#WE’RE STILL SHY TO TAG SO

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[norrisainz33]

New Girl || GR63

☆ summary: george has got himself a new partner and fans are obsessed but can’t seem to find her on social media

☆ pairing: george russell x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for taking the time to request 🤍

☆ part 2 here

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

F1Gossip has made a post

liked user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6 and 15,637 others

f1gossip: looks like george russell has been getting cozy with his new partner over summer break! here’s what we know so far about gr63’s new girl: 1) her name is y/n, 2) she’s not famous (that we can verify), and 3) she has no social media. if any of you have any information, let us know!

view all 453 comments

user1: so it IS possible to be a wag and not be a famous model. there is hope 😫

user2: when is it my turn ?!!?!?!!!

user3: how is it possible she has no socials

user4: i went through all of george’s followers and can’t find a single one that looks like her

user5: i have dug through every pocket of the internet and can’t find her either

user3: honestly if we can’t find her then she def isn’t on here bc y’all are like the fbi

user6: oh to be a normal girl AND be george russell’s partner

user8: she’s living my dream

user9: if she goes to zandvoort one of y’all BEST ask her some questions

user10: or at least get some photos 😭

user11: i’m like 90% sure she went to uni with my brother - he says he recognizes her from one of his classes. so she MAY have gone to [insert university]

user9: obsessed with these CRUMBS

user10: y/n if you see this we accept u with open arms

user12: maybe just maybe george will hard launch over break so we can get more crumbs

gerogerussell63 added to his private story

view all story replies

alex_albon: georgie mate when am i going to meet this girl???

georgerussell63: she might be at zandvoort! we’re taking things a bit slow

alex_albon: says the man who has paparazzi photos of him and his girl sucking face

georgerussell63: alright alright fair point. y/n is just really shy and i don’t want to overwhelm her. maybe we do something low key together during break ?

alex_albon: i get it mate don’t worry!

landonorris: 👀

georgerussell63: 🤭

danielricciardo: oooo who is this?

georgerussell63: my girl ☝🏻

danielricciardo: thank you captain obvious 🧡

lilymhe: she’s so cute!! can’t wait to meet her 🤍

georgerussell63: you’re gonna love her. alex and i planned a double date for the 4 of us 😉

lilymhe has posted to her story

view story replies

user1: IS THAY GEORGE

user2: GEORGE AND Y/N SPOTTED??????

user3: this is the first time anyone has posted georgey/n that is NOT a gossip account ,, this is a huge day for annoying ppl (me)

georgerussell63: it was so good to see you both!

lilymhe: likewise! y/n is so sweet. you should keep her

georgerussell63: trust me, i plan on it

user4: thanks for feeding us georgey/n crumbs

user5: lily imma need you to spill the beans! i won’t tell a soul i promise

user5: ok i lied i definitely will tell people

georgerussell63 has added to their story

view story replies

user8: she’s hot i see why you’ve been gatekeeping

user9: the hard launch we’ve all been waiting for

yourbff: ok this is so cute 🥹

georgerussell63: she is the cutest

landonorris: ohhhh she made the non private story i see things are getting serious

georgerussell63: perhaps 👀

landonorris: you better bring her by mclaren in zandvoort i wanna meet her

georgerussell63: only if you promise to be normal mate

landonorris: when am i not?

georgerussell63: 🙄

user11: george russell when i catch you

user12: quick drop her @

user14: wow george i thought we had something special!

georgerussell63 has made a post

liked by yourbff, mercedesamgf1, alex_albon, f1gossip, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 567,347 others

georgerussell63: if only summer break lasted forever. off to the races we go! see you all in Zandvoort 💪🏻

view all 634 comments

user12: SHES MADE IT TO AN INSTA POST

user8: still no tags tho she must really not be on socials

user9: and honestly,, good for her

user12: i wonder what it’s like to not be chronically online

user13: omg y/n!!!!!

mercedesamgf1: looking forward to seeing you back out on the track!

georgerussell63: can’t wait 😍

user33: summer break george you will always be famous

lilymhe: omg look it’s my new best friend

georgerussell63: wow i’m flattered

lilymhe: NOT talking about you

user45: he’s made it insta post official

user56: oh to be on a boat with the george russell

lewishamilton: ready for a strong second half of the season!

georgerussell63: 💪🏻

user27: y/n is the blueprint fr

F1Gossip has made a post

liked user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6 and 17,637 others

f1gossip: y/n attended her first grand prix! here are some photos of her from the weekend and an anonymous update from a fan who was at the gp: “y/n was one of the sweetest wags i’ve ever met. she was very shy and unsure of the all the attention but throughout all of the interactions with fans she was super kind and attentive in ways she definitely didn’t have to be. a few of us asked her some questions and this is what we got: she’s from [insert home country] which you can tell immediately by her accent, she doesn’t have any social media and her and george met while she was on vacation in barcelona ahead of the gp in spain.”

view all 324 comments

user22: oh my god shes so pretty wtf

user65: i’m so jealous of her,, she literally cracked the code

user99: i met her in zandvoort! she was so shy but literally so kind it was ridiculous. she told me she liked my george friendship bracelet so i gave it to her and you can see it in the first pic. she then proceeded to give me a bracelet she made 😭

user89: omg obsessed with her already

user77: wait this is so sweet?

user75: god i see what you have done for others

user47: brb booking tickets to monza and gonna walk around looking confused till i find myself a hot f1 boyfriend

user66: genuinely begging someone to get the story of how they met

georgerussell63: we were at a cafe in barcelona, i was in a rush and talking on the phone while grabbing a cup of tea (mistake) and i turned too quickly on my way out and ran directly into y/n making a complete and utter mess. she apologized to me for like 2 minutes straight even though i was the one who messed up and ruined her dress so i told her id buy her a new one after i realized i was talking to the prettiest girl i’d ever seen and the rest was history

user66: GEORORGE WHAT ARE YOU SOING HERE

user57: ohhhhhhh my god this is so cute

yourbff: can confirm it was really cute 🥹

user34: the meet cute to end all meet cutes wtf

user23: i also met her at zandvoort and i asked her how it felt to be living every tumblr blogs dream life and she laughed and said she knows she’s super lucky and won the lottery with meeting george 😫

user43: ok we stan tf out of her

user96: mother behavior

yourbff has made a post

liked user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, georgerussell63, user6 and 8,657 others

yourbff: now that my bestie is a niche internet micro celebrity, here’s some pics from the infamous barcelona trip (don’t worry, she as approved the post and says hi to you all)

view all 297 comments

user1: two pretty best friends

user2: now we’re talkin , this is the sorta content we needed

user3: oh my god!!! it’s y/n!!!!! hi y/n 👋🏻

user6: quick someone convince her to make an account

yourbff: i’m working on it 😫

georgerussell63: i 🤍 barcelona too

yourbff: aww george 🥹 -y/n

user89: HELP SHES LIKE TOTO YSING SOMEONE ELSES WCCOUNT

user14: i’m obsessed with this

user39: hi y/n!! welcome to the wonderful world of being a mercedes fan 🫣

user40: everyone say thank you yourbff for the y/n post!

user98: thank you 🤭

user27: thank you mother

user76: making sure we are fed fr

user45: 📝go to barcelona to find hot bf

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated! still slowly working through requests

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[starlostseungmin]

husband!seungmin

✰ notes: my brain is not working properly and idk if i could write any lengthy fics as of the moment but here’s husband seungmin because i’m bored and i love our puppy so much. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

（ seungmin ）chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Seungmin who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle with a big smile on his face thinking that he’s the luckiest man on earth to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the priest to finally announce you as husband and wife then kisses you in front of your friends and family. 

Husband Seungmin whose love language is act of service and words of affirmation with a little bit of gift-giving. 

Husband Seungmin who is still shy about engaging in physical touch. But when he does, he gets really clingy and refuses to let you go. You never complain. He also loves looking at you dreamingly while you sleepーwhispering how much he loves you and kisses your forehead before going to sleep, hugging you tightly. 

Husband Seungmin who cooks every morning before going to workーsometimes at nightーand holds your hand while brewing coffee as he steals kisses whenever you aren’t looking. 

Husband Seungmin who would take the day off from work just to stay home and take care of you when you’re sick. He won’t allow you to move and insist that he’ll do everything you ask for. 

Husband Seungmin who gets a bit possessive when someone who seems interested in you makes a conversation so he’d kiss your lips out of the blue and say, “We’re married.” then show off your wedding rings. 

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t pressure you to have kids with him since he respects whatever decision you make. It doesn’t matter anyway, as long as the two of you are together, that’s enough for him. 

Husband Seungmin who is still feeling nervous when he asks you out on a date. It would always feel like the first timeーhis heart racing, cheeks red as a tomato, the giddiness and sparks, everything goes in slow-motion. He would take you to your favorite places and have the best time. 

Husband Seungmin who loves tea time and is literally serving you hot gossip from workーlaughing at how everyone was so dumb and problematic in the industry. 

Husband Seungmin who used to prefer texts over calls but now he tends to call you often because he misses you. He would also wait for you to hang up first.

Husband Seungmin who would hug you tightly while kissing the crown of your head and whisper words that might comfort you when you’re breaking down and vulnerable in front of him. He would refuse to leave until you feel better. 

Husband Seungmin who makes weird noises and funny faces just to make you laugh. 

Husband Seungmin who acts like a puppy when he wants to be babied and asks for a kiss. 

Husband Seungmin who treats you like royalty. 

Husband Seungmin who gets over the moon when you surprise him with lots of (useful) Sanrio-related gifts. Mostly Pochacco and Pompompurin with a little bit of Cinnamon Roll. 

Husband Seungmin who loves to take A LOT of pictures of you with his phone or camera. You’d complain (playfully) about his storage getting full but he doesn’t mind because you are his muse. 

Husband Seungmin who brings you flowers on random days because they remind him of you. 

Husband Seungmin who kisses your lips intimately because he wants to. It could happen multiple times a day which could lead to something moreーmost of the time. 

Husband Seungmin who would walk away after an argument and come back hours later to apologize. 

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t want you to see him cry but gives in when you hug him. 

Husband Seungmin who gets brutally honest, cries over silly things, and does his little twerk when drunk but still cute as hell. 

Husband Seungmin who always scores 98-100 on coin karaoke and gets cocky. He knows you love listening to him when he sings and gladly does the favor when you ask him to—wherever, whenever. 

Husband Seungmin who is always good at everything. 

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t say “I love you,” most of the time but expresses it in different ways or says it with the things he feels about you. 

Husband Seungmin whose smile is the most precious in the world. You promised not to take it away and never make him cry. 

Husband Seungmin who loves you so much, makes you happy, never fails to make your heart beat, makes you feel loved and accepts you no matter what your flaws are. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[dumpywrites]

Two Days - Jungkook

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not?

Genre/tags: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, friends to lovers, biker jungkook, jungkook is a goofball and a simp! :)

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: this is my first ever bts/jk fic, I'm just trying this out since i have some days off from work, hope y'all like it <3

“Please?”

“No.” 

“You’re missing out.” 

“Jungkook, we’re literally in a Burger King.”

You heard the man playfully saying, “Yes, and?” in a singing tone. All you could do was rolling your eyes in reply. Jeon Jungkook, this guy who had been begging you for his so-called masterplan that he called, “trial date” for weeks, was now yet again begging you for a chance.

You could not exactly pinpoint when it actually began. He was shy the first time you met. You had known the rest of the boys ever since you met Yoongi at an art class. The cold looking guy who was surprisingly friendly and soft-hearted, later on introduced you to the rest of the guys. Jungkook was introduced almost a year later into befriending the group. He was a guy who went to the same gym as Namjoon. They became friends ever since he offered Namjoon a ride one time. 

Being the youngest amongst the guys and also the latest you got to meet, you would think that his shyness would linger at least a little bit longer. Then again, if you really think about it, he probably only stayed quiet and shy on the first meeting. 

The idea of both of you together was never mentioned until recently. Namjoon was the one who started calling out Jungkook’s odd behavior towards you, but the nail on the coffin was when you all got drunk at Jimin’s house that one time. 

It was Jimin’s birthday and truthfully, you knew the guy was loaded rich, but you did not know he was rich with capital R. The selection of bottles in his house was pretty much unlimited from the ones you like to the ones you couldn’t even name. It was five hours into all the celebration and you all were blurting nonsense. You were tipsy, but still aware cause for some reason you were winning all the games that night and got to drink less. But Jungkook on the other hand, who was usually winning everything, was getting pissy cause he kept coming second after you. 

“This is unbelievable.” Jungkook groaned, casually throwing the boardgame cards on the table. 

“You just have a soft spot for her.” Jin shrugged. 

“I do not! I just have a crush on her.” Jungkook retorted back, as if his sentence made any sense. 

You heard Hoseok voiced a small “oh” with his usual judgy expression, and the rest were silent for a second, including you. 

“I mean…” Jungkook tried to correct himself but stopped mid-way, trying to make up words in his already drunk mind. His eyes went back and forth to everyone before he scoffed. “You all act so surprised, as if you didn’t tease me everyday right after the first time I met Y/N.” 

When the room was still silent, Jungkook realized he fucked up, his blurry mind completely ignored the fact that you, the subject of this topic, was in fact also in the room. 

“Shit.” Was all he muttered before he excused himself to the bathroom, and did not come out for twenty minutes. 

When he was done, everyone had decided to wrap it up due to the awkwardness and the absence of Jungkook himself. He found Taehyung and Jin sleeping on both sides of Jimin’s big couch, and a small smile formed on his lips, shaking his head over the dumb expression they had in their sleep. His stomach soon flipped right after he saw you on the kitchen, making yourself a cup of instant noodle. 

“Oh, hey.” You greeted awkwardly. “I got hungry from all that drinking.” You shyly mentioned. 

Jungkook only nodded and took a seat on one of the dinning chairs. 

“You want some?” You offered, trying to break the ice. 

“Y/N stop.” His eyes widened once he realized how bad that sounded. “I mean… I didn’t mean it like that?” He chuckled dryly, it was more of a statement rather than a question. 

When you kept quiet but sat down next to him regardless, and ate your noodles, he decided you were at least comfortable enough to hear him talk. “This whole huge crush on you thingy… that’s not gonna ruin our friendship or anything, right? If you’re uncomfortable I’ll just stop showing up when you’re around for a—”

“What?! No! Jungkook, I’m not uncomfortable.” You sighed. “I’m just a bit surprised, I guess.”

“Why though?” He asked innocently, his big doe eyes looking straight at you, making you slightly nervous. 

“It’s just… you do realize you’re quite popular right?”

“What’s that gotta do with this situation?”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.” 

“You don’t get to decide that.”

That was the last civil conversation you had with him until he decided it was a good idea to cling to you almost every single day, pestering on the idea of this whole trial dating. Everyone other than Yoongi, who was neutral (read: don't really care enough to actually voice an opinion at the moment), was pretty much on board with his plan. You being single for a year now definitely did not help your case. They kept saying that you needed to lit up your dating engine again, so it wouldn’t be rusty. 

