#but man. life is hard when you have to be alone most of the time

[sunniques]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

➺ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

➺ GENRE: boyfriend’s dad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your boyfriend’s manipulative father helps you get revenge in the nastiest way possible.

➺ CW/TW: yandere themes, slight obsession, age gap, cheating, manipulation, baby trapping, dry humping, panty stealing, mentions of masturbation, wonwoo is a depraved perv, dilf!wonwoo, nipple play, spitting, fingering, some cum play, unprotected sex, squirting, creampies

➺ WC: 4k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read. @wonustars hope you like it <3

Wonwoo is a sick man.

He knows this, he acknowledges it, and most importantly, he hides it.

When people thought of Jeon Wonwoo, they thought of a respectable lawyer, widower, loving father of two. And they were right. He had never done anything to indicate otherwise. Not publicly, anyway. For years he’s hidden his most depraved side without letting anyone know it existed.

His facade all starts to crumble when his son comes home from college with a lovely girl who he’s apparently head over heels for. Wonwoo recognizes the starry eyed look in his son’s eyes, and instead of being happy for him, all Wonwoo can feel is faint disgust and disdain. It’s pathetic and vile, but it’s a feeling that he can’t get rid of no matter what he does.

It gets worse when you start coming around more often, prancing around in your little shorts and skirts like Wonwoo doesn’t get hard just seeing your exposed skin. He’s sick for stealing your dirty panties when you come over and using them to jerk off, but again, he can’t stop his despicable actions. His obsession with you only grows as time goes on, and eventually he decides that he’s going to have you no matter what.

The first step in Wonwoo’s sick plan is showing you just how lavish life is with a man who can provide. He ruthlessly cuts his son off, insisting that getting out in the real world and being independent is necessary. It’s easy to ignore his son’s protests and clamors about how unfair it is that his sister doesn’t get the same treatment, mostly because he sees how fast this strategy works.

When he overhears his son tell you he actually can’t buy you the bag you’ve been wanting he can see the disappointment in your face. Wonwoo is smart enough to know it’s less about the bag and more about the seemingly empty promise. It makes sense since his son can no longer pay for your food or makeup or any clothes you like. His son can’t even get you lavish gifts you’d grown accustom to.

That’s why when your birthday rolls around, you don’t expect much. It’s perfect because you don’t expect to be spoiled which makes your reaction that much sweeter.

“Mr. Jeon!” You cry out in shock when you open the bag your boyfriend’s dad gave you. “I-I don’t know what to say! This is– I mean—Thank you!”

Not only did he gift you an expensive bag that his son had failed to give you, he also got you the biggest bottle of your favorite perfume, some clothes, and a very expensive necklace. Wonwoo smirked smugly when you hugged him, loving how you pressed your entire body against his. His son couldn’t have known, but he saw the way you started to look at him with less appreciation. Of course, it was only natural. After all, all women loved a man who could provide.

The next step was something Wonwoo couldn’t really be blamed for. All he did was have his coworker and her pretty daughter over for dinner when you were away visiting your family. He can’t be to blame for the fact that his son is a weak man who hasn’t truly accepted monogamy. Sure, he did push it along by leaving two college kids alone in a house full of liquor. And yes, he was responsible for them often meeting up whenever you weren’t around, but again, it wasn’t entirely his fault.

The final step to this long winded plan was making sure you found out.

Wonwoo is lucky his daughter has more of a moral compass than he and his son combined. The second she realized what was going on, she didn’t hesitate to tell you. Admittedly, he was saddened to know how heartbroken you initially felt. However, when he saw you again, you seemed void of that. All he could see was your thirst for revenge.

Luckily for you, he was more than willing to help you make that happen.

You still haven’t broken up with Wonwoo’s son, much to his annoyance. In fact, you’re acting like nothing’s wrong even when you come along to their vacation home during the summer. His son is hardly paying you any attention and his daughter has gone off with her friends somewhere, leaving you to your own devices.

“Hey, babe. I’m running to the store real quick. Need anything?” Your boyfriend asks without looking up from his phone.

Before, he would’ve insisted you go with him. Things change, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

“No thanks. Be safe.”

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, and you’re glad.

Your eyes drift over to Wonwoo, appreciating how good he looks. The perfect idea for revenge had occurred to you a while ago, and with the older man quietly sipping on some liquor on the couch, you know there’s no better time than the present to set your plan in motion.

Boldly, you get up from where you’re sitting and slide onto Wonwoo’s lap. Your panties are already slick with your arousal as you sit directly on his crotch. Dark eyes look at you in surprise when you gently start to grind your panty-clad pussy down without any qualms. All you do is smirk seductively before you go to kiss and suck on Wonwoo’s neck.

“Sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans, cock already hardening because of the wet heat that’s pushing down on him. “What about—?”

“Your son’s an asshole.” You say bluntly. “And I want him to feel as shitty as I do.”

You pull back, expecting Wonwoo to push you off of him or tell you what you’re doing is wrong. Instead he only laughs and goes to kiss you. A quiet squeal escapes you when he starts to lick into your mouth. You’re quick to melt into the kiss, moaning into his mouth when Wonwoo starts to guide your hips down onto his covered cock.

The sound of a car door slamming has you pulling away. You smirk when Wonwoo groans in disapproval. The wet spot you’ve left on his pants only turns you on even more, and all you do is wink at him before running upstairs to the guest room he provided for you.

The rest of the evening goes by without incident, well except for the fact that your boyfriend got a little too drunk on wine and was now passed out on the couch. His sister only looks at him with disgust and announces that she’s going to bed. You know the truth. Earlier, she confessed that she was going to sneak out to go clubbing with her friends. This was perfect since you were going to need her gone to execute your plan.

“Goodnight, Mr. Jeon.” You purr as you stretch your arms over your head, noticing his eyes drift down you where your skirt had ridden up.

You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you go upstairs. As soon as you get to the room, you leave the door open, slipping out of your clothes and putting on a tiny night shirt that came just above your belly button. You get on the bed and settle on your side, cunt still thrumming with arousal. All you can think about is getting fucked raw by your boyfriend’s dad, and you hope he hurries up and gives you what you want.

Slowly, you slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. It’s easy to lose yourself to the pleasure. Especially since your mind can’t stop replaying what happened earlier in the day. God, was Mr. Jeon a good kisser. Way better than his pathetic son. You mewl quietly, wishing the ache between your legs was being soothed by someone else.

Wonwoo almost cums in his pants when he sees you on the bed. You’re only wearing a small shirt and panties, which makes it easy to see what you’re doing. He smirks, slowly undressing himself as he approaches you. It’s funny how you don’t notice him until he slides in right behind you.

“Need some help?”

You pussy throbs in excitement, and before you can answer him, you feel his hand slip down your body to cover the one you have in your panties. The mewl you let out makes his cock twitch and throb. Wonwoo holds back a groan, ready to have you in the way he’s dreamed of for months.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” His breath fans against your ears. “I can’t have my kids walking in on us when we’re just getting started.”

You almost tell him his sweet little daughter is out partying with her friends so there’s no real reason to keep quiet, but you resist. After all, no one would be able stop you from fucking the insanely hot man playing with your pussy.

“So fucking wet.” Wonwoo whispers hotly. “What were you thinking about?”

“You.” It’s easy to admit, especially because you can tell how much he likes it. “And how fucking wrong this all is.”

Wonwoo hums, and it somehow seems like he’s gloating. His fingers circle your throbbing clit over and over until you’re squirming against him. “Maybe, but you like it. That’s why you’re dripping all over my hand. You like your boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy that much, huh, baby?”

“Fuck yeah.” You hiss, eyes falling closed when he pinches your wet clit. “You’re so fucking hot, Mr. Jeon. Way better than your pussy ass son.”

Wonwoo’s dick presses against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. Juices gush from your cunt as he groans into your neck. “I fucking knew it—I’ve always known it. Even before you were grinding your wet pussy on me.”

You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed that he knew you were attracted to him this entire time. It’s not like you can be blamed. He’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen, and obviously he felt some bit of attraction for you as well.

“Roll over and show me those pretty tits, baby.” Wonwoo rasps in your ear.

His words has more of your arousal coating his long fingers. You’re feeling hot all over, and you don’t hesitate to comply. You twist your body before you pull your shirt up to let your tits free. Immediately, your nipples harden under his dark gaze

“That’s it.” Wonwoo groans deeply as he rubs your pussy harder. “Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen. Fuck. Makes me want to suck on them until you’re creaming all over my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back into him. Wonwoo licks his lips and stops rubbing your pussy to pull off your panties. He grabs his cock and rubs it along your pussy. You cry out quietly when you feel his hot cock skip between your wet folds and drag against your clit and dripping hole. By now you’re panting, hips writhing from the stimulation. Wonwoo drags wet fingers up to pinch your taut nipples.

“You’ll let me suck on your sweet tits, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You agree immediately, feeling an arousing thrill when Wonwoo lets out a deep groan.

He twists your upper body some more until your back is against the mattress. Your hips are still twisted at an angle so his cock can keep rubbing against your pussy. The position isn’t uncomfortable, and you watch with anticipation as Wonwoo ducks his head to drag his mouth across the swell of your breasts. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on one of your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine.

You grind your cunt down on Wonwoo’s cock, dripping slick all over him. He moans against you nipple as he slowly drags his dick back and forth to stimulate you. The head of his cock leaks precum making your pussy messier and stickier. You drag your hand through Wonwoo’s hair, sighing and mewling as his hot mouth suckles on your hard bud.

“Fuck, just like that!” You mewl, arching your back to shove more of your tit into his mouth.

The next time he catches your gaze, you can see his pupils blown wide and a light blush spread across his face. It’s so attractive that more of your arousal drips onto his cock. Wonwoo then sucks a bruise on the curve of your breast, teeth gently digging into the soft skin. You gasp at the dull ache, pussy clenching around nothing.

“So fucking sweet.” His voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left behind.

You whine and arch up into him more. “S-Shit, Mr. Jeon. This is so fucking dirty.”

He just grins at you wickedly, hips swirling against you so his cock brushes against your throbbing clit. Wonwoo starts to press wet kisses on your tits tenderly, dark eyes never leaving yours. “It is, and yet you still like it. That’s why you’re not trying to be quiet. You want my son to know your little pussy is aching for my cock.”

You moan loudly when he starts to roughly suck on your other nipple. He’s not bothering to keep his own moans quiet as he swaps back and forth between your nipples until they’re both puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further.

“I know you want it, baby.” Wonwoo says after he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your tits. He rubs his leaking tip against your clit to hear you moan again. “Want me to split you open on my fat cock, hm? I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”

“Fuck—please.” You whimper desperately. “Need you to fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Wonwoo, sweetheart.” He groans as he gets up and positions you so you’re fully on your back.

You mewl when Wonwoo rests his dick on your stomach. The sight is dizzying in the best way—an arousing image of how deep he’ll reach inside you once he slides into your pretty pussy. His leaking tip is almost to your belly button, and he wishes badly that he could take a picture. Wonwoo licks his lips as slowly rubs his cock through your slippery folds, covering it with your juices. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine.

You moan when he eases his cockhead past your slick folds. The squeeze of your hot cunt is tight, and it makes Wonwoo roll his hips into yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching pussy.

“Wonwoo!” You mewl, already feeling so full even though he’s not even all the way inside.

Just hearing you moan his name has him thrusting forward and burying his cock balls deep inside your wet pussy with a deep growl. You cry out loudly, tits bouncing at his roughness. Wonwoo’s large palm immediately covers your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.

“Shh, baby. You don’t want us to get caught do you? What would my son say is he walked in and saw his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You moan against his hand, pussy clamping down on his dick tighter than before. Wonwoo clicks his tongue, slowly grinding deeper into you. The thought turns him on too, more than he would ever admit.

“Oh? You like that?” He hums as you buck your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. “What a dirty little slut.”

Wonwoo keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt. All you can focus on is how stretched open your pussy feels. You keep whining and moaning as he bullies his cock into your fluttering hole. Even though they’re muffled, the cute little noises you’re making are driving Wonwoo closer to the edge.

