behave and hoped it would settle the more you had. Steve smirked.

“So, how much do you remember?”

The cocky smile on the boy’s lips tells you you should be glad your memory is hazy. The night was coming back to you in flashes, but they were blurred and jumbled.

You weren’t blacked out or anything, your friends would have never let you leave alone if you were, but you were definitely past the point of thinking even remotely rationally. Hence, why you’d shown up here when you found out Steve was still awake after having to get on a conference call with one of his company’s international contingents.

You remembered tumbling into a cab and the driver rolling his eyes when you slurred at him to take you to Steve’s house before prompting you for, you know, an actual address.

And Steve had helped you dress for bed, gently batting away your hands when you tried to paw at the waistband of his sweatpants. It only made you more determined, snaking fingers into his tousled brown hair or raking your nails down his muscled chest—stopping when you noticed one of them had broken and the polish was starting to chip.

You didn’t care, though. You were too hungry for him. Too fucking ravenous.

“You better behave,” he’d warned, eyes flashing with that look you loved. The one that made your insides squirm and your thighs press.

“Or what?” you’d teased, still toying with the drawstring of his thin sweats.

“Or you’ll be sorry.”

He tried to keep up his firm demeanor, but the little twitch in the corner of his mouth betrayed him. The words and his smooth, authoritative voice still made your heart race, though.

You loved it when he made you sorry.

Steve wouldn’t do anything, though. Aside from a few kisses he refused to deepen and a graze (or two) of your hand he let you get away with, Steve kept things very PG-13. He helped you out of your dress and brushed a soft cloth across your face to remove your make-up.

He got you into comfy clothes and swaddled the two of you in bed after you’d finished the Voss he added a Liquid IV to. They were supposed to be for the trail runs he liked to do on the weekends, but they were good to have on hand for nights like this. In seconds you went limp and pliant in his arms and fell asleep with him stroking your hair, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“I remember you taking care of me,” you said, giving him a sweet smile before you squished your eyes closed in shame. “And I know I was kinda worked up.”

Steve chuckled at that, taking a sip of his own coffee. “I noticed.”

A loud groan came out of you, though this one wasn’t from the pain in your head.

You’d conveniently left your phone in the bedroom, too embarrassed to even look at your text thread with him from last night. Because you did vaguely recall a slew of blue bubbles filled with increasingly lewd comments and promises of what you were going to do to him that you had no business promising in your current state.

You imagined they read like a horny haiku.

I’m coming for you, baby

Hahah that’s what she said.

Or…what I said?

Whatever

I need you so bad

Wanna kiss every mole on your body

I think your little hole misses me, wants my tongue again

Want you to fuck me until we break that 30,000 dollar bed

You wondered if there was a way to remotely delete texts? From your phone…from your brain.

Drunken you’s tendency to write sexts your pussy couldn’t cash was one of your least appealing qualities, in your opinion. You got yourself all riled up just to pass out within ten minutes. But it entertained Steve to no end seeing that side of you, so unlike the coy and demure front you usually tried to put up.

“I was kind of a mess, wasn’t I? I can’t believe I did that.”

“Hey, don’t start,” Steve cooed, coming around the island and coiling you up in his arms. “You work hard, you deserve to have some fun. And it’s your day off, who cares if you’re hungover?”

The smell of his aftershave filled your nose as he hugged you and his hands came up to cradle your face as he planted a kiss on your forehead, barely phased by how clammy it was.

“You know, we can cancel date night if you don’t feel up to it. Just order in? Watch a movie?”

“No, no need,” you said. “I’ll be okay. I’m already feeling better.”

A lie. But you at least felt like you might feel better soon, so that was something. And Steve had been looking forward to trying this restaurant since he got the reservation.

“Okay, great.” Steve smiled. “So we’ll have dinner at 6, then the show…I’m thinking maybe we’ll skip cocktails and do dessert at that little place you like instead?” he asked.

You hummed at the thought of a warm, gooey blondie topped with vanilla ice cream and maple syrup from your favorite dessert bar. Steve smiled and nodded knowingly as he started to gather his laptop and a few other things into his work bag.

“You want me to send the car here or to your place to pick you up?”

“Mine,” you sighed. “I gotta pick something else to wear now.”

A sour frown covered your face as you thought of the dress you had intended to wear tonight, but had wound up being drafted for your clubbing extravaganza. It was just too tempting, ready and waiting for you hanging on the back of your door when you rushed home to get ready for your impromptu plans.

It had ended up in a heap somewhere last night as Steve helped you out of it, his nose wrinkling when he noticed how it reeked of the Guiness some jerk spilled on you at the last bar you went to before calling it a night. And it wasn’t lost on you that it was missing now, probably having been sent out for drycleaning with some of Steve’s suits and dress shirts.

Steve just smiled, his voice playful as his eyes twinkled.

“How about you buy something new instead?” he asked. “Go see my girl. Maybe she’s got a spare dress or something laying around.”

You rolled your eyes. His personal seamstress never had spare bespoke dresses just laying around. The twinkle in his eye made you guess, correctly, that he had already commissioned something for you weeks ago or had her tailor a piece for you he’d found himself.

“You did look good in the other one, though.” he mused. “I’m glad I got to see it.”

You sighed and shoveled down another bite of your breakfast. “I’m sorry I just showed up like that. I, ahh…wasn’t thinking super clearly.”

“Don’t be silly,” Steve said. “I’m always happy to see you. Plus it’s…it’s kinda nice when you get that way. All needy for me.”

His warm lips pressed against your throat, vibrating with a soft moan as he left a trail of delicate kisses up the column of your neck to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Just stay here,” he pleaded softly. “You know you like my bed better.”

A sigh released from deep in your chest and you melted into his touch as one of his broad palms coasted across your thigh, making your skin buzz under his hand. Hanging out here was sounding better by the second. You already had some clothes in the drawer he’d cleared out for you in his closet and you could get in and out of his place fine with the keycard he’d given you.

The amenities were awfully tempting. You thought of his sleek, modern bathroom that looked more like it belonged in a spa rather than someone’s home, complete with a seemingly endless array of aromatherapy products. You could continue your ongoing affair with his steam shower and the massage cycle in his bathtub. And his building had a rooftop gym that was basically private when all the other executives who lived here were off at work.

“Okay,” you sighed, playing up the dramatics with a flutter of your lashes. “If I have to.”

Steve chuckled at your sarcasm and gave your thigh a tight squeeze.

“Think you’ll get your nails done today?” he asked, remembering your adorably forlorn look when you noticed the break last night.

“Actually, I could,” you said, thinking. Your nail lady’s shop was only a few blocks from here.

Before you’d even answered, his leather wallet had come out of his jacket pocket and he was tugging crisp notes from the billfold.

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“Baby, please?” he pouted, jutting out his plush bottom lip at you. “It’s for me.”

“How are my nails for you?” you snorted and tried to bite back a smile. It didn’t work.

“You need fresh claws if you’re gonna scratch my back up right,” he teased lowly, slipping bills into your hand. Way too much, way more than you needed to leave Mariana a great tip.

“So you can have a pedicure too.”

He answered the thought you hadn’t spoken and his mouth covered yours, cutting off any further protests with one last long kiss.

“See you tonight, baby,” he said. His lips skimmed your jaw and his voice lowered to a heated whisper in your ear. “And don’t think I forgot about making you sorry later.”

With that, he snatched up his bag and breezed out the door, leaving you breathless staring after him. And suddenly it wasn’t your hangover that had your stomach doing somersaults.

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