It was not that you did not find Jungkook attractive. Heck, he was one of the most attractive person you had ever laid your eyes on. It was just, weird? He felt like a brother, the same as the rest of the boys. If you didn’t treat any of them different, then you should not with Jungkook either, right?

“Have you maybe considered that maybe she’s tired of your bullshit?” Yoongi blurted with a blank expression, as he continue to munch on his burger. 

“It’s only been two weeks.” Jungkook protested. “Besides, you never know 'till you try, right?” He winked at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m good, Kookie.” You pinched his cheeks, a little bit too hard. 

“H-hey!” He pouted, his cheeks forming even rounder. “Two days! Two days!” He suddenly shouted. 

“Oh boy…” Hoseok side-eyed the rest of you, clearly done with the younger one. 

“Give me two days, Y/N!” He said with his two fingers right in front of your face. “You don’t have plans this weekend, right?”

“Hey, maybe—“ Namjoon didn’t even get to finish his sentence before the lad interrupted. 

“I’ll take you on two dates and then you can decide afterwards.” He grinned, as if that was the most brilliant thing he had ever thought of. “If you still don’t like me after that then I will gracefully back off.” He threw his hands in the air. 

“You promise?” You suddenly spoke, after being silent for a while. 

“Wait, you’re actually considering—“ Jin stood up from his seat, almost knocking his table. 

Jungkook hurriedly covered Jin’s mouth, not letting yet another man finish his sentence again. “I promise!” He saluted, grinning so hard his cheeks almost hurt. 

“Are you really sure?” Yoongi whispered to you. 

You only shrugged. Truthfully, you were not sure either. But at this point, you just wanted Jungkook to get over his girl hyperfixation of the month. Which was, you. 

You just did not buy the story of him being head over heels on you since day one. As if he didn’t look like a Greek god himself? As if you did not know how women and even men would kill just to get a taste of him. You just wanted him to get it over with, so he can realize how weird the whole idea was and went back to being the goofball friend you once knew. 

—

Right, so.

Now here you were, basically having a mini dress-up montage moment, picking an outfit for your cinema date. Even after spending almost an hour getting ready you ended up with just wearing your usual crop top and baggy jeans, hoping it will be fine. Clearly you didn’t wanna seem like a try-hard. It was just Jungkook. He had seen you with pajamas and you didn’t hear him complain, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Why did you even go through the trouble to pick an outfit? You wondered yourself. 

Ten minutes later and Jungkook was already ringing your phone. 

“I’m at your lobby!” He exclaimed loudly over the phone. 

“You’re early.”

“Just can’t wait to see you.” You could not see his face, but you knew he was grinning like an idiot. “Hurry down! Oh, and bring your jacket.”

You didn’t expect him to came with a motorbike. A huge one not to mention. Something stirred in your stomach for a millisecond seeing him in a leather jacket. 

He took a spare helmet and innocently handed it to you. “Gotta make sure my girl is safe.” He sheepishly said. 

You tried your best to ignore the nickname, and spoke. “I didn’t know you ride a motorcycle.” You said, taking the helmet he gave in your hands. 

“I’m just too lazy to drive sometimes so I just lift on Hobi’s car.” He shrugged. “Why? Are you scared?” He teased. 

“Of course not.” You said and put on the helmet. You did not miss his small snickers when you struggle to hop on his Harley, having to grab him by his shoulders. 

“Okay, just wanna let you know, I drive like suuuuuper fast. So, you have to hug me to be safe!” He giggled. 

You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see. “I’m just gonna head back upstairs...”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.” He chuckled. “I’m a good driver, Namjoon approved! But you can grab onto my jacket if you want.” 

—

The movie was great. 

And that was a lie, cause truth to be told, you could barely focus on the plot. Every time you caught a glimpse of the boy next to you, his eyes were already looking at you. While it was true that you had not been dating for quite some time, you could feel your spidey-sense tingling, as if you were to turn your head towards him, something would happen. Thinking about it was not exactly the best thing for you.

“We’re getting ice cream.” Jungkook cheerfully said, as you both walked out the cinema. 

“That’s not a question?” You couldn’t help but to smile at the silliness. 

“Not a chance I’m letting you go home yet.” 

“Is this a date or a kidnapping?” 

“Could be both if you want.” He laughed. “So…” He cutely put his hands in his pockets as you walked. 

“So?”

“So… how’s life?” 

“You did not just ask me that.” You laughed.

“What? I’m just trying to make actual conversation!” He laughed as well, but later on his expression softened. “You seemed down these past couple of days though?” 

You tilted your head slightly. You didn’t think he would notice. 

“You… noticed?”

“Of course I did!” He grinned, patting his chest proudly. “You didn’t talk that much at our last movie night at Taehyung’s. You usually love to debate after watching a movie.” He chuckled. "The fact that you're not even starting a discussion right now, is lowkey concerning."

That was because of an entirely different thing, but you chose not to say. “I haven't even told Yoongi.” 

“Even if you tell him, he wouldn’t tell anyone either, so what’s your point?” 

“That’s fair.” You broke a small smile. 

“What happened?” He stopped mid-track, suddenly losing a bit of confidence in his speaking tone. “I mean, only if you’re comfortable enough to tell me…”

Your expression softened. “It’s a bit stupid…”

“It’s okay, I’ll listen!” He nodded towards you. “I’ll just quickly grab those ice cream and we’ll sit down somewhere?” 

Minutes later he came back with two ice creams and a big stupid grin plastered on his face as usual. “Here you go, let’s sit down on that bench.”

You nodded and thanked him before following him to the bench. 

“Come sit close to me!” He patted right next to him. When you only looked at him blankly. He added, “Please?”

You sat down close to him but left a bit of space enough so that your shoulders wouldn’t touch. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Uh… no.”

“Okay, good.” He smiled and took a big bite of his ice cream. “So, do you still wanna tell me? Or we could also just sit and talk shit about Jin while we eat ice cream if you don’t want!”

You smiled. Looking into his eyes, you could feel his sincerity. It could be just you, but you felt somewhat… safe. 

“I used to date this one guy… We dated for three months before I ended things with him.” 

You looked up to Jungkook, expecting to see a negative expression but he remained silent, only nodding to signal you to continue. 

“To be fair we haven’t been in touch for almost a year, but he suddenly called me. He was drunk and said a bunch of nonsense. I still replied at first, cause I was worried for his safety. But after I found out he was drunk at home, I bid my goodbye. Then he suddenly said…” You took a deep breath. “He said that I’m a 4.5 with a bitch attitude and being picky won’t help me.” You broke into a sad grin. “It’s stupid, I know—“

“Who is this fucker? Can I beat the shit outta him? How come I’ve never heard about this?!”

“Probably cause this is how you react.” You chuckled. “It had me quite bothered for quite sometime, maybe the fact that I also haven’t dated in a while adds to it, but I guess I feel somewhat better now.” 

“So that’s why you said you thought you weren’t my type?” 

“Huh?”

“That fucker needs to get his eyes and brain checked.” He shook his head. “You know, it’s fine to not want to settle for less.” He said as he looked at the sun setting in the sky. “He’s just butthurt you don’t want him back.” 

You stayed silent but nodded.

“His dick’s probably small anyway.” When you slapped his arm, he laughed. “What? Am I wrong? Why did you even break up with him?”

“He's sexist!”

“And his dick is small.” He followed. 

“Jungkook!” You began to laugh as well. 

“You know you’re easily a ten, but I’ll give a nine for now.” He said, pretending to be serious with rubbing his chin and squinting his eyes. 

“Why? What deduct the one point?”

“Cause you haven’t like me back yet.” 

“God, make that at least five points then, I hate you.” You rolled your eyes, but laughed. 

He smiled softly. “Feeling better?” 

“Well, I guess? But now my ice cream's all melty.” You pouted, trying to lick some that was melting down the cone. 

“That’s why you eat fast like me.” He proudly said. 

“And have stomach problem? No thanks.”

“Here let me just…” He licked a stripe from your cone and took a big bite. “There.”

You were taken aback. So stunned that you could only blink a few times at him. 

“What? Don’t tell me that turned you on?” He smirked. 

“You… Jungkook, that’s gross!” You whined, which only resulted in his laughter. 

—

The next day Jungkook wanted a full day date. Boy kept saying that he wanted fair chance since it was his last day. He already planned a list of things both of you would do and all, and the first being eating brunch with you. 

“Do you really have to come this early?” You complained as you opened your apartment door for the guy. 

When the said guy sheepishly didn’t move and enter, you raised one of your eyebrows. His hands were behind his back, clearly holding something, and you can see both of his arms flexed, seemingly grasping something tightly. You were searching for his boyish grin, but his expression seemed worried instead. 

“I got you flowers.” He said, sounding discouraged. 

“Oh?” You replied, but wondered why he just kept standing and not move. 

“I found out last minute that you don’t like flowers…” He frowned. “Yoongi told me in the group chat after I got too excited and sent them a pic of the flowers I got you.”

He looked like a lost puppy, and suddenly you had the urge to hug him to ease all his pain away. You stopped yourself before the impulse got the best of you and you grabbed him by the forearm, dragging him inside and closing the door. 

“You can’t stay in that position the whole day, you have to hand me the flowers.” You folded your arms, trying to hold in a chuckle. 

“But you don’t like them!”

“I haven’t even seen them.”

He finally moved his hands and revealed a small bouquet of fresh daisies. It was a simple bouquet, nothing too extravagant with a brown wrapping paper. It somehow reminded you of his smile and how radiant he looked when he did so. Yes, you did not like flowers, they were unpractical, it felt like an unnecessary addition, a waste of space. But somehow you like it. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy and it was very pleasant. It made you wanna accept it with open arms. Truthfully, the description did not really feel like it was describing flowers anymore, but you decided to not further ponder on it. 

“Thank you.” You took the flowers and sniffed it, before setting it down on your table. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know, I feel so dumb cause everyone knew already and—“

“Hey, we’ve only known each other for three months.” You assured. “Besides, it’s really not much of a big deal, I actually like them.” 

“You do???”

“Yeah, they look pretty. I don’t know how long I can keep them looking like that though.” 

“Oh my god…” He exhaled deeply. “I was so worried it would be a deal breaker or something. I was literally shaking!”

He laughed and showed his right hand in front of you, it was shaking slightly. You didn’t know why he laughed at it, you didn’t find it funny. 

“It happens sometimes when I’m nervous.” He chuckled. 

Instead of saying something, you took his hand into yours just by intuitive. It was impulsive, but you let go before he had the chance to intertwine his fingers with yours. He didn’t comment on your behavior, but a smile was still on his face as he waited for you to grab your things to go. 

The brunch was on this small cafe near your place. You insisted on paying this time, since he paid for yesterday. The brunch was spent with him trying to sneakily hold your hand, but failed every single time. 

Next activity on the list was buying clothes together. As cringey as that sounded, and you even almost opposed the idea, Jungkook said that he needed to buy new outfit and he wanted to hear your feedback. Plus, some of his clothes barely fit him anymore since he decided to become a gym rat. 

“You actually look great in those skirt.” 

“You’re joking.” You denied, but twirled around in front of the mirror anyway, while trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need the purchase. 

“I’ll buy them for you if you won’t.” 

“We didn’t have all those money-saving talk with Namjoon only for you to say that.” You folded your arms. 

“Oh come on, you look great!” He pointed to you and his lips forming into a small pout. “Besides, we’re on a date today so I think that’s a pretty good excuse.” 

“I thought we are here to help you buy some clothes, not buy me skirt that I probably won’t wear that often.” 

“Let me spoil you for once… please?” He begged, eyes all sparkly. His lips shined along with his two lip piercings. 

“Alright, fine... I’ll get the skirt, but!” You eyed him. “Only if you buy that straight-cut jeans you just tried before.”

“Deal.”

“That’s it? You’re not gonna argue on how those aren’t on trend anymore?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I was gonna buy them anyways. You were practically drooling when I showed you.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. “Kinda was just waiting for you to admit it…”

You only rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t open your lips to deny his words either. 

After you changed back into your clothes and Jungkook paid for the purchases, he went back to you with a sly grin on his face and you immediately suspected something. He came back with a pair of matching string bracelet. 

“You can just not wear them later if you don’t want to, but let me be delusional for today, okay?”

You both left the store after you let him put the bracelet on your wrist. 

Next in line was spending time on a local amusement park. It was nothing too extreme, just a small carnival that has a few rides and snack booths. The guy kept insisting that you both should take a picture when the sun set. 

“Cotton candy!” Jungkook sprinted to the booth like a hungry kid, his laughter could be heard even as him getting far from where you were standing. 

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you walked to his direction. 

“Pink, blue, or green?” 

“Blue, maybe?”

“Alright.” He grinned and paid the seller as they handed the blue cotton candy stick. “Why blue though?” 

“Dunno, just kinda matches your outfit.”

“Sweetheart, I’m wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt.” He giggled. 

Which should be a crime! Cause who even looks that good in a basic white t-shirt??? You thought to yourself. “Your jeans, I guess..?”

“If you say so.” He chuckled. “Wanna ride the ferris wheel?”

“Being in a such small space with you sounds dangerous.” 

“I’ll protect you, babe.” He winked. 

“The danger is you, babe.” You mocked. 

He smirked, clearly amused. “Well, at least I got you to call me babe, that’s a win for me.” 

“You’re anno— hmph!” He stuffed a ball of cotton candy in your mouth, laughing continuously at the sight. 

After wandering around for a while and finishing the cotton candy, Jungkook dragged you to the shooting game. You refused, saying how you never really win these kind of games, but knowing him, losing was never really his thing. You saw how big the main prize was and you know Jungkook, you knew his ego, you knew damn well that was what he was aiming. 

“If you’re aiming for that giant teddy bear, don’t. We can’t carry that thing around...”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He didn’t listen and instead paid for the game tickets. 

“We can’t carry that in your motorcycle, that’s like another passenger!”

“Just watch me.” He smirked, already aiming with the toy gun. 

You rolled your eyes, there’s really no telling him on this. “Fine, whatever.” 

After just two shots, you hear him jump in celebration, fist in the air and the staff rang the bell for him winning the price. You were ready to complain, but the staff handed you a small frog plushie instead. You looked at Jungkook and saw his boyish grin, his eyes almost turned into crescents. You looked back at the plushie in your hands and couldn’t lie to yourself, it was very adorable. 

“You didn’t aim for the grand prize?”

“You told me not to.” He shrugged. “Plus, you like frogs, right?”

“Well…” 

“I wished I took a picture of your expression when they handed you the plushie.” He laughed, a soft blush decorating his cheeks. 

You finally agreed to ride the ferris wheel with him. The park was going to close in an hour anyway, and you thought why not, it wouldn’t hurt anyone to go for one ride. 

You sat across him, hugging the frog plushie on your lap. It was silent for the first few minutes, but it was comfortable, not awkward. You were just looking at the view from above and silently admiring it. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked. Suddenly your attention went back to him and his smile. 

“Well, yeah… I did.” You nodded. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, I had fun too.” He smiled. “Everything’s fun with you though so I may be biased…” 

You didn’t really know what to say to counter his words. You just smiled and went back to looking at the window. 