“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans. “Feels like you’ve never had a cock this big stuffing your little pussy.”

Wanting to hear you, he removes his hand.

You shake your head before you moan out an answer. “You’re the biggest—fuck—I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo’s cock twitches inside you as he goes to cover your mouth with his. You two share a series of wet kisses between your filthy moans. His thick cock keeps rutting into your squelching pussy and slamming into the spongy spot inside your cunt that makes you keep tightening around him. At this point your mind has gone fuzzy. All you can think about is the man on top of you and the orgasm coiling in the pit of your stomach thanks to him.

In the haze of skin slapping together and the arousing scent of sex, Wonwoo feels like he’s found heaven. He’s absolutely thrilled to have you how he’s wanted since he first saw you. After months of planning, he finally has you trembling on his cock. Wonwoo groans lowly when you squeeze even tighter around him. You whine, moving your hips to meet his thrusts.

Wonwoo smirks when he sees your fucked out expression. He can’t care that his son is passed out downstairs while he’s quite literally fucking his sweet little girlfriend’s brains out. It’s what you deserved after all the hell his idiot spawn put you through.

“Looks like you’re already addicted to my cock, baby.” His laugh is so attractive that it makes your pussy flutter.

A deep pleasure shoots up your spine as Wonwoo fucks you hard and deep, plunging his cock into your sopping cunt. You cry out his name, feeling a pleasure you never have before. His hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit.

“God, sweetheart. Fucking love how your sweet cunt squeezes my cock.” He groans in delight.

Wonwoo’s fingers keep rubbing your sensitive clit until your back arches off the bed. Wet slapping and loud squelching fills the room as the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps. Your legs clamp around his slim waist at the same time your cunt tightens around his dick, milking him for all he’s worth as your arousal gushes around his throbbing length.

“That’s it, baby. Milk this fucking cock.” Wonwoo growls as his hands spread you open even more. “Fuck. I’m gonna fill you with my cum and watch it spill out of your pretty pussy.”

You whine out, wanting nothing more. “Yes! Fill my pussy with your cum!”

Wonwoo growls into your skin, ramming his dick straight into your sweet spot until he reaches his own climax. With a loud moan of your name, he spills his hot cum inside your cunt. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls as he keeps stuffing you full until it leaks out around his cock.

It feels like you’re stuck in a blissful haze, and it’s only until Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you that you come back to your senses. His eyes are dark as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you. It’s an erotic sight, you’re sure, and you can’t help but want more.

“Wonwoo.” Your voice comes out in a sigh. “Think you can go again?”

The older man groans in his throat. You’re insatiable, and so is he. Fuck. He knew you were perfect for him.

“For you? Always.”

Your eyes roll back when the bulbous tip of his length nudges your tender pussy. Wonwoo smirks and presses forward. His aching cock penetrates you in one deep thrust. Large hands hold down your squirming hips as he sheathes his big cock to the hilt. Wonwoo groans when your juices spill around his girth. He leans back and lets a string of spit falls straight onto your pussy. The filthy action makes you moan wantonly.

“Your sweet little cunt is driving me crazy, sweetheart.” Wonwoo hisses as you clench around him.

Your hot cunt is pulsing and soaking his cock as if you’re claiming it as your own. It makes him smirk. Wonwoo keeps pounding into your creamy cunt until only lewd squelching and pornographic moans fill the room. He can’t even think about his son anymore. All he cares about is splitting you open and molding your tight pussy to fit the shape of his dick.

“You just love this cock, don’t you, baby?” Wonwoo moans.

“I do—Fuck. Feels so fucking good!” Your voice is loud, and you’re both beyond the point of caring. “I love your cock. Love how you fuck my little pussy.”

His fat cock is splitting you open deliciously, weeping tip reaching your cervix with every strong pound of his hips. You’re already close again, and you know this next orgasm is going to be more intense than the last. Wonwoo seems to feel it too because he keeps driving his cock into you savagely until your thighs are trembling around him. His cock is piercing directly into your g-spot then drawing out, letting you feel every vein before plowing back into your sopping mess. His rough thrusts never lose their strength or depth. Not when you scream and convulse around his cock.

“God, you’re such a nasty slut.” Wonwoo groans. “You don’t even care that your boyfriend can wake up any moment and find you dripping all over his dad’s cock.”

You manage to smirk at him. “He has no right to be angry. Not when you’re fucking me better than he ever did.”

Wonwoo smirks back at you, thrusting deeper if possible. Your depraved words make a sick thrill shoot straight to his cock. It turns him on more than it should. Dark eyes are glued to your sopping cunt. The sight of you stretching to take his cock is so hot that he almost cums right then.

“Oh my god!” You cry out as your pulsing walls constrict around the dick ramming into you.

You let out a loud cry when Wonwoo’s spit lands where you two are connected. A guttural groan escapes him when your pussy squeezes his throbbing cock and your juices spill all over him. You topple over the edge he’s been pushing you toward, squirting all over his cock and abdomen. Your release covers him, dripping down his cock and to his heavy balls.

“Cum in me!” You plead loudly. “Stuff me full again!”

Wonwoo’s fat cock keeps sliding along your convulsing walls. The tip of his cock slams into your spot unrelentlessly, making you see stars. You keep falling apart as the older man uses your body how he wants.

“Just look at your pretty little pussy, squirting all over this cock like you own it.” Wonwoo’s grin looks wolfish and unfairly attractive. “Now I have to fill your slutty pussy like I own it.”

Wonwoo groans your name deeply. His hips are flush between your thighs as he presses to the hilt, his fat cockhead rutting into your most sensitive spot. Your toes curl tightly as you scream out his name once again. All you can see, feel, and think about is your boyfriend’s dad. His hot cum fills you up, coating every inch of your wet walls, stuffing you to the brim.

The older man falls forward a bit and buries his face in your neck, biting your sweaty skin and fucking his cum deeper into you. In your aroused daze, you can’t recognize how intoxicated he is over the feeling of you and your tight cunt.

When Wonwoo finally he pulls out, his hand lands on your tingling core. He cranes his neck to watch his fingers enter your hole. Licking his lips, he gently fucks his cum back inside you and gently toys with your messy pussy. Growls rumble in his chest as his cum slips out of you and down to your smaller puckered hole. The sight makes his cock twitch and ache all over again.

“My cute little slut.” Wonwoo coos as you slowly start to drift off to sleep. “All nice and bred—just like I’ve always dreamed.”

You look precious while you sleep, and Wonwoo can’t help but feel completely satisfied that he came inside you while you were ovulating. His son was such an idiot for not cherishing you how you deserved, but it was for the best.

Now you were all his. Only his.

[lilacstarx]

☆ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴜs

↳ Summary: And you will still see it until the end of time, the loss of your life.

↳Genre: Angst/trabble

↳ Gender-neutral Reader

↳Warning: Angst No Comfort, Misunderstanding, Messy/Clean Break Ups, Mixed Signals, Reader Is describe You, mentions of Alcohol, almost getting married, Reader Is left hoping for something, Robin is mentioned (2.2 Spoilers penacony on sunday part)

𝔍𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔜𝔲𝔞𝔫

Finding yourself packing every last piece of your things and essentials that needed to be packed first, is this how it will end?

You burst into tears, just today when Jing Yuan told you that the planned wedding that you two had been working so hard to plan would be cancelled.

"I love you, I really do, but I wish to call off our wedding, my sparrow" You loathed how calm he was, arms crossed, calling you by that dearing name as if it will help the shattering of your broken heart.

"O-of course" palms sweaty, straining to maintain your breath, you wanted to yell or even question why, but you stayed still, stopping yourself from crying in front of the man you once dreamed of marrying. "I'll pack my things."

The memories felt like a broken record repeating itself. You longed to know the reason, but no amount of arguing and problem solving would help. Jing Yuan had already made a decision.

Just like that, you were gone by the morning, leaving nothing in your shared room but the ring that had meant everything laying on the bedside table.

𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔰 ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬

You can't remember how many drinks you had tonight. It's strange that you're not here to celebrate, but rather to drink till the sensation of melancholy fades.

Dreaming is such a foolish thing. You thought it was hilarious how you disliked alcohol, yet here you were alone at a bar a few years earlier; you were an assistant.

To the one and only veritas ratio, a genius, you wished it had stayed that way rather than falling in love with an idiot wearing an alabaster head.

In fact, it was ridiculous how he fell in love with you first and left you "our stage of relationship is going nowhere, im afraid that this is the end and i wish you the best"

Chuckling to yourself, remembering the words he uttered a few days ago, in actuality it was pathetic, and suddenly it was evident what his true goals were.

You're nothing but a victim of his scheming experiments. "Veritas, what have you done to me?" you whine to yourself as you prepare to walk back to your hotel room.

Maybe in your dreams he stayed with you, his arms wrapped around your waist, and read a book to lure you to sleep. Yes, it was less scary that way.

𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔶

It was no secret that you were the amazing spouse of Sunday, the most handsome man in Penacony, who spoiled you in every aspect. 

“My beloved deserves to be spoiled only with the finest of things” Sunday said, tucking a few strands of hair from your ear and wanting to see the pair of earrings he gifted. 

Marking you as off limits and only his as if the ring on your finger doesn't make up for it 

In truth, you were happy. waltzing at the empty ballroom in a cozy afternoon, asking Sunday to take a break from the mountains of paperworks that kept him occupied due to the upcoming charmony festival

You wished you knew what he was actually feeling at the time.

Now, as you lay on the hospital bed, surrounded by the family nurses and doctors, together with Robin, they were checking on you two.

Looking around expecting to get a sight of Sunday only to be left with a teary-eyed robin by your side explaining that Sunday was out of reach and not even the family knows where he is.

Holding Robin for comfort, "we will find him" you whispered soothingly, thinking how Sunday believed leaving you safe and stranded was a better option.

©Do Not Repost Without Permission or Translate

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hii can I request teaching Bram how to ride you after he just got his body back after so many centuries?

Heyyy, Ofc you can! I love riding sm- also sorry for taking so long (also I kinda made it romantic for no reason sorry)😭

Dom!reader x sub!bram

Warning: the beginning is fluff only - aka romance (kinda meh I’m sorry), nsfw under the cut, pegging (I use dick), riding, fingering, praise kink, soulmates (?)

It was like a miracle that you found him, as if destiny desperately wanted to play a prank.

You were going on a walk, aimlessly wandering around with no special purpose. Life has been treating you well, though you have been feeling an unexplainable yearning for a long time now. As if a part of you was missing, something very dear and important to you, enough to leave you with a sense of emptiness. Every single day you’ve been doing this, walking along the shore of Yokohama. It was almost laughable how much you trusted your guts, on some days you’d feel pretty pathetic because of it but you’d still do it anyway.

Not even you could explain why, you only followed instincts.

That was until today, until this moment where you finally understood what your purpose in life was. There he was, standing amidst the sand in front of the setting sun. The vibrant colours of the dusk blending into a skilfully created masterpiece. The horizon was hanging low, making it possible to see far into the distance. A black shadow stood out, all alone, quietly, gazing into the far ocean while the waves splashed against the beach.

It wasn’t rare for people to take a stroll around here, especially during such a cinematic time and period. Though never have you ever been so mesmerised by such encounters. Something about that person was different, once again your guts told you so. When you got closer to the figure, you noticed his long silver hair fluttering in the breeze, along with his coat. You were still contemplating on how to approach him, when to your dismay the person turned around and looked you straight into the eyes. For a moment, it was as if your soul escaped your body.

As if your heart stopped beating, your lungs failed to function, the shock and uniqueness of this meeting causing you to hold your breath. He was just so beautiful.