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Uh… sure. Just be careful, you might tilt the cart.” 

Jungkook carefully moved to sit next to you. He muttered a small “phew” as he sat down. “Wow, the view’s better here.” He said, looking straight at you. 

“What do you mean? How—” And then it clicked to you. “Oh my god… shut up!” You hit his arm, and he laughed. 

“Take my compliment for once!” 

“Never.” You stuck your tongue out. 

The ride soon came to an end. You remembered that you promised Jungkook to take a picture with the sunset, but out of nowhere it started to rain. Although it was just small drizzle, it’s hard to take picture and avoid getting soaked at the same time. You both ran to the nearest sheltered place, with Jungkook’s leather jacket covering both of you. 

You said your sorry about his now wet jacket, but the boy did not seem to be bothered, as you can see how bright and happy he was, just from running with you under the rain. You sighed, but an idea came to you as soon as you saw a photo booth machine, not far from where you were standing. 

“Do you… maybe wanna do that instead?”

“Photobooth?” He looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe your words. 

“Why? You don’t want to?”

“No! I want to!” He said, almost too quickly. “But it’s just weird that you suggest it. But it’s a good weird!” He chuckled. 

“I promised you a picture, so we’re getting a picture.” 

“Aww.” Jungkook pout his lips in a kissy way, teasing you. 

“Let’s go before I regret it.” You dragged him inside the booth. 

The first pose you playfully put peace signs behind Jungkook’s head, giving him bunny ears, while he only stuck out his tongue. The second one, Jungkook made a love sign with both of his hands, and you surprised him with a middle finger, which he yelled at you afterwards, but couldn’t really continue to complain as the countdown for the next photo were already starting. 

Since Jungkook spent at least three and a half seconds with his protest, you both were panicking for the last picture, running out of ideas. As the countdown stating two, he suddenly pulled you closer and leaned on your shoulder. The shutter flashed and the photo was taken. You were still in awe and couldn’t process what just happened. You only followed when you saw Jungkook making his way out from the booth to collect the picture. 

The guy giggled like a highschool boy, taking the printed photos, then giving one copy to you. You stared at the last picture, how genuine Jungkook’s smile when he leaned on your shoulder, while you had your eyes widened in surprise. You felt your face heating in embarrassment. 

“Ugh… can we just cut out the last picture?” 

“I was thinking the same thing, I’m putting it on my wallet!” He said, eyes still looking up and down on the set of photos. 

When you only looked at him in disbelief, he uttered a small “what?”, and laughed. 

Both of you ended up eating some cups of ramen in a nearby convenience store, as you wait for the rain to stop pouring. He took you home right after, insisting on waking you to your door. 

“Take care of little Kookie for me, yeah?” He said, pointing at your frog plushie, as you stopped at your unit’s front door. 

“Why is he named after you?” You chuckled. 

“I’m his father!” He pretended to be offended.

“Well, say bye to your papa now, little Kookie.” You waved the plushie’s small hand to him. 

Jungkook felt his heart somersault. He turned away for a second, covering his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh… thank you again, for today…”

“Yeah! Thank you too…” You chewed your inner lips, hugging your plushie close. 

“I uh…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I just wanna let you know that what I said to you… about deciding whether you like me or not after the dates… I was just saying stuff. I don’t wanna pressure you into deciding your feelings for me or anything, I genuinely just wanna spend some time with you, and I’m thankful for your time.” 

You nodded, smiling at him. Your eyes locked with each other for a quick second. Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was the moonlight, or the lamp in front of your door that you recently just got replaced. Either way, you could see the stars in Jungkook’s eyes and his skin glowed, but so did his lips. They were practically sparkling and glossy, you wondered if he had put any lip balm over it. For a moment, your attention stopped at his lips, just wondering how it would feel against yours. Would it be soft? Would you feel the cold metal of his lip piercing against your skin? 

The man in front of you seemed to be lost in his thoughts as well. You swore you saw his eyes darted to your lips for a quick glance, before coming back to your eyes. Just when he leaned down a bit to your height level… 

You froze. What was that? You felt your stomach turned, you couldn’t exactly point out whether it was due to nervousness, or if you were simply just afraid. You took a step back and your back almost hit the front door.

“You should head back, it could rain again soon…” You said, looking away. 

“Oh.” There was disappointment in his voice. “Okay then… bye.” He waved to you awkwardly and walked away. 

As you see his figure walking away, you went inside your apartment and closed the door behind you. Sitting down on your sofa, you put your hand over your chest. Funny how your heart was still beating so fast. You were panicking, feeling everything all at once. Nervousness, excitement, curiosity, but mostly fright. The unknown territory was making you scared. The new feelings you were feeling, you didn’t even know if it would be okay to feel it. 

Still laying down on your sofa, you took your phone and dialed your best friend. 

“You called.” You heard Yoongi’s voice from the other line. 

“Why are you saying it like that.” 

“You only call when you’re stressing over something, otherwise, you only text.” 

You hate how smart and observant your friend was sometimes. “I think I feel something for Jungkook.” 

“Isn’t that… I don’t know, good?” 

“I don’t know… it just hit me like a truck, okay? One minute I wanna punch that stupid grin out of his face, the next thing I know, his lips looked so shiny and he got me wondering if his piercings would feel cold against my lips.” 

“Okay, wow.” Yoongi said in amusement. “Care to elaborate?”

“What if I’m just… super horny or something? I mean I haven’t been with anyone for like god knows how long now, and I could just be desperate and Jungkook is good looking, extremely good looking may I add, and—“

“Okay, okay… Y/N, pause for a second.” Yoongi sighed. “So you think you might be just horny and you feel bad for it?”

“Of course I feel bad! I don’t wanna use Jungkook like that! Just because he has this stupid crush on me, doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want with him. I’m not that kind of person!” You exclaimed, the volume of your voice getting slightly higher. 

“Tell me, how do you feel after the dates? Did you enjoy it?”

“Well yeah, I had a great time actually. I didn’t expect Jungkook to be that caring, and he’s actually very good at initiating conversation…” You wondered what else you could point out. 

“During that time, did Jungkook mention or do anything sexual?” 

“N-no! Of course not! Yoongi, do you take me as the fuck-on-the-first-date kind of person???” You said, slightly offended.

“So you like him.” He stated casually. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You caught feelings. Just admit that Jungkook has officially win you over.”

“I… what…” 

“I knew it. I shouldn’t have let you go on those dates, now both of you are gonna be so gross when we hang out...” You heard your friend groaned. 

“I like him?” You asked, more to yourself rather than to your best friend. 

“Maybe you should call Jungkook instead and tell him.”

You widened your eyes in horror. “No way, that guy only has a crush on me, it’s more of a hyperfixation, like I’m his girl of the month or something. I’m sure it’s not like how you think it is.”

“You should ask him yourself instead of making assumptions, just saying. And you know…” Yoongi paused for a second before continuing. “I think that kid is actually a good person, despite how dumb and annoying he looks.” When he got no respond from you, he spoke again. “Alright, I’ll leave you with your thoughts, just make sure you’ll talk with him about this, okay? Take care, Y/N.” 

Yoongi hang up the call while you were still sitting down, expression blank, staring at the wall in front of you. 

—

Jungkook didn’t text you at all after the date. Not like you text each other regularly, but you lowkey expected him to after. You wanted to call him, or at least text him. You wanted to say how you feel but you were again, scared. You began to think if you were reading it wrong. He was popular, you wondered if he just acted like that to everyone, if you were catching feelings, while he just wanted to hang out and have a bit of fun. After all, he never really explicitly said that he had feelings for you, all you knew that he admitted his giant crush for you while being under the influence of alcohol. 

You never hear from Jungkook again until the next week. Hoseok invited you all to game night over his place. You wanted so badly to bail and fake being sick, but Yoongi picked you up, basically forcing you to come and face your problem like an actual adult.

With all these new and mixed emotions that you were still getting used to, the thought of seeing Jungkook in person sounded so overwhelming. He would probably just act like how he usually would, because of course, why wouldn’t he. After all you were the one who suddenly took a weird turn.

“Finally!” Hoseok shouted, as he opened the door for both of you and Yoongi. 

“Come on, switch with Namjoon, he sucks!” Jin spoke while his eyes still not leaving the TV screen and his fingers loud against the controller. 

They were playing Tekken 8 on Hoseok’s Playstation. You saw how Namjoon was basically getting his ass kicked, playing as a Panda character, while Jin quickly leading himself towards victory using the character that coincidentally has the same name as him. 

Jin Kazama wins. 

The oldest one screamed happily, while Namjoon’s protests and excuses could be heard very loudly. Everyone laughed at the two, so it was easy to spot the one who didn’t laugh as much, whose expression didn’t hold that much excitement, sitting on the edge of the sofa just playing with his phone instead. 

“Y/N, come on!” Jin patted the on the carpet to the now empty seat next to him, since Namjoon already excused himself to get more popsicles from the fridge. 

You followed and sat down next to Jin on the carpet, which was directly in front of Jungkook, who was slouching on the couch. 

Sitting down quietly, you took the controller and beginning to scroll through the rooster of characters. You chose the character named Lili, while Jin stayed with his current main. 

When you beat Jin and the sound of your friends cheering loudly was heard, you began to feel a little bit relaxed, at the very least you could forget for a moment about your situation with Jungkook. That was until, you heard Yoongi spoke. 

“Jungkook, your turn.” 

You immediately turned your head towards your best friend, eyeing him straight. How could he betray you like this was beyond you. 

“Nah, you play I’m not really in the mood.” He rejected politely.

Your eyes went back to the screen because you refused to see Jungkook’s expression. You pretended to busy yourself pressing the dpad button up and down on the character choices. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard Jungkook refusing a match.” Taehyung said while munching on his potato chips. 

“Yeah, that’s so unlike you, man!” Hobi joined. “Come on, we all know you’re good, but Y/N doesn’t know that yet!” He added. 

A small groan came out from Jungkook’s mouth before he stood up, and once again everyone cheered. Jin stood to switch seats with him. The man locked his eyes with you once, before sitting down and picking up the controller in his hand. He didn’t take too long picking a character. His choice landed on a boxer character. 

The match went quietly with only the sound of the video game from the speaker. Your friends behind you somehow went silent as well, and the atmosphere in the room became very tense. 

“Is it just me or it kinda feels like they’re actually fighting with each other…” Jin whispered to Hoseok who was sitting next to him. Hoseok only signaled with his hand shaking next to his neck to cut it out, while the rest only widened their eyes and try their best not to make any comment. 

You pretended like you did not hear any of it and kept mashing the controller buttons. The milliseconds of your attention being taken away from the game gave your opponent a leaway to break your combo and finally beating down your character. 

Steve Fox wins. 

“All right, Yoongi you switch with me, I’m gonna go get some air.” You excused yourself and headed to the balcony, closing the door behind you. 

Technically it was not a lie. It just got a bit stuffy with eight people inside an apartment living room. Especially when the guy you suddenly had feelings for was in the equation as well. 

You searched your back pocket for your pod and cursed silently when it was nowhere inside your jeans pocket. 

“Looking for your vape?” Jungkook entered the balcony uninvited, wiggling your small disposable vape pod in front of you. But when you were about to take it from him, he withdrew his hand. “I thought you’ve stopped.”

“I did. I only do it when I’m nervous. That’s why it’s a disposable.” You said weakly. 

“I noticed.” He replied in a monotone, now pocketing the pod inside his pants, refusing to give it to you. 

“You smoke, don’t act all high.” You retorted. 

“Well, have you seen me smoke these past few weeks?” 

“No, actually… yeah, now that I think of it, you didn’t even smoke once when we went out—“ You stopped when the memories of your date went through your head. “Jungkook, about that…” You bit your lips, nervously facing him. 

He also turned his body to your direction, looking at you directly. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly said. 

“Huh? For what?” 

“I feel like I’ve pressured you into something you don’t actually want. I’ve been thinking and re-thinking about it the past few days and it drives me crazy. I may have feelings for you, but that doesn’t give me the right to drag you along to do stuff with me just because you enjoyed spending time with me as a friend.”

“Wait, Jungkook, I don’t feel that way!”

“I know! That’s why I apologize—“

“No! I mean, I didn’t feel like you dragged me along or anything. I genuinely enjoyed our date and…” You looked away, taking a deep breath before continuing. “If I’m not reading it wrong, you’re saying you truly have feelings for me?” 

“Isn’t that obvious already?” 

“Well, I thought I was just your girl obsession of the week or something… You have celebrity crushes left and right, okay?! Hell, you even had a crush on Namjoon at one point!!!” 

“The Namjoon crush was a joke. Man just got some nice thighs and I was just admiring it.” He defended. 

You took another deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry as well… the emotions were all just come clashing to me at once and I just told you to go home instead of dealing with it.” 

“But, you rejected my kiss...” He said with a weak voice, you almost didn’t catch it. 

“Cause I haven’t figured out what I want yet. I thought I was just so touch deprived that your lips looked inviting that day.” You admitted while cursing yourself secretly inside your mind. That was lowkey embarrassing. 

“Try being me, your lips look inviting every single day!” He exclaimed, his mood now seemed to be improving. 

“Be serious.” You hit his sides. He muttered an “ow” but you doubted it even hurt the slightest bit. 

“So now you’ve figured out what you want?” His doe eyes looking at you directly. 

“I’m getting there… I guess.” You broke the eye contact, it was a bit too much for you and suddenly you felt a bit sweaty. “But I think I like you too.” 

“Say that again while looking at me.” 

“Hell no.” You suddenly covered your face with both of your hands. 

“Please?” He grabbed your wrists, softly trying to prey open your hands. “I just want to have the visual memory of it captured in my brain.”

When you finally loosened your grip, he took his chance and held both of your hands in his. He grabbed them for a few seconds, intertwining his fingers with yours, before letting them go. He traced his fingers along your right wrist where you wore the bracelet that he got you, the one he got matching with his, and then moved his hands up to cup your face. The entire time he did all that, you could actually feel the shakiness in his hands, and it melted your heart. 

“Can I?”

You nodded and he did not waste any second before dipping in and closing the gap between you. 

Oh boy you were right, his piercings did feel cold against your lips, but that was only for a quick second before everything felt warm and soft, and your mind became blurry. You were moving your lips against his carefully, afraid to accidentally hurt him by his piercing, but instead earned a small bite on your bottom lip from Jungkook. You gasped and pulled away, hitting his chest. Since when were you in his embrace? That you did not know. 

“We gotta head back now or they’ll get suspicious.”

He giggled and kissed your forehead. “They’re already suspicious, babe.” 

“Still, we gotta head back…”

“You guys done making out?! We’re hungry!!!” You heard Jimin shouted from inside the apartment. 

Jungkook and you looked at each other with widened eyes, before laughing in unison. He pecked you on the lips one more time before running back inside with you, holding hands. 

Thank you for reading! 🌸

[superhero--imagines]

Being Sanji’s GF would include:

A/N: this is the ugliest banner I ever made I swear.

Tags: Female reader

* A man that is 6 ft +, can cook, and treats you with respect? I can’t believe we as a society weren’t simping for him before

* We already know that he loves pretty girls, so if you reciprocate his advances—he’s down hook, line, and sinker

* I feel like he’d fall hard and fast for someone a bit shy, with a soft form of kindness

* Sanji himself is so kind, even if it’s in these extremes depending on the gender of the recipient

* So seeing someone who kindness comes to so naturally, where it isn’t a flickering flame or a bright fire, but just a soft warmth that linger in all of their actions leaves him in awe

* “You’re amazing.”

* He’s still got a wandering eye though, so catch him randomly slapping himself or sitting with his face in his hands as he tries to restrain himself from ‘being unfaithful’

* “Hey Sanji?”

* “Hmmm.”

* “Have you ever thought about cheating on me?”

* The dishes he was washing clatters in the sink and he grabs your hand in both of his, kneeling in front of you

* “Never!” And he means it, he might look but he would never dream of being with someone other than you. “You’re the only person I want to be with.”

* I think as time goes on he gets a lot better at understanding why he feels the way he does, and eventually the flirtatious behavior cools down even though he’s still as kind as always because he realizes it comes from a place of craving validation instead of genuine love

* And honestly, now that he has you he doesn’t need it from anyone else anymore

* “(Y/N)-chan, can you get me the oregano?”

* You smile as you get it from the fridge, it’s not easy for him to ask you to do things

* He has the biggest goofiest grin on his face when you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his shoulder

* Sanji would literally give you a romance as big as the world — or he’d try to at least

* “Sanji this is really lovely.” And you mean it, the candle lit dinner and all your favorite foods at the center of the deck

* “But um, I feel a little bad for Luffy.” It’s more than a little, there’s an entire waterfall of drool falling past his lips from his spot behind a pillar.

* His fingers curl under your chin, urging you to meet his gaze

* “There’s nothing to feel bad about, of course I would spoil the most important person in my life.”

* Your cheeks heat up from the words.

* “But Sanji—“ you look to the pillar seeing seven faces quickly duck, and a hand grab luffys still salivating head. “—they’re all staring!”

* If you could die from embarrassment you’d be six feet under

* “Let them stare, it’s because they’re dazzled by your beauty.”

* “Actually it’s because we’re hungry!” Luffy shouts, only to have his mouth covered by Nami.

* Sanji ends up making them a snack.

* His favorite hobby is pretending Chopper is your child when you guys go out

* “When are you guys going to stop pretending he’s your baby?” Zoro growls

* You look over at Chopper who’s happily sitting on Sanji’s shoulders, munching away on cotton candy

* “When he stops pretending to enjoy it,” You respond

* “That’s never going to happen!” Chopper shouts with a giggle

* He’s so greedy with you I swear

* You give him a kiss, he gives you back at least five

* You hold his hand, he keeps you glued to his side for the rest of the night

* “I know it’s ugly of me to get an inch and take a mile, but…around you I just can’t keep myself from trying.”

* He learns how to make all your favorite childhood foods, either from a relative or by studying old recipe books from your homeland

* And if you ever seem homesick or you’re feeling down he’ll suspense you with the dish

* “How did you learn to make this?” Your region is a far ways away from his usual French cuisine

* “I have my secrets.”

* Please cook for this man, just once, make a fancy dinner and have the whole crew pitch in as wait staff

* “You’re always taking care of us so this time we wanted to serve you!”

* He’ll eat half-burned pasta with tears of joy streaming down his face

* “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

* He’ll fall even harder for you if you have his wanted poster near your bunk bed

* “There’s a little red stain near my lips though—“

* “Ah, sometimes when I can’t see you at night I give it a little kiss for luck haha.”

* He’s dead. Sanjis dead.

* Cause of death: love sickness

* He died happy though

* He’s just such a simp for you man

* Like, take the shirt off his back and lay it over a puddle so you don’t get your feet wet, hear you’re craving a certain type of food and make it the next meal, buys you feminine hygiene products from the store with pride (along with some snacks he knows you like, kiss your hands and worship the ground you walk on type of love.

* Honestly what a dream

A/N: kinda wanna make a nsfw version too.

[hees-mine]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Synopsis: A fun day out to the mall with you turns out to be not so fun when heeseung gets mixed emotions about your interaction with a cashier.

Warnings: smut, stepcest, step brother, cum swallowing, oral male receiving, multiple orgasms, white dragon 💀 (pls lmk if there’s another term for this because…) inexperienced reader, kissing pet names, jealousy, insecurities.

If you're uncomfortable with step relationships, this is not for you, so please kindly click off. Also they are both consenting adults. This is a work of fiction.

Genre: 18+, smut, minors do not interact!

WC: 2,176k

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

“Morning, little one,” heeseung smiles at you all tucked up on his chest, looking absolutely adorable in the early morning. How he wished to wake up like this every morning.

“Hi, Bubba,” you mumble into his chest, warm breath blowing on his skin as he stretches out his limbs.

“We have the day to ourselves. What do you want to do sissy?” He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving your forehead a tender kiss that you melt into.

“Oh! Bubba, can we go to the mall today, please, please, please?” There’s no way he could ever even think about saying no to your precious face. He’d take you to ten different malls if that’s what you wanted.

“Of course, bubbas got you. Go get ready. I’ll join you soon.”

“Okay!” He smiles when you excitedly jump out of bed and run to the bathroom.

He went to your bedroom, picking an outfit for you to wear so you could both match when you went to the mall together. Once he found the perfect fit, he joined you in the shower a couple of minutes later, and you both took turns washing each other before finishing and turning off the water to get ready for your evening trip.

-

“Bubba, what do you think about this one?” Doing a little twirl, you show off your baby pink dress, and he swears you look just like a princess, his princess.

“Looks good on you. My little sister is so adorable,” he says while stepping into the changing room, caging you against the wall. “Want you to wear this during our playtime tonight?” A chill ran up your spine when you felt his warm lips pressed against your ear. “Mmm, as a matter of fact,” leaning back, he gives you a look before ripping the tag off the dress because there was no way he wasn’t going to see you in this for the rest of the trip. You just stand there a flustered mess, still feeling a tingly sensation from where his lips touched your ear. “Come on, sis.” Taking your hand, he leads you to the register after you tuck your other clothes away in your purse before shyly walking with him to the checkout.

Heeseung doesn’t respond to the cashier because as soon as he got there, he could tell that the worker was checking you out. “Bubbas got it,” he tells you, putting a hand on your waist to show that you’re his as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his card, and swiping it.

You were used to him showing you affection, but not in public, and you couldn’t help but smile as his fingertips pressed into your waist softly.

Heeseung turns to you and sees you looking at the cashier, mistaking your shy smile for you showing interest in the worker. Little did he know his rationality was clouded by anger, and as soon as he thought you were interested in somebody else, his mood was completely ruined.

“We’re going home.” Dragging you out of the store, he ignores all your questions about why he suddenly wanted to leave and keeps you close to his side.

He angrily tossed your bags in the back, still ignoring you. “Bubba, what’s wrong?” A pout finds your lips, and upon hearing your voice, he finally starts paying attention to you cause it sounds like you were seconds away from crying. “Did I make you mad, bubs?” That’s the only thing you could think of at this point, and the last thing you ever wanted was for your big brother to be mad at you.

He sighs deeply and cups your cheek, shaking off his ridiculous thoughts cause he didn’t want you to be mad over his jealousy. “You love your bubba, yeah?”

“More than anything in the world,” you smiled.

“Then get in the back seat.” Unbuckling your belt, you frown slightly, wondering why, but you don’t question it, and seconds later, he’s sitting next to you in the back.

“Bubba, why-“

“Kiss me.” Cutting your words, he demands a kiss just so he could feel reassured that you still wanted him. Without hesitation, you lift yourself up off the seat so you could reach his taller frame and kiss him clumsily. “Show me that you love me more than anything else in the world.” he silently looked at his crotch, practically telling you what he wanted you to do to him.

When you saw his cock hard under his jeans, you smile, knowing that he got like that for you and only you.

You before him on your knees, placing your hand on his thigh and your other on his cock, pressing down slightly, a low hum emitting from his broad chest from your gentle touch.

His hums soon turned to soft moans as you began stroking it under his jeans. He whined and writhed in his seat. After about a minute or two , he couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

He didn’t bother checking his surroundings before unlocking his belt and pulling down his pants around his knees, freeing his stiff cock.

“Bubs,” you gasp at the sight. He was really hard, and big, veins riddled his entire cock, and the tip was shiny and wet.

His big cock twitches at the sound of your voice filling his ears. “Go on, sissy, make big Bubba feel good” he was pleased when you Immediately placed your mouth over the head and widened your mouth, slowly going down on him. “Yes,” he sighs, relaxing into the seat.

You moan, tasting something sweet on your tongue, and go further down until his tip is situated down your throat. “Remember how I told you to suck on it?” He leans back, eyes half open, spreading his arms to the headrests while he instructs you.

Pulling off his shaft, you look into his eyes, answering his question. “Like a lolli” he smirks at your words and nods, encouraging you to start sucking him off.

You gag the instant you start moving, but that makes you take him even deeper into your throat, if that was possible. The sounds he was making filled your ears and traveled straight to your core seconds later, the wetness that you’ve become accustomed to had stained the crotch of your panties.

The wet slurping sounds of you suckling on his dick filled up the car along with his moans, and nothing felt better than being the one that was able to make him feel good.

His hand stroked some hair out of your face, forehead creasing as he watches the way your swollen lips wrapped tightly around him, and he loved nothing more than seeing his thick base covered in your sticky spit. “Keep going, sis. Bubba feels so good.” he pets the top of your head as you look up at him, eyes nearly going crossed when you bury him deep down your throat. “So nice. Does Bubba feel good inside your mouth?” He manages to say in between heavy breaths the feeling of your warm and wet throat becoming too much for him to handle every little thing you did to him felt so so good he swears he’d let you suck him off every single day cause he was addicted to your sweet mouth.

You gag around him in response, and his body jerks up slightly from how nice it feels you’re so tight and wet for him all the time. “Bubbas gonna give you a sweet treat,” he smiles as your teary eyes gleam with excitement. “Want it?” You do your best to nod. “Yeah?” He moans out as you keep on sucking. “Cumming” he whispers, throwing his head back as his muscles tense with every spurt of cum he releases into your pretty little throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you gagged uncontrollably, gripping tightly onto his thighs. When suddenly you felt something dripping out of your nose, you immediately pulled off of him, gasping and panting for air while he was still cumming all over you. “Fuck! Sissy, so good,” he growls as you stare at the white mess coating everything from his thighs, the back seat, and your face.

When he finally comes back to reality and sees the mess, his cock throbs at the sight, eyes flashing up to you, and he could have cum again when he saw you covered in his semen. He swears a little more cum dribbled from his tip as he notices the white trickle down your nose to your upper lip and your eyes filled with guilt and tears. “What’s wrong, sissy?” His voice comes out soft and gentle as he runs his fingers through your hair to soothe you.

“I-I made a mess,” you whine, lowering your head, but he’s quick to tilt your head up and make you look at him. What you considered a mess was his masterpiece.

“Nothing wrong with a little mess.” Blinking away your tears, you look at him innocently. “Big Bubba likes it messy.”

“Really?” You say in a hopeful tone, feeling less guilty about what you had done.

“Really” His smile makes your chest feel warm, and you sniffle a little, his cum still bubbling from your nostrils. “You did so good. Big Bubba is so proud of you,” he says, knowing that will make you smile, sensing that look in your eyes. You only ever looked like that when you had done something bad, but he wanted you to know you had done nothing of the sort. Everything you did for him would always be perfect in his eyes. “So cute” he smiles down at you gripping his base and collecting the cum from your lip on his tip. “Lick,” he orders, and you do, lapping his bulbous tip like a puppy would with water. “Taste good?”

“Yes, Bubba,” you chime.

“That’s my good little sister.” he strokes your cheek endearingly as you begin taking him inside your mouth once more. “Sissy,” he whines, feeling completely overstimulated, his nails digging into the headrests as he hunches forward.

“Wanna try again” you say enthusiastically after you pull off his cock for a breath of air, not knowing that he’s already spent, but of course he couldn’t say no to you.

He groans at the look of determination in your eyes, and feeling your throat around him once again hurts so good, but there’s no way he could stop you. “Go on, make your bubba p-proud,” he stutters and ruts his hips upward, tip nestled as deep as it could be.

Your tiny little whines vibrated on his thick shaft each time you gagged on him, tears spilling past your eyelids and chin coated in thick, stringy saliva.

The sight was pure fucking heaven. You looked like an angel between his legs as he fucked your throat into overstimulation. “Swallow it all this time, sissy I know you can,” he moans out in pleasure, shaking as little goosebumps form all over his sweaty skin.

You attempt to nod, Bobbing your head faster, and he lets go unloading his creamy like cum into your mouth. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, doing your best to swallow and make him proud. “Keep sucking it,” he whines, biting on his lip seeing your face covered in his cum was the fucking cherry on top. “Such a good sister for your big brother,” he shudders as you choke and pant, doing your best to swallow with him still in your throat.

Gulping all his liquid down, you shyly pull away from him, unintentionally making a quiet popping sound as you anxiously wait for his approval.

His head falls back against the seats, endless moans slipping past his parched lips, and he barely could comprehend if what just happened was even real. Still, when he gathered his bearings slightly and saw you sat prettily on your knees before him, he knows this was every bit of real, and he felt like the luckiest brother in the world to see you like this in front of him all covered in his cum solidifying that you're his. At least in his mind, you were his. “My good girl,” he smirks, pulling you up. “Knew you could do it.” he kissed your cheek as you shyly leaned away.

“Just wanna make you happy big Bubba” His eyes nearly roll back as he presses his lips on yours, not caring about his own cum getting in his mouth or on his face.

“You do, sissy. You make Bubba so happy,” he huffs out a breath, still overwhelmed by the head you just gave him. He can’t understand how you’re so good at it.

You hide in his chest, giggling softly.

He smiled at you, hugging you in his arms. “Wanna go home now?” You nod, and he grabs a few tissues from the glove compartment, cleaning you both off before helping you upfront and getting in on the driver's side to take you home.

You smile now that he was acting like himself happy again, and you felt so excited to go home cause you couldn’t wait to wear the dress for him during playtime.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

Taglist @letapostropheesgo @skzcanmakemecream @astrologerkat

[leaderwonim]

BUT WHY? WHY NOT.

pairing. ghostface!park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary. in a sudden turn of events, you ask with shaky tears why your boyfriend, park sunghoon, is doing what he’s doing. the answer he gives you is more terrifying than the whole situation itself.

warnings. kinda suggestive at some parts, vivid descriptions of killing, mentions of mental illness, hurt no comfort, cursing, one of the characters has a gun

tagging baes @saursoob @moons-v @wonniestars

recommended playlist. sometimes & race by alex g

“You know I love you and I’d never do anything to harm you, right?”