With newfound determination, you walked up to him and introduced yourself, apologising for being sudden. His eyes were a wine red, a bright yet most elegant shade of crimson you’ve ever seen. The expression he wore was nothing special, even so it still touched your heart like nothing words alone could describe. It was weird, you didn’t believe in love at first sight, but maybe he was worth believing in. When he heard your name, his eyes widened and his pupils shook, lips slightly parted as if to showcase his sharp fangs. “You..” That person began, then stopped themselves. He bawled his hands into fists while his cheeks reddened. You noticed how his breathing became ragged, and you were almost worried about him before he continued with, “I’m glad to see you are back.”

“I see you really don’t remember.. well, my name is Bram, Bram Stoker.” It would be an understatement to say you weren’t surprised by his words. On one hand his name seemed so familiar, it gave you Deja vu, yet on the other hand you couldn’t remember. Apparently this man was a vampire, who only recently reclaimed his human body. A vampire who lived hundreds of years, who was your fated lover in a previous century. This was hard to believe, even for someone like him who was mystical in every way possible. To think his mortal lover would get reincarnated and meet him in another life time, waiting for him to return like this.

As soon as you met him, learned his name, the hole inside your heart vanished. Dissipating like the fog on a dreamy morning. Destiny was truly unpredictable, it brought forth surprises no one could be prepared for. This made you curious, also a little awkward. He was your lover in another life, would it be appropriate to repeat the same process in this one as well? And, you wanted to know how your previous self was like. The two of you sat down on a bench in a park near the strand, facing the warm blanket that covered the sky while it slowly sank into cold tones. He told you storied from the good ol’ times, answered your every question with patience as he looked at you with the same yearning he described to have had decades ago.

What was there not to love about him? It seems like the previous you adored him for the exact same reasons. When the question of intimacy popped up, it appeared to make the male to falter. He took a moment to remember the times you two would do the deed, and his face immediately flushed red. That only made you even more curious, what did you do to make him all flustered like this? At first he was reluctant to tell you, due to his own embarrassment, then he remembered how you and his other love are basically the same person. In the end, he succumbed to your stubbornness to know.

“You’d do… well, this and that.. and make me, er, do that and what not..” Great. You understood everything. “Moving on, if we went that far, did we kiss?” Once again his face heat up, but this question didn’t embarrass him to the point he couldn’t answer. “Yea, you.. kissed me a lot. Awfully often.” Hah, sounds just like you. “Is that so? Then, please pardon me.” You said in a quiet tone, gently tugging his hair behind his long ears before kissing his lips. Despite him getting caught off guard, he didn’t pull away, instead he returned the kiss. Closing his eyes as he reminded himself of how much he missed this feeling.

It seems the partner fate decided for you wasn’t talented in explaining, or at least not in these matters. Since he didn’t expose many details except the fact that you made him do this and that, you had to take a guess yourself. In the end, you invited him over to your home near the beach, deciding to find out whether or not you two were compatible in bed. You lied down on the soft mattress, ordering him to come closer and climb on top of you. Then you asked, “did the other me also made you do this?” He nodded, looking away in shame. How cute.

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed its content onto your length, noticing how he was staring at you with shrinking pupils. “You can take this, right?” He didn’t reply, he only bit his own bottom lip. Since he haven’t answered you yet, you didn’t continue, staring up at him and waiting for him to respond. “I was never… actively on top. I-… what should I do?” Bram eventually admit, his eyes were half lidded, to the point only a thin line could be seen. “It’s alright, I’ll teach you.” You chuckled, before holding his slim waist and making him hover above your pelvis. “Ah..” he gasped as electricity coursed through his body, his breathing was becoming more shallow with each passing second.

“First, you have to prepare yourself.. may I be so bold as to claim you have never done this with anyone but me?” It wasn’t a bold claim, it was the truth. The vampire nodded, still lingering over you with a slightly arched back. “Then use your hand and stick a finger inside yourself, but don’t rush it, alright?” You whispered into his ear, then you grabbed his wrist to squeeze some lubricant onto his fingers. “Use this, it will the easier that way.” Bram tried to follow your orders, clumsily inserting his middle finger inside his hole. His rim tensed first, then loosened up, permitting him entrance. “Hnng- hah, is this.. right?” He asked you, looking for guidance. “Yea, just like that. Once you feel ready, do the same with a second finger before scissoring them.”

My.. how humiliating. Now the prince of the dead was spreading himself open in front of some mortal, putting on a degenerate display only for your amusement. The worst was it felt good. He bit down some more onto his lips, to the point blood was running down his chin. You leaned closer to him and clasped your hand over his, then sticked one of your fingers inside him along with his. “Ah- you..! What are yo-you, hmNn.!!” Damn it, you were still a tease just like before. Out of nowhere you also licked the trail of blood away, savouring every drop and licking your lips afterwards. Who was the vampire now, huh?

“HgNn…ah, haah.. is this enough?” Bram was already panting like crazy, feeling his body shudder uncontrollably. You pulled your hand away, feeling the sticky liquid stick to your fingers like gum. He had a dazzled look on his face, almost as if he was melting due to the pleasure. The way you handled him was just like your previous incarnation, even the way you tackled all of his weak spots as if you still knew them. “Hmm, you tell me, do you feel ready enough to take me?” Once again he couldn’t answer you, only glaring at you as he slowly sank down onto your dick. He took his precious time doing so, gently going down at you. Everything was going smoothly until he took half of you in.

You couldn’t even ask him before he complained, “it.. it’s too big.. hahh, I can’t ta-take more….” Ah, he was so adorable. “It’s alright, take your time dear, I won’t rush you, I’ve been waiting for you all this time after all.” He nodded while clenching his eyes shut, focusing sorely on the feeling of you stretching his insides. Fuuuuuck…. It was too overwhelming, too good. After not being active for so long, he was like a virgin again. “I.. I really can’t, it’s so de-deep..! Uh-unghh.” All you did in response to his whines was draw circles on his sides with your thumbs, as well as whispering sweet praises into his ears. Sweet words of encouragement reached him, as in, “Don’t worry you are doing so well, it’s alright, I’m here.”

Eventually he managed to take all of you in, at the expense of his rationality. Not a single logical thought plagued his mind, all he could think about was the bliss spreading to every fever of his nerves. When he sat down on top of you completely, he couldn’t fathom it at first. By that time tears were dripping down his face while inaudible sobs left his mouth. “Good job, Bram, so good for me. Now, grind your hips this way.. right, just like that.. and slowly move up and down. Heh, that’s my good boy.” While you gave him instructions on how to move his body your hands also gently showed him the way. They were still around his waist, nudging him into the right directions.

He shook his hips so erotically, it send a shiver down your spine. Before long he was jumping up and down your cock while your hands forced him to move rougher, your own body snapping against his to trust into him harder. “UghNnnhh.!! Ha-hahhhh! Oh, it’s.. go-good, so UhmM!” Bram gasped and groaned, losing himself to the ecstasy as he exposed more and more of his hidden desires to you. And you were enjoying yourself room of course. You were feeding on his pleasure, loving every single moment. He really was your destined partner, your fated other half.

It seems destiny wasn’t playing a prank on you, rather, it was using you to write an unforgettable love story.

[matchingbatbites]

just guy stuff

@steddiemicrofic || June prompt: Stuff || Word count: 483 || Rating: E || CW: Cheating (Steve and Eddie are both married and having an affair behind their wives backs)

“The - fuck - the girls will be back soon,” Steve gasps, his hands clawing at Eddie's shoulders as the man fucks into him, over and over.

Eddie grunts and places a wet, sucking kiss to Steve's jaw, so gentle compared to the way his hips snap against Steve's ass, every thrust pushing them up the couch a bit more.

Eddie had been a wild card in Steve's life, a sudden source of passion when he needed it most. 

The thing is, Steve's never loved his wife the way he's supposed to. He loved the idea of being married, loved the approval of his parents when he proposed to Jenny, and he knows that she loves him.

He just can't seem to love her back.

It's been four years of putting on a facade. Four years before the dinner party for Jenny's colleagues, before meeting Cait and Eddie, and fuck. The man was everything Steve's ever dreamed of - edgy and cocky and so fucking hot. 

He saw through Steve's charade in an instant and pulled him apart with nothing but his hands and words, the two of them locked in the master bathroom under the excuse of showing Eddie his hair products. 

(“He could use a little help in that area,” Cait had teased, and Steve had resisted the urge to run up the stairs.)

It's been easier to hide the affair than Steve expected, the two women seemingly happy to leave their husbands alone while they go out to brunch or shopping or something similar. What's been hard is watching Eddie leave afterwards, seeing his hand settle on the small of Cait’s back and hating that it's not touching him.

Right now, at least, Eddie's hands clutch at Steve's waist like he never intends to let go, fingers digging in so hard that Steve is worried about him leaving behind bruises - God, Steve wants Eddie to bruise him, to mark him up.

“Can't wait for that fucking conference,” Eddie mutters into Steve's skin as his hips slow into a heavy grind. “Gonna take my time with you while they're gone, baby, spread you out and play with your beautiful body until you're crying for me. Wanna take you apart and put you back together piece by piece, lovely.”

Steve wants that so bad he almost sobs, and he barely gets out a “Gonna come, Eddie, please-”

By the time their wives stumble through the front door, giggly and relaxed from overpriced mimosas, Steve and Eddie have cleaned up and settled back into their perfect pretense of camaraderie.

“Hi honey,” Jenny says as she moves over and plants a sticky kiss on Steve's cheek. “What have you boys been up to today?”

Steve shrugs and looks over at Eddie, who repeats the motion with an easy smile. “Just guy stuff,” he says, and Steve nods in agreement.

“Yeah, just guy stuff.”

[wriothesleybear]

Jiyan SFW Headcanons

~a/n: I’m a simp for strong, gentle dragon man. Here’s some sfw Jiyan headcanons. I’ll probably do a seperate post for nsfw headcanons for him. It’s been a long while since I’ve last written so hopefully I’m not rusty.

Protective and doting boyfriend! (will defend your honor) Not really but he knows how dangerous it is outside the city so he doesn’t like to let you walk alone without him so he can guarantee your safety. He knows you’re capable of handling yourself but he can’t help but worry. He doesn’t have that much relationship experience due to most of his life being focused on battling tacet discords and protecting Jinzhou city and its people. Although he may not know much regarding relationships, he’s a quick learner and you can’t really tell that he’s that inexperienced due to how well of a boyfriend he is to you. I can see him being the nurturing and mothering type. What I mean by that is he pays attention to your wellbeing and health, making sure you’re eating right, making sure you’re happy, etc. Your well being comes before his. Man can cook. You will be well fed when he cooks for you, making sure you’re eating a healthy, hearty meal. He’s a really good listener and will put all his attention on you when something’s bothering you. He’ll do everything he can in his power to dispel your problems and to ensure that you’re happy.

Not the type to really be into pda. Not because of his duty to portray a respectable image of being a General everyone looks up to but due to preferring to share your affection for one another behind closed doors without watchful eyes that are usually on him in public. The farthest he’ll go with pda is hand holding or having you rest your hand on the inside of the crook of his elbow. Plus all the elders would probably tease you two if they saw you being lovey dovey in public. It’s already hard enough with them seeing you guys near one another. The elders always ask you two about wedding bells and children. Your cheeks burn red while Jiyan coughs, closing his eyes to stop himself from blushing as well and just tells the elders maybe in the future. This causes you to hide your face into the side of his arm as shyness, warmth, and giddiness overcomes your senses. He smiles down at you and adores your cuteness. He seems like he’d be good with kids. Maybe a little awkward and quiet but he’s sweet, caring, and gentle. He wouldn’t mind having a family with you in the future. Hopefully when things have calmed down, he’ll ask you to marry him and you two can start a family.

He is such a gentleman. He always asks for permission before doing anything he thinks you may be uncomfortable with. Instead of buying flowers from the shop, man actually plants his own flowers and gifts them to you. He would create a special flower that would represent his love and affection for you. (He would for sure propose to you in the middle of the little garden he made for you under the twinkling lights.) Speaking of lights, he loves stargazing with you. It’s one of his favorite activities with you. Just laying in the soft grass, enjoying the night breeze and cuddling close to one another as you enjoy the peacefulness with one another.