Park Sunghoon always loved to say that to you, especially when you separated your mouth from his and you’d give him those eyes that told him you’d do anything for him.

You were just so easy. Easy prey to catch for big strong intimidating Park Sunghoon. Easy prey to feast upon.

He was a gentleman. Looking back at the past 7 months of your relationships, you never once remembered having to open a door handle by yourself. His hand was already there before you could even touch the metal knob.

“What boyfriend would I be if I let you open doors all by yourself?” He’d say with an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

Even though he was clearly teasing you, you felt giddy that you had such a great boyfriend like him.

You just wish you saw the signs sooner.

🫀

The first red flag was how twitchy Sunghoon would get at random times. Sure, it was normal for Sunghoon to be a bit shy—even awkward—but the sudden twitchiness didn’t go unnoticed by you. It was almost if he was uncomfortable in his own skin, desperate to get out.

But Park Sunghoon was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, the perfect son, and the perfect boy, there was nothing wrong with him, right?

Right.

“I don’t know,” Sana says as she shakes her head, clearly frightened by what’s happening. “I feel like someone is stalking us.”

Your friend group collectively starts comforting her, all besides your boyfriend who sat next to you with a frown.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you say, rubbing Sana’s hands comfortingly. “Right Hoonie?”

“Yeah.” If there’s another thing about your boyfriend, he’s good at reassuring people. “Maybe you’re overthinking Sana? It’s okay, you’re safe with us.”

“He’s right.” Hyoseop, one of your other friends, chimes in. “Besides San, you can’t let this scary moment dictate your life!“

Sana nods solemnly. “I guess. Are we still on that camping trip this weekend?”

“Hell yeah we are!” Your friend group cheers, which is more than enough to make Sana feel better about the whole situation.

🫀

“Sleeping tents?”

“Check.”

“Flashlights?”

“Check.”

“Batteries?”

“Check.”

“Tooth—”

“Baby.” Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, putting his chin on your shoulder. “I promise we have everything, let’s go before we’re late and Eunae makes a big deal about it.”

You giggle, turning around to give him a proper hug. He smelt exactly like the vanilla scented candles you loved so much.

“You’re right, I don’t want Eunae on our asses in the middle of the woods.”

Sunghoon drives the both of you in his green shiny Jeep, the one his dad had bought him last month. The camp site was about 2 hours from your house, so you plugged your headphones in, leaning against the window as one of Sunghoon’s hands comes to hold your thigh.

“Wake up sleepyhead.” He says, flicking your forehead which makes you jolt from your sleep.

“Yah Hoonie! Don’t do that,” your cheeks puff out in annoyance, and your boyfriend can’t help but laugh, pinching it between his thumb and index finger.

“I texted Hyoseop, he says they’re already all here.” Sunghoon opens up the trunk, pulling out all your stuff with a grunt. “Jesus, it’s just 2 nights and we’re packing like we’re moving here or something.”

You roll your eyes, “we need to be as prepared as possible! I don’t even like camping, but Eunae insisted.”

“Well Eunae’s a bitch.”

You slap his arm, making the boy jump. “Hoon! You can’t say that out loud.”

“You’re thinking it too baby.” He swings his heavy duffle over one of his shoulders, his other arm holding the gigantic tent you guys had bought to share for the 2 nights.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t just put all your things in our big backpack.” You say, already feeling out of breath as you guys make your way to the site. “You don’t even have that much clothes anyway Hoonie.”

“Just wanted my own bag, that’s all.” He smiles. “Plus, the backpack is already extra heavy with all your stuff.”

You whine at his words, making him chuckle.

“Y/N! Sunghoon!” The voice of Inyoup, Hyoseop’s brother, echoes through the area. “You made it!”

“Course we did.” Sunghoon dabs up the boy, which leaves you to say hi to Eunae and Jihyun.

“Where’s Sana?” You ask, not seeing the familiar ginger anywhere in sight.

Jihyun pulls out her phone, checking Sana’s location. “She should be here by 7, said she’s running a little late because of boyfriend things.”

Jihyun sends the group a wiggle of the eyebrows, which stirs up laughter and a gross! from Inyoup.

“7 is gonna be so dark though, I’ll make sure to go fetch her.” Hyoseop says. “Now c’mon, let’s get a bonfire settled!”

🫀

Night time rolls around quicker than expected, the sky above already clearing out with the few stars being the only source of light in the surrounding campsite.

“Are you cold?” Sunghoon asks, pulling you closer to his side as all of you sit on the pieces of wood in front of the fire.

“I’m better now with you generating all this heat.” You joke, digging yourself closer into his side. “Actually, did you bring any extra coats Hoon?”

He doesn’t really hear your question, too engrossed in whatever horror story Jihyun’s telling the group.

“Yeah yeah.” He says, waving you off.

You take yourself out of his hold, going over to your tent. Honestly, it was a mess, but you were able to make out Sunghoon’s filled to the brim duffle bag. You open it, trying to scuffle through for something warm to wear.

“Ah shit,” you whisper, taking your cut finger to your mouth before examining the cut clearer. “What the hell?”

You uncover the jacket that was covering whatever sharp object that had sliced through your finger earlier.

It was a long sharp knife.

Where did your boyfriend get this? You hadn’t seen a knife like this around in your house, and more importantly, why?

It’s probably for precaution. Your brain tells you. Sunghoon is always so careful, he probably wants it to be safe incase any wild animals come.

So you ignore the knife, placing it back inside Sunghoon’s duffle. You place his jacket and make your way outside.

“It’s already 6:50, maybe we should go pick up Sana now.” You say, blowing air into your hands since it was starting to freeze.

“Oh shit, I’m cooking right now.” Hyoseop looks at the grill he’s currently grilling meat on and then back to the group. “Can someone else go get her? Preferably a guy, we shouldn’t let the girls walk out this dark.”

“I’ll go get her.” Sunghoon offers. “Let me just put on another layer really quick.”

You take a seat next to Inyoup, sipping on a glass bottle of Coca Cola.

“You think we can curl our hair with these like Olivia Rodrigo said in her song?” Jihyun jokes, raising her empty bottle up into the air. “I’m gonna try it.”

“You go do that.” Eunae scoffs, clearly unimpressed with the girl.

🫀

It takes approximately about 25 minutes for you and the group to start worrying, not seeing Sana or Sunghoon in sight.

“The parking isn’t that far right? They should’ve been here 5 minutes ago.” Hyoseop says, setting the silver plate of food onto one of the wooden logs near the grill.

“No yeah, I’m getting worried.” Jihyun stands up, “I’m gonna get a flashlight and look for them at this point.”

Jihyun makes her way to the tent she shares with Eunae, which was right across from yours.

“Shit shit shit,” she mumbles, her hands rummaging through the messy tent. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, quickly running over. “Jihyun, what’s wrong?”

“Some animal might’ve came in earlier and ruined our things.” Jihyun places a hand on her forehead, clearly stressed about the whole ordeal. “Please tell me there’s still a flashlight.”

She checks through her and Eunae’s bag, only to find everything but a flashlight.

“It’s okay Ji, me and Hoon have a few in our tent.” You reassure her, which makes the girl feel a bit better.

“Sunghoon’s back!”

Inyoup’s announcement makes you practically bolt out of Jihyun’s tent right away.

“Hoon!” You rush over to him, cupping his face. “Why’d you take so long? Where’s Sana?”

He gently peels your hand off, looking back at the group with a smile. “She says she forgot her toothbrush on the way and she’s gonna drive to the nearest CVS. Should be back in 20 minutes.”

The rest of the group seems to buy Sunghoon’s words, all except Eunae.

“Well why did you take so long then, Sunghoon?”

“Oh fuck off Eunae.” Inyoup exclaims. “It’s too dark right now for you to start an argument.”

Eunae scoffs. “You know what? Fine. I’m gonna take a dip in the lake, I don’t want to be near any of you right now.”

When she’s finally gone, Inyoup whistles. “I still don’t know why we’re all friends with her when she makes everything miserable.”

“Let’s just calm down.” As usual, your boyfriend is the mediator, which makes you smile and lean into his side.

“You can’t be worrying me like that Hoon!” You groan, hitting him in the chest jokingly. “Had me thinking you were lost.”

“Baby you know me,” he grins. “I’m great at navigating in the night time.”

He suddenly pulls away, “ah, I’m so hot from all the walking. I’m gonna go dip my legs in the lake for a bit.”

“Okay,” you give him a peck on the cheek. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You can come if you want baby.” He looks down to make direct eye contact. “I know Hyoseop just made beef. You wanna eat that first and meet me later?”

You think about it a second before nodding, placing one last kiss on his face. “You’re right. I’ll see you in a bit Hoonie.”

🫀

Sunghoon sighs in relief, finally glad to have you off his back for a while.

He takes out the familiar black suit and mask, the one that is seen so many times in the scream franchise. The ghostface mask and suit.

He places it over his body, the mask fitting his face so perfectly that he’s in awe.

He already knows his first victim.

Choi fucking Eunae.

God, did she annoy him. Always getting into petty disagreements, always making a ruckus out of nothing. And tonight? The way she accused him so adamantly, the way her eyes crinkled on disgust as she looked at him.

He had to get rid of her.

“Surprise Eunae.”

Eunae’s arms are no use to Sunghoon’s muscular ones that’s wrapped around her throat.

“Help!” Eunae tries to scream, but it only comes out squeaky and inaudible.

“Poor little helpless Eunae,” Sunghoon taunts. “Taking a dip in the lake to cool her nerves because she just can’t help her silly little thoughts in her head.”

He points the sharp end of the knife directly at her throat, making a slight tear which lets blood flow down.

“Why are you doing this?” Eunae chokes up, tears already falling like a waterfall. “Sunghoon?”

She wouldn’t have known it was him because of the mask, but the voice taunting her earlier gave it all away.

“Goodnight Eunae.”

Sunghoon stabs the girl repeatedly until she stops squirming in his hold. Then, he lets go of the body, watching as it floated face down on the lake.

They’ll find her by next week, he thinks. The cops—of course. Not your friends, not you. You all would be dead by tomorrow morning before you even knew Eunae was missing.

“Aw man.” He frowns. “She got my gloves all bloody.”

🫀

Sunghoon knew you would come looking for him later, he just didn’t know when. Therefore, he knew he had to leave the premises immediately as to not be caught near Eunae’s body.

He already knew his next victims, anyway. The two brothers, Kang Hyoseop and Kang Inyoup.

He had already gotten rid of Sana, who, at the sight of him in the ghostface mask and suit, barfed all over the parking lot. He found it both amusing and fascinating—how the human mind could freak itself out so much to the point of physical sickness.

“Eunae! Is that you? Look, Hyoseop said I should apologize earlier for what I did, and although I don’t want to, he might be right.”

Maybe Sunghoon didn’t have to leave. Maybe Kang Inyoup showing up now was a sign from the universe.

He quickly makes his way behind one of the tall trees, which was enough to hide him but also enough to see Inyoup’s movements.

Inyoup goes towards the dock of the lake, “Eunae? Why the hell are you swimming like that?”

He giggles, not realizing how serious the situation was and that Choi Eunae had been dead for 10 minutes already.

Inyoup gets closer, his fingers gripping at Eunae’s arm. When he flips her over, he lets out a scream of terror, which has Sunghoon coming to put his hands over the boy’s mouth.

“What the fuck—” Inyoup cries out, eyes still not believing what they just witnessed. “What the..”

“It’s a real shame.” Sunghoon whispers in his ear, the knife he’s holding is dangerously close to Inyoup’s abdomen. “When Y/Nie first introduced me to the group, you were so welcoming and kind to me. You even opened up to me before Hyoseop.”

“Sunghoon?” Inyoup breathes out, and he can’t help but feel betrayal sink into his heart. “No, please, you can’t do this.”

“Didn’t you say you got that job offer in Osaka? Japan is beautiful.” Sunghoon takes a jab, which causes Inyoup to move forward in Sunghoon’s hold, groaning from the pain and impact. “It’s too bad you won’t ever step foot in Osaka.”

And he kills him. Drags Inyoup’s body into the lake, which floats along with Eunae’s.

“You can apologize to her in the afterlife.” Sunghoon shrugs, finding himself oh so funny.

“One Kang brother down, the next to go.”

🫀

Now Kang Hyoseop was no idiot. He knew his brother and Eunae had been gone for far too long, he knew Sunghoon had been gone for far too long. And Sana? She didn’t even come to the camping site like Sunghoon had confidently stated earlier.

“Hyoseop.” Sunghoon shows up behind him, only this time, the suit and mask are off.

“Sunghoon.” Hyoseop tries his best to give a sincere smile, but Sunghoon knows.

He knows.

“You didn’t have any food Sunghoon, you must be hungry.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know what Hyoseop’s playing at, but he’s already sick of the boy. His body feels itchy, and he has the urge to kill kill kill.

“Where’s Y/N and Jihyun?”

“Oh you know, at the lake. They needed to cool themselves off after such a hot dinner.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise, and he finds his itching fingers reaching for the knife that’s tucked behind him.

“Hyoseop.” He says.

“Yes Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon pins down the boy, which is a much harder struggle than Eunae or Inyoup. Hyoseop had been going to the gym, and the boy was no weakling when it came to fights.

“I fucking knew it.” Hyoseop spits at Sunghoon. “You were the common denominator. Always so secretive and weird around us. I knew it.”

He says that with such disgust that it has Sunghoon cackling, impressed with the guy beneath him.

“But you didn’t say anything Hyoseop? You just let yourself go on a camping trip with the one guy you knew had bad intentions?”

“Fuck you!” Hyoseop tries to kick Sunghoon off of him, but it only makes the boy on top press on him harder. “I wanted to be wrong you know. I wanted to be completely wrong about thinking you were some fucked up loser for the sake of Y/N. But God, you are even worse than that.”

Sunghoon leans closer to Hyoseop, their cheeks touching.

“See you in hell Hyoseop.”

Then all the struggling stops.

It’s so easy, Sunghoon thinks. He didn’t even have to take months to plan this all out, when Choi Eunae said she wanted to go on a camping trip, he knew it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

🫀

“We have to go.” Jihyun says, grabbing your arms.

You were busy crying, feeling disgusted and horrified at the two bodies of your close friends in the lake.

Who the hell had done this to them?

“Where’s Hoonie?” You cry out. “We have to get Hoonie.”

“We’ll find him.” Jihyun reassures you, but her brain says the opposite.

She didn’t want to find Sunghoon. Like Hyoseop, she had a weird feeling about your boyfriend from the get-go. She just didn’t have the guts to tell you.

“Y/N, shh.” Jihyun places her index finger against your lips. “You hear that?”

It’s the sound of a body dragging, and you could make out the silhouette of someone tall.

“I have a gun in my tent,” Jihyun whispers. “I have to go get it. Can you distract him?”

You nod timidly, feeling fear strike every nerve in your body.

You throw a big stick across to the lake, which makes a dipping sound that has the man turning.

Jihyun, who had been the star of the track team in her high school days, runs like she’s never ran before, almost tripping over her own foot.

The man drops the body, and starts getting closer to the lake, making your breath hitch.

You watch Jihyun in the tent, letting yourself let out a breath of relief when she shows you the small gun in her hand.

“Surprise!”

Suddenly, the man’s sights are no longer on the lake, but on you.

His ghostface mask bashes against your face, making you let out a whine of pain.

“Jihyun! Jihyun!” You scream.

Jihyun panics, her hands shakily try to position the gun so that it won’t hit you.

She shoots, her eyes closing from the shock after the bullet leaves the gun, making a loud sound.

The man who had a hold on you falls back, grunting in pain.

His arms are behind his back, trying desperately to keep his body sitting upright.

“That’s what you get fucker!” Jihyun shouts, running over to you and pulling you close to her side. “For what you did to our friends.”

You hesitantly walk to the man, who’s body was shaking. You take off his mask, only to reveal the one person you wished it wasn’t.

Park Sunghoon.

Your boyfriend.

“Sunghoon?” You sob out. “What? Why? Why? Why are you doing this?”

You’re practically shouting now, horrified at the thought of your boyfriend killing your own friends.

His mouth was dripping blood, and his body looks like it was spasming.

Still, he grins, eyes filled with something you can’t recognize. He has no remorse.

“Why not?”

Jihyun decides she’s had enough, pointing the gun directly at Sunghoon’s head.

His once shaking body crumples to the floor immediately, and you feel your knees buckling at the sight.

“Shhh,” Jihyun hugs you from behind, although she too is crying. “Let’s get out of here.”

It all starts to make sense now. The flashlights disappearing, the knife you found in Sunghoon’s duffle.

Although all of this is terrifying, his last words still rang in your ear.

Why not?

[celestie0]

MASSIVE gojo x reader fanfic rec (no spoilers)

ok i know a lot of my followers are gojo girlies and i just need to put yall onto this fucking fanfiction because i just read the latest release for it and i’m genuinely tweaking rn🧍🏻‍♀️

@lostfracturess ‘s amazing work called “symptoms & causes” - a medical au

[image pulled from her masterlist]

let me just…let me just try to even gather the reasons why you need to add this to your tbr lists (weekend is comin up too so perfect time)

characterization of gojo satoru.

gojo in this fic is characterized so fucking well, from chapter one. there are so many distinctive ways miss lostfractures goes about building his aura (word of mouth/reputation, dialogue, expository, primary interactions, secondary interactions, etc.) it reminds me of the show where gojo just has this energy to him that you can't tear yourself away from i picture him in this fic to be unrelenting, unforgiving, morally grey, with an undertone of softness yet still feral through it all,, basically gojo during shibuya arc LOL. i looove reading cute silly boy gojo fics sm (he’s so baby) but THIS fic explores the borderline wicked side of him that is so thrilling, unique, and rare to find i think in this fandom’s collection of works. it’s just so fucking good.

forbidden romance.

UGGHH i love stories w forbidden romance. in this one, it’s med student reader x professor gojo (additional power dynamics in that he’s a senior surgeon in her field and also a research mentor in her study of interest…TRIPLE THREAT DAMN). i love how miss lostfractures doesn’t shy away from reminding the reader that it’s wrong, and that they shouldn’t be doing this. that’s my fave part of forbidden romances like yesss remind me again why this is all so wrong but let’s still do it anyways LOL <333

reader’s voice.

i’ve LOVED reader since the beginning, so relatable, emotionally mature, all her flaws are so believable & her strengths are shown seamlessly. it’s just so much fun to read because i’ll literally have a thought like “hmm…that (something a character said/did) doesn’t sound very convincing” and then the next line will be something like “he didn’t sound very convincing” like!!! me and s&c reader?? we’re locked in like this fr🤞🏼 like gojo’s domain expansion fingers

escapism.

everything in this story feels so damn real it’s insane. the pacing is stunning, love the utilization of stacks of scenes that are sort of short but so concise, enough to be a smooth read but still descriptive enough to entirely transport you into the world that’s being built. cannot praise the writing in this story enough. also the variety of ways that scenarios are made that pull characters closer to one another?? so creative. as someone who works in a research lab, studied bio in college (some of the fkn biochem stuff that comes up in this fic gives me heart attacks lmfaooo pls im traumatized), and has worked in clinics/hospitals it just itches my brain so damn good. you’ll be convinced you’re a brilliant med student while you read this fic.

writing.

the writing is just. so. good. it’s so good. better than most PUBLISHED works i’ve read. i really can't say much other than that, you just have to go see for yourself.

—

if any of these reasons speak to you, i highly recommend you check the fic out. just a note tho it does have some dark themes but you can find all the tags/warnings on her page!

OK BYE

[schoenpepper]

Mwah!

Intro: Your way of love is spontaneous and loud, and your boyfriend is probably dying (affectionate).

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread

A/N: Sup. This is a request. K bye.

edit: totally forgot to tag mb i thought this was anonymous haha @fsh1

Masterlist

“What’s this?”

You glance at the large circular item in your hands. Sure the cake is a bit burnt, and the strawberries were a little more geometric than the hearts you had tried to shape them to be, but it’s not unrecognizable, is it? “It’s a strawberry shortcake,” you answer with a smile, “you like these, right? I made it myself.”

Riddle hesitantly accepts, but not without another question. “What is it for?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the occasion?”

You laugh and move closer to him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He’s bright red, clearly flustered, and he shyly looks away as he raises the plate up to cover his face. “Riddle,” you whisper softly, “I don’t need an occasion to show my love for you.”

The housewarden of Heartslabyul cannot deal with random acts of love very well.

Especially if you do it in public.

He’ll reprimand you with a blush and claim something or the other is against the rules.

And as such, the best way to deal with him is to do all those things in the confines of his or your room. Somewhere away from the eyes of the public.

Unfortunately for him, that doesn’t exactly fall under “spontaneity”, does it?

Well, if you insist…

He’s a bit too whipped, for lack of a better word, to actually stop you.

Your hands cup his cheeks so lovingly while you’re seated on his lap, peppering his face with butterfly kisses. Try as he might, Azul can’t find it in himself to push you away. He’s almost shaking in embarrassment with the way you’re acting…

And because the two of you aren’t alone.

From another corner of his office, the twins are snickering and whispering among themselves, whereas his “client” is nervously averting his gaze from your scandalous behavior in between the eels. Azul puts his hands on your shoulders and asks with a trembling smile, “My dear, we’re quite busy here. Is there anything you require of me?”

You grin and shake your head, “Nope! I just missed you, that’s all.”

Your words are punctuated with another kiss to his lips.

Have you ever seen someone so embarrassed and shy that they physically collapse?

Dear, you will soon if you don’t stop barging into his meetings and flirting with him as if there was nobody else there.

Please have mercy on this poor soul.

His right hand man has gathered enough blackmail to last a lifetime.

(Jade wants you to continue, please, don’t stop on his account or his camera’s)

Azul isn’t very used to such flashy, random displays of affection.

But if it’s you…he supposes he can try to adapt. He’d rather not change you or your wondrous nature.

“Hold still, darling.”

You can’t follow Vil’s words—you follow the rush of adrenaline that zips through your veins and you move to kiss him, smearing the lipstick he’d just applied to your freshly moisturized lips. Your boyfriend looks at you exasperatedly while his vice housewarden (whom you did not know was in the room with you) is clapping and spouting nonsense.

“And which part of hold still did you not understand?” Vil raises an eyebrow.

“All of it,” you reply cheekily while wrapping your arms around him, “I feel like kissing you lots today. Is that bad?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, but the slightest hint of a smile creeps up on his lips.

You’ll have to be a little more restrained, paparazzi’s always breathing down his neck and he can’t have the two of you be some after-dinner talk for others.

But in more private locations where he’s absolutely sure you’re alone, he’ll indulge you readily.

You can’t exactly control your PDA though, so Vil gets himself accustomed to magical disguises for outings.

Something about his favorite shade of lipstick makes you want to smudge it with a kiss.

It’s smudge proof, but keep trying.

Vil rarely gets flustered, but catch him when he’s super off guard and you can do it.

[babydollmarauders]

ALL-STAR — JACK HUGHES (MEDIA MANAGEMENT AU)

au masterlist

notes: a long awaited insta edit release for everyone’s favorite unhinged couple!

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 728,163 others

y/ndevils00 HE ASKED!! 💍🤍

tagged jackhughes

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jackhughes i can’t wait to spend forever with you, my beautiful crazy girl 🤍

y/ndevils00 you may not have played, but i think this has been the best all-stars yet!

trevorzegras PLAN ALPHA-ALPHA! CONGRATULATIONS YOU LOVE BIRDS

trevorzegras don’t people usually caption it “i said yes”?

y/ndevils00 i’ve been saying yes for the past 2 years, i think people will be more shocked that he asked

jackhughes WE’VE ONLY BEEN DATING FOR TWO YEARS, THAT’S A NORMAL AMOUNT OF TIME TO WAIT

trevorzegras @/jackhughes bro your girlfriend is anything but normal

y/ndevils00 *fiancée

trevorzegras that’s what you got from that? really?

user93 JACK HUGHES IS GETTING MARRIED?! it’s truly over for the rest of us 😪

john.marino97 did you just… have that outfit packed?

y/ndevils00 i’m crazy but i’m not THAT crazy… i went to a bridal store in Toronto as soon as he asked

john.marino97 yeah, that sounds about right

john.marino97 congratulations, i guess!

y/ndevils00 you’re still so lonely, aren’t you? seventh wheeling on a couples trip and whatnot

john.marino97 i might take you up on your previous offer. hook me up with one of your friends

y/ndevils00 oh, that offer was kinda not real… i don’t think i have any girl friends besides the other wags

john.marino97 you are an evil woman

y/ndevils00 you’ll find someone soon enough, maraschino! i’ll even be your wing-woman at the clubs!

john.marino97 don’t do that. no one is asking you to do that.

y/ndevils00 you didn’t have to ask! i’ll do it out of the kindness of my heart! 🥰

john.marino97 i didn’t know you had one of those

dawson1417 BEST FRIEND IS GETTING MARRIED! BES FREN HAS A FIANCÉ

y/ndevils00 I’M GETTING MARRIED! I HAVE A FIANCÉ!

dawson1417 GO BEST FRIEND! IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME

y/ndevils00 YOU’RE TELLING ME!

jackhughes i can take my ring back, you know?

y/ndevils00 no you can’t ☹️ it’s part of me now!

nicohischier congrats, you guys! i can’t imagine a couple more meant for each other than you two ❤️

y/ndevils00 awww thank you, captain slut 🥹🫶

nicohischier oh that wasn’t a compliment

ehaula HE ASKED?!

y/ndevils00 HE ASKED!

ehaula AND YOU SAID YES?

y/ndevils00 I SAID YES!

ehaula MY NIECE IS GETTING MARRIED! CONGRATULATIONS

y/ndevils00 THANK YOU UNCLE HOLLA!

user56 OH MY GOD HUGHES-CROSBY WEDDING 🔜

lhughes_06 you’ve been my sister for 2 years, i’m glad it’s becoming official ❤️

y/ndevils00 oh my sweet smush 🥹 i can’t wait to officially be able to baby you for the rest of our lives!

_quinnhughes welcome to the family ❤️ so glad i was able to be there to witness such a beautiful moment

y/ndevils00 thank you, huggy 🥹🫶 i’m so grateful to be graciously accepted into this wonderful family

lhughes_06 “ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME, JACKY? ARE YOU SERIOUS?! IF YOU’RE FUCKING WITH ME THEN I SWEAR TO GOD…”

y/ndevils00 @/lhughes_06 don’t be shy! say it all! i’m very romantic!

lhughes_06 i don’t wanna

y/ndevils00 “WE’RE NOT FUCKING ALL WEEK! THIS WOULD BE SUCH A CRUEL JOKE! YOU BETTER BE SERIOUS!” see! i’m so romantic!

e.malkin71geno so happy for you, little Crosby ❤️

y/ndevils00 thank you, uncle G! 🤍

e.malkin71geno i remember when you used to run around the rink with your little pigtails and tell us to catch you, now you’re an adult and getting married

y/ndevils00 to be fair, i think i was 17 when i told you to catch me

user70 THEY’RE ENGAGED HOLY SHIT HE DID IT

colecaufield BUBBLE AND JACK! CONGRATULATIONS!!

y/ndevils00 thank you, teddy bear!!! hope ya look good in a tux, maybe at the wedding you can finally get your own total babe like me 🥰

colecaufield and you’re so humble, what a catch!

jesperbratt congrats! wish you guys the best 😁

y/ndevils00 will you be our flower girl? you can throw whatever you want, you precious little swede-heart

dawson1417 DO I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?! DID OUR PLANS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?!

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 truthfully, if bratter says yes, then yeah the wedding binder we made is being thrown out the window and you’ll have to be a bridesmaid instead

jesperbratt i’m honored, but i don’t want to take the job away from Merc!

y/ndevils00 oh :( okay :(

jackhughes i’m sorry, you and Dawson made a wedding binder? you pre-planned OUR wedding with DAWSON?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes truthfully, i wasn’t sure you’d ever ask, but yeah. i think you’ll like the playlist though! i’m gonna walk down the aisle to Rack City!

jackhughes that’s not happening

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes so you hate fun

y/ndevils00

liked by _quinnhughes, justinbieber, and 517,739 others

y/ndevils00 fiancé and huggy! fiancé! fiancé picking his team x3! fiancé and some guys! justin doing his best impression of me! fiancé and some more guys! sid and justin!

that’s a wrap on asg 2024! the best i’ve ever experienced! now back to Jersey to shove my ring in everybody’s face and carry on my job of sexy nurse!

tagged jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and justinbieber

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user72 oh y/n is gonna milk this fiancé thing with all she’s got and i’m here for it!

justinbieber nice seeing you again, y/n! wishing you and jack a long and prosperous marriage!

y/ndevils00 put the dictionary away and write some new music, beaver

justinbieber it was only like 10 years ago that you wanted my last name, don’t think i forgot

y/ndevils00 WE AGREED TO NEVER SPEAK OF THAT

user61 she knows…. justin bieber????

jackhughes i’m liking “fiancé” but i can think of another name that has a better ring to it 😉

y/ndevils00 i’m not calling you daddy on the internet

jackhughes HUSBAND! I MEANT HUSBAND!

john.marino97 “ON THE INTERNET”?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN “ON THE INTERNET”?!

_quinnhughes good times! see you in the summer, sis!

y/ndevils00 “sis” 🥹 @/jackhughes DO YOU SEE THAT?! DO YOU SEE IT? DO YOU SEE IT?

jackhughes i do, dove! i see it! ❤️

dawson1417 I BETTER BE THE FIRST PERSON TO SEE THE RING! DOES IT SPARKLE?

y/ndevils00 IT SPARKLES SO GOOD

dawson1417 GOOD! IT BETTER!

user85 y/n feeding us all the jack content!

jesperbratt it was nice having you there for my first all-stars!

y/ndevils00 you are nothing but an angel and i will hurt anyone for you

lhughes_06 come back and take care of your devil cat

y/ndevils00 that’s your niece, have some respect!

lhughes_06 she bit my nose and scratched a hole in my kith hoodie

y/ndevils00 that means she wants you to kith her

lhughes_06 i can almost guarantee it doesn’t

y/ndevils00 do you speak cat?

lhughes_06 no?

y/ndevils00 then you can’t guarantee shit

[mythicmanuscripts]

imagine aegon and reader. One evening he tries to surprise reader in the bedroom by waiting for her wearing a robes of heavy silk, that flow around him like water, a picture of unearthly beauty. i see him nervous, blushing, he has never worn things like that and doesnt know he reader will like it.