Good kisser. His favorite type of kisses are long, slow, passion filled kisses. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding your body close to his while his other hand gently cups your cheek as his lips connect with yours, electricity shooting through the both of you. Everytime before he heads out onto the battlefield, he always makes sure to give you a long passionate kiss that takes your breath away because he doesn’t know when he will be back or if there’s a chance he’ll make it back, so he wants to make sure you understand his undying love for you in case he doesn’t make it back home to you. He also likes forehead kisses. Sometimes when he returns from the field and he really missed you, he doesn’t leave your side for a while and always has a hand on you. One time, he came close to not making it home from a field mission that when he stepped through the door to your shared home, he wrapped his arms around you and held you for a long time. You swear you could feel him shaking a little, you got worried that something bad happened. After a few minutes of silence, he told you what happened and that he was worried he wouldn’t see you again. You cupped his face in your hands and peppered kisses all over his face until he melted into you and was finally calm. You told him that everything was okay and all that mattered was that he was here with you now. Although he was grateful for your comforting words and affection, he still didn’t stray far from you that whole night. At bedtime, he held you tightly, nuzzling his face into your neck as you combed your fingers through his hair and rubbed his back. Due to the exhaustion from battling and the comfort of your gentle touches, he quickly fell asleep. He did wake up a few times during the night worried that you were gone but he calmed down once you realized you were still in his arms.

He likes doing mundane things with you when he has the time. Sitting in nature together, enjoying street food, drinking tea while having idle conversations, reading side by side, etc. Sometimes he gets lost in thought as he gazes at you while you are doing something. He’s busy admiring the serene look on your face as you pick flowers, the gentle touch as you carefully put the flowers together into a crown, then the bright smile that graces your beautiful features as you place it on the top of his head. You break him out of his trance by placing a hand on his cheek as you call his name. You ask him if he’s ok and he replies by taking hold of your hand and turns his head to his lips to press a kiss on the inside of your palm. He gives you a loving look and rids your worries and says he’s just admiring his wonderful s/o. Giggling, you lean into him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

He’s insecure sometimes and gets lost in negative thoughts of the failure of protecting his fellow fallen soldiers. When this happens, just hold him please. He has a lot of weight on his shoulders from the responsibility and grief he carries on a daily basis. When you hold him tight with his head resting on your chest and tell him that it’s ok, that weight is lifted a bit. He forgets his negative thoughts when he’s with you.

Lets you play with his hair and help him put his hair up. Ngl it’s hard to not be a little jealous of his long, soft, beautiful hair. He gets so relaxed when you’re doing his hair. He has fallen asleep sometimes. You try multiple hairstyles and have even put flowers in his hair. You couldn’t help how ethereal he looked. He didn’t really understand but he didn’t mind your adoration for him.

[jacaerysgf]

deepest desires

summary: Though you have been married to aegon for a while now it seems he wants nothing to do with you and you worry you will spend the rest of your life miserable; but he ends up finding out a secret you've tried so hard to keep hidden and it brings you two together much to your surprise and delight.

w.c: 2.1k

c.w: sub!aegon, porn with plot, pegging, wooden strap, dom!reader, mommy kink, pathetic aegon, slight overstim, anal stuff, not proofread

a.n: dedicated to my lovelie @aegonswife | i will never shut up about the sub aegon agenda !!

You must have been horrible in your past life for the gods to curse you like this. To be married to a prince should be a wonderful thing yet you feel as though you have been sentenced to death.

You can recount on your hands how many words he’s spoken to you despite your many many many many, many, attempts to get him to converse with you. He will not even glance at you most of the time, well kept to his drinks and his whores. You suppose its a better fate than most at least it seemed he would not force himself upon you or abuse you.

Your wedding is a blur and your wedding night is the same, you remember him swiftly leaving after he released and you remember simply lying there and trying to fall asleep.

It took you awhile to officially move in with him as you stuff got stuck on way to the keep and you just so happened to be out the day it finally arrived at the keep so you had the maids bring your stuff into the room in your stead.

As he’s typically out all day and you did not expect him to be in the room while they were unpacking as it is mid afternoon you walk into the room and are shocked to see him standing in front of one of your opened crates with something you prayed he would never see in his hands.

You’ve always had very, different, cravings and lusts. When women would confess their sinful thoughts you realized you were the odd girl out. Many women wanted to get pinned down by their man and be taken in whatever way he pleased but you had always wanted the opposite. To be the one taking, to pin someone down and having a dick of your own forcefully shoving it into their hole.

When you discovered they had invented such a device that could give you the illusion of you having a cock you immediately used your allowance to track one down and purchase it for yourself. Thought you have never used the things you are now wishing you have never bought it has he clutches it in his hands and tilts his head at you, a look you’ve never seen in his eyes.

“This yours?”

You must look like a fish, opening and closing your mouth unsure of what you’re supposed to say. So you say nothing, instead choosing to run out the room like a madman and do not return until very very very late at night and are shocked to see him asleep in your shared bed. He barely even spent five minutes alone in your shared chambers let alone sleep in there. You quietly lay down next to him and fall asleep, praying he would not be there in the morning.

You had hoped that would be that and you would never have to speak to him again but he continues to follow you around like a lost puppy. Tailing behind you everywhere, your lessons, when you spend time in the garden, even your personal time in the shared room he is laying next to you as you read. The sudden change in his behavior is so jarring you cannot help but ask him about it but he just smiles at you, “You are much different than i thought you to be.” You have no clue what that means.

You grow a sort of, friendly? relationship with one another. You are still too nervous to truly say anything to him while he merely seems content laying besides you.

Everything sort of flips on its head when you are laying on the bed, a book in your lap as usual and the door opens. You are not shocked to see a clearly drunk aegon but are more than shocked when he flops down onto the bed and presses his head to your stomach as he lets out a groan.

“My prince?” he merely hums, “My head hurts.” “Maybe you should try and sleep my prince-” “when are you going to fuck me?”

This has you frozen and he looks up at you with his red eyes. “I’ve been so good why haven’t you?” Your mouth opens in shock as he flops his head back down and presses some wet, open mouthed kisses into the fabric of your nightgown. You stutter and are at a loss for words. He wanted you to fuck him?

“My prince if you wish to perform your marital duties you are free to at any time.” He whines and shakes his head, looking up at you with a pout. “No i want you to fuck me. I’ve been good i promise, i havent gone to any brothels, not since that day mommy i promise.” MOMMY? you liked being called mommy in his whiny voice a bit too much and you simply stare at the top of his head for awhile as you try to think of what to say.

“You still come home drunk.” He looks up at you and you merely blink at him. You are more than sure he will not remember this tomorrow so you will merely say what you need to to get him to stop talking about this. “And you reek of alcohol.”

“If i stop drinking and i stop coming home drunk you will fuck me?” “yes.” You are more than glad he will not remember this in the morning. He rolls off of you and to his side of the bed, his back turned to you. “What are you doing?” “Going to sleep so i can start my vow of sobriety.”

His snores quickly fill the room and you blow out the candle next to you and get under the sheets, staring at the darkness with a racing heart. He does not mean it, he will forget about this tomorrow and this will all be a terrible dream.

You are shocked as you wake up the next day and he is stilly lying in bed, merely staring at the ceiling until you flip the covers off and move to get out of bed, “Good morning.” “Morning.” You barely look at him as you move to get dressed for the day. Rummaging through the closet until you pull out a dress and hang it on your mirror. You look at him through the mirror, “Are you going to watch me get undressed?” “It is wrong to?”

You say nothing but simply stare at him until you slowly move the straps of your dress and your nightgowns falls to the floor and you are completely bare.

“So how long must i be sober? A day? a week? a month?” You freeze and turn your head back to look at him.

“what are you talking about-” “were you the one who had been drunk last night wife? must i remind you of what we had discussed?”

You bring the dress you had meant to wear today closer to your chest to cover yourself as you feel a sense of shame wash over you. “If you wish to mock me so then do it.” His head tilts at you as you stare down at the ground. “why would i wish to mock you?

“asking me to fuck you after you had found that horrid device you must mean to mock me…” He quickly stand and you back up until you hit the mirror and he is standing in front of you. “I do not mean to mock you. I had avoided you in the past because i had been under the impression you were just like every other lady at the court but i know now you were made for me, we were made to be together. I have wished to have a lady like you, to fill my wildest desires, i wish for you to do anything you wish. To rule body and use me like a toy. To fuck me like i am nothing but a whore on silk street.”

You stare at him with wide eyes as he drops to his knees and looks at you like you are a goddess. “I was born to serve you. I am at you every whim and every wish.”

You feel something overcome you as he stares up and you and you lose every ounce of self control you have.

“Stand.” He quickly stands up and stares at you eagerly noticing the new look in your eyes.

“Strip.”

He rushes to rip off his shirt and pants and awaits your instructions. You snap your fingers and point to the bed where he quickly moves to sit down on it. You walk over to him and grab his chin to tilt his head upwards. “You want mommy to take care of you?” He lets out a long whine as he nods his head feverishly.

“lay on your stomach.” he follows your instructions without complaining like a loyal mutt. He has no clue what youre doing but he can hear you rummaging around the room, your bare feet peddling against the ground for a few moments and he finds himself unable to lay still, wiggling and whimpering to himself as he grows impatient, on of his hands even begins to slide down to stroke himself before you slap his ass and he moans. “Thought you were a good boy huh? what happened to him?”

“no no i am i am i promise im sorry im sorry.” You slap him again, “I dont wanna hear it.” He continues to mumble and whimper until he feels you shove two oiled inside him and he lets out a high pitched noise and bites the pillow he’s pressing his head against.

“Loose. you're such a fucking whore, look at you.” He doesn’t not respond not that you expected him too but he gets louder and louder the more and more you continue to thrust your fingers in and out of him, reeling in the feeling of you presses kisses against his back and the way your free hand wraps around his cock and toys around with his tip.

“look at you, so fucking pathetic. I bet youve been dreaming of this for months huh, sick freak.” He babbles like a baby unable to form any words or any thoughts the closer he gets, precum pouring out of his tip that you use to pump him slowly. He is so close he can taste it, what hes been craving for so long, he wants it so bad he wants to please you.

Yet you pull away right as hes on the brink and he can barely control himself. Tears begin to spring from his eyes and be turns his head towards you, whimpering. “please.” “you’ll take what i give you.” “but mommy-“ “who said you can talk back?”

He sniffles, “im sorry mommy im sorry please i just wanna be good for you mommy.” his words are slurred and you cant help but feel your heart ache slightly and you grab his cheek, rubbing away his tears with his thumb, “you good?”

He nods, and leans against your cheek sniffles again. “I just wanna be good for you mommy.” You nod and press a kiss against his lips and when you pull away he chases after you lightly as he looks at you with glowing eyes. “You’re so pretty baby, such a good boy, mommys gonna take care of you okay?” “yes yes please please.”

He lets out a gasp as he feels your wooden strap begin to slowly push its way into his pulsing hole. You barely give him anytime to adjust before you begin to vigorously thrust in and out of him. Gripping onto his hair for stability.

The tears begin to pour down his face as he grabs his cock with his free hand, bringing himself closer to release as his hips move back to meet yours. You find yourself unable to hide your amusement as he grows more and more desperate, heaving and whining the closer and closer he gets to release, letting out incoherent babbles of nonsense.

When he releases he lets out a scream that your sure the whole keep could hear, his body shaking as his seed spills out onto the bedsheets below him, sobs racking his body. You press a long kiss against his lips and he shakily returns it. When you had thought you would be doomed to a life of misery it appears you were wrong as your life just got a whole lot more interesting.

[vampiric-hunger]

⊱─ 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: 𝕔𝕙. 𝟟 - 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Ascended Astarion/f!reader

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, body worship, cunnilingus, grinding, fingering, vampiric bites, blood drinking, PiV, breast play, creampie, happy ending.