Thx xoxo

Alright lads buckle up we’re finally discussing feminisation with Aegon!!! Truly a match made in heaven.

NSFW sub!Aegon below the cut! Also, I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea so I’ll be tagging all feminisation content with ‘femboy hotd’ so block that tab if you’d rather not see this. Otherwise, venture beyond cut for my initial thoughts :))

Right so firstly, Aegon wants to be pretty. He has always wanted to be pretty. People have called him handsome, which is appreciated of course, but he wants to be pretty. He wants to feel pretty.

I think maybe he’s had a very expensive little collection of women’s clothes since before he even married you? He never told another soul about them of course. He especially never told the brothel workers he laid with because he knew they’d only let him wear those clothes as humiliation.

But then he marries you and you become closest ally and he falls in love? It all changes.

You make him feel pretty. You open the door for him and keep a hand around his waist and kiss his head and he feels so pretty and so…. So small? But in the best way possible, like he’s some beautiful precious thing that has to be handled with care.

Ever since you had started taking control in the bedroom, Aegon wanted to bring his pretty clothes into things but he was so so nervous about it. You’ve been nothing but loving and supporting of him and especially of his subby side so logically he knows that you’ll most likely be fine with. But that’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

He doesn’t know what he’ll be able to survive if you looked at him disgust when you found out. So he keeps it to himself, even though he wants to dress up for you so bad his chest aches with it.

Until one day when Aegon is laying on the his back naked in bed. You’re sitting between his legs and playing with him, alternating between playing with his cock and his and a combination of both. But while you’re doing this you’re also being so casual? You chat to Aegon, smiling at him and chatting like you haven’t just edged him for the 3rd time.

Without even thinking about it, you say “You’re so pretty.” He pauses for a moment, and then when he looks back at you he’s got this timid little smile on his face as he asks you to say it again.

From there you just have to continue talking about how pretty he is and how his job is to be your plaything and you’re so lucky to have him.

That interaction is what gives Aegon the courage to wear one of his pretty silk robes for you the next night. He makes sure he’s back at your quarters before you and ordered all the servants out, telling them that they working needed until the next morning and then quickly bathing and putting on his pretty coat with nothing else on. He’d love to add some shoes or pretty panties but he’s worried that might be too much.

Walking into our room and seeing Aegon sprawled out on the bed in a pretty silk may have genuinely taken years off your life.

He’s all shy and blushy until you promise him that he looks so good and you love it so much. You dom him with the robe still on and don’t even take it off to ride him.

Once he’s recovered and is cuddled up against your chest he asks if you’re sure you liked the robe. Which makes you give him a light smack on the back of his head.

For the next few weeks Aegon will occasionally wear his pretty clothes when you fuck him. Of course you make sure to call him pretty every time and kiss his forehead, the forehead kiss is required.

I also think maybe he starts to wearing them outside of sex too? Obviously he doesn’t walk around public like that but his chambers is a safe space where the only one who sees him like that is his darling wife.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: it's hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd drags you away as you hear the disgusted muttering of his parents. You try to tug free but he’s too strong. Even if he did let go, where would you go? Your ankles nearly bend in the heels as he urges you to the stairs and you stumble into his back. 

“Aw, baby,” he faces you, “don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll get there.” 

Before you can react, he scoops you up. You cry out, the dregs of your bile burn your throat. You make a face at the smell. He’s hardly bothered as he turns to continue up the staircase. 

“Damn, jelly bean,” he snarls as you feel his heart racing, “I knew you were a freak underneath it all. The way you just dug right in. Like an animal. Feral,” he snickers and kisses the top of your head as he gets to even ground, “we’re more alike than you know, aren’t we?” 

You gulp and say nothing. You’re disgusted as much by yourself as him. All that and for what? You’re still stuck with this madman. How on earth did he even notice you? By his parents’ suggestion, you’re far from his type. 

“Urgh, I don’t feel good,” you rub your stomach and wriggle in his grasp. It would be a good excuse to get away, or at least some space.  

“That’s alright, jelly bean, you let me take care of you,” he carries you breezily down the hall, his footsteps jaunty. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself and his blue eyes flick down to the diamond ring, “fuck, that looks amazing on you. I’ll look just as good on you.” 

He laughs at his slimy joke but it only unsettles you. Even with barf on your breath and steak in your teeth, you can’t deter him. You’ve tried everything; ignoring him, waiting him out to the point of starvation, and making a fool of yourself. Your hope dwindles to a single strand, ready to snap. 

He takes you into the bedroom and through to the adjoining bathroom. The shining marble and gleaming golden accoutrements reflect the overhead light in a pristine sheen. He places you down on the counter so your legs dangle over the edge and he puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Don’t take it to heart, bean, mom and dad are just like that. You’ll always be good enough for me,” he winks and shifts over to the sink.  

You watch him, helpless. You know better than to hop off in those heels and twist your ankle. He fills a clear cup with porcelain and wets a toothbrush before adding minty paste. He holds them out to you and you accept them wordlessly. The sparkle of the ring makes you wince. 

“I’m their son and they don’t really like me. Sometimes I wonder why they even had me...” he sighs and flicks the cup lightly with his finger. 

You put the brush in your mouth and scrub your teeth. It’s a good excuse not to reply. You don’t really get this man. He’ll kidnap a woman then spill his heart out like you care. Still, knowing how his parents are, you can piece together how he got to this point. 

“You get me, jelly bean. I know you got no parents and sometimes, I feel the same--” 

You choke and pull the brush from your mouth. You swig with the cup and lean over to spit into the sink. You sneer at him, a genuine wave of anger rising in you, “how do you know that?” 

Surprise washes over him at your reaction. He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “well, of course, I had to learn everything about you, honey. To take care of you. Tie up any loose ends hanging off of you--” 

“What the... you...” you scrunch your brow up and shake your head. You feel even sicker. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” 

“Stop?” He smirks, “stop what?” 

You sigh and put the brush back in your mouth. You scrape away the taste of vomit and rinse your mouth again. He takes the cup and brush and puts them aside for you. He comes back to stand in front of you. 

“Your special, bean. I gotta keep you safe. I mean, look how easy I just waltzed in, imagine what a really bad guy could do,” he frames your face with his hand, “just look at you...” he squeezes your jaw tightly so you can’t pull away, “so small and cute and... delicious. I bet you taste as sweet as a jelly bean, huh?” 

His other hand tickles your side and he steps closer, wiggling his way between your knees your legs splay wide. The skirt strains around your thighs as he grips your hip more firmly. He purrs and leans in, his nose tickling yours. 

You press on his chest, "your parents." 

"They can see themselves out, they always do," he slithers, "baby, I only need you." 

"Wait, I'm not-- I--" you babble as his hand slips down and his fingers curl under your ass to grope you, "Lloyd, please, we-- we aren't even married yet." 

He pauses, hovering before your lips and draws back. His mouth slants. 

"Are you an old-fashioned girl, huh? I shoulda known," he purrs, "well, I can get with that," he drops his hand from your chin, "we don't gotta go all the way." 

He brings both his hands to your hips and pulls you towards him. You fall back with the suddenness and barely catch yourself on your elbows. You squeal as he keeps your legs wide and yanks at your skirt. 

"Please, I'm not-- I'm not ready," you plead. 

"Don't worry, babe, I'll get you warmed up," he rasps as he shoves his hands up your dress, bending over you as he exposes your panties. 

"Ah, gosh," you sputter dumbly, writhing as he bows down to bury his nose against your underwear. He takes a big whiff and you exclaim, embarrassed. "Ayeee, Lloyd." 

"You smell like heaven," he lowers himself to his knees, "and I'm not a religious man, mind you." 

You clutch the edge of the counter as you slip down, propping one elbow as you fight the slipperiness of the satin. He nuzzles you, dragging his nose along the trim of your panties as his breath dampens your skin. He nips at you playfully and snarls. 

You squeal in surprise once more. The rippling sensation that radiates from his touch has you as off-kilter as your position. He feels along your thigh and hooks his hand around your other leg. He flutters his fingertips against your panties and tugs them to the side, a waft of cool air dancing over your bare lips. You wriggle again. 

"It's okay, baby, I'll be nice, just a little appetizer," he coaxes and swipes his tongue along your cunt. As you gasp, he rears back and does the same, "jelly bean, you lied to me. You are ready," he licks his lips and you look down at him, his lips already glistening. 

As he dives back in, you gulp and shut your eyes. You turn your head away as he spreads his tongue wide and laps you up. He rocks his head, tickling you deliberately with his mustache, humming into you. You whimper and slap a palm onto the marble counter top. 

He flicks up and down, swirling as you squirm and pant helplessly. As in all things, you can’t resist. Your head falls back against the mirror and you whine. How is he doing this to you? Why is he making you like this? You don’t like him, you don’t want him! 

He tilts his head all around, garbling into you hungrily as he smears your wetness all around his face. His shamelessness spikes your arousal, a new flame razing up your spine. You heave and reach down to latch onto his hair, tugging on it as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. 

You cry out, legs quivering against his face as you try to close them. He growls and snarls eagerly, devouring you as the pressure wells up to the brim. You huff and puff, curling your spine as you try to fight the pulsing in your core. No, no, no. It’s so intense you feel the tingle in your toes. 

Your voice grows louder as your spasm and the spring overflows. You feel yourself spill into your mouth. He hums again, laughing into you as he drinks up your orgasm. You throw your arm over your face, thoroughly ashamed of your desecration. 

You slide limply down, head tilted up against the mirror, as your legs open and hang loosely. Lloyd kisses your cunt before he pulls away, making a slurping sound as your eyes slit open. You can see the wetness in his mustache. He grins proudly and sighs. 

“Fuck, jelly bean, you’re just like candy,” his eyes drift back to your exposed cunt. 

You try to close your legs and he catches your knees. Holding them open. He tuts and pokes his tongue out, once more licking up the slickness around his lips. You cringe and push yourself up on your elbows. 

“You want me to wait for all that?” He growls, “damn, baby, you must be a sadist, making me hurt so much.” 

He traces his fingers up your thighs and pinches until you squeak. He clucks and reaches past you to the counter. He pulls himself to his feet and you see the bulge in his pants. He rubs his hand across the obvious outline and he shudders. 

“You don’t gotta do anything, just let me look at you while I play with it, how about it?” 

He doesn’t wait for your permission. In that moment, you can’t speak. Even if you could, you don’t even know what you would say. He unbuckles his belt and pushes down his zipper. He’s trembling as he frees himself, his swollen top poking out of his fly. He crumples the top of his pants as he shoves them down impatiently. 

“Show me your ass, I just wanna see it,” he grabs himself and groans, “ah, shit, please, jelly bean, I’m begging you. You want me back on my knees?” He kneels again, stroking himself slowly, “please, turn over, baby, promise I won’t touch.” He moans, “can’t you hear how much pain I’m in? For you?” 

You slide down, feet touching the cold tile. You flutter your lashes, legs shaking. You’re weak and senseless. You can’t look at him. You turn and he groans again. He sounds agonized. 

He chuffs out air as you hear him pumping himself. You hang your head, leaning on your arms as he pulls up your skirt. He whines as he reveals your bare ass around the slender string of the thong. You’re roiling in humiliation and something else. 

“Shit, shit, shit, baby, you are... immaculate,” he grits, “where-- where do you want me to come?” 

“Huh?” You utter. 

“Fuck, too late,” he lets out a roar, punctured by deep huffs, petering out to a pathetic panting that leaves him droning. 

You stay as you are, hiding as your heartbeat slows and the coil inside you loosens little by little. You pull your skirt down, skin scoured in shame, and face him. He sits on his knees still, head down as his dick twitch and slowly softens. You try not to look at it. 

He lifts his head to you, his cheeks flush and his hair askew. He looks around with his foggy eyes and chuckles, “well, it’s good we’re in here, huh? We can get cleaned up.” 

You just stare at him. You’re mortified. You can’t believe what he just did. To you. Then after. And you just laid there. You think... you think you had an orgasm. 

“Let me...” he begins and wobbles before he can plant a foot on the floor. He stands stiffly, not bothering to hide his dick. You ignore the way it flops.  

He turns and goes to the tub. The top of his ass peaks out of his crooked pants. He’s absolutely ridiculous. He the last kind of person you would ever associate with. Not that you talk to anyone, but he is not anyone you would dare to speak to. Yet he has made himself your personal pest. 

He bends over the large tub and cranks it on. You peek over at the door. How loud were you? Were his parents still there to hear you? You frown and raise a foot then lower it again. Your instinct to run fights with your logic. You know you won’t get far, not on jelly legs and not from him. 

The water spills out and he stands, backing away as he rubs his lower back. He strips off his jacket and rolls his shoulders. He turns back and lays it across the other end of the counter. He unbuttons his shirt and looks over at you. 

“Come on, jelly bean, unless you like a bit of zest, I don’t mind it,” he pokes his tongue out at you, “extra flavour and all. 

You let your disgust singe through and curl your lip. He laughs. He drops his shirt and nears. He turns you to face him as your skirt drapes back over your legs. He guides the straps down your shoulders. He shimmies the sheath down your body, his fingers grazing your skin cloyingly. You shiver as bumps raise on your skin. 

“You been hiding, jelly bean, well I’m about to bring you right out of that shell,” he smirks, “if there’s one thing to know about Lloyd Hansen, there’s no walls that can keep him out. I’m gonna tear yours right down.” 

[zae-heeyyy]

Chiaroscuro

Summary: You're very fond of silk scarfs and Arthur Morgan. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,555 Tags: fluff, developing relationship, Horseshoe Overlook, kissing, affection

a/n: It's been 10 years since I've written and published any type of fiction, so I'm a bit out of my comfort zone. Also learned that they mostly used "scarfs" instead of "scarves" in the 20th century so I wrote accordingly. Let me know if you enjoy; thanks for reading!

( ´˘ᴗ˘)♡(´ ❥ `✿)

chiaroscuro: an Italian term used in art to describe the contrast between light and dark, often associated with dramatic lighting.

You let yourself indulge in one of the few simple pleasures you could afford: silk scarfs. Your clothing trunk was full of them; they were light and didn’t take up a lot of space, something you had to think about in your line of work. The often patterned and bright pieces of fabric were soft and delicate, two things you frequently wished you could be if your life had gone differently. You didn’t want to admit it, but you cared about looking pretty. You didn’t like to go out of your way to style your hair or put on makeup daily, so you settled on scarfs. Still, you didn’t feel like you were easily noticed, like Mary Beth or Molly, but you’d caught the attention of the only one you’d care to, Arthur Morgan. 