➺ 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: you're skilled, driven and most importantly - ambitious. but even as someone in your position, a trained assassin and a leader of your own Guild, you still lend yourself to jobs that are of importance. even if those jobs sometimes mean attending parties. tonight - it's a masquerade and you're bored out of your mind, until the man who hired you to protect him leaves you alone, at the mercy of a stranger who suddenly took a keen interest in you.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5,626

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: it is done! it is over! honestly i don't even know what to say. first i want to thank those who followed this story from the very first chapter and those who kept supporting me along the way of writing it even when i had doubts. second, i want to thank everyone who commented, liked and shared this fic, every thing, big or small, is always appreciated by me. and now, i bring to your attention - the ending of this story, please enjoy♡~

➺ 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: [link]

Last time you were at the luxurious mansion you were met with hostility. Not only from Astarion’s spawn but from the Vampire Lord himself, yet when you show up at the iron gate this time you don’t have to wait or wonder when you will be noticed if at all. The moment you stop by the locked entry a thrall appears through the open door and scurries your way.

“My Lady.” he addresses you and to your surprise you notice that it’s the same man who came to question you the first time you were here, yet his attitude right now is furthest thing from sour. “Wonderful evening.” he adds and you raise an eyebrow, watching him pick a key on a steel ring and slip it into a lock. He’s not even looking at you, his eyes are downcast or focused on his fingers, you can’t really tell which is the reason, and it takes you a moment to realize you should respond.

“Good evening.” you simply say, not bothering to make small talk because this spawn is obviously only polite to you because of his Master.

“This way, my Lady.” the gate is opened and you step inside, then stop and look behind you as the thrall locks it again, but you’re not looking at him, you’re looking to the houses and streets that you are leaving behind. For a second you wonder if you will be able to freely wander them again.

A moment of doubt, of worry, of fear, and your steps falter when the spawn begins leading you towards the massive door, but you press your lips into a thin line and follow him anyway. It’s not too late to say no, you know that, it’s not too late to ask Astarion what exactly he has in mind for you. And as you make your way through the corridors, you begin preparing questions in your head.

This is not something you forgot to consider since last night, when you both at last made yourselves presentable and returned to the party. Duke was furious, obviously, but Astarion’s charm and your apologies eventually calmed him down enough to warn you specifically not to do anything like this again or he will make your life in Gate unbearable. You heard the threat loud and clear and accepted it. The price could’ve been bigger to pay if Duke Sanolin wasn’t the man to see any worth in you. Thus, when you returned to your own home instead to the Guildhall, not wanting to deal with jobs and reports, you did spend considerable time thinking about what happened.

And yet you still came.

The truth is simple to you now, even if you still doubt the longevity of it, but you can’t resist the pull of a man who tried so damn hard to make you his. And your tired, yearning heart compels you to keep walking, to keep following the silent spawn, because there’s a promise. A promise that you won’t have to struggle again, a promise that you won’t be hurt again, a promise that everything you had to suffer through had a reason, even if that reason is to be loved by someone. Doesn’t everyone want that? Even to you this notion feels silly and naïve but you can’t help it. How Astarion makes you feel overrides your logic, the lessons you have learned in the past and your worries for the future.

After all, you are used to chains, but you have hope, however gullible that hope makes you feel, that maybe this is exactly what your life led you towards.

“Here, my Lady.” the spawn interrupts your musings and you stop when he bows his head and gestures towards the door. You recognize it, it’s the same one that you stood in front of before when you visited Astarion in his bedroom.

Puzzled you look at the thrall but he’s not moving nor is he looking at you, his glowing red eyes focused on the noses of his shoes as if there’s something written on them so you sigh and lick your lips swallowing dryly before you take the handle and push it down. The moment you do it, you hear the vampire spawn turn on his heels and leave in hurried footsteps.

You resist the desire to look at him leaving you here, as if he’s a friend who suddenly abandoned you in the crowd of faces, but instead of letting your anxiety get the better of you, you push the handle down and open the door.

The view that opens in front of you surprises you. Your lips part in a silent inhale and your eyes widen. What you saw it last, the lair of a spoiled slob now is a wonderfully tidy bedroom. The curtains prevent last rays of light entering the room, but there’s red lit candles everywhere. The tables are clean and there’s flowers in vases on them. There are no piles of clothes in front of a closet, the canopy over the bed bears dark red curtains neatly tied to bedposts and the sheets themselves are white, tidy and clean. No bodies hidden behind furniture, no blood stains left. It’s like a completely different room to what you saw first time and the contrast takes your breath away.

Except Astarion is nowhere to be seen.

You walk past the door, letting it close behind you, and you look around, searching for a glimpse of silver hair but you realize you’re completely alone. So you step deeper into the room, walking to one small table and touching the blooms of flowers with your fingertips, then look around again. You can wait of course, until he appears. You are sure he has been informed that you arrived already but you feel tense enough. Enough not want to be alone.

“Astarion?” you call out gently at first, not sure if you should rise your voice, but when nothing happens and no reply comes, you try again and louder. “Astarion, are you here?”

You suddenly get startled when a door you haven’t noticed until now, the one on your left, swings open and Astarion steps in with a smile.

“Pardon my delay.” he apologizes and closes the door, strolling right up to you. Before you can say anything, for a moment focused on his expensive-looking navy blue and silver embroidered clothes, you feel Astarion’s hand slip around your waist and pull you against his body with a dance swing.

“Wait!” you gasp, caught off guard as your steps falter to follow him but Astarion only laughs and lifts your chin to him, his crimson gaze intense and his smile wide.

“Wait for what? You came and I’ve waited enough.” he says and steals a kiss the moment you part your lips to speak. You make a noise of protest, but feeling his tongue against yours makes the heat engulf you on the inside and his arm around your waist only holds you against his chest firmer, stronger.

When Astarion releases your lips from the devouring passion of his, he smiles and strokes your chin with a thumb while still holding it up.

“I missed you terribly.” he announces and you can’t help but smile slightly.

“You saw me last night.”

“I didn’t see you today yet, have I?”

“No, but-“

“No buts, you came because you want to be mine. And I want to make you mine. I waited for this long enough.” Astarion reasserts and leans in for another kiss but this time you have your wits about you and you quickly push your palm against his chest to stop him. Vampire cranes his neck in further attempt to press his lips against yours but you slightly shake your head, your expression becoming serious.

“I have questions.” you say quietly and finally he stops, there’s a flash of emotion in his eyes and his face but he just smiles and straightens his back, releasing your chin and gripping your waist with both hands now.

“Questions? And what could they be?” he sounds almost dismissive if not for the smallest sound of strain in his voice. You realize he’s worried.

“I want to know what…” you pause, picking your words. “What turning me into a vampire will mean for me.” you stop again to think and Astarion remains silent, letting you speak. “I want to know what to expect, I want to know if… if you will take my freedom. If I’ll be just like the rest of your spawn – a servant, a slave.”

This time you see a clear flash of fear in his crimson gaze but Astarion quickly masks it and lets go of your waist, turning from you and walking to the small table that has a what looks like a carafe of wine, he then proceeds to flip the glasses up and begin pouring the liquid.

“What do you know about me, little assassin?” he suddenly asks, his voice serious and you raise your eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you gathered as much information as you could about me, didn’t you? If not, you’d be a lazy assassin.” Astarion teases with a smile and a glance cast in your direction. This makes you relax, smile and approach him, letting him hand you one of the glasses.

“You are right, I did gather as much about your past I could.” you take a sip and Astarion turns to face you, a twin glass in his hand and he cocks his head slightly to the side and gestures for you to go on.

“Don’t hold me in suspense then, please share.” he smiles even if you notice that his eyes remain serious. He has a point he wants to make, you are sure of it.

“I know you have been a vampire spawn to a man named Cazador for several centuries. I know that you used to be courtesan. I suspect you killed your own Master when you had the chance, given the mansion that originally was in his name.” you now too gesture around you and Astarion nods.

“Quite correct without the lurid details. Clever, but I always expect you to be clever.” he sips his wine and looks around briefly, as if for a moment reliving all the memories of haunting these walls as a mere spawn and not as a Lord he is now. “Yes Cazador, my old Master, sent me out to get him victims. For blood or other purposes, me and other spawn were never made aware of his plans.” Astarion’s eyes return to yours. “But he’s gone now. He served his purpose.” you open your mouth to ask a question but he lifts a single finger, wanting for you to wait. “So you see, I have a history of slavery. Just like you.”

Dread fills your heart and your insides fill with freezing led at his words. You can’t move, can’t speak, can barely move and your eyes widen.

“How do you…” you finally gasp out rather than speaking up and Astarion’s eyes soften, his smile is gentle and he reaches out with one hand cupping the side of your face, his touch so tender.

“Clever as you are, you’re still a mortal working with other mortals. I am a Vampire, little assassin, I have power and influence. Finding about your past wasn’t hard. Fiends and demons like to brag way more than you may realize when they think you match their depravity.” words spoken softly, but they cut like a dagger’s blade.

You can’t help it, sorrow fills your chest and you look at Astarion, the only man that ever made you feel so fragile as you do now, the only man that makes you want to seek his comfort. You don’t know what to say so you just close your eyes and try not let tears gather behind your eyelids as you lean into his touch.

“Tell me now, darling, do you really think I would seek to take away your freedom?” Astarion whispers after he takes a single step to stand closer to you and you look at him again, searching his eyes for an answer or maybe reassurance. “I want you to be mine willingly. I could’ve made you into a spawn any time when we were together, but I want you to be mine because you want it. Because you are special. Do you think I want to shackle you in a gilded cage now that you’re here? No, the beauty of a bird is when it’s free, not when its song is echoing among cold walls.”

This time you can’t help it, tears do gather in your eyes and you step away from him, turning your back to the man who somehow managed to prod at your scars and make them hurt but in a way you never experienced before. You take a big gulp of your wine and pause when you feel Astarion’s hand on your shoulder.

“I know how you feel, darling. I know. Who can understand the pain of a former slave better than another such slave. But your past still weights on you and I want nothing more than to mend your clipped wings.” as he speaks Astarion leans closer to your ear, whispering gently, then he pauses to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “So no, I won’t cage you if you’re worried about that.” he keeps whispering and this time moves just enough to look at the side of your face. His unoccupied hand slides around your waist, and your back is brought against his chest gently and carefully. “I just want you to be with me. Do you want that?”

You turn your head to look at him, managing to tame your tears and not let them spill down your face then you swallow heavily, struggling against the knot at the back of your throat, but you nod, feeling how your heart fills with so much emotion once you do.

“Then tell me, little assassin. Tell me you want to be with me, tell me you want to be my consort and let me show you just how much I need you.”

A pause as you both look at each other, as you explore your emotions like it’s a puzzle to be solved, looking for doubts, for fears, for anything that will make you step away, but you find nothing.

This is what you want and you will take the risks, whatever they are.

“Make me yours, Astarion.” you whisper and Astarion’s eyes leave yours to land on your lips, then he presses a brief kiss there.

“Then trust me.”

With that he releases you and gently takes away your glass, momentarily stepping away to put it and his own on the nearest table, then he turns back to you and offers you his hand. You glance at it, then at his face, seeing nothing but soft emotion displayed there. If you don’t love him yet, you know that you will soon.

So you take his hand and your heart feels light instead of heavy, opposite of what you felt when you came to the mansion just earlier, as you walked the corridors, even when you entered this bedroom. No, you want this and everything that comes with it.

Astarion smiles when he gently clutches your fingers and he leads you across the bedroom to the bed, then turns to you once again and pulls you into his arms, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. You return his passion, your fingers finding his waist and pulling him as close as possible against your body. You feel your heart beat heavily in your chest and you exhale when Astarion separates from your lips, beginning to trail open mouth kisses along your jawline.

“You will never hurt again, I promise.” he whispers passionately and you let yourself be held, feeling his lips trail lower, on your neck, his tongue searching for your pulse and stopping there when he finds it. “I’ll make sure that no one ever hurts you again.”

You believe him. Not because you are now aware of the power he can wield, but because of how he says it – with such utter conviction that it dismisses last trails of doubt that were lingering over your mind like shadows right as dawn comes, fragile and weak.

“I know.” you answer with a whisper and Astarion raises his head then smiles in such a way that it makes you smile in return.

“Good. You won’t have to worry about anything ever again. You will be my consort, free to do anything and to be anyone.” with a finger he traces a line against your bottom lip and you see the passion blazing in his eyes, then he kisses you again, letting his fingers wander to your clothes and to your shirt, which he quickly proceeds to unbutton.

While he does that you kiss him back and let your own hands wander, undoing his coat and sliding it off his shoulders which gets quickly followed by your shirt. Astarion pauses then, releasing your lips from the heated kiss to find the end of your strophium and begin to undo it. You lift your arms and let him proceed until the soft leather is spooled around your feet.

“Primitive.” Astarion gives you a glance with a smile and you raise an eyebrow, amused by the comment but smile in return.

“Functional.” you correct him and Astarion chuckles, letting the leather drop from his fingers before he cups your breasts and puts his face in between them, inhaling your scent.

You slightly blush and pause as he does this, watching the vampire give more open mouth kisses to the mounds that his hands have formed, leaving wet trails of his tongue when he stops to suck at one nipple, then another, and then his face is in front of yours again before your lips are captured with his.

Your fingers proceed to work on Astarion’s shirt and quickly it follows rest of the garments to the floor. Breaking away from his lips, you trail your palms over his chest and lean in, kissing his collarbone, feeling him gently cradle your head as you do, as you raise to his neck, giving it a playful bite and making him chuckle again.

“I’ll have to teach you that we ask before we bite. But that can wait. First-“ he says playfully and releases your head, now working on straps of your pants, then you are forced to stop your affectionate kisses because he kneels right in front of you and lifts his face up. “Do you really want to be with me, forever?” Astarion asks and you notice a slight hint of worry in his features.

Smiling, you reach to his chin and gently hold it as you look deeply into his sanguine eyes.

“Yes, Astarion, I do want to be with you.” you hope that this is enough to reassure him at last and it looks like it is because he smiles and leans in, pressing his lips to your stomach ever so briefly before he suddenly yanks your pants downwards, making you yelp from surprise and then laugh.

“Then let’s have some fun. On your last night alive.” he gives you a playful look and you let his silver curls wrap around your fingers as you push them into his hair, then you help him take off your shoes and rest of your clothes.

As you stand completely naked in front of him, Astarion presses his palms on the sides of your thighs and slides them up until he reaches your hips. His eyes keep wandering over your form like he’s trying to memorize every detail about you.

“Perfect…” he whispers and then dips his head towards you, his tongue finding your soaked folds and making you gasp.

Your fingers clench in his hair and you bite on your lower lip as you feel his hot tongue lap at your cunt with devotion of a worshipper, his fingers hold your hips tightly and don’t let you move, making you stand still while he’s tasting you like you’re the sweetest nectar. After a moment or two you begin to moan softly and Astarion continues for a while longer, the tip of his tongue working against the sensitive nub of your clit, making you shiver. When he finally leans back you are slightly out of breath and your face is flushed.

“Go to bed.” Astarion whispers as he licks his lips and lets go of your hips.

You nod, turning and taking few remaining steps to the bed. You trace your fingertips over the white silk sheets until you hear Astarion walk to you and then his naked chest presses against your back, his hard erection finding its temporary resting place in the cleft of your rear and his hands are on your shoulders as he leans in and kisses your neck again.

You feel him grind his length against you and it makes you even more aroused as pressure against your back makes you lean slightly over the bed.

“Like this.” Astarion whispers against your skin then he leans just enough to grab your thigh and guide your knee over the edge of the bed, giving you more stability. “Stay just like this.”

You exhale and then moan when you feel vampire’s mouth return to the side of your neck, the hand that guided your leg now slips between them from the front and his fingertips tease your folds while his other hand grabs your waist to keep you exactly how he wants you to stay. At first it’s easy but then his fingers make your back arch from pleasure and you have to support yourself with one hand on the edge of the bed. You want to say something, not even sure what, but before you can you feel the piercing sting of fangs in your neck. You gasp and your eyes snap open as Astarion swallows couple gulps of your blood.

“Don’t worry, I’m not turning you just yet. Right now it’s about pleasure.” he reassures you with a whisper and this time you feel his fangs in your shoulder, making you moan instead of yelp.

“You’re confident this is pleasurable.” you tease with a smile even though your eyes are heavy lidded from lust and you move your other hand behind you and over your own shoulder, finding the back of Astarion’s head and pushing your fingers into his hair again, encouraging him to continue.

Astarion playfully scoffs at your words and his fingers part your folds for a moment, then he pushes two of them inside of you.

“I’m confident because your body does not lie, love.” the vampire teases when you moan and the wet sound of his digits working your core fill your ears, only making his words more true.

“My body and I may not agree sometimes.” you can’t help but chuckle and you try to look at him, quickly being met with his crimson glowing gaze and a smirk on his bloody lips.

“Then I have to make sure that both are in harmony with each other.” he says and makes you mewl when the fingers are removed from your body, making you crave for him to fill that emptiness immediately.

“Astarion…” you whisper and feel him reach deeper between your legs as he moves his hips away from you for a second, then guides the tip of his weeping cock at your entrance with his fingers, his gaze locked on yours.

“This - for eternity. You moaning my name...”

And with that he thrusts himself into your cunt, making you cry out and grip his hair tighter in response. His fingers, now done with their task, find your hip and grip it tightly as he begins to thrust deep and hard. Astarion’s eyes quickly become clouded with passion as he looks at you and he gives you a brief kiss.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours and let me hear you.” he says with an already audible strain in his voice and you briefly bite the tip of your tongue before he drives a particularly deep thrust into you, making you moan before you can even think of allowing or stopping yourself. “There we go, perfect.” he smirks and kisses the side of your neck again, lapping at the blood that seeped out of the bite mark he left there just moments earlier.

You hold onto his head and keep yourself up with a palm and a knee on the edge of the bed but you don’t know how long you will be able to stay like this as Astarion pounds into you, making you moan with his every thrust, making your body shiver and your back arch as if on command. You feel your climax approaching and you give into the feeling before Astarion suddenly stops, making your last moan falter on your lips.

“Huh?” you ask while panting and get even more confused when you feel his length leave your sopping cunt with a wonderfully wanton sound, making your arousal leak and smear against your inner thigh of the leg that’s still on the floor.

“Get into bed.” Astarion instructs with huskiness in his voice and you have to pause for a moment, trying to make your mind comprehend his words, but when you finally understand you let go of his head and climb into the bed on all fours.

You feel him climb in after you and with one hand he guides you to lie on your side, then makes you move onto your back as he crawls on top, his knee pushing your leg apart and leaving you spread for him. Unceremoniously he thrusts into you again the moment he’s in position and you cry out, grasping at his back and feeling the scars there. Astarion lowers his head and drags his tongue over your nipple before speaking again.

“Just a little longer, love, for me.” he breathes against your skin but you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his hips, locking your ankles on the small of his back, urging him to go faster, deeper, harder.

“Astarion, I-“

You yelp when his teeth pluck at your nipple and then graze your neck in a span of couple seconds. You lean your head back for him, feeling Astarion’s fangs on the other side of your neck, the one that doesn’t have his bite mark yet, and your nails dig into the skin between the markings on his back as you urge him.

“There, there…” Astarion responds with a strained moan of his own, his thrusts quickly becoming erratic as he chases his own climax, timing it with yours. “Let go, my love.” you feel him panting against your lips, a pleasurable sigh so hot against your skin when it leaves his throat and you finally do let go.

You are sure you cry out his name when your bliss takes you, when your body wraps tightly around his, your cunt clenching on his cock and urging him to spill himself within you, which Astarion does the moment he hears his name like a prayer on your lips. You hear him moan your name too, first against your lips, then into the crook of your neck as he lowers his head for last few thrusts.

When he stops and your body begins to relax, you remain still, clinging to him for as long as you can as you gasp for air and try to return from whenever this feeling of overwhelming pleasure took you.

“You’re so beautiful.” you hear Astarion whisper and you smile, finally unclenching your thighs and releasing his hips. At the same time you gently stroke his back, scars and all.

“Am I?” you open your eyes and smile, feeling sweat on both of your bodies quickly cooling.

“You are. And you will be beautiful forever.” Astarion lifts his head, his curls sticking to his forehead. His smile is gentle and relaxed when he lifts his upper body from you and looks down upon you. “Do you still want to be mine?” he asks and you know exactly why he asks – one last chance for you to change your mind. Somehow, this time you know that if you did exactly that, he would let you walk away. The feeling of this knowledge is comforting and perhaps it’s the last thing you needed to truly, fully make peace with your decision, with what is about to happen, with the transformation that will change your life forever.

“Yes. I want to be yours. Your lover and your consort.” you feel weird saying the last word, you didn’t imagine yourself in a position like this, you were always sure that you will forever dwell underground with other society’s undesirables. But Astarion wants to elevate you from that, you can see that in his eyes even now, you could hear it in his words when he spoke to you about freedom just earlier.

You want him.

“Thank you.” he suddenly says and the small smile you had disappears as you look at him with mild confusion. “Thank you for trusting me and giving everything that you are to me.” he says and with that he leans to your neck again.

The sharp, piercing pain is not unpleasant when his fangs pierce your skin one more time and you hear yourself inhaling sharply only because this bite is stronger than before. Astarion moves his body, pulling out of you in the process so that he can cradle you in his arms as you listen to him gulping down your life’s blood with greedy swallows. At first your fingers cling to his sweaty back, but then you begin to feel your grip loosening until you don’t have strength anymore to keep your hands up.

As your arms fall to the bed next to you and the canopy over above you begin to blur, you realize you don’t have a shadow of doubt. You trust him, even if dying feels scary right now.

Before darkness consumes your mind and vision, one last thing you feel is Astarion’s arms holding you firmly against him and the weight of his body on top of yours, as if he’s shielding you. And then…

…nothingness.

“This is my beloved consort, that I wanted to introduce to you all as soon as possible!” Astarion’s voice is loud as it booms through the ballroom of his palace. His hand is around your waist, a palm resting on your rear possessively.

He picked the dress for you, fancier even among the dresses you had bought yourself when you work for richest patriars. A wonderful piece of black and blue made from velvet and chiffon, all embroidered with golden threads. A dress made to match the outfit Astarion himself is wearing.

You have a hand on his shoulder as you gaze upon those that gathered tonight. Your Lord gave you exactly three days to adjust to your new state of being and you suspect only because sending invitations to infernal allies and dark associates takes time despite the speed of magical means. He was burning with desire to show you off the moment you woke up after your death, pride brimming in every word he spoke to you since then. And now as you stand by him, still trying to adjust to the feeling of fangs in your mouth and the strange hunger that is lingering just beneath the surface of fullness, your eyes sweep over the see of faces, so different but also so alike in many ways.

This is going to be your life from now on.

And it makes you excited.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Astarion asks the guests and most of them cheerfully agree. Who would in their right minds disagree with the Vampire Ascendant after all, especially while they’re in his domain.

“Stop bragging.” you turn to whisper in his ear with a smile and Astarion looks at you with a grin that would look evil if you didn’t know him better already.

“Let them see what they cannot have. You, my dark consort.” Astarion makes you turn to him chest to chest and you feel his palms find positions on your lower back and between your shoulder-blades as he looks into your eyes so deeply it’s like he’s trying to read your thoughts. “You’re mine, forever. I don’t want anyone to forget that, little love.” he says with such determination it warms your unbeating heart.

You smile and caress his cheek gently, feeling wonderful warmth under your touch, then he leans in and presses a kiss so fierce against your lips that it makes you bend backwards, and you would fall if not for his strategically placed hands. You chuckle and kiss him back, then you hear some applauds, not quite sure how to feel about those, but when Astarion breaks away from the kiss, he looks into your eyes once again.

“The most beautiful red I have ever seen. Prettier than blood itself.” he whispers, making you smile softly at him, and then he helps you straighten your back, once again turning to the crowd.