Arthur had started to notice your growing collection. He invariably knew when you were wearing a new one, always taking the time to acknowledge it. “New scarf?” He’d ask with his brows raised, or “That’s a nice one.” Sometimes, he’d tease you, “We’re gonna have to get you a whole wagon for all those scarfs.” More seriously, he had started complimenting you, “looks mighty fine, miss,” he’d say, tilting his hat. You’d flush and thank him shyly, and the two of you would go about your separate ways.

Then, the cowboy started seeking you out in the mornings, leaning casually against the wagon where your clothing trunk and scarfs were stored. The two of you would share small talk while you picked out your scarf for the day. He would smile and nod in approval of your choice, no matter what it was, and then he was gone again, disappearing like a whisper in the wind. Once, he leaned over you, grabbed a specific scarf from the pile, and held it out, “That one’s my favorite,” he’d say, making you work to maintain your composure when you were beaming inside. 

After a week or two, your communication was much less vocal. It was intense eye contact and shy smiles and nods. He’d silently look through your scarfs, pick one, and wrap it around your neck for you. He seemed so confident in the moment but would scratch his chin and look away right after, finding some excuse to swiftly depart. His sudden lack of confidence embarrassed him, but you found it endearing.

Finally, the tension had built. Arthur was wrapping your scarf around you like he’d started to do, and you grabbed onto his hands as he finished tying the knot. Both of you paused, staring intently at one another. You lifted up on your toes just as he bent to reach you. It was hard to say who kissed who first, but you’d never been kissed so gently and tender. You wondered if you’d made him want to be that way-- gentle and tender, words no one would usually use to describe the outlaw. You could’ve kissed him forever, but you had to breathe, and he had a job to do. But you’d been giddy, and your heart would flutter whenever he was around; it also ached for the following day when you’d have your moment with him again. 

Some mornings, he’d be there waiting before you’d even gotten completely dressed, still in your shift and bloomers from the night before. He’d hand you a metal cup of coffee, and you’d stand close together, shoulders touching, and you two would go on about whatever came to mind. When you couldn’t waste any more time, he’d pick out your scarf and tie it around your neck. You’d share your anticipated kiss before he went off on whatever errands Dutch wanted him to run for the day. 

You’d found him sitting alone another day, seeking solace from camp with his back against a large rock. His head was dipped into his journal, sketching so intensely that he didn’t notice your approach. You’d only caught a glimpse of pencil markings on the page when he looked up, saw you, and closed it. You’d wonder what he was always writing in that thing, but you respected him enough not to ask. He reached out for your hand and pulled you down to sit with him, not letting it go for the entirety of your conversation. You and he would spend hours behind the boulder, lost in conversation. The mystery of the leather-bound book’s contents would fade away, consumed by memories he’d share with you.

But you’d find out sooner than later by accident. Arthur hadn’t returned to camp in a few days, which was typical. However, it wasn’t normal for him to stalk straight to his tent on his return. His routine usually involved stopping by the donation box or sitting by the fire and, lately, seeking you out. You discovered him in his tent, digging through his satchel, his brows furrowed in frustration. His face softened as you approached, and he looked at you, scratching the back of his neck.

“Lost my damn pencil,” the brooding man murmured, looking around his tent.

You helped him look around his tent and through his satchel, taking the leap to dump all its contents onto the cot. Cigarette cards, documents, herbs, feathers, and his journal fell onto the bed. You’d started to give up when you noticed the gray tip of the pencil sticking out of the journal. You flipped the book open without thinking, too caught up in being the solution to his problem to realize you were about to invade his privacy. As you went to grab the pencil from the crease of the journal, your eyes fell on the bookmarked page. The markings on the paper were so detailed and intricate that you couldn’t help but draw your eyes to them. You’d gone quiet, and he turned to face you. His eyes landed on the open journal briefly before you closed it hastily. Handing it back with the pencil on top, you murmured a quick apology. You looked away from him, putting the contents of his satchel back and going to stand. He gently grabbed your wrist as you tried to leave, making you stop in place. Without resistance, you found yourself guided to the cot, where he sat down, pulling you beside him. His face was soft but riddled with thought as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I—“he paused, searching for the words but decided to show you instead. In your full view, he opened the book, smoothing the pages over his lap. Above an inscription, he’d drawn a flower. You recognized it instantly as a printed flower from a scarf you wore a few days before. Your fingers reached to absent-mindedly touch the fabric around your neck. Then the words caught your eyes and made them almost fill with tears, “That girl and her scarfs bring color to my dull, dull life.” You laughed and wrapped your arms around him. As surprised as he was, he wrapped his around you and held you close for a while

The gunslinger had been less shy after that, keeping the journal open when you’d come to sit beside him behind the rock. He’d sometimes tear a page out and hand it to you or leave it for you to find. You’d started finding them all over the camp. He’d leave one in your clothing trunk, caring to leave several if he knew he’d be away from camp for a while, or you’d find one tucked under your pillow when you went to lay down for the night. The sketches were always so identical to your scarfs that you knew exactly which scarf he was thinking about when he drew it. You’d study the drawings, noticing all the elaborate lines. You wondered how the images stuck in his mind so easily, but he’d confessed to you that every part of you stuck in his mind, always. 

You woke and walked to the wagon one day, but he wasn’t there. In his absence was a small box wrapped in twine with a bundle of English mace sticking out of the top. Your name was scrawled across a tag in his handwriting. You opened it to a pool of plain white silk. “Pure as you” was written on a piece of torn paper on the inside. You beamed but left it in the box and tucked it away with all your other scarfs. 

Arthur returned to camp in the evening just as Pearson had served the stew. As he approached, he smiled at you, but his smile fell when he noticed your unusual lack of a scarf. 

“Did you—“he started to ask, but you threw your arms around him and cut him off with a kiss. 

“‘Course I did,” you pulled him to the spot at the wagon and held the box to him, “Just been waiting for you to tie it on.”

His mouth formed into a slight grin, his chest rising and falling with a deep chuckle.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin'.”

He enveloped you in the scarf, sealing his gesture with another affectionate kiss. As you sat together at the fire, you were engulfed by another type of warmth–– your feelings for Arthur. Though neither of you had said it yet, you knew you loved him, and he loved you too.

[cheralith]

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

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

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

word count ; 8.5k

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

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

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

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

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

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

At least in his case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did they tell you to say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But in his daughter’s eyes… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That a parent is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hits him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if you didn’t even want children? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He attempts to reason with himself. 

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

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

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

…

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

But it’s nearly impossible.

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

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

Would he be able to cope with such a—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

Miguel…

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

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

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

… you know in your heart that it just is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pink-bandana-writes]

The Secret Girlfriend

Raphael x Reader

Summary: When the boys save a human girl from some muggers, they expect her to scream, not rush into their brother’s arms.

Note: Watching OotS rn and this popped into my head. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 0.4k

Reader is: Female

It was a seemingly ordinary night in New York City. Well, as normal as it could be for the guys when they were out on patrol. They swept the streets, looking for signs of trouble until, as usual, they found it. A scream erupted from one of the alleys and they sprung into action, jumping down from their spot on the rooftops.

A mugger. No, three of them and one helpless college girl, fighting them off as best as she could, which was to say, not very well.

“Hey! Why don’t’cha pick on someone yer own size?” Raph all but growled, causing the nearest of the muggers to back off, intimidated by his height and the depth of his voice alone. Leo, Donnie, and Mikey helped him scare off the other two easily, and when they were done, all that was left was you, the helpless, human girl.

Leo braced for impact. Any second, you’d catch sight of the monsters in the alley and scream. But instead of a scream, like the brothers were expecting, instead, recognition flashed across your features.

“Raph!” You sighed in relief, rushing into the arms of the towering turtle. You held onto him tight. “Oh my god.”

“(Y/N).” He cradled you against himself, a large hand stroking through your hair as he held you. “Ya alright? I didn’t realize it was you.”

“I’m okay.” You assured him, pulling away to look at his face. “Are you okay?”

He grinned, confident. “I’m bulletproof, babe. Of course I’m alright.”

“My very own Superman.” You murmured, hugging him again, face resting in the crook of his neck as your heartrate slowly returned to normal.

“Um…Raph?” Leo asked, clearing his throat. “Care to explain?”

“Oh right…” Raph chuckled, looking up at his brothers. “Guys, this is (Y/N). My girlfriend. (Y/N), these are my brothers.”

“Nice to meet you, finally.” You smiled, shy. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Raph, you…have a secret girlfriend?” Mikey asked. “No way!”

“Yeah, uh…I was gonna tell ya soon, I just…” He shrugged. “Needed the quiet for a bit.”

“Does Sensei know?” Leo asked, crossing his arms.

“Nah, but April does.” Raph shrugged.

“She’s really nice.” You added. “We get coffee sometimes.”

“You do?” Raph asked, looking down at you.

You nodded. “Mmhmm. We’re getting our nails done next week.”

Leo glanced around. “Hey we better get going.” He looked at you, still skeptical, but polite nonetheless. “You’re welcome to come with.”

“Can I?” You asked, looking up at Raph, stars sparkling in your eyes. “I’m…that was really scary. I’m kinda shaken up.”

“Yeah, of course, baby.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Leo’s eyes widened. Never in his life had he seen his big brute of a brother so gentle. So you had him whipped, whipped.

“We can order pizza! We’ve got a bunch of movies and video games.” Mikey smiled, his face welcoming. “It’ll be alright, girl.”

“Thank you.” You laughed, nodding. “I’d really like that.”

Tagged: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel, @leleouwu

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 10: Exhibitionism

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Your new husband just can’t keep his hands off you, even out in public.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, tagging dub con to be safe as there is alcohol involved, but everything is consensual, public sex, thigh riding, slight daddy kink

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: this one was fun to write! Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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You’ve lost yourself in the music.

The bass rhythmically reverberates throughout the club, your body moves fluently through the sea of other hot bodies and notably, you can feel more than just Bucky's pairs of eyes on you.

Alcohol flows through your veins and makes the edges of your mind blurry, but when someone saddles up behind your dancing form, you instantly know for certain the person's presence behind you isn't that of your husbands.

Bucky wouldn’t stand so far from you - he’d have his hands securely on your hips, pressing your ass back into his pelvis and you’d feel his dick harden as you grind back into him, whispering in your ear how much you turn him on. Bucky isn’t shy when it comes to his attraction for you, yet it seems this person is.

As if on cue, you distinctly hear Bucky’s voice growl even though the loud music surrounds you from all directions.

“You touch her, you die.” You almost giggle in your tipsy state, loving how fiercely protective your husband is of you. You’ll forever be safe on his watch.

You turn around while still swaying to the music when the man scoffs, seemingly less than convinced purely by the words Bucky had chosen, but as soon as he swivels to face all 6’4 of severe mafia boss James Barnes, clearly defined muscles bulging in his white button down shirt and sleeves rolled up revealing the crime family insignia tattooed on the inside of his forearm, his face pales like he’s seen a ghost and he takes several steps back from you.

The man looks deathly scared and splutters out an inaudible apology underneath the pounding music as he looks between you and Bucky.

Bucky’s features are chiselled in forbidding seriousness, as if he truly does want to kill the man for daring to approach you while dancing. You know he’s more than capable of it too, but you’re also positive he would never break his promise of no work nor violence while on your honeymoon.

Your hand finds his cheek and directs his harsh gaze down to your face, his eyes softening and lips curving into a smile instantly when you come into view. All Bucky needs to do is snap his fingers and two bouncers come and practically carry the man from the club he owns. That’s him getting off lightly.

Soon enough you’re caught up in the music again, having completely forgotten about the man who approached you. Your arms are slung around Bucky’s neck and his hands follow the sway of your hips to the beat as you look up at him through your lashes.

“You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind if you keep looking at me like that, darling.” Your husband says this, but if he really wanted you to stop looking at him he really should stop dressing in shirts that leave little to the imagination and having such pouty lips that are so incredibly kissable.

“You just look so sexy tonight, being all protective of your wife, Mr Barnes.” Your hands smooth down the tight fitting shirt, feeling his hardened pecs and every firm, sculpted abdominal muscle under the pads of your fingers.

“Well you’re mine, all mine.” His kiss is possessive and ardent. The way his large hands cup your face as he swipes his tongue into your mouth makes you moan and when bites your bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss, you become putty in his hands. “And we’re going to show everyone else here exactly who you belong to so no one else gets any ideas.” His hand, which grasps yours as he strides to one of the leather couches at the back of the VIP room, glints with his wedding band.

It always makes you smile to see the physical symbol of his love for you on his person - an unbroken circle of his eternal love for you, a reminder of the devotion he pledged in his vows.

Bucky guides you onto his lap with a firm hand on your hip and a look of enamoured lust consuming his blown out pupils. You’re already soaking wet, just by the way he gazes at you, but the knowledge that everyone else in the club can observe him claiming you as his own adds to the arousal flooding out of you.

The way his fingers lightly trail down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, the way he places delicate kisses to the underside of your jaw, moving down the side of your throat where your pulse beats rapidly just for him, and over the exposed skin of your breast makes it feel like your souls are irreparably intertwined.

When Bucky pulls back, looking at you with desire blown pupils, like you’re not only the sexiest woman in this club, but the sexiest woman he’s ever laid eyes on, you forget all about the pounding music and anyone else in the club - your world consists of just yourself and Bucky.

The hand which is not currently holding his glass of whiskey finds your hip, guiding you in fluid motions back and forth over his clothed thigh, the material providing a sweet friction against your bare pussy.

“Get all wet and messy for me, darling.” He doesn’t need to tell you, because you’re already there, but all you want is to satisfy his every command, so you nod your head and continue to move your hips in the way he’s shown you how, the way he knows will bring you the most pleasure.

Bucky flexes his thigh as you continue to rock your hips against him. You can feel the warm high surging within you right from the bottoms of your feet, through the base of your spine, and up your neck where you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue.

“That’s it baby, fuck yourself on daddy’s thigh, make yourself cum in front of all these people. Show them who you belong to.” It’s like you’re under his spell, there’s a part of your brain which is aware everyone in the VIP section of the club can see the lewd display you’re providing for them, perhaps some are even taking enjoyment out of watching it, but Bucky’s words overrule any other thought and all you want is to indulge him by giving into the building pleasure in your core as you grind against his leg.

The thumping music somewhat disguises the growling moan which rips through your throat as you cum. It feels like molten lava is flowing through your veins as the coil in your stomach snaps. Bucky’s protective hand remains securely on your hip, ensuring you ride out the waves of your pleasure until your growls become whimpers, begging to alleviate the burning pleasure flooding your body.

Bucky’s expensive pants have a distinct wet patch coating them when you step off his thigh, although he looks rather proud to be donning that accessory rather than embarrassed.

“That’s my good girl.” Bucky coos, swiping his thumb affectionately over the apple of your cheek and placing a gentle kiss to your parted lips. “Let’s go back to the villa. For this next part, the only eyes I want on you are mine.”

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