You glance at the faces again, noticing that they are seem curious about you, or maybe this union between you and Astarion overall, but it matters none. Who are they to judge your happiness now that you finally have it?

Then with one hand Astarion gestures widely over the crowd with a big, arrogant grin on his face and speaks loudly again:

“Let’s celebrate!”

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

sorry about all this </3 masterlist is linked here

33. Different

It was Jack who gave Freddie Rosie’s footlocker. With sunken eyes and a pale pallor to his skin, a deep frown on his face, he took Freddie to Rosie’s old bunk, empty of the men who had once filled it. The last time it had been this empty Freddie had been sleeping in it, in the bed beside Rosie’s to keep home company after his Riveters had gone home. She had been so horrible to him then, had taken for granted the time she had with him when she’d demoted them to friends. They could have had so much more time together if she hadn’t been so stupid and spiteful.

Jack crouched down in front of Rosie’s footlocker, unlocking it with a spare key. He pressed the key into Freddie’s hand as he rose back to his full height, resting a hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes as he asked, “Do you want me to stay or leave you alone?”

Freddie swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the footlocker. She couldn’t say anything, had found she couldn’t really manage to force any words out ever since she’d woken up in the infirmary right after Rosie had gone down three days ago. Maybe she’d screamed all the words out of her, or maybe she’d just ruined her voice with all of the wailing. Either way, words eluded her now, so she rested a hand on top of Jack’s on her shoulder and he seemed to understand that that meant she wanted him to stay.

She’d spent the last three days crying with little reprieve but still her bottom lip wobbled as she lifted the lid of Rosie’s footlocker. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of it, her hands shook as they reached in and pulled out the A-2 jacket he always wore, the one he always let her wear when they made love in his plane.

A few hopeless, wretched little sobs tore their way out of her throat as she pressed the jacket to her chest. Her head fell forward and she pressed her nose to it, drinking in the leftover smell of him. Her eyes squeezed tight shut as the first few tears slipped out.

Jack squeezed her shoulder and sat quietly beside her until she was ready to move on. 

There were quite a few books - most of them fiction, many of which she’d seen Rosie reading at one time or another, but also an English translation of the Torah - along with the record Freddie had gotten for him at Christmas. There was a pile of the letters he’d received from home, all kept safe in their envelopes, and a pile of socks and underwear. Beside both piles were his civilian clothes, folded neatly. Freddie decided she would be keeping his brown sweater vest, which she’d always loved. And beneath the clothes was the ring Rosie had worn when they’d pretended to be married while they’d stayed in that hotel in London that one time and, beside it, a little velvet box.

Freddie knew, of course, what was in the box before she ever opened it. Jack knew as well as he watched her stare down at it, cupped in her hands like a pearl in a shell.

The engagement ring inside was beautiful. Classic, elegant, understated. Stunning. Three diamonds in a row, the largest in the middle, attached to a simple gold band. All Freddie could do was stare down at it and think of the life which had been stolen from her.

The corners of her mouth kept twitching down into a cartoonish frown, no matter how hard she fought against them. Freddie turned to Jack, showing him the ring.

Jack nodded, his eyes sad, his lips pursed tightly together. “It’s beautiful,” he offered with a slight nod. He swallowed hard and looked away.

Freddie nodded back. It was beautiful. It was exactly the kind of ring she wanted. Rosie hadn’t even had to ask to know that.

Shutting the ring box softly and replacing it in the footlocker, Freddie considered her bare ring finger as she withdrew her hand. Twice now she’d been on the brink of an engagement before the man she loved had been shot out of the sky. This time, she’d been so close that Rosie had a ring. And still she was denied her happiness. Still she was left alone, the ring finger on her left hand bare and empty, never to house the ring which would tie her to her love for eternity.

Wordlessly, Freddie carefully put everything back into the footlocker. She couldn’t deal with all of this now. At some point she’d have to decide where all of Rosie’s belongings went, she knew, but it couldn’t be now.

Jack watched solemnly, silently, as Freddie softly closed the lid of the footlocker and locked it, tucking the key into her jacket pocket. And he watched sadly as she sat on the edge of Rosie’s bed, took her shoes off, and promptly crawled beneath the blanket and settled down against the pillow.

Staring at the blank wall in front of her, Freddie listened to Jack’s footsteps as he left Rosie’s hut and left her be. And, a while later, she listened to two sets of distinctly feminine footsteps and one set of paws enter the hut, pause in the doorway, and then slowly approach Rosie’s bed at the end of the row.

“Fred,” Millie whispered, laying a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Freddie didn’t move or make any noise to indicate she’d heard her. She just continued staring at the blank white wall in front of her, breathing in Rosie’s smell, his blanket clutched tightly in her hands, pulled up beneath her chin.

“Fred, why don’t you come and have some dinner, hm?” Jem asked softly, rounding the bed to come and crouch in front of Freddie.

Freddie didn’t say anything, even as Meatball came to sit beside Jem and peered at her with those big eyes of his.

“We can take it back to eat here if you want,” Millie offered, coming to sit on the bed beside Freddie.

The fierce ache of tears was back in Freddie’s throat. Was this how the rest of her life would be? Waiting around for people who loved her to force her to eat and otherwise wandering the world a shell of herself?

Eventually, Jem left to go and get dinner for all three of them and brought it back to Rosie’s hut. She and Millie sat on the floor at Freddie’s side, eating and trying to encourage her to as well. But all Freddie could find it within herself to do was lie there, staring at the wall.

Freddie’s parents showed up at Thorpe Abbotts two days later. They were escorted by Jack and Croz to collect her from Rosie’s bed. In the previous two days she had left Rosie’s bed only to use the toilet. She had taken only a few sips of water in that time, and only when Millie had gotten so desperate she’d started crying. She had spoken no words and eaten no food.

Millie and Jem were with her now, with Meatball on his lead. Probably, they had been informed that Freddie was going home.

It didn’t take long for Freddie to understand what was happening. Her mother was carrying a big bag which Freddie assumed was filled with the belongings she had already collected from her hut, and Jack and Croz were lingering by the door. Everyone must have expected her to put up a fight but as soon as she understood she pushed herself upright and dragged her heavy body out of bed. She knelt before Rosie’s footlocker, unlocked it, and started to rifle through his things.

She took her uniform jacket off and exchanged it for Rosie’s A-2 jacket. Wordlessly, her father picked up her discarded jacket off the floor and folded it neatly in half before draping it over his forearm. Next, Freddie withdrew Rosie’s brown sweater vest and passed it to her mother, who took it and placed it gently in the bag full of Freddie’s things.

The books could go back to his family, along with the rest of his clothes. The record she handed to Croz.

Freddie took out the engagement ring box and sat back on her heels, staring at it as though she’d never seen it before. But, after a moment, she opened it and lifted it to show everyone.

Jack had already seen it and Freddie got the impression Croz had, too. It was likely Rosie had told him he was preparing to propose - maybe he’d even helped pick out the beautiful ring. He’d done all of that once before, after all, and knew a thing or two about wedding rings. But Jem gasped and Millie let out a strangled sob as soon as they saw it. Millie clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the sound emerged, as though to shove it right back in.

Alma fell to the floor behind Freddie and wrapped her up in her arms, holding her tight as Freddie started to cry.

She didn’t take the ring with her. She left it tucked into the corner of Rosie’s footlocker along with his fake wedding ring, because it wasn’t hers, not really. He’d never given it to her. So maybe whoever decided what to do with the rest would send it home to his family - Freddie didn’t really care. But she knew she’d never be able to lay her eyes on that ring again without remembering the pain of these terrible, terrible days, so it was better off with someone else.

In the back of the car on the long drive home, Freddie stared out the window. Fields passed and a few churches. Maybe people were getting married in there. The sky was grey, the world was bleak. The sun was stuck behind countless clouds. Valentine’s Day was next week and Freddie wouldn’t be getting her proposal.

It was dark and raining by the time they pulled up outside the house. At some point during the journey Freddie had dozed off but she was wide awake as she pulled her bag with her out of the car and inside.

Earnie and Bruno couldn’t understand why she wasn’t as excited to see them as she usually was. The biggest smile she could muster for them was a tiny twitch of one corner of her lips as she crouched to stroke them and kissed their heads.

Felix picked up her bag and took it upstairs for her while Alma headed to the kitchen to make tea. When she returned, Freddie’s mug in hand, she waited for Freddie to stand up then stroked some of her greasy hair back from her face. “Let’s get you in the bath, shall we?”

And, just like when Freddie was little, her mother ran a bath for her and helped her out of her clothes, then held her hand as she climbed in. Alma washed her hair for her, then carefully washed her face. Reluctantly, and only because she was already here, Freddie picked up a fresh sponge and washed her body.

When she was finished and the sponge was back on the bathroom shelf, Alma sighed and rested her elbows on the edge of the bath. “My beautiful girl,” she said softly, tucking a wet lock of Freddie’s hair behind her ear. She caressed her cheek. Her eyes were sad. “You’ve had such a difficult life.”

Freddie’s bottom lip trembled. She had to look away.

“Wils,” Alma said, smoothing her wet hair down her back, “I know it’s terrible right now. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling but I know it must be the absolute worst thing in the world. But I also know you won’t always feel like this. I need you to keep going, okay?”

Freddie ran a finger through the bubbles in the bath, making patterns in the water.

“I know it’s not what you expected -”

“It’s exactly what I expected,” Freddie mumbled, her voice hoarse. Five days of no use and it almost hurt to talk. Maybe it should. Every word she spoke was a word Rosie would never hear, and Freddie didn’t want there to exist a single part of her which Rosie didn’t know. He’d never know anything of the words she spoke now, the days she experienced, the feelings she felt. She could share nothing more of her life with him. So maybe there should be nothing at all; no words, no experiences, no feelings. No nothing. Maybe there should just be a blank white wall ahead of her and a pillow which smelled like him beneath her head.

Alma nodded in acceptance of her words, swallowing hard. The hand which wasn’t in Freddie’s hair was clenching and unclenching the hem of her skirt in her lap as she fought for something to say to make everything better, but she’d done this once before and she knew nothing would. 

“It’ll be okay, Wils,” Alma said when she found her voice again. “It’ll be okay.” She shrugged one shoulder sadly. “But it’ll be different.”

“It’ll be cold and sad and lonely,” Freddie said quietly. She drew a rose as best as she could in the soapy water and stared at it as it faded away.

Alma just carried on stroking her hair. “There will always be moments of brightness. Of joy. You have Millie and Jem and all the other girls and they love you so much. And you have the dogs, and your father and I. You have your music.” Freddie made to cut her off but Alma spoke over her. “You know that the absolute last thing Rosie would want is to silence your music. He loved listening to you play. Your father and I have always known your talent but no one adored your music like Rosie did.”

“The only music I’ll be able to play will be sad,” Freddie mumbled.

“Then play sad music,” Alma said. “Just don’t stop playing, Wils. Don’t.”

Freddie had no more to say so Alma stopped there. She stood and retrieved a fresh towel from where she’d left it to warm up on the radiator, then wrapped it around Freddie as she stood up and climbed out of the bath.

Freddie’s pyjamas were freshly washed and warm, her sheets freshly changed and pulled back for her. She ate a sandwich and brushed her teeth before climbing into bed and lay there, wide awake, all night, thinking of how Rosie had read her to sleep right here just over a month ago. He’d been reading her romantic poetry, one of the books he’d gotten her for Christmas, and he’d paused to smile every time there was a line which reminded him of her. He’d paused often - so much so that Freddie could remember his interjections better than she could remember the poetry - but she would give anything, anything, to have him back for even just a second so she could catch a glimpse of his smile and listen to his laugh one more time.

Rosie was in her dream, when she finally drifted off. He was lying in the infirmary at Thorpe Abbotts, with his broken arm and broken nose, the way he had been after he’d gone down over France. And Freddie sat at his bedside, reading to him just as she had then, reciting words of other lovers whose lives had ended in tragedy.

There was a man in the bed next to his, with bright blond hair and a smile which crooked up higher on one side of his face. It was a face Freddie hadn't seen in a while, a face which somehow didn't belong next to Rosie's. But the two of them sat side by side all the same. And they listened to her quietly, watching her weep, neither trying to reach her, both knowing they couldn't.

Freddie woke up in tears, before she’d ever gotten to tell either of them she loved them, and when she fell asleep again it was to dreams of fire and screaming and pain, a plane falling out of the sky and a man who should have lived a thousand years trapped, helpless, inside.

[timeisacephalopod]

On one hand my one sister is Big Stupid and pregnant again, which I wouldn't care as much about if this wasn't the fourth kid with the fourth shitty fucking father who will do nothing but cause even MORE pain and suffering to my sister's life, and on the other hand my other sister keeps sending me apartment ads which is very sweet because she ALSO just had a baby (in August and also her situation is stable, I'm very proud she managed to pull off what she did considering where she's come from. Her boys, especially Older Nephew were SO excited for the baby and I love listening to Older Nephew talk about his sister, it's so heartening to see him so happy and excited. Something tells me my other sisters 3 girls won't be nearly as impressed, especially not Oldest Niece and it's gotten to a point where I feel somewhat compelled to try and mentor this poor kid but I don't know SHIT about kids and don't want to let this poor kid down like everyone else has, she deserves better than that).

Granted my whole life I've preferred Apartment Sister to Making Poor Life Choices sister but also recently Making Dumb Choices has made some serious improvements to her life, very impressive ones too, so it's just disappointing to watch her backslide especially into the same bullshit she's been doing since she was 18 and is now 32. But at least I'm not the only one apartment hunting 😂😂 her efforts are super appreciated given that she just moved herself as well, plus having a fresh baby (very cute baby too). Now with any luck my OTHER sibling will get her shit together hopefully before we're on child number six with father number six with all the same fucking personality flaws and mental health problems not one of these men take even remotely seriously because that's exhausting to me let alone my damn sister.

[luckyladylily]

So a few months ago there was the discourse about would you rather meet a man or a bear in the woods. I didn't want to touch it while the discourse was hot and everyone dug in hard because those are not good conditions for nuance, but I waited until today, June 1st, for a specific reason.

I'm not going to take a position in the bear vs man debate because I don't think it matters. What is really being asked here is how afraid are you of men? Specifically, unexpected men who are, perhaps, strange.

People have a lot of very real fear of men that comes from a lot of very real places. Back when I was first transitioning in 2015 and 2016, I decided to start presenting as a woman in public even though I did not pass in the slightest.

I live in a red state. I knew other trans women who had been attacked by men, raped by men. I knew I was taking a risk by putting myself out there. I was the only visibly trans person in the area of campus I frequented, and people made sure I never forgot that. Most were harmless enough and the worst I got from them was curious stares. Others were more aggressive, even the occasional threat. I had to avoid public bathrooms, of course, and always be aware of my surroundings.

I know how frightening it is to be alone at night while a pair of men are following behind you and not knowing if they are just going in the same direction or if they want to start something - made all the worse for the constant low level threat I had been living under for over a year by just being visibly trans in a place where many are openly hostile to queer people. You have to remember, this was at the height of the first wave of bathroom law discussions, a lot of people were very angry about trans women in particular. My daily life was terrifying at times. I was never the subject of direct violence, but I knew trans women who had been.

I want you to keep all that in mind.

So man or bear is really the question "how afraid of men are you?", and the question that logically follows is "What if there was a strange man at night in a deserted parking lot?" or "What if you were alone in an elevator with a man?" or "What if you met a strange man in the woman's bathroom?"

My state recently passed an anti trans bathroom bill. The rhetoric they used was about protecting women and children from "strange men", aka trans women.

Conservatives hijack fear for their bigoted agenda.

When I first started presenting as a woman the campus apartment complex was designed for young families. The buildings were in a large square with playgrounds in the center, and there were often children playing. I quickly noticed that when I took my daughter out to play, often several children would immediately stop what they were doing and run back inside. It didn't take me long to confirm that the parents were so afraid of "the strange man who wears skirts" that their children were under strict instructions to literally run away as soon as they saw me.

"How afraid are you of a strange man being near your children?"

I mentioned above that I had to avoid public bathrooms. This was not because of men. It was because of women who were so afraid of random men that they might get violent or call someone like the police to be violent for them if I ever accidentally presented myself in a way that could be interpreted as threatening, when my mere presence could be seen as a threat. If I was in the library studying and I realized that it was just me and one other woman I would get up and leave because she might decide that stranger danger was happening.

Your fear is real. Your fear might even come from lived experiences. None of that prevents the fact that your fear can be violent. Women's fear of men is one of the driving forces of transmisogyny because it is so easy to hijack. And it isn't just trans women. Other trans people experience this, and other queer people too. Racial minorities, homeless people, neurodivergent people, disabled people.

When you uncritically engage with questions like man or bear, when you uncritically validate a culture of reactive fear, you are paving the way for conservatives and bigots to push their agenda. And that is why I waited until pride month. You cannot engage and contribute to the culture of reactive fear without contributing to queerphobia of all varieties. The sensationalist culture of reactive fear is a serious queer issue, and everyone just forgot that for a week as they argued over man or bear. I'm not saying that "man" is the right answer. I am saying that uncritically engaging with such obvious click bait trading on reactive fear is a problem. Everyone fucked up.

It is not a moral failing to experience fear, but it is a moral responsibility to keep a handle on that fear and know how it might harm others.

[bubblegumbeyotch]

.

[the-raindeer-king]

Imagine Simon's mom doesn't die with Tommy and Beth. Maybe she was out of town, or at a friend's house, and Roba's men were sloppy and missed her. Anyway, so it's just Simon and her now, and because he blames himself for what happened, he's pulled away from her.

He pays her rent, even if he wanted her to live in a nicer apartment complex. And he visits during her birthday and Mother's Day, and sometimes just randomly stops by. But he never stays very long, and he doesn't tell her a lot about his new life. It's a very one sided relationship, but she tries to make the best of it.

And then you move in next door, during one of Simon's deployments. You feel bad for the sweet lady that lives next to you. She never seems to have much company, and you take it upon yourself to befriend her, spending more time in her apartment than your own.

You learn about her ex husband, her sons, the tragedy, and most importantly, you learn about Simon. And you hate him. Mrs. Riley (she insists you call her Sarah) is such a lovely woman, and it's clear how much she cares about her living son, how hard she's trying to keep their relationship alive.

It's the second Mother's Day after you move in when you finally meet Simon. Your relationship with your own mother is complicated, so you've opted to spend the day with Mrs. Riley. You'd gotten her a small present, and had planned to spend the day drinking wine and watching historical romance movies.

You're thoroughly shocked when you knock on her door, and a man answers. Six feet, built like a brick house, but under his scowl, you recognize Sarah's eyes.

��You must be Simon.”

His scowl deepens, but before he can say anything, Mama Riley is pushing past him, pulling you into her apartment to fuss over you.

She apologizes for not telling you sooner, but your plans will have to be rescheduled. Simon's back early, and she can't waste a precious second.

You're understanding. You've listened to her worried rants, given her space to cry over how things have turned out. You know she loves spending time with her son, even if the visits are short and he doesn't talk much.

Simon doesn't miss the way you glare at him. There's a fury in your eyes, even as you cheerily wish his mother a happy mother's day. For a moment, he wonders if you're a spy. But that thought is quickly diminished, when you verbally eviscerate him at the door.

You're quiet, not wanting to upset his mom, but your anger is clear. It may not be your business, but Mama Riley is your friend, and you adore the older woman. And you cannot stand by while he treats her like this. She loves her son so much, and he needs to step up and try harder.

As you're chewing him out, Simon's already head over heels, planning your wedding as the seconds tick by.

(A/N: You can read this as a stand alone piece, but I did write 3 more drabbles (four in total!) for this! They're all on my blog under the tag mama riley au. Thank you for reading!)

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

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

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

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

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

You are managing just fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t talk much.

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

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

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

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

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

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

“I’m good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's just leftovers..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"... Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eating."

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

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

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

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

"Elaborate, please."

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

And maybe...

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

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

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

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

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

"... I hate talking to people."

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

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

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

"Thank you." He whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

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

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

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

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

"It's nothing."

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

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

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

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

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

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

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

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

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

"Mi cielo..."

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

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

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

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

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

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

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

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

"Never." He immediately responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all it took.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eyes on me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

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

You definitely know he will do more than that.

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

[chuluoyi]

✎ sweet felicity

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two are his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, crashing his lips against yours ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he hoped the heavens would always bring you back to him—and for you to always choose him just like this, no matter what.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.

[lehguru]

THINK YOU NEED SOMEONE YOUNGER + ONE PIECE MEN

they start to realize they might be a little too old for you ft. crocodile, mihawk, smoker, shanks, doflamingo, corazon

info: will do this for other fandoms too i think, angsty on some; not proofread

crocodile never felt insecure, at least when it came to your relationship. after he left impel down and came to look for you, things got a little... weird. he was avoiding you. you knew it wasn't because he didn't want to bring you into his business (he did it more than once), it was something you didn't really understand. before you could even confront him about it, he said out of nowhere one day: "did you... get with anyone while i was away?" he looked at you with a hard stare. "someone... younger?" you almost laughed at his question, but you held yourself back. your arms circled his waist and you rested your chin on his chest. 'i don't know anyone younger that is as attractive as you, sir.' he grinned, holding the back of your head with his hand. "good."

mihawk noticed how you and zoro interacted during his time at the island. he wasn't suspicious that something was happening, he knew you would never cheat on him or break his trust; but... a thought started to spread in his mind like poison. once zoro and perona left, and you two finally managed to carry on with your married life alone, he asked you one day while you drank tea together. "how do you feel about me being... older?" you looked at him with raised eyebrows and 'the only thing that matters to me is you. i fell in love with your personality and the way you treat me, not your age.' he hummed, a deep sound that you know reverberated on his chest. even if it was faint, you could see a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

smoker didn't think about your age gap until he overheard some of the new recruits talking about you two. captain smoker having a younger partner is a little weird isn't it, was what they said. when he was back home and you were resting against his chest, softly playing with the hair on the area, he told you about it. you looked up, your eyes shining, 'old pan makes good food'. the laughter that left his lips was one that he always reserved for you, his most sincere and genuine laugh; he pressed his lips on the top of your head, murmuring praises and love confessions against your hair.

shanks really didn't care about it, not as much as other members of his crew did – with how well they knew their captain, the man would be destroyed if you decided to leave him. 'she might go for a younger guy, when your thing doesn't get up anymore.' they usually voiced their concerns in the form of jokes, so they wouldn't be too harsh on their captain, but it was effective. those comments made him start to realize what you two were – lovers. one day, without telling you, he and the crew left. simply left the island, leaving you behind with only an note written "don't look for me." in a messy manner.

one thing about doflamingo is that he gets whatever he wants whenever he wants. and since the moment he laid eyes on you, you were his. the people that tried to comment on your age gap always "mysteriously" disappeared, even if they were from inside his organization. no one could talk about him and his partner like that. if he ever brought up the topic, it was only to test if you were seeing anyone or wanted someone younger (he knows you don't. he knows everything); your praises towards him and your love always left him pleased – he would give you the same in return.

corazon is frequently insecure about your relationship. he wonders if you really love him, if he's good enough for you, if he's being a good boyfriend, if he missed any important date that he should've remembered – your age gap (made worse by your height gap too) is only another one of those concerns. no matter what you say, he often asks you if you wouldn't want to be with someone younger and with a better family than him. one day, after he asked that for the millionth time, you answered: "we can have a family of our own, rosi. you deserve happiness. you said once i made you happy, so i will stay. the only way you're going to get rid of me is if one of us is gone." he chuckled and smiled widely, as he often did around you and law, hugging you tightly against his body. 'i adore you. with all my heart and soul, i love you.'

